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The Bachelor's Cinderella: The Frenchman's Plain-Jane Project. Trish WylieЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Bachelor's Cinderella: The Frenchman's Plain-Jane Project - Trish Wylie


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Yes. You got hurt today, and I noticed that you’re still limping even though you said you were fine. I’d simply try to send you home to bed but I understand that several people have already attempted that, and you’ve resisted. I suppose I could order you home, but…”

      “You don’t want to do that, because I’m in training to take over when you’re gone, so you don’t want to take my power away. Is that it?”

      “Something like that.”

      “So you’re taking me out to dinner.”

      “Yes, and then I thought I’d whisk you back home early and by…oh…seven o’clock you’d be in bed asleep.”

      She smiled. “That was very clever and conniving of you.”

      “It was, wasn’t it,” he said with a grin. “Too bad I’m not capable of lying to you.”

      “That’s not such a bad thing, you know.”

      He shrugged. “Will you come with me, Meg?” And when he held out his hand to her that way, how could she say no?

      She placed her hand in his. Why was it that every time he touched her, she felt it a little deeper and the longing got a little stronger? The pain when he finally left was going to be excruciating, but she didn’t want to think about that. He was still here, right by her side. For now.

      “I’m yours,” she said.

      Those gorgeous eyes turned dark and fierce. “Figuratively speaking,” she added, trying not to blush. That had been a stupid, impetuous thing to say.

      “Of course.”

      Of course. And in no time, he had her home. She changed into a white dress, an unusually colorless choice for her, but there was something serious about Etienne tonight, and she didn’t want him to feel that he had to tease her about her bright colors the way he usually did.

      What was wrong? Was it the upcoming anniversary of his wife’s death? Or had she, Meg, failed to digest all that Etienne felt she needed to know?

      In the weeks since they’d met, they had spent an hour or two of each day together while he coached her on all the aspects of business he felt she would need to know. And he had been amazingly well versed in the American system. He possessed an abundance of knowledge about business law and labor and trade laws here. He taught her about stocks and bonds and retirement plans and employee insurance plans, about taxes and safety considerations and…everything, it had seemed. She had tried to digest as much as she could; she had taken books and files home every night, but her time had been limited and…she was worried and…

      “Something’s bothering you,” she said. “Tell me.” Just as if she had a right to invade his privacy.

      But he didn’t seem to notice that she had overstepped a boundary. “I let you get hurt today. I wasn’t paying enough attention. If you had hit your head on the ground…if I had fallen on you and crushed you or caused you to break something vital, I…”

      He turned to her and took her hands in his own. “I’ve pushed you too hard, Meg. You’ve been trying to be all things to all people, to prove that you can do it all, but you don’t have to do it all. You shouldn’t be forced to play a sport just to make everyone feel good. That day I came and lured you back here, I was pushy. I set a pace that was too driving. I’ve sapped your energy. You’re limping.”

      His tone was angry, but she could see now that he wasn’t angry at her but at himself. Still, she knew that the tragedy of his wife was at the heart of this. How could it not be? How did any man get past the guilt that she knew gnawed at him?

      So what could she do? Meg rose up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Solemnly. Slowly. And with fervor.

      When she pulled back, she saw that Etienne looked dazed and stunned…and heated.

      “Yes, I’d say I’m perfectly healthy,” she said, a bit breathlessly. “My heart started pounding just as it does whenever we kiss.”

      “Meg,” he warned. “Don’t do this. I don’t have much self-control tonight.”

      “I don’t, either,” she said weakly, “so no, I won’t do that again, but I just wanted you to know that I’m fine, Etienne. Really. And nothing is going to happen to me. You don’t have to save me.”

      She looked away as she said that because yes, it was a bold and daring thing to say even though she was pretty sure that it was true. She finally got it.

      Etienne saved things. He saved people. He did for everyone else what he hadn’t been able to do for his wife.

      That was why he was always so concerned about her. Oh, sure, he desired her, but then she was pretty sure that Etienne had a lot of experience desiring women. The concern thing clearly had its roots in his personal tragedy. It was up to her to free him from that. From now on, that was going to be her goal, to disentangle Etienne from her life so that if some little something ever did happen to her, he wouldn’t blame himself.

      That meant she needed to be less concerned about things. Publicly, that is.

      “What?” she asked, realizing that she had missed his words while she’d been plotting.

      “Here. Come inside, or would you rather sit on the patio? It’s overcast, but I think we’re safe from the rain for now,” he said as he stopped walking. Meg looked up to see that they had walked to the entrance of Bistro Campagne.

      Meg chose the patio. It was full of chatter and interesting people. The restaurant was a charming place, one she had never been to and the food was magnifique, as Etienne said, but Meg was concentrating so hard on being bright and cheery and convincing Etienne that she was now the strongest, most learned, most accomplished, least likely person to ever suffer a tragedy or setback or even so much as a paper cut, that she missed most of the meal.

      When they left the restaurant and began walking down the street, Etienne gave her a sideways smile. “You are an intriguing and infuriating woman, Meg Leighton.”

      That certainly got her attention. “Infuriating? In what way? I thought I was being rather pleasant tonight.”

      “Exactement. You’re being the brightest, most falsely cheerful person ever. It is an act a man who didn’t even know you could see right through. And I happen to know you. Well,” he said in a way that made her feel that he knew intimate things about her. She felt the tingle rip slowly through her body.

      “I was that obvious, was I?”

      “Well, maybe not that obvious, but as I said, I know you.”

      He did, but…not everything. He certainly couldn’t know just how much his words, his accent, his dimples, the way he looked at her or touched her affected her. She was totally incapable of managing her feelings when Etienne was near.

      “You were trying to distract me so that I wouldn’t worry,” he accused. “Weren’t you?”

      She couldn’t lie to him. Much. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But what about you?” she said. “I happen to know you, too, and I know very well that I did not score a run today.”

      Etienne looked as if she had taken that baseball bat and physically walloped him with it. “Meg…” he began.

      “Etienne,” she said, turning to face him and standing her ground. “You know you won’t lie to me.”

      “I won’t.”

      “What was Lily doing behind me when Paula was asking me all those questions? I heard a sound, and later when we went inside I saw that things looked a bit…disturbed around the base.”

      “You don’t seriously think I would say something bad about Lily, do you?”

      “It wouldn’t be a bad thing. Don’t you think I know that everyone felt sorry for me because


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