‘This is delicious wine.’
He nodded. ‘It’s not bad. Now, tell me about this list. I’m intrigued.’
She shrugged. ‘Tourist things, mainly.’ But she refused to feel self-conscious. ‘See those Impressionist masterpieces at the Musée d’Orsay, visit Versailles, go for a boat ride on the Seine.’
‘You’ll have time to fit those in if you have two weeks.’
She shook her head. ‘That’s only the beginning. I want to attend a gourmet cooking class. I’ve always wanted to know how they make those melt-in-the-mouth chocolate truffles.’ The ones that were exactly the colour of his eyes.
Her breath gave a curious little hitch and she hurried on. ‘I’d hoped to eat at the Eiffel Tower restaurant but I didn’t realise I needed to book in advance. Plus I’d love a champagne picnic in the country and to go hot-air ballooning and drive a red convertible around the Arc de Triomphe and... Well, so many things.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Visitors are usually scared of driving there. Traffic is thick and there aren’t lane markings.’
Imogen shrugged. She was scared too. But that was good. She’d feel she was really living.
‘I like a challenge.’
‘So I gather.’ Was that approval in his expression? ‘Have you been hot-air ballooning before?’
‘Never.’ She took another sip of champagne. ‘This is a trip of firsts.’
‘Like the champagne?’ There was that delicious crinkle around his eyes. It almost lured her into believing Thierry Girard was as harmless as her work colleagues. Yet every feminine fibre screamed she was out of her depth even looking at the ultra-sexy Frenchman. Everything about him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the intriguing dark shadow across his jaw, signalled he was a virile, powerful man. ‘Imogen?’
‘Sorry, I was distracted.’ Her voice was ridiculously husky. The way he said her name turned it into something lilting and special. She lifted her gloved fingers to her throat, as if that could ease her hammering pulse.
The glint in his eyes warned that he understood her distraction. But she refused to be embarrassed. He must be used to women going weak at the knees.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ she said. ‘Do you live in Paris?’
He shook his head. ‘Occasionally. I’m here for business meetings over the next week or two.’
‘So while I’m out enjoying myself you’ll be in meetings? I hope they’re not too tedious.’
Nonchalantly, he lifted those impressive shoulders, and a wave of yearning washed through her. She wanted to put her hands on them, feel the strength in his tall body and lean in to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
Imogen blinked, stunned at the force of her desire. She didn’t do instant attraction. She didn’t fall in a heap in front of any man. But her knees were suspiciously shaky and her instincts urged her to behave in ways that were completely out of character.
Was it champagne or the man? Or maybe the heady excitement of Paris and wearing Isabelle’s gorgeous gown. Whatever it was, she approved. She wanted to feel, and from the moment her eyes had locked on Thierry’s she’d felt vibrantly alive.
‘You sound like you have experience of boring meetings.’
Imogen sipped more wine, enjoying the zing on her palate. ‘Definitely.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Our firm specialises in them. I’d bet my meetings are more boring than yours.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
Thierry took her arm and guided her away from an influx of newcomers. Even through the satin gloves his hands felt hard, capable and incredibly sexy. Trickles of fire coursed from the point of contact then splintered into incendiary darts that trailed through her body to pool down low.
How sad that she could be so turned on by that simple courteous gesture. But that wasn’t surprising, given the state of her love life. Or her lack of one.
‘Believe it.’ She dragged herself back into the conversation. ‘I’m an accountant.’ She waited for his eyes to glaze over. ‘A tax accountant. I know tedious.’
His lips twitched but he didn’t look in the least fazed. If anything there was a spark in his gaze as it swept her from head to toe. Did it linger here and there on the way? Imogen’s stomach tightened and her breasts swelled against the satin bodice as she drew a sharp breath. Strange how the lace of her strapless bra suddenly scratched at her nipples when it had been perfectly comfortable before.