Trish Wylie - The Bachelor's Cinderella

“Every drop of paint we use, every piece of technology we buy will be planet friendly. Our furniture is handmade out of materials that are certified chemical free for those people who have medical concerns.”

“Isn’t that expensive?”

“It is. That’s why we’re grateful that Mr. Gavard has taken over the company, although…he intends to eventually sell most of his shares to the employees.”

“Mr. Gavard,” one reporter said. “What do you say to all this?” The woman was eyeing Etienne as if he were a piece of man-size chocolate she wanted to bite into.

“This is not my show,” he said. “I refer all questions to Ms. Leighton.”

“Your…partner,” the woman said. Then she turned suddenly to Meg.

“Is he really just your partner?”

Meg blinked. How to react? How not to overreact? Instructions flew through her head. Reactions begged to be spoken. She ignored them.

Then she smiled. “Ms. Banner,” she said, reading the woman’s badge. “Look at me. I’m a…decent-looking woman. I have my attributes, I rather like this new hairdo I have, don’t you? But, I ask you…do I seriously look anything at all like the kind of woman Mr. Gavard would be entangled with? The man is absolutely gorgeous and he’s got those great dimples and…Well, of course I like looking at him, but most of you here would make much more likely dating material for Mr. Gavard should he be looking for a date.”

Every woman in the room turned to look at Etienne. Meg smiled and waved.

“He has dimples?” one woman asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Meg said. “And when he doesn’t believe something, he can do this great, sexy thing with his eyebrow. Show them the sexy eyebrow thing, Etienne.”

He crossed his arms. “I think this press conference was supposed to be about Fieldman’s, wasn’t it, partner ?”

“Oh, now he’s going to get all professorial on us and give us a lecture. I probably won’t be able to even drag him out to another one of these if you write something about him and not the furniture,” Meg confided.

“Nice manipulative move, Ms. Leighton,” one reporter said.

“Yes, and we’ll bite,” another one answered. “Usually we’re just attending boring meetings. You bring Mr. Gavard back for us to drool over and we’ll be right there.”

“See if you can get him to take his shirt off next time,” one woman teased.

“You just make sure you write something nice about Fieldman’s and I might talk him into rolling up his shirtsleeves,” Meg promised.

The women laughed. Even the two men in the crowd looked amused. “You’re totally cute,” one said to Meg.

Meg’s mouth fell open. “Well…thank you,” she said.

“And I think your ideas for Fieldman’s and your products are going to stir up a lot of attention at the local trade shows.”

“Will you say that in your article?”

“Absolutely. It’s what I do.”

Meg smiled and nodded and fielded another question. When the meeting finally ended and the room had emptied, Etienne walked toward her. “That was the most unconventional press conference I’ve ever attended,” he said.

Meg played with the buttons on her suit. “You’ve attended a lot, haven’t you?”

“Thousands.” He moved forward two feet.

“And none like this? Hmm.”

“‘Hmm’ is right. I didn’t see any statistics.”

“I kind of forgot about those in the heat of the moment.”

He took another step closer.

“No schedules.”

“Forgot that, too.”

“And no mention of your impending trip to Paris and the international arm of the company.”

“I’m sure I’ll remember to talk about that next time.”

“And…what was that about my sexy dimples and how you were going to talk me into rolling my shirtsleeves up?”

“But I totally saved you from having to take your shirt off. I didn’t think you’d want to do that, even though it would’ve livened things up a bit.”

And he took the last step toward her, slid his hands up her arms, walked her back three steps to the wall and gently pinned her against the wall.

He kissed her. Totally. Thoroughly. Completely. A kiss that was wet, hot and made her knees forget their job of holding her up.

She slid.

He caught her.

And kissed her again.

“This was not a press conference,” he said. “This was major torture for me. I can’t take having you look at me like you want to climb into bed with me, especially if you’re doing it merely for the sake of theater. Now kiss me, Meg.”

She did.

He smiled and did that amazing Etienne dimple move. “You were marvelous,” he said. “Don’t do it again.”

“Don’t kiss you?” she asked, teasing him even though her heart was beating wildly, her blood was rushing around her body and her entire being was hot and crazy and on fire for one more kiss, one more touch.

“Don’t tease me while other people look on. Seriously. I can’t take it, Meg. I was in danger of walking over there and pulling you down on the table right in front of everyone. That just wouldn’t be right.”

“No,” she agreed. “Because then everyone would want some of that.”

“You make me crazy,” he told her.

“You make me crazier, but, Etienne?” Reality was returning. Her lips were burning. Reality was intruding and she was afraid. Really afraid. She hadn’t even hesitated or protested or thought while he was kissing her. This man could break her, so easily.

“I know,” he said, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “We can’t do this, and I have no right to blame you, Meg. You were just working the crowd. You really were spectacular. They liked you, all of them. Especially the men.”

He frowned.

“They were just being nice.”

“No. You have what it takes to win people over. You just didn’t know it before.”

Because she’d just never had someone like Etienne telling her things like this before.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be great. You’re going to make it,” he told her.

And she knew that he was thinking about all the things that would happen after he was gone. He had said that there were no guarantees in life, but she could tell that there was one. One day Etienne would board a plane. And then it would be just her. Without him. Forever.

She had to stop wanting him. Right now. The wisest thing to do would be to keep her distance from him.

But that just wasn’t going to happen. At least not yet.

EVER since Meg had fallen into Etienne’s arms like a ripe plum, she had been reminding herself that while she might be enjoying herself now, the time would come when it would just be her and Lightning and the occasional foster cats from the shelter. If she was very lucky, she might find some way to have the baby she wanted, but even then, she would be a single adult. It would be a total mistake to start thinking that having Etienne around could continue for more than a few weeks.

If she did, she was going to die a thousand emotional deaths. And that just couldn’t happen. She needed to channel her fantasies into more productive avenues. No more waking up at three in the morning, dreaming of Etienne in her bed, his lips nuzzled against her neck.

Her dreams had gotten steadily more dangerous. Because of that, she did her best to foster normalcy at work, to plan for her future as a solo adult. So, she read the books Etienne gave her on management techniques. She signed up for some business classes for the fall at a local college. She watched her employees and concentrated on learning their work habits and tending to their needs not only as a friend but as a manager. And she tried not to notice Etienne, who seemed to be driving himself just as hard as she was.