Page 23 of The Rancher's Amnesia Bride

"Oui."

Charlee-Mae stuck her tongue out. "You just—-" She stopped speaking when she saw Philippe's phone, which he had left screen up on the table, start vibrating, and the name Greta pop up on the display.

"Aren't you going to take that?"

"After lunch," he said firmly.

"Oh, so Emily in Paris got that right? French people never work during lunch hours?"

Actually, he had never been the type to have lunch hours, but Philippe decided it was best to simply shrug in response rather than have his wife realize he had no wish to speak to his mistress in her presence.

"I hope it's nothing serious," Charlee-Mae said worriedly.

"Even if it were serious, she should be able to handle it or let someone else take over as VP."

"Uh...wow." Charlee-Mae was more than a little surprised. "That's quite harsh."

"Just as my own father did not give me any special treatment when I started out in the company, neither can I treat my sister-in-law differently from any other employee just because of who she is."

"Your father sounds intimidating."

"He was." Philippe's tone was brief. "He passed away when I was still in college."

Charlee-Mae reached to give his hand a squeeze. "I'm so sorry, Philippe."

"It's fine, ma femme. We were not truly close to begin with."

"And...your mother?"

The chiseled edges of her husband's handsome face softened. "We are quite close."

"I hope she'll like me." Charlee-Mae couldn't help feeling a little nervous at the prospect of meeting her mother-in-law. She usually had a lot of confidence in making people like her, but none of those people happened to be Philippe’s mother.

What if her mother-in-law ended up hating her because she was too American? What if—-

His phone started to ring again, and she then heard Philippe say, “Maman?”

Charlee-Mae froze. Wasn’t that French...for mother?

Chapter Six

Philippe made himself smile as the elevator doors opened and out came his mother with her usual air of L'Air du Temps.

"Maman."

"Philippe." She lifted her cheek for her son's kiss before stepping back to study him. "You appear surprised."

"Was that not your intention?" he asked dryly.

Sandra only smiled. "The woman you have been visiting here is your wife, n'est ce pas?"

"It seems you know everything."

"Oh, not everything," she denied airily. "I'd love to know, for instance, why you chose not to tell me about her."

"I didn't. I planned to," he said briefly, "but she had an accident on her way to Foxtown. It didn't result in any major injuries, but she did suffer a couple of bruised ribs, some gashes, and a scalp wound that required stitching."

"Mon Dieu. Is she okay?" Sandra was genuinely concerned, regardless of her suspicions of the unknown woman her son had married.

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