From there ... the night got worse. He wasn’t gay, the chemistry between them sizzled, and she was sure Darcy could see their attraction to each other.
TWENTY-TWO
First Moment in Paris
The last thing Elizabeth wanted to do was spend an evening with Carrie Bingley, but she was the client and calling the shots. And, if for no other reason, to thank her for the luxury accommodations and first-class flight.
The gold-accented, elegant lobby greeted her when she exited the elevator to meet the woman William loved, ready to face the fallout of their drunken dalliance on the beach. Unconsciously, she smoothed her hand down the off-the-shoulder, fitted, black cocktail dress she purchased for the evening. She would worry about her credit card next month, but it was worth the treat, as were the pricey Louboutin heels. She’d even twisted her hair up into a loose braid updo and wore the classy dangling earrings Guy had given her on her twenty-eighth birthday. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress the woman.
Who was she kidding?
She was.
Walking down the long corridor toward the bar, she buoyed herself, whispering. “You’re just going to talk shop and prepare for tomorrow. That’s all. She doesn’t know what happened. She’d never be so tacky as to confront you publicly.”
Bar Vendôme. Taking a deep breath, she waited, eyes scanning the ruby-red colored restaurant filled with guests, heart hammering in her ear over the susurration.
Turning to face the empty hallway, she tried not to fidget and ignored her mobile’s vibration in her purse. No doubt, it was Jane for the fourth time since her arrival in Paris.
Thenhecaught her eye. “Oh my God. It can’t be.”
Therehewas, dressed in a dark gray suit and a maroon tie. William seemed to float toward her in long strides of sexy swagger filled with confidence and power. Her heart and stomach fluttered. Controlled and relaxed, he was truly a beautiful man, and people noticed. He sucked the air out of the hotel just by his commanding physical presence. Ten feet from her, the corner of his mouth lifted, and she was sure she would die.
“Good evening, Elizabeth,” he said in that honeyed, deep voice that always undid her.
“Howdy.”
He slightly smiled.
Looking over his shoulder, she prayed his fiancée was behind him. “Is ... is Carrie on her way?” she stammered.
“It’ll be just you and me,” he said unenthusiastically, then sighed.
“For the entire trip?”
“I suspect so.”
“She’s not in Paris—at all?”
“Nope.”
“Not even for her bachelorette party?”
Tightening his lips, he shook his head. “I know of no such party.”
“Oh,” she replied, the tension between them heavy and thick.
“Hmm, you didn’t know I’d be here, did you?” William asked.
“This is weird. I expected Carrie. Last week she stopped by the gallery to confirm her attendance at the auction.”
“You’ll just have to suffer with me. She’s not coming.”
She searched his eyes, not for the drunk at the wedding or the lover on the beach, but forherWilliam hidden within the stoic corporate tycoon. “I’m surprised you came, given ...”
“Given what? I’m a mature man now, Elizabeth. I’ve moved on, if that’s what you’re implying.”
His posture and body language confirmed it; the inimitably annoyed tone of his voice bordered on confrontational.
