Accidental Heiress. Nancy Robards Thompson

One minute the flirt, the next the serious businesswoman.

      Henri felt that old familiar inner riptide of uncertainty, which should’ve been reason enough to let her keep walking. Even if Sydney had been pushing the bounds of what was appropriate in the workplace, at least she knew when to rein it in.

      Unlike Margeaux, who had created a reputation for herself as a socialite run amok. She seemed to take pleasure in embarrassing her father with her headline-grabbing antics. Even if she had been lying low for the past couple of years, her reputation preceded her. Fille sauvage, her father had called her for as far back as Henri could remember. As if living up to the label her father had slapped on her, Margeaux Broussard had, indeed, proven herself every bit the wild child.

      Not the type of woman he needed to get involved with if the Crown Council was ever going to take him seriously.

      “Sydney, wait.”

      She stopped underneath the archway that led into the main gallery, but she didn’t turn around.

      Henri knew he’d hurt her feelings. He hadn’t meant to. He was simply skittish about public displays of affection at work, even if it was simply the brush of a hand or an I-want-you pucker of lips. He expected no less of his other employees. He had to lead by example.

      “Please let me know when you hear about the missing pieces for the catalogue,” she said, without looking back at him. “If we don’t get this to the printer by Wednesday, we won’t have the catalogue in time for the opening.”

      He glanced around. They were the only ones in the gallery.

      “If you’re free tonight, perhaps we could have some dinner and proof them…together. Two sets of eyes are always better than one.”

      This time she turned around and faced him, that devilishly sexy left brow of hers rising, a question mark. She crossed her arms over her chest, creating a barrier between them.

      “A business meeting?” she asked. “After hours?”

      She wasn’t going to make this easy.

      Still, he nodded.

      “I suppose that might work,” she said. “But I have one stipulation. I want to go out—to Le Coeur Bleu in the Hotel de St. Michel.”

      The Hotel de St. Michel. Where Margeaux was staying. No doubt she’d read his notes about the Hotel St. Michel. It was too much of a coincidence otherwise.

      It was a bad idea to bring Sydney there, even though the chance they’d run into Margeaux and her friends was remote. He should go there alone. He should contact Margeaux and arrange a private meeting….

      Even so, as he opened his mouth to suggest a different restaurant, he heard himself agreeing, “Le Coeur Bleu it is.”