Summer Escape With The Tycoon. Donna Alward
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I’m sorry for freaking you out,” he replied. “It’s been a long day.”
Her lips twitched a little, and those pouty lips curved up in a smile. Then a smile with teeth...and then a light laugh came out of her mouth.
He chuckled a little, too. “Not exactly a great icebreaker, was it?”
“No,” she answered and stopped laughing. Her face was more relaxed now, though, and something shimmered in the room between them. Maybe it was just the awareness that he’d caught her in a fairly intimate situation. Whatever it was, he was uncomfortable with it.
“I’m Molly,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. “Molly from Massachusetts.”
“Eric,” he answered, taking her hand. It was still warm from the heat of the water, and soft. But her grip was firm and he liked that. The memory slid back. Damn if she wasn’t the actual reason he was on this particular trip. “Wait. You’re—”
“We’re all set here, Mr. Chambault.” Paul reappeared at the door, interrupting Eric’s sentence. Eric dropped her hand, still a little shaken by his sudden realization. He’d seen that smile before. That soft, plump mouth with a teasing grin. It had been the mention of Massachusetts, though, that had really tipped him off. She was the woman from the hotel. The one who’d outbid him. He’d wanted the trip badly enough that he’d booked one for himself anyway. He’d never dreamed they’d be on the exact same one.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, then stepped away. Maybe she wouldn’t remember him, and he’d just pretend they were complete strangers. Because really, they were.
Ten days. She’d be a part of his tour group for the next ten days. One thing he knew for sure: he couldn’t ever interrupt her bath again. The last thing in the world he needed was a holiday romance. And Molly from Massachusetts could be very tempting, indeed.
* * *
Molly let out a breath as she stepped into the private dining room. She could do this. Good heavens, a room full of strangers was not an unusual thing, and they were all on holiday. No one was worried about division of assets or custody agreements. So why was she so nervous?
She wiped her hands on her linen trousers and admitted to herself that it was all due to Eric...whose last name was something French. She only remembered that because the assistant manager had called him Mr. Something or Other. But it fit. His voice was low and smooth, with just a hint of an accent on certain words. Together with his thick dark hair and chocolaty brown eyes, it was no wonder her sexy-ometer had gone a bit haywire the moment they’d shaken hands.
But that wasn’t all. She’d tried to have a short nap herself, and it had been in that moment just before nodding off that she’d remembered those eyes. She was good at placing people and he was the one who’d lost the bid on this very trip at the benefit this past spring. The big question was, did he remember her?
She was the last to arrive in the dining room, and there was one vacant seat at the table. And, of course, it was directly to the right of Eric. Her nerves went crazy again, sending butterflies winging through her stomach. Oh, well. Might as well get used to it and set the tone. After all, they were going to be in the same group for the next week and a half. At least he didn’t seem to remember her. She could just pretend that she’d never laid eyes on him before. No problem.
She went to the table and pulled out the chair. “Wow,” she said easily. “I didn’t expect you to save me a seat.”
He turned his gaze to her and she felt the little jolt of electricity again. “I didn’t,” he said dryly. “Five minutes ago you would have had a better selection.”
“I’ll survive.” She sat down and reached for her napkin. “Has everyone ordered?”
“No. Just our drink orders.”
A server came by and Molly ordered a pomegranate martini, and by the time it had arrived, food orders were being taken. She decided to start with a beet salad, then a main of duck. She listened as Eric ordered his dinner. Then she took a sip of her cocktail.
He’d seen her in the bath. Ever since, she’d wondered exactly how much he’d seen. She hoped her breasts had been covered. She’d definitely had her toes up on the faucet, but had the other bubbles provided cover for...everything else? Her face heated and she put down her glass and reached for her water.
“Something wrong?” he asked, reaching for a slice of bread. He smeared honeyed butter on the top and took a bite.
“Of course not.” She faked a smile and straightened. “Did you have your nap?”
He nodded. “I did. I didn’t have the distraction of a wonderful view.”
Discomfort slid through her. “I’m sorry?”
“My room is considerably smaller than yours, that’s all.”
She reached for the martini again—this could be a long evening. “It’s probably because I got a deluxe package.” She chanced a glance in his direction. “It’s really just a bucket-list kind of thing.”
He buttered another corner of his bread. “So what about this trip is on your bucket list?”
“Oh, well. Uh... Nothing? I mean, I don’t really have a bucket list.” Too late, she realized she’d contradicted herself, something she never did in her profession. Why was she so flustered?
Their salads were served and she picked up her fork. But Eric hesitated and she paused with her fork stuck in a piece of endive.
“What’s the matter?”
He shrugged. “I guess I’m just confused. If this is a bucket-list trip, but you don’t have a bucket list...”
Right. And the last thing she wanted to do was get into her motives and personal life. Instead she smiled. “Oh, that. Well, I’m a bit of a workaholic. I hadn’t really considered an actual bucket list, but I decided that I could do with some time off and something exciting. Trip of a lifetime, amazing experience, yada, yada.”
He nodded and the mood relaxed. “I get the workaholic thing. You’re a lawyer?”
“Yes, family law. Partner in the family firm. Dissolving marriages since 1982, when my dad started his own practice with a friend.”
“Oh.”
That was all he said, and the air seemed to cool around them. To her surprise, he then turned away and began talking to his neighbor on his left.
Maybe her first impression had been right after all. Rude and entitled. Maybe there’d been a moment of something that had flashed between them, but his snub just now had been real. Fine. She ate her salad and struck up a conversation with her neighbors, a husband and wife from northern Alberta who were involved in an oil-and-gas company. Their previous expedition had been walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain, and soon they had her laughing at some of their stories.
The duck was succulent and tasty; a glass of wine after the martini helped take the edge off her irritation with the man on her left. By the time dessert arrived, she was more than ready to head to bed and get a good night’s rest before tomorrow’s beginning of their trip.
She’d ordered the hotel’s signature cake, rich with hazelnut and cream, and promised herself she’d only take three bites and have a strong coffee. Eric had momentarily turned back, and when he saw the dark liquid in her cup, he gave it a side eye. Was it possible she’d been mistaken? The man beside her now didn’t hold any of the warmth and humor that she’d sensed in the mystery bidder back on Nantucket.
And why did she feel like tonight she’d been judged and had come up lacking in some way? Even her coffee got a sideways glance.
“It won’t keep me awake, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You