Buch lesen: «Her Deal with the Devil»

‘You know we’d be working on this project twenty-four-seven, right?’

‘Of course,’ Sapphire said, and the vein in her temple pulsed.

It had been her ‘give’ when she’d been younger—a tell-tale sign that she was rattled— and Patrick didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed that spending time with him disconcerted her.

‘And that doesn’t bother you?’

She stood, cool and confident and lithe. ‘This is business. Why should it?’

That vein beat to a rap rhythm. Yeah, she was rattled. Big-time.

‘Okay then, let’s do it.’

‘Fantastic. You won’t regret this.’ Her lush mouth eased into a wide grin. ‘We’re going to be great together.’

‘Absolutely.’

And he kissed her to prove it.

Dear Reader

What does romance mean to you?

For me, it’s a glance, a smile, a touch, a kiss.

Kisses are special. They convey so much—tenderness and passion, fun and flirting. They’re sensual and sexy, sweet and sublime!

Patrick and Sapphire certainly discover all that and more when they join forces for Melbourne Fashion Week. Can the fashion house CEO and the jeweller collaborate in and out of the bedroom?

I love revisiting characters, and was so pleased when Sapphie (who first appeared in MARRYING THE ENEMY, her sister Ruby’s story) demanded her very own romantic tale, complete with plenty of kisses…

Happy reading!

Nicola

www.nicolamarsh.com

About the Author

NICOLA MARSH has always had a passion for writing and reading. As a youngster she devoured books when she should have been sleeping, and later kept a diary whose contents could be an epic in itself!

These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and sons in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer, creating the romances she loves in her dream job.

Visit Nicola’s website at www.nicolamarsh.com for the latest news of her books.

Recent titles by the same author:

MARRYING THE ENEMY

WHO WANTS TO MARRY A MILLIONAIRE?

GIRL IN A VINTAGE DRESS

DESERTED ISLAND, DREAMY EX!

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Her Deal
with the Devil
Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my nan, who I miss more than words can say.

Your support for my writing meant so much.

You’ll live in my heart for ever.

CHAPTER ONE

SAPPHIRE INTERLOCKED HER fingers and stretched overhead, savouring the slight twinge between her shoulder blades. The twinge was good. It meant her muscles were functioning, which was more than she’d been able to say a few months ago.

But she wouldn’t go there. Not today.

Today was all about relaxation and easing back into work. Minimal stress. Positive thoughts. Focus.

She tilted her face to the Melbourne summer sun, enjoying the rays’ warm caress.

She should have done this more often. Then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up at the brink of collapse and almost losing her cherished family business.

If it hadn’t been for her younger sister Ruby…Her shoulder muscles spasmed and she lowered her arms, shook them out, using the relaxation techniques she’d learned during her enforced three month R&R at Tenang, the retreat that had nursed her weary body back to health.

She couldn’t afford to get uptight. Not with so much at stake. Not when she had so much to prove in facing her nemesis tomorrow.

With hands on hips she twisted from the waist, deliberately loosening her spine. Some of the tension eased and she closed her eyes, breathed deep. In. Out.

Calm thoughts. Zen. Centred. Relaxed.

‘Never thought I’d see the day when the great Sapphire Seaborn connected with her inner yoga chick.’

That voice. No way.

Her eyes snapped open and her Zen evaporated just like that.

Patrick Fourde. Here. In the tiny backyard behind the Sea-born showroom. Seeing her in daggy pink yoga pants, purple crop top and hair snagged in the morning mail’s elastic band; not in the fabulous designer outfit she’d planned to wow him with tomorrow.

Freaking hell.

She could feel the blood rush to her face. A virtual red flag to her mortification. Considering their past, she’d be damned if she let him know how truly flustered she was.

The guy had made her last year of high school a living hell and she’d rather grind coal to diamonds with her teeth than work with him now. But she had no choice. She had to reaffirm her leadership of the company. Had to prove she could handle the job physically. Had to ensure she never came that close to losing it again.

She strolled towards him, stopping about a foot away. Close enough to see tiny flecks of cobalt in a sea of grey. His eyes reminded her of a mood stone: bright and electric when he was revved, cool and murky when he had his game face on. Like now.

Lucky for him she’d wised up since high school and could outplay him. Never again would the cocky rebel get the jump on her.

‘Was there a problem with our meeting time?’

He grinned—the same wicked quirk of his lips that had driven her batty during Year 12 Biology—and leaned against the doorjamb.

‘No problem. I happened to be in the area. Thought I’d drop by for old times’ sake.’

This wasn’t how she’d envisaged their first meeting after ten years. Not at all.

She didn’t like being on the back foot. Not around him. Not when she needed to convince him Fourde Fashion couldn’t live without Seaborns’ fabulous gems for the upcoming Mel-bourne Fashion Week.

‘Or maybe I couldn’t wait ’til tomorrow to see you?’

There it was: the legendary charm. What had it taken? All of five seconds for him to revert to type?

Pity her opinion of the silver-spooned, recalcitrant playboy hadn’t changed over the years.

Indulged. Spoiled. Never worked a day in his life. Everything she’d despised in the rich guys she’d grown up with at the private school she’d attended. The type of guys who thought they could snap their fingers and have a harem falling at their feet.

Not her. She’d save her seven veils for strangling him if he didn’t agree to her business proposition.

‘Still trying to get by on lame flirting?’

‘Still the uptight, stuck-up prude?’

Ouch. That hurt. Especially as she wasn’t the same per-son—not any more. Working her butt off to learn the family business, losing her mum and having a bruising brush with chronic fatigue syndrome had seen to that.

Besides, she’d never been stuck up or a prude. Uptight? Maybe. But he’d always brought out the worst in her. Riling her with his practised charm, swanning through high school with an entourage of popular kids, teasing her whenever he got a chance.

For some unfathomable reason he’d taken great delight in annoying the hell out of her during their study sessions, succeeding to the point where she’d been flustered and irritable.

The more she’d ignored him, or feigned indifference, the more he’d pushed, niggling until she snapped. Sadly, her cutting remarks would only spur him on, so she’d learned to curb her annoyance and focus on their assignments in the hope he’d get the message.

He hadn’t.

She’d become an expert in patience, honing a cool tolerance in an effort to fight back her way.

Until the day she’d had no comeback.

The day he’d kissed her.

‘Why are you really here, Patrick?’

‘Honestly?’

She rolled her eyes. Did he even know the meaning of the word, with his glib lines and smooth charisma?

‘I heard the rumours and wanted to see for myself.’

Uh-oh, this was worse than she’d thought.

She could handle him seeing her without make-up and in workout clothes. She couldn’t handle him knowing about Seaborns’ reputed financial woes. It would undermine everything and scuttle her entire plan before she’d had a chance to present it.

‘You of all people should know better than to listen to a bunch of rumours.’

She attempted to brush past him but he snagged her arm. The zap of something was beyond annoying.

Ten years and he still had that effect on her? Grow up.

‘The reports of my life in the media are highly exaggerated. How about you?’

She could try and outbluff him but, considering she had to meet him at his office tomorrow for the pitch of her life, it wouldn’t be the smartest move.

‘What have you heard?’

‘That Seaborns has been doing it tough.’

‘No tougher than most during an economic decline.’

A blatant lie. Not that she’d let him know. If her sister hadn’t married mining magnate Jax Maroney the jewellery business that had been in their family for generations would have gone under.

And it would have been entirely Sapphie’s fault. She’d been too busy playing superwoman, trying to juggle everything on her own, to let anyone close enough to help. Her stubborn independence had almost cost her the company and her health.

The bone-deep fatigue and aching muscles had scared her, but not as much as the thought that she’d almost failed in making good on her promise to her mum.

No way would she take the business so close to the edge again. She’d do whatever it took—including play nice with this guy.

‘Really? Because the grapevine was abuzz with news of Ruby shacking up with Maroney to save Seaborns.’

Bunch of old busybodies—socialites who had nothing better to do than spend their lives sipping lattes, having mani/ pedi combos at the latest exclusive day spa and maligning people.

She’d spent a lifetime cultivating friendships in the moneyed circles she’d grown up in, had made an effort out of respect for her mum with Seaborns’ bottom line firmly in sight. Rich folk liked to be pandered to, and with the ‘old school’ mentality at work they stuck to their own. Which equated to them spending a small fortune on Seaborns jewellery.

But it was at times like this, when gossip spread faster than news of a designer sale, that she hated their group mentality.

‘You heard wrong.’

She hated having to justify anything to him, but she knew how hard Ruby had fought for Seaborns and she’d do anything for her amazing sister and their company.

The fact that Patrick was partially right—Ruby had initially married Jax for convenience to save Seaborns—rankled. If they hadn’t fallen head over heels Sapphie would have personally throttled her self-sacrificing sister for going to such lengths for their business.

‘Ruby and Jax are madly in love. They can’t keep their hands off each other.’

‘Lucky them.’

His gaze dipped to her lips and she could have sworn they tingled in remembrance of how commanding his kiss had been for an eighteen-year-old…how he’d made her weak-kneed and dizzy with one touch of his tongue…how he’d made her lose control.

Her lips compressed at the memory. Damn hormones. Just because it had been over a year since she’d been with a guy it didn’t mean she had to go all crazy remembering stuff from the past.

Or noticing the way his dark brown hair curled around his collar, too long for conventionality. Or the way stubble highlighted his strong jaw. Or how he never wore his top button done up, making the tanned V of skin a temptation to be touched.

Yep, damned hormones.

‘You’re flustered.’ He took a step closer and it took all her willpower not to step back. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

Oh, yeah. But she wasn’t going there, and especially not with him.

Once she sealed this deal she needed a date. A hot guy with nothing on his mind but drizzled chocolate and a sleepless night.

As if she’d ever find a guy to live up to her fantasies. The guys she dated were staid, executive types on tight timelines who demanded little. Guys like her.

‘Yeah, there is something you can do.’ She met his gaze, determinedly ignoring the quiver in her belly that signalled Patrick Fourde would be the kind of guy to make all a girl’s fantasies come true. ‘Be prepared to be wowed by the best designs Seaborns has ever produced.’

He inclined his head, the sunlight picking up spun gold streaks. ‘I’ll keep an open mind.’

‘That’s all I’m asking for.’

‘Pity.’

How one word could hold so much promise, so much sizzle, she’d never know. The guy had suave down to an art. He’d had that elusive something as a teen and it had evolved into a raw, potent sex appeal that disconcerted her.

Not that she couldn’t handle him…it…whatever.

‘Did that practised schmooze work for you in Europe?’

Those cobalt flecks flared and an answering lick of heat made her squirm. He didn’t speak, and his silence unnerved her as much as the banked heat in his steady stare.

‘Because personally it doesn’t do much for me.’

‘What does?’

‘Pardon?’

‘What does do it for you?’ He leaned in deliciously, temptingly close and she held her breath. ‘Because I’d really like to know.’

His breath fanned her ear, setting up a ripple effect as every nerve ending from her head to her toes zinged.

She could feel the heat radiating off him, could smell a delectable combination of crisp designer wool and French aftershave with a spicy undertone.

Heady. Tempting. Overwhelming.

Powerless to resist, she tilted her head a fraction, the tip of her nose within grazing distance of his neck.

And she breathed. Infusing her senses with him. Closed her eyes. Imagined for one infinitesimal moment what it would be like to close the gap between them and nuzzle his neck.

She had no idea how long they hovered a hair’s breadth apart, the inch between their bodies vibrating with an undeniable energy.

‘Hey, Saph, you out the back?’

She jumped, snagged her sneaker on a rock and stumbled. His hands shot out to grab her, anchoring her.

She should have been grateful. Instead, with his burning gaze fixed on her, a host of unasked questions she had no hope of answering flickering in the grey depths, she felt embarrassment burn her cheeks.

Patrick Fourde was the master of seduction. Always had been. It came as naturally to him as waking up in the morning. So why the heck was she responding to him on a level that defied explanation?

She couldn’t be attracted to him.

Her business depended on it.

Besides, she didn’t like him. She’d never liked him. He’d been a major pain in the ass during high school and by the way he’d breezed in here, determined to rile her, it looked as if nothing had changed.

For there was nothing surer—his turning up here today, twenty-four hours before their scheduled meeting, was nothing better than a ploy to unnerve her.

She might need his business, but working alongside him wouldn’t be easy.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered, brushing off his hold in time to see Ruby propped in the doorway, a delighted grin matching the astute glint in her eyes.

‘I didn’t know you had company.’ Ruby winked at Patrick. ‘And such fine company at that.’

Debatable.

‘Looking good, Rubes.’ Patrick saluted her sister. ‘Marriage suits you.’

‘Thanks.’ Ruby’s assessing gaze swept over Patrick, and by her growing grin she approved of what she saw. ‘Could say the same about you and Europe.’

‘Paris is okay, but Melbourne can hold its own.’ For some inexplicable reason he glanced her way. ‘This city is filled with beauty.’

To her annoyance, Sapphie’s blush intensified as Ruby stifled a guffaw.

‘You’re full of it,’ Sapphie muttered under her breath. In response, he snatched her hand and lifted it to his lips before she could react.

‘Maybe so, but you missed me anyway.’

He kissed the back of her hand—a soft, butterfly brush of his lips that almost made her sigh. Almost.

‘In your dreams.’

‘Count on it,’ he whispered, squeezing her hand before releasing it. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Damn the man for doing it to her again. Deliberately taunting, trying to make her flustered—and succeeding. Her stupid hand still tingled where he’d kissed it. That whole in-her-face practised French charm…? Yet another of his tricks to tease her. What she couldn’t understand was why. Was he trying to get her off-guard before their meeting tomorrow? Trying to disarm her and make her stuff up?

Whatever the answer, she mulled over it while watching one very fine ass as he farewelled Ruby and disappeared into Seaborns on his way out.

Ideally, she would have returned to her relaxation stretches to banish the disturbing sensations Patrick had elicited.

How many times had she done her best to ignore him in Biology, when her recalcitrant lab partner doodled rather than rote-learn the nerves in the human body, would deliberately distract her with stupid jokes, poke fun at everything from her ruled margins to her neat handwriting.

It made what had happened on graduation night all the more annoying, because it had been him she’d let her guard down around, him who’d been there to offer comfort, him who’d made her tingle all over just like the stupid buzz still zapping the skin on the back of her hand.

To add to her discomfort she now had to face a rampantly curious Ruby, who waited until he’d left before bounding towards her.

‘Jeez. How seriously hot is Patrick now?’

Sapphie refrained from answering on the grounds that she might incriminate herself.

‘I mean he was always hot, with that whole bad boy thing he had going on at school, but now?’ Ruby fanned her face. ‘He’s a babe and he’s totally into you.’

Sapphie shook her head and stuffed her hand into her pocket. ‘You know better than that. The guy flirts all the time. It’s his thing.’

Ruby shifted her weight from side to side, bouncing on the balls of her feet. ‘Well, his thing is making you glow.’

‘Bull.’

Ruby grabbed her arm and dragged her to a window. ‘Go ahead. Look.’

Blowing out an exasperated breath, Sapphie glanced at the glass. Even through a film of dust and rain spots she could see pink cheeks and wide eyes. But it was the expression in those eyes, the glazed confusion of a thoroughly bamboozled woman, that sent her hopes of forgetting the past spiralling on a downward trajectory.

She might despise Patrick and all he stood for, but he appealed to her on some visceral level she had no hope of explaining.

It hadn’t made sense back then and it sure as hell didn’t make sense a decade later that the guy she could quite happily have strangled had something that made her want to explore beneath his flaky surface.

‘Been a while since I’ve seen you look like this. A long while.’ Ruby slung an arm across her shoulders and led her inside. ‘Suits you.’

‘I was doing a few yoga poses outside. That glow…? Must’ve caught too much sun.’

Ruby laughed and hugged her. ‘You’re cute when you’re in denial.’

‘Nothing to deny. Patrick and I will soon be colleagues, hopefully.’

If she hadn’t botched it. First impressions counted in her business and considering he was CEO of Fourde Fashion’s new Aussie branch, she’d hazard a guess they counted with him too.

Having him discover her in the tree pose, followed by the verbal sparring they’d always been unable to resist, didn’t bode well.

At least she hadn’t called him any nasty names—something she vaguely recalled doing just before their final exams, when he’d particularly annoyed her with his goofing off.

‘Just colleagues, huh?’ Ruby bustled into the tiny makeshift kitchen at the back of the showroom and flicked on the kettle. ‘Wonder if he’ll greet you with a kiss on the hand every day you work together?’

Sapphie’s heart splatted at the thought. ‘It’s a French thing. Means nothing.’

‘Hmm…’ Ruby popped peppermint teabags into two mugs and propped herself against the bench as she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘Wonder if that “thing” extends to French kissing?’

The nibble of a double-coated Tim Tam stuck in Sapphie’s throat and she choked, coughing and spluttering, while Ruby poured boiling water into the mugs and grinned.

After a few thumps on her chest, which cleared her throat but did little for her pounding heart and the thought of getting anywhere near Patrick’s lips again, Sapphie gratefully took the proffered tea.

‘Considering I need to wow him with the presentation tomorrow, you’re not helping.’

Ruby’s smile waned. ‘You’re not getting too wound up about this, are you? Because Seaborns is doing okay since the auction and there’s plenty of time for you to get back into the swing of things.’

Sapphie cradled her mug, savouring the warmth infusing her palms, and inhaled the fresh minty steam. A six-espressos-a-day gal, she’d never thought it possible she could become hooked on herbal alternatives. But her time out at Tenang had taught her many things—the importance of self-worth being one of the biggies.

She needed to do this, needed to secure Seaborns’ future once and for all. Not from any warped sense of obligation to protect her little sister from the hardships of the family business. Not because of the promise she made to her mum on her deathbed.

For her. For Sapphire Seaborn, who loved this jewellery company and all it stood for, who secretly wanted her kids to run proudly along these polished floorboards one day, who wanted to prove to herself she didn’t have to be a stress-head to be the best in this business and could physically handle the pressures of the only job she’d ever known—the job she valued above all else.

Her brush with chronic fatigue syndrome had left her weak and debilitated. She never wanted to feel that frail again. Ever.

Resuming her position as leader of Seaborns and doing a damn good job was more about proving to herself that she was past her vulnerabilities than anything else.

She had to test her physical capabilities, had to prove she could handle whatever the future held.

‘You and Jax pulled off a coup with the auction. Proceeds are still coming in.’

Ruby shrugged, her bashful smirk not fooling Sapphie for a second. Her creative genius sister loved accolades, and the fact that every one of her signature Seaborn pieces had been snapped up at a recent gala auction had ensured orders flooded in. And kept Seaborns viable.

Something she now intended to do. Her way.

‘We did okay.’ A coy smile curved Ruby’s lips. ‘For two people who couldn’t see what was right in front of their noses ’til it was almost too late.’

Even now Sapphie could hardly believe Ruby and Jax had fallen in love and made their marriage real in every way that counted. The two were worlds apart yet they connected on a deep emotional level she sometimes envied.

What would it be like to be so into another person you were willing to tie yourself to them to life?

The way she was practically married to Seaborns, she’d probably never know.

‘I’m so happy for you.’ Sapphie’s eyes misted over and she blamed it on the steam from her peppermint tea.

‘Thanks, sis.’ Ruby sipped at her tea before lowering it to pin her with a probing stare. ‘So what are you going to do?’

‘About?’

‘Patrick Fourde.’

Damn, even hearing the guy’s name made her belly knot with trepidation.

‘I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.’

‘Not about work.’ Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘About what I saw out the back.’

Sapphie didn’t want to think about what had happened out the back. She didn’t want to give credence to a single thing the flirtatious charmer had said or done.

She surreptitiously rubbed the back of her hand where the imprint from his lips lingered to prove it.

He’d been goading her like in the bad old days, nothing more. The fact she’d let him get to her—not good.

She was older and wiser now. Time to prove she could work with him without letting his deliberate barbs affect her.

‘He could be good for you.’ Ruby wound the end of her ponytail around her fingertip in the same absentminded way she did while pondering her next creation. ‘Bit of fun. Nothing serious. Clear out the cobwebs, metaphorically speaking.’

Sapphie grabbed the nearest teatowel and chucked it at Ruby’s head. Her sister ducked, laughing.

‘You’re right about me needing to date again but I wouldn’t touch Patrick Fourde if he was the last guy on earth.’

Ruby smirked. ‘Six-month supply of Tim Tams says you can’t last a fortnight without getting up close and personal with the dishy Patrick.’

‘Too easy.’ Sapphie held out her hand to shake on the bet, looking forward to Ruby stocking her pantry with the irresistible rectangles of decadent chocolate. ‘You’re on.’

Patrick headed for the nearest café. He needed a caffeine shot. Fast. Maybe the jolt to his system would snap him out of his weird funk. A funk that had started around the time he’d laid eyes on Sapphire Seaborn again.

He shouldn’t have come, he knew that, but he’d been unable to stay away.

The cool blonde had always had that effect on him. There’d been something about her in high school that had made him want to ruffle her poised, pristine exterior.

Rather than hating the way she’d turned up her pert nose, as if she had better things to do than hang out with him to study, he’d made it his personal mission to see how far he could push before she’d crack.

She never had, and seeing her name on his meeting manifesto was the reason he’d shown up today.

Curiosity. Was she still the same uptight prig? Would he be able to work with her? Seaborns were the best in Melbourne, and that was what he needed for his venture. But being stuck alongside Miss Prissy for the duration of the Fashion Week campaign wasn’t his idea of fun.

Until he’d fired his first barb. She’d parried it and had unexpectedly catapulted him back in time. For some unknown, masochistic reason he’d wanted to annoy her all over again for the fun of it.

That kiss on the hand had done it too. He’d seen the initial flash of antagonism in her icy blue stare, the tiny frown between her perfectly plucked brows.

But he’d also glimpsed an uncharacteristic softening, a thawing of ice to fire, when he’d lingered over her hand, and that had shocked him. Almost as much as his physical reaction.

Hand-kissing a turn on? Who would’ve thought?

It reminded him of the other time they’d kissed, when he’d managed to delve beneath her frosty veneer and prove she wasn’t as immune as she’d like to think.

That was what he had to do if he were to work with her. Keep her off-guard. Maintain control. And show he wouldn’t tolerate her coolly disdainful treatment.

This time he had something she wanted and she must want it real bad. For Sapphire to approach him for business…Well, Seaborns must be in a worse place than the rumours he’d heard.

Seaborns. He glanced at the elegant art deco cream façade, at the gleaming honey floorboards beneath discreet downlights, at the shimmer and sparkle of exquisite gems behind glass.

And he remembered. Remembered the night he’d brought her home from the graduation dance because her lousy date had been too drunk to drive. Remembered standing in this very spot outside the showroom, reverting to his usual taunts to cheer her up, hating the way the first time he’d seen her vulnerable, seen beneath her outer shell, had made him feel sad rather than victorious.

He remembered the sounds of soft laughter from nearby restaurants, the distinct clang of a tram bell, the faintest wistful sigh a moment before he’d ignored his misgivings and kissed her.

It had been a crazy spur-of-the-moment thing to stop her lower lip wobbling. He’d liked teasing the Ice Princess. He would have hated seeing her cry.

So he’d had no option but to distract her.

He’d expected a kiss to do that and then some.

The part where she’d combusted and he’d lost control a little…Not supposed to happen.

Who would have thought beneath Sapphire’s glacial surface lay a bubbling hotbed of hormones?

He’d kissed a lot of women in his time, in the endless whirl of parties and fashion events throughout Europe, and dated some of the hottest women in the world, but that kiss with Sapphire Seaborn…

Something else.

Not that he deliberately remembered it, but every now and then, when a blue eyed-blonde gave him a haughty glare, he’d remember her and that brief moment when he’d glimpsed a tantalising sliver of more.

Back then she’d shoved him away and fled. Wanting to ease her mortification—and maybe rub her nose in it a little, because old habits died hard—he’d tried calling once, e-mailed and texted a couple of times.

Predictably, she’d raised her frosty walls and he’d backed off. It hadn’t bothered him. He’d left for Paris a week later.

Now he was back, ready to take the Melbourne fashion scene by its bejewelled lapels and give it a damn good shake-up on his way to achieving his ultimate goal. And if he ended up working with Sapphire he’d rattle her too.

As he took a seat at an outdoor table at the café next door and ordered a double-shot espresso he remembered her horrified expression when she’d first caught sight of him.

Shell-shocked didn’t come close to describing it.

Only fair, considering he’d felt the same. When he’d first seen her, arms stretched overhead, revealing a flat, tanned stomach that extended to her bikini line courtesy of ragged, low-riding yoga pants, he’d felt like he had that crazy time he’d leapt into the Seine on a dare: breathless, shivery, out of his depth.

He’d never seen her so casual or without make-up and it suited her—as did the layered pixie cut that framed her heart shaped face and made her blue eyes impossibly large.

Usually lithe and elegant, she’d appeared more vulnerable, more human than he’d even seen her, and it added to her appeal.

She’d been hugely confident as a kid. Cutting through a crowd or cutting him down to size. When Sapphire spoke people listened, and he’d been secretly impressed by her unswerving goal to help run the family business.