can’t go out there like that!’
Henri forgot himself and once again voiced his concern about her fashion sense, regardless that she’d reminded him time and time again that he wasn’t her father. He couldn’t help himself. It didn’t bear thinking about that something should happen to the only important woman in his life and he hadn’t attempted to prevent it.
‘I’m an adult, Henri. I can look after myself, and sooner or later you’re going to have to realise that.’
She all but shoved him out through the door, and Henri was given the brush-off by a second woman in as many minutes.
Lola kept her back ramrod-straight until she reached her car and crumpled into the front seat. She had taken the opportunity to have a private word with Angelique when Jules and the others had gone on to the pub, toying with the idea of continuing the lessons in an effort to kick-start her self-esteem.
Textbooks were great for swotting up, but they didn’t help her deal with people face-to-face—and, for her, that remained the most daunting element of her job. For every model citizen she encountered, there were going to be times when she was alone with aggressive patients, or cocky men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. She knew that, and accepted it, but she also knew she needed to get into the right frame of mind to deal with it effectively.
The protocol for those situations probably wasn’t to burst into tears and curl into a ball. It would take even more bravery than she’d mustered to leave home and go through medical school, to tell potential troublemakers to back off with any authority.
Until this evening she hadn’t realised how much inner strength she possessed. Dancing had helped her explore a side of herself she hadn’t known existed, and she would embrace all the help available to embark on this new phase of her life and overcome her fears. It was too bad that Mr Ego of the Year had taken that sliver of newfound confidence and crushed it underfoot.
Lola groaned, predicting that the repercussions of tonight’s ill-tempered exchange would surely be felt at work.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken to anyone like that—never mind a man with the power to make or break her career. But the fault totally lay at Henri Benoit’s feet. He had no business crossing paths with her outside the hospital and insulting her when she’d been so exposed. For an unguarded moment she’d let light break through the darkness, only for him to cast her back in shadow. The problem was she had no way of explaining that—or her defensive reaction to it—if he decided to haul her over the coals tomorrow.
‘I won’t cry,’ she said out loud, determined not to let another arrogant male reduce her to a gibbering wreck.
Engine started, she threw her Mini into Reverse and put her foot on the accelerator.
A loud bang and the jolt of the car caused her to slam on the brakes.
She didn’t dare look.
Whatever she’d hit, she couldn’t afford it.
Outside, she heard a car door open and close, heavy footsteps coming towards her. She switched off the ignition and braced herself, but the footsteps had stopped—no doubt to survey the damage.
‘Mon Dieu!’
The foreign curse instantly gave away the identity of her victim.
Lola closed her eyes. Oh, please. Not him!
She slowly unclipped her seat belt and got out of the car to enter into the fearful realm of the Frenchman’s ire.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, knowing she didn’t sound a fraction apologetic.
He bent down to inspect the cracked registration plate of his red sports car. Typical. She couldn’t have hit a clapped-out rust heap—it would have to be this shiny status symbol.
‘Is this payback for what I said in there?’
The patronising tone he used grated on Lola’s already sensitive last nerve.
‘I’m not that petty. Besides, it’s only the number plate that looks damaged.’ It wasn’t as though she’d written off his boy toy altogether.
‘Does your clown car not come with mirrors fitted?’
He looked down his high-bridged nose at her with a smug expression she wanted to slap off his face. The car she drove was a luxury, allowed her by the generosity of her brothers, who’d painstakingly restored it from its rusty former self and made it hers with a bubblegum-pink re-spray. Not everyone was afforded the life of privilege she imagined he’d led, and any snooty slight against her family was the one thing guaranteed to make her blood boil.
‘I would have thought your ego was big enough to use as a force field and deflect the Pink Peril.’
With three elder brothers, exchanging childish insults came as naturally as breathing for Lola. She already had a black mark against her for squaring up to him, so she might as well make it count. Besides, he’d gone down the snarky route first.
‘The Pink Peril?’ he echoed incredulously and the grin grew into a full-on beaming smile.
He was treading on dangerous ground now.
‘My brothers named it,’ she huffed, and told her easily pleased inner schoolgirl, which was squealing with hormonal appreciation at the appearance of man dimples, to shut up. It was surely another sign of trauma manifesting itself that she found a man insulting her attractive.
‘Do I take it that’s a reference to your driving skills?’ His eyes shone with suppressed laughter, the skin creasing at the corners to elevate his hunk status.
‘I have excellent driving skills,’ she protested.
‘So I see.’ He lifted a thick dark brow as he glanced back at the damage.
‘Look, I’ve apologised. I’ll pay for repairs. So, if we’re done here…?’
It was time she left—before she completely shot down her career. This man seemingly brought out the worst in her, and that wasn’t conducive to a happy six weeks under his tutelage.
Far from helping her get over the day’s trials and tribulations, this whole evening had simply heaped more stress upon her. At least with this latest disaster she knew she could count on her brothers to make any necessary repairs with the minimum of fuss. If only they could come to work with her tomorrow and clear up the mess she’d made there, too, she might have a chance of clawing back some respect.
‘I think I have an apology of my own to make. I didn’t mean to insult you in there.’
Henri ignored her need to end the conversation and perched his butt on the bonnet of his precious car.
‘And yet you did.’ She folded her arms across her chest as he brought up the subject of his slur against her character once more. He couldn’t know the throwaway insult had hit her on such a personal level, but that didn’t give him the right to end up the good guy here.
‘The problem is between Angelique and myself. I shouldn’t have taken it out
