One Week With The French Tycoon

He must have seen her take the food from the buffet. The realisation sent a prickle up her spine. Normally she would never have done such a thing, hating the idea of stealing anything from anyone, but with the limited funds she had available until her bag turned up, it was necessary to bend her rules a little.

‘I purloined it from the breakfast buffet,’ she admitted, forcing herself to keep her chin up and her gaze locked with his. ‘I thought the least the hotel could do was gift me a lunch after their mess-up with the room last night. Anyway, a place like that always puts out more than is consumed. I was helping with their wastage problem,’ she finished, aware that her tone was edged with defensiveness.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as his wry smile deepened. ‘Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me,’ he murmured, leaning closer and enveloping her in his delicious scent.

It was all she could do not to take a great gulping breath of it through her nose. What was it that made his smell so enticing to her? Was this what people called the pheromone effect? She’d never experienced it before.

‘Thanks,’ she deadpanned.

He gave her a curt nod. ‘Well, I’m going to go and eat.’

‘Okay, enjoy,’ she said, disappointed that he was leaving now. Despite his standoffishness, she’d enjoyed chatting with him after spending her morning alone. All the other English-speaking walkers she’d encountered on the route seemed to be part of a group, which she hadn’t had the courage to try and break into yet.

She watched him stride away, trying not to stare at the way he moved his large, fit body with such powerful grace.

Judging by his troubled mood, she guessed he must be struggling with some serious emotional turmoil, which she knew from personal experience could make for a pretty lonely existence. She hated to see people in pain, especially if she thought she could do something to help.

Well, she’d just have to keep an eye out for him, just in case he fancied some no-strings company later.

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