Page 18 of Get Lost

She nodded. “That’s me.” Her words were way too breathless. She cleared her throat.Pull yourself together, Sutton!

“Where do you want this stuff?”

It was just another delivery in a long line of deliveries made this morning, but Kelsey’s cheeks warmed from embarrassment at the sight of him regardless. It didn’t matterwhohad just caught her crossing right over the line and directly into the danger zone, the fact was thatsomeone had caught her. And hooking up with sexy chefs was not something she wanted to be known for in the event planning business.

As she spoke with the delivery driver and instructed him on where to place the packages, she wiped at her face and throat with a paper towel. No matter where she turned or what she did, she couldfeelJean-Luc’s gaze on her as if it was a physical touch. She caught him watching her out of the corner of her eye and recalled the demanding grip of his fingers on her chin. He cleared his throat and she remembered, with vivid imagery, how he’d kissed her with such ferocity.

On autopilot, she signed for the delivery, smiled at the delivery guy, then watched him leave.Steadying herself with a deep breath, she prepared herself to turn around and face the handsome chef, ready to tell him exactly how very strongly she felt aboutnotsleeping with staff—and not allowing that hideous cake anywhere near the Winchester wedding, which was what she was here to handle in the first place—but his hands found her hips, and the heat of his body behind hers stopped all thoughts in her brain.

Jean-Luc pressed against her back and her eyes widened.

His fingers tightened on her hips.

Her breath stuttered in her chest.

He brought his lips to her throat and time stood still.

“Lock the door,” he murmured against her skin, the heat of his breath dancing across her flesh and constricting her belly. “You are distraction, Kelsey. Je ne peux pas me concentrer sur la travail, quand to es là.”

She blinked rapidly, trying to analyze the second half of what he’d said, but he was so close, too close, and her brain couldn’t catch up. “Distraction?”

“Oui. You think about me all day, non? We need to… how you Americans say, get this out of our sytémes?”

She turned slowly to face him, her eyes narrowed. “You speak English.”

He nodded. “Un peu plus que vous ne parle Français.” Then he flicked his gaze to the door pointedly, and repeated, “Lock the door, Kelsey.”

It took every ounce of strength Kelsey could muster, but she took a deep breath and shook her head, regretting it instantly and silently kicking herself for being so responsible. Because where was the fun in beingresponsible?

“This can’t happen.” She stepped backwards out of his grasp, then hurried off to put as much distance between herself and a really bad—reallytempting—decision as she possibly could. She just had to make it through the next eighteen or so hours… through the wedding ceremony itself, the following reception, then Sunday morning brunch for the remaining wedding party. After that, the sexy chef would be on his way back to France and Kelsey would be on her way back to Los Angeles.

And she wouldn’t be someone who sleeps with staff at her events.

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