Page 14 of Signed, Sealed, Married

Despite the fractured dreams, he’d woken feeling satisfied with his progress. He’d taken a long run, followed by a hearty breakfast and a conference call to Australia.

His satisfaction dimmed, though, as Gisèle surveyed him. Unlike yesterday, her gaze was openly assessing, trailing from his scalp, over his shoulders and torso, down his legs. He felt that grazing stare like a touch, like fire that ignited under a lover’s caress, bringing him to the brink of arousal in mere moments.

Yet there was no softening in her expression, no approval.

As if he left her cold and uninterested.

‘Please, take a seat.’

She was as gracious as a queen entertaining a stranger. Not like a woman greeting the man who would single-handedly save her business.

The man who intended to marry her.

For a bone-searing moment he actually wondered if he’d been mistaken yesterday, believing she was sexually interested, despite her attempts to hide it.

Then he saw the rogue shimmer of awareness in her eyes as they met his.

Relief punched him. He dropped into the chair beside her, surprised at how disturbed he’d been by the thought his attraction was one-sided. She felt it all right but didn’t want to show it. He admired her for that.

Adam was tired of over-eager women. Someone who made him work for what he wanted, as long as she ultimately wanted him too, was a refreshing change.

They ordered coffee and croissants that smelled like they’d just come from the oven, and it struck him that there was much to be said for doing business at an outdoor café on the French Riviera.

‘I’ve thought about your suggestion.’ Gisèle sipped her coffee.

‘Suggestion?’

‘Marriage.’

It hadn’t been a suggestion but an ultimatum and they both knew it.

He reached for his cup as if he wasn’t eager for her answer.

But there could onlybeone answer.

Adam waited, letting her fill the silence. He sipped his coffee, mentally ranking it below what he got in Australia. Angela, his sister, accused him of turning into a coffee snob, but the flaky pastry more than made up for it.

‘I had the impression you’re after a partner...’ Partner, not wife, he noted. Why did she shy away from the word? ‘Who’s posh.Reallyposh. So you need to know I’m no aristocrat. The Fontaines are working-class stock. I suggest you widen your search.’

Adam chewed the buttery croissant. Gisèle still wasn’t ready to accept his terms. He was torn between impatience and admiration at her gumption. It had been a very long time since anyone stood firmly in the way of him getting what he wanted. She was no pushover.

More and more he liked what he discovered.

‘You misunderstand. I’m not interested in a title. But wasn’t your grandmother a countess? And I thought a Russian princess married into the family last century.’

Blue eyes met his with a stare sharp enough to abrade skin. His flesh tingled and he repressed a smile. A reaction like that from this contained woman was a victory in itself.

It made him wonder how it would be if she stopped bottling up her emotions and allowed them free rein. He looked forward to it.

She shrugged. ‘My great-grandmother was penniless but born to a title in a country where they weren’t so rare. As for the Russian princess, she married into another branch of the family.’

Gravely he nodded. ‘Thank you for the clarification. As I said, titles don’t interest me. People do. You have the qualities I want in a wife.’ He watched that mask of calm conceal her thoughts. ‘So, Gisèle, what’s your answer? My legal team is standing by, waiting for me to tell them whether to proceed with the takeover.’

She stared across the square as if lost in thought. ‘If I were to consider your suggestion, I’d have conditions.’

Naturally. He was learning this woman didn’t give up easily. Her tenacity made him wonder about those poor decisions that had crippled the company. Had she been too headstrong to listen to advice? That didn’t sit with what he was learning about her. Maybe the advice she’d received had been flawed.

‘I’m listening.’

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