Page 45 of Signed, Sealed, Married

Taking in her raised eyebrows, he said, ‘Is this okay? My sister raved about it.’

So he discussed films with his sister. It sounded like they were close, maybe like her and Julien. The idea intrigued.

‘Perfect. Engaging but not too taxing.’

The hero was easy on the eye, but nowhere near as compelling as Adam. She watched him take the laden tray and put it on the coffee table. He had a grace of movement that made her wonder if he’d been an athlete before he focused on world domination.

‘Here.’

He passed her a steaming mug that smelt of honey and cinnamon. Gisèle cupped her hands around it and inhaled. The smell took her back to childhood, to cuddles and bedtime stories. ‘Hot milk and honey?’ She’d expected a nightcap.

‘Guaranteed to help you relax ready to sleep. My mum swears by it.’

‘Yet you’re having a beer.’

His eyes danced in a way that made her feel at the same time breathless and reassured.

Gisèle told herself her reactions would make more sense tomorrow, without emotions pumping adrenaline through her bloodstream.

‘A man has to fortify himself if he’s going to watch historical romance.’ He offered her a large bowl from the tray. ‘Here, have a chip. You French do them very well.’

‘We should. We invented them. And they’re calledpommes frites.’

She bit into crunchy, hot potato, dusted in rosemary salt, and only just managed not to moan in pleasure. She grabbed a few more.

‘You like them, then?’

Adam was watching the screen but clearly his focus was on her. For once that seemed neither intimidating nor sexual, but...caring. Amazing how lovely that felt.

‘I adore them but rarely eat them.’

The press had been ruthless in her early teens, comparing photos of her rounded features and tummy with her svelte mother, pushing her into a downward spiral of self-criticism and body negativity it had taken years to climb out of.

Now, instead of worrying about calories, she simply preferred eating healthy options. Most of the time.

She sipped her milk and snuggled deeper into the cushions, looking at the screen. ‘I expected multi-billionaires to snack on champagne and caviar.’

‘Ah, but I’m a working-class guy through and through. As people are very ready to remind me.’ Something in his voice caught her attention. Nothing she could identify, yet it made her blink and sit up from her slumped position. ‘Relax, Gisèle, or you’ll miss the movie.’

He held out thepommes fritesand she found herself taking a handful.

Strange how relaxed she felt with Adam beside her, recipient now of one of her secrets. She’d spent her life ferociously guarding her private life.

Yet she trusted Adam with that knowledge. Amazing!

Gisèle stifled a yawn and snuggled under the blanket. It was surprising how comfortable it was, having him here.

She woke to find herself snuggled into the warmest bed she’d ever slept on. Cosy but not too soft. Her fingers splayed against the mattress and slowly her sleep-fuddled brain registered it wasn’t a mattress. It was a ribcage, gently rising and falling.

Gisèle opened her eyes, trying to decide where she was. Not in a bedroom but a luxurious sitting room, lit by the glow of shaded lamps.

With Adam.

He was asleep, sprawled diagonally along the sofa, long legs stretched out before him, his head on a corner cushion. One limp hand held a remote control and his other arm was wrapped loosely around her back while her cheek rested on his chest.

Experimentally she shifted, feeling the slide of her long skirt against her legs. She, like he, was fully dressed.

The evening before came back in a rush. The excitement. The kiss. The spike of hunger between them. And that dreadful moment of panic when she’d feared the past was repeating itself.

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