She nodded. Im on my way to France on rather a sad errand.
The light left her beautiful hazel eyes. A favorite aunt died. II used to spend every summer at her château.
Her château? Like hell. Still, Tate must have been wonderful fun for a young niece, who had no reason to be jealous of her just because the comte had adored her instead of his own son. For all her faults, his outrageous, American stepmother had made his father happy. His own pretentious mother had not.
And he damn sure had not.
Remys teeth clenched, but when Amelia continued to stare at him, a stillness descended on him. Her nondescript face with those spiky lashes and naive gaze wasnt beautiful. It wasnt. But it was growing on him.
Why couldnt he stop looking at her? Why did he feel soso
Aroused was the word he was trying to pluck from the ether.
Abruptly he looked away.
She sucked in a breath. So, youre French and Im going to France, she said lightly. Hows that for a coincidence?
Yes.
We meet in the market. And now here again. Why?
No way could he admit hed stalked the hell out of her. I cant imagine.
Maybe its fate.
Fate. Horrible concept. He could tell her a thing or two about fate. Fate had made him the despised bastard of the father hed adored. Fate had hurled him into André at 160 miles an hour and then into Pierre-Louis.
She was still rattling on as Remy remembered the long months of Pierre-Louiss hospitalization after the amputation. But at least hed
I mean London is so huge, she was saying. What is the chance of that? When her shining eyes locked with his again, she must have sensed his darkening mood. Spiky lashes batted. Is something wrong?
Her soft voice and sympathetic gaze caused a powerful current to pass through his body.
He shook his head.
Good. Amelia smiled at him beguilingly. Then maybemaybeI mean, if your offers still open, I think I will have that cup of tea, after all, even if we did just meet.
A cup of tea? As he stared into her hazel eyes he found himself imagining her naked on cream satin sheets. Why was that? She wasnt his type. He felt off balance, and that wasnt good.
He should run from this girl and leave the negotiating with her to his agent. Hed had the same cold feeling of premonition right before the crash.
This is it, hed thought when his steering had jammed and his tires had begun to skid on pavement that had been slicker than glass.
Every time he looked at Amelia pure adrenaline charged through him.
This is it. And theres no way out, screamed that little voice inside his mind.
Run.
Two
If only she could look at him without feeling all nervous and out of breath, but she couldnt. So she fidgeted.
He was sleek and edgy and yet he seemed familiar, which was odd because he wasnt the sort of man a woman with youthful hormones onboard would easily forget.
Curious, intrigued, attracted, Amy couldnt help studying him when he wasnt looking. His thickly lashed eyes were brown and flecked with gold. The brows above them were heavy and intimidating. He had the most enormous shoulders and lots of jet-black hair that he wore long enough so that a lock constantly tumbled across his brow.
He was too amazingly gorgeous to believe, and far too male and huge to be sitting across from her in such a ladylike tea shop. But here he was.
Amy bit her lips just to make sure she wasnt dreaming.
Despite his powerful body, he looked so elegant in his long-sleeved, black silk shirt and beige silk slacks. So grown up and successful compared to Fletcher, who wore old bathing trunks and T-shirts.
Have you ever been to Hawaii? she asked, struggling to make the kind of small talk that beautiful, polished Carol would be so good at.
Lame. Did she only imagine that he looked bored?
No. Why do you ask? His deep, dark, richly accented voice made her shiver.
Because I live there. Because lots of tourists come there and I thoughtmaybe Id seen you. I mean, you seem so familiar.
Do I? Did she only imagine a new hardness in his voice?
He cocked his head and stared at her so intensely she couldnt quite catch her breath.
Continuing to gaze at her in that steady, assessing way, his big, tanned hand lifted his wafer-thin teacup to his sensual mouth. She was too conscious of his stern lips, of his chiseled cheekbones, of those amber sparks flashing in his eyes, of his long, tapered fingers caressing the side of the tiny cup.
A beat passed. His eyes scanned the other women in the tea shop before returning to her. She swallowed.
When he grinned, she blushed.
IIm not usually this nervous, she whispered.
You dont seem nervous. His low tone was smooth. Everything about him was smooth.
When she touched her teacup to lift it, it rattled, sloshing tea. Oh, God! See? My hand is shaking.
Did you skip lunch?
How did you? Why, yes, yes I did! There were so many things to look at in the markets. Sometimes I forget to eat when I shop.
I skipped lunch, as well. Maybe well both feel better if we have a scone. Theyre very good here.
Do you come here often?
Never. Until now. With you.
Then how do you know theyre good?
Reputation. I have a friend who comes here.
Amy imagined a woman as beautiful as Carol. His friend would be delicateslim and golden and well-dressed, the type who wouldnt be caught dead shopping at the Camden Market. His type.
Ignorant of her thoughts and comparison, her companion was slathering clotted cream and jam on his scone. When he finished, he handed the dripping morsel to her. Then he made one for himself. When she gobbled hers much too greedily, he signaled the waitress and ordered chilled finger sandwiches and crisps.
Licking jam and cream off the tips of her fingers, she willed herself to calm down. He was right; she was shaking because she was starving, not because he was gorgeous and sexy and maybe dangerous.
She was perfectly safe. They were in a sedate tea shop with a table and a tablecloth, pink-and-gold china teacups and saucers between them. They were surrounded by lots of other customers, too. So, there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about.
So, you havent been to Hawaii, she mused aloud, staring at his hard, too-handsome face with that lock of black hair tumbling over his brow. Are you famous?
He started.
She bit into a second scone, and the rich concoction seemed to melt on her tongue. A movie star? she pressed, sensing a strange, new tension in him as she licked at a sticky fingertip. Is that why you look so familiar?
Im an investor. He was watching her lick her finger with such excessive interest, she stopped.
You dont look like an investor, she said.
What did you have me pegged for?
You have a look, an edge. You certainly dont seem like the kind of man who goes to the office every day.
Did she only imagine that his mouth tightened? He lowered his eyes and dabbed jam on his second scone. Sorry to disappoint you. I have a very dull office and a very dull secretary in Paris.
So what do you invest in?
So what do you invest in?
Lots of dull thingsstocks, mutual funds, real estate. My family has interests all over Europe, in the StatesAsia, too. Emerging markets, they call them. Believe me, I stay busy with my, er, dull career. I have to, or Id go mad. His voice sounded bleak. And what do you do?
I just have a little shop. I sell old clothes that I buy at estate sales and markets.
And do you enjoy it?
Very much. But it would probably seem dull and boring to someone like you.
The question isis it dull and boring to you?
No! Of course, not! I love what I do. I live to find some darling item at a bargain price, so that I can sell it to a customer with a limited budget. Every woman longs to be beautiful, you know.
Then I envy you. Again she heard a weariness in his voice. Only this time she sensed the deeper pain that lay beneath it.
And you dont think Im boringbecause I sell old clothes?
He laughed. Dont be absurd.
No, really, you must tell me. She leaned forward, holding her cup in two hands for fear of spilling. Since were strangers, we can speak freely. Was your first impression of meDid you think I looked boring and old?
He set his scone down. Who the hells been telling you a stupid thing like that?
My boyfriend. Why had she admitted that?
Then dump him.
I sort of did, but Ive always loved him. Or, at least, I thought I did. Maybe hes just been in my life forever.
So youre the loyal, committed type?
Well, anyway, I cant stop thinking about him. All day I thought about him. And the things he said.
His black brows shot together so alarmingly her hands, which still held her teacup, began to shake. Stick with your decision.
But Ive loved him since I was five, I think, she whispered a bit defensively. My mother disapproves of him, though.
No wonder you cling to him.
No, its not like that. She smiled. Its just that Im not sure I did the right thing to break up with him. I did it so fast, I mean. Thats not like me. I spent several years planning before I opened my store.
Maybe the decision had been coming on for a while.
But Fletcher
Fletcher? His handsome features hardened. Well, youre not boring or old. So, you want to know my first thoughts about you. I thought you were lovely. Fresh. Nice. Different. Too nice for me probably, but a woman I definitely would want to know better if I were a different sort of manone capable of commitment. Sexy. He bit off that last rather grumpily. Sexy in a nice way. Youre the kind of woman a nice guy, who has a good job and wants to settle down, marries so he can have a houseful of kids to play soccer with on the weekends.
His dark eyes with those sparking flecks said much more, and she grew hot with embarrassment.
Thats sweet, she said.
When his hand reached across the table for hers, she jumped.
Responsive, too. Thats another first thought.
She yanked her hand free and tucked it beneath her pink napkin.
This Fletcher doesnt deserve you. But lets talk of something more pleasant. I can tell well never agree on this subject, so why argue? Your love life is your choice. Not mine. I barely know you.
He seemed out of sorts suddenly, defensive, almost jealous. But that wasnt possible. A man like him, who was wealthy, refined and movie-star sexy couldnt be jealous of her. Especially not when theyd just met.
Im sorry if I upset you.
So, you have a sister? He was clearly determined to change the subject. Here in London?
Carol. Actually, she lives outside London. On a rather grand estate near Wolverton. She has a large house with a conservatory. And a lovely garden, too. That sounds so English, doesnt it? But she and her husbandhes a lord and a very important person, mind youkeep a flat here in St. James so they can stay in the city whenever they need to, which is usually four or five nights a week. Shes a barrister, and hes high up in the government. They both work in the city.
So how much time do you have with them? What sights are you going to see while youre here?
Im flying to Marseilles tomorrow afternoon. But I hope to ride the Eye and walk across the Millennium Bridge. Im sure those seem like dull and boring things to you.
Quit running yourself down. Well do it, then, he said.
Well?
If youll accept my invitation. Are you free for dinner and dancing tonight?
But we just met. I bet Im not the sort of girl you usually ask out.
What the hell are you talking about now?
Just what I said. Im not the sort of girl you usually hang out with.
No, youre not. But maybe thats why I like you so much. Why I find you so not boring and old, as you put it, that I want to clear my schedule, which is jam-packed I assure you, and spend as much time as I can with you before you leave.
She was thrilled and yet startled, too. She was in a foreign city, and she didnt know anything about him. Except that he was sexy, and she wasnt sure that was exactly the best recommendation.
Ill have to check with my sister. She went to Edinburgh on business, but shes going to try to get back tonight in time to have me come for dinner. I came over here in such a rush, and she had a calendar full of engagements and business commitments.
I understand. He pulled out a little black notebook and tore out a page. Then he scribbled two numbers. This ones my mobile. The other rings at the flat. Call me if youre free. Then he shrugged in that wonderful Gallic way he had as he handed it to her.
His deep voice was as heated as his gaze, causing her to shiver even before he placed the note in her hand. Instantly she curled her fingers around the scrap of paper. When his fingers lingered warmly over hers for long seconds, her own hand froze.
Soon the heat of his long fingers wrapping hers proved too unnerving. She couldnt think or talk or breathe. Not with her pulse knocking a hundred beats a minute.
Why do you seem so familiar? she blurted, pulling her hand away so she could put his note in her purse. She gasped for a breath. II just know Ive seen you before.
I dont think so.
With a scowl, he picked up the bill. Then before she knew what he was about, he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, turning it over slowly. His mouth against her palm and wrist sent her pulse leaping even faster than before. Then heat swept her body.
I dont need to call you later. Ill go with youdancingeverythingtonight, she said in a rush.
What about Carol?
Carol? Her mind was blank.
Your sister. He smiled much too knowingly.
Right. She gasped. Right. Of course. Carol. Ive got to wait until Carol calls. I forgot all about her.
He laughed. Youre wonderful in your own special way. I envy that nice guy with the job whos going to get you. Lucky man.
When he got up, he helped her out of her chair. After he paid the bill, he escorted her out of the shop and said he hoped hed see her soon. On the sidewalk he lifted her hand to his mouth and said goodbye before walking rapidly toward Piccadilly.