Page 3 of Get Lost

As if following her thoughts, he ran his tongue long the inside of his bottom lip and nearly undid her right where she stood.

Kelsey’s phone buzzed in her hand, pulling her out of his tractor-beam brown eyes.

She smiled politely, holding up her phone. “I have to get this. It was nice to meet you, Jean-Luc.” There. That came out all right. Nothing in her voice or her words exposed the fact she was dangerously close to dropping her pants right there in the middle of the ten-car garage to offer her cookie up for taste-testing.

Because she was a professional.Ahem.

He dragged his gaze slowly down her body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “J’ai hâte de te rencontrer à nouveau, Kelsey.”

What had he said? She hadn’t the slightest. But what he said and what he implied with that fiery gaze were probably two different things.

And only one of them kicked off a party in her pants.

Kelsey was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

Or, at least, she hoped to be.

Later.Afterthe event.

Obviously.

She gave a curt nod—both to herself in resignation and to him in goodbye—then hurried away because putting some distance between herself and Jean-Luc was absolutely, positively necessary.

Her tablet dinged with an incoming email, so she paused at a nearby table and set everything down to check her inbox.

She groaned when she saw the email was from her archnemesis, the jerkface loser who’d dubbed her Cheeto Girl in third grade because Little Kelsey—bless her sweet, innocent heart—always wiped her damn dirty hands on her pants and left Cheeto smears on them. She inhaled a breath and reminded herself that she and Alexander Arroyo were working together on the Drew Harrington and Renee Darcy wedding coming up in two weeks, and hemightneed to contact her for professional reasons. Then she reluctantly opened the new email.

Dearest Chelsea,

Kelsey shook her head. God, he wassoannoying.

It is with great sadness that I bring you this news.

Unfortunately for us both, Renee has asked that I do not serve Cheetos at her cocktail hour in any way shape or form. Surprisingly, she did not like the Cheeto-dusted cream puffs I created for the appetizer menu.

If you’d like to get together in the future, I will make them for you.

In the meantime, I will attempt to have Cheetos incorporated into the wedding menu, as I am sure you had your heart set on that.

Alex

Kelsey rolled her eyes and tapped out a quick reply.

Mr. Arroyo,

See? Professional AF.

There will never be a future when I will want to get together with you.

Regards,

Kelsey

Pausing, she considered adding something else, then opened the email again and sent a second reply:

P.S. IloatheCheetos almost as much as Iloatheyou.

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