Page 19 of Signed, Sealed, Married

Adam shrugged. ‘It takes a lot of wheeling and dealing to build success from nothing.’ He wasn’t ashamed of his work ethic. ‘Not everyone has a family legacy to help them on their way.’

Not like the Fontaines.

She didn’t flinch. ‘Julien and I were extremely lucky.’

He liked that she didn’t apologise for that luck.

‘Plus I had no opportunity to go yachting in the early days.’

A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. ‘Yet Sydney is home to the famous Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race.’

Adam inclined his head, pleased that her research on him, like his on her, had gaps. ‘I wasn’t born in Sydney. I grew up in a smaller, inland town.’

‘Ah, no yachts there.’

‘No, though some of the boys at the exclusive boarding school down the road came from families who owned yachts. They could afford overseas skiing holidays too, and other things beyond the means of us working-class kids.’

Bright eyes surveyed him. ‘You resented that.’ She made it a statement, not a question. As if she knew him.

His nape tightened. She thought she could read him so easily?

‘Actually, no. I played weekend football with some of them. I suspect a few would have given up all the expensive treats for a decent home life.’

The sort of home life he’d had. His family had been poor but there’d been plenty of affection and support. He wasn’t shallow enough to disregard that.

‘I’ve never resented anyone for having something I don’t.’ Adam wasn’t in the habit of explaining himself but this was the woman he intended to marry. Not that he expected her to become his confidante, but things would go easier if they understood each other better. ‘What I can’t abide are people who think they’re better because they’re rich or were born to privilege.’

Gisèle’s jaw angled up. ‘Yet you want to marry me.’

Adam stepped closer, watching her swallow as her gaze held his. She didn’t retreat, just lifted those proud eyebrows higher.

Queenly. Proud. Challenging.

Desire threaded his body, arrowing low. His fingers flexed and he shoved them into his trouser pockets.

‘You’re saying I’ve made a mistake about you, Gisèle? That you’re a secret snob? That wasn’t my assessment and I saw no evidence of it in the investigators’ report.’

It had sounded as if she were as much at home with the farmers who grew the flowers used in the family perfume distillery as among the wealthy.

Nowshe reacted.

‘You had meinvestigated?’ Her voice rose and the tendons in her neck turned rigid as a flush climbed her throat. Then she blinked and shook her head. ‘Of course you did. I should have realised.’

Her beautiful mouth was no longer soft and inviting but dragged down at the corners. Her shoulders rose, hunching under her impeccable jacket.

Adam wished he’d let sleeping dogs lie.

He lived in a world where due diligence often included the use of private investigators to ferret out weaknesses and secrets. It seemed Gisèle, despite her privileged upbringing, wasn’t so sanguine about such practices.

He frowned, annoyed that he’d pushed the point. Was he being deliberately crass, hoping to provoke an emotional response?

He felt like a blundering fool who’d told a child Santa Claus didn’t exist.

Except Gisèle was no child. Already she stood straighter, that small, perfect smile that didn’t reach her eyes curving her lips.

‘Well,’ she murmured in a composed voice with just a hint of huskiness. ‘That will save a lot of getting-to-know-you conversation.’

Maybe hewaslosing his edge, for he hated that dismissive smile. As he disliked her insouciant response, as if she didn’t care that he’d invaded her privacy. He’d rather she argued or objected as she had before, fighting her corner for Fontaine’s employees.

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