Page 64 of The Paris Trip

‘N-No,’ she stammered.

‘Good.’

‘Is it?’

‘Of course.’ He took her elbow. ‘Because I don’t regret having met you, even if it’s been a mess at times. That photo Jean took, Liselle’s moodiness and jealousy, having to watch my father drooling over you… Now this, knowing there’ll be photos of us all over social media by now. You like this,’ he nodded towards her sodden, clinging dress, ‘and me having to stand by and watch while other men rescued you.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t risk your own neck,’ she remonstrated.

‘It’s not in my nature though to sit idly by when the woman I…’ Something flickered in that hard, handsome face, then Leo blinked and hurriedly shifted tack, finishing, ‘When the woman I’m with falls into the river.’

A memory slammed into her and she stopped dead, groaning out loud.

His hand released her elbow. ‘What is it?’ Concern drew his brows together. ‘Were you hurt, falling out of the boat? You told the paramedic you were okay.’

‘No, I’m fine, I just remembered… I’m meant to be meeting my grandmother for the first time this afternoon.’ Maeve struggled with her wet dress, its folds clamped to her thighs. ‘I was so careful to try and look my best today as well… Now look at me.’ She was usually good at staying calm under pressure, but the shock of her mishap had shaken her confidence and it was hard not to burst into self-pitying tears. ‘What.. Whatever will she think?’

‘I imagine she’ll think you fell in the river,’ Leo said, his mouth quirking with humour.

She glared up at him. ‘That’s not very helpful.’

‘Maybe not. But there’s nothing you can do about your dress. Or your hair.’

‘Oh, my hair!’ She ran her fingers through its tangled strands, but it seemed to be weed-free at last. Small mercies. It still felt damp and bedraggled though, slowly drying in the sunshine to a frizzy mess. ‘Perhaps we should call it off. See her another day.’

‘And if she changes her mind about meeting you?’

He was right. Her grandmother might well consider it intolerably rude for her to cancel their meeting last minute. She clapped her hands over her face, despair almost swallowing her. ‘This is just the most awful bad luck,’ she wailed.

‘True, but you can only work with the situation you’re given. What would you prefer your grandmother to see when she opens the door to you?’ he asked, gently pulling her hands away from her face and peering down at her. ‘A young woman in a mess, laughing at her own foolishness? Or someone miserable, riddled with fear and uncertainty?’

‘I am not riddled with fear and uncertainty,’ she said stiffly.

‘I’m glad.’ He moved a damp strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘In that case, why don’t you try seeing the funny side of the situation?’

‘Because there’s nothing funny about this.’

He gave her sodden figure a quick up-and-down glance and his lips worked with amusement. ‘Is that so?’ Then he gave a shout of laughter. ‘If you could see yourself…’

‘You, Leo Rémy, are a complete brute.’ She stamped on ahead, but the effect of wounded dignity was rather lost, given the loud squelching of her wet trainers.

He hurried after her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and put an arm about her waist. She felt herself go rigid, her head jerking back, her wide gaze shooting to his in shock. ‘It is funny,’ he insisted. ‘But I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at what happened. At the way they had to fish you out of the river… And as for the look on your face right now –’

‘Yes?’ she whispered when he stopped dead, her eyes on his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated in a low voice, ‘but I’m going to kiss you again, even though I know I shouldn’t.’ His arm snagged her closer, his dark head bending towards hers, eclipsing the bright dazzle of sunlight along the Seine. ‘Because you are completely irresistible.’

CHAPTER TWENTY

Maeve’s head swam under his demanding kiss. She had been so tired and bewildered the last time they’d kissed, her brain had not properly processed the situation. Or so she’d told herself, confused that she had even allowed such inappropriate behaviour from a man she barely knew. Though she knew him rather better now, or felt she did. It was strange, she mused, how a few electrically charged days with one person could leave you knowing them better than people you’d known for months, even years…

Of course, this time she had fallen into a river first. She was soggy and shaken. But the unexpected dunking had left her alert and her brain was working just fine. So it was even more of a shock when she didn’t instantly push him away as she probably ought to have done, but instead linked her arms about his neck and stood on tiptoe to deepen the kiss. Just like last time. Just as though she’d learnt nothing in the interim…

His mouth moved on her persuasively. Goodness, he smelt so good. Clean and male, his aftershave tangy with citrus. While she probably smelt of... No, best not to think of that. Besides, Maeve wanted more, and she never wanted more. That primal urge to go further left her stunned, so that when Leo pulled back to gaze down into her face, she found herself unable to speak. She merely gawped at him as though drunk.

‘I apologise,’ he murmured, still holding her far too close, which rather undermined the whole apology thing. ‘I seem to be making a habit of this. Kissing you, I mean. Not saying sorry. I’ve never been one for apologising if I can avoid it. But in this instance, I probably should. You’re our guest at Château Rémy. It’s not right.’

‘I, erm… Yes, I…’

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