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He sniffed a laugh. “Leave it to you to find the bright side.”
“Being in charge might be new to me, but I’m not stupid, and all of a sudden the timing feels right. Like I’m stepping into my destiny.”
“Destiny.” He snorted. He hated when people talked that way, as if some big hand would nudge them along, open doors, keep trouble at bay. She might be smart but that darned naïvety of hers was going to get her into trouble if she didn’t put a lid on it. “Don’t think destiny. Think to do list. Think organizational chart. For a charity like you’re proposing, you’ll need accountants and tax people, all of them versed in international law.”
She laughed. “I haven’t just kept a princess on track for three years, there’s also the matter of that little degree you know I have. I’m more prepared for this than you think.”
“You have a fanciful streak, as if you assume everything’s going to automatically work out.”
Her gaze ambled over and snagged his. “I got you here, didn’t I?”
Desire slammed into him like a punch in the gut. She was tempting when she was sweet, but damned near irresistible when she was sassy.
He sucked in a breath and brought his briefcase to his lap so he wouldn’t have to look at her when he spoke. “Technically, Mrs. Flannigan got me here.”
“Yes, but it was a stroke of luck that I was with you every time you saw her.”
“No, it wasn’t luck. It was a bunch of things coming together. I took you to a Christmas party where Winslow invited us to lunch. You had told him you were pitching your country to me. He brought it up to Mrs. Flannigan. No magic. No destiny. More like logical steps. Everything had a purpose and a reason. Stop thinking about magic and destiny and start using this.” He tapped her head. “And things will go a lot easier for you.”
“I bet you’re a real barrel of laughs at Christmastime.”
He turned his attention to his briefcase, opening it as if he had something important he needed to read because once again he just couldn’t look at her. “If I choose not to celebrate that particular holiday, I think I have good reason.”
“Yes, you do. I’m sorry. I spoke thoughtlessly.”
She looked so apologetic that he felt bad—for her. But he was the one who’d needed the reminder about mixing business with pleasure. If he wasn’t so damned attracted to her, he wouldn’t have fallen into such a complicated conversation. He would have told her what he needed. Told her yes or no. And the discussion would have stayed on track the way it should have.
“Look, it appears we’re stuck working together for two days, so let’s agree to stop trying to be friends and just do our jobs.”
She gave him a funny look. “But you kissed me.”
He sighed. Why was he not surprised her honesty wouldn’t simply let that go?
“I know. I thought I was never going to see you again, so it wouldn’t be a big deal. It was a nice way to end a nice weekend.”
Her eyes softened when they met his. “A really nice weekend.”
His pulse scrambled. It had been one of the nicest weekends of his life and to see she felt the same made him want to kiss her again. But he couldn’t have her and she shouldn’t want him.
“So let’s leave it at that. A nice weekend.” He rifled through the documents in his briefcase, pretending to be looking for something. “Right now my priority—and yours since you’re my liaison—is to get this game to beta testers on January second. Forget about kisses, forget about the whole weekend. Hell, forget about Paris. Let’s pretend we just met.”
“Okay.” She reached into her pocket. “You’ll need this back, then.”
The bracelet he’d given her fell into his briefcase. He’d told her he’d take it back, but actually having the damned thing almost fall into his lap sent a zap of weirdness through him. He’d bought that for her. He didn’t want it back. It didn’t feel right taking it back.
But if they were going to keep this strictly professional, he couldn’t say any of that. He had to accept the bracelet.
