Trish Wylie - The Bachelor's Cinderella - The Frenchman's Plain-Jane Project

Etienne swore in French and then he swore some more. “No wonder your friends warned me. I’m surprised they didn’t do more. Had I been in their shoes I would have.”

“You’re not to blame for my ignorance.”

Etienne swore again.

“Stop swearing,” she told him.

“I wasn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t know French, so you could have been saying ‘Pass the pretzels’ for all I know, but it sounded very much like swearing, so it’s the same difference.”

“Then I apologize, but, Meg…you have to know that you weren’t the one at fault here. The man was and is an ass. He didn’t deserve you.”

“Nonetheless I was going to marry him and now I’m not. End of story. It’s over. It’s ancient history. I’m completely fine now.”

Except of course she wasn’t completely fine. A woman like her, one who had faced rejection and untrustworthy people all her childhood and who had thought she had finally managed to make a place for herself using only her wits, didn’t easily get over the shock of knowing she’d fallen victim to a con man. She had given Alan her heart and her trust and had been made to look like a naive fool.

“I hope when we’re done here that you’ll be able to tell Alan Fieldman that you’ve won. Sometimes men aren’t to be trusted.”

She blinked at that.

“You?”

“I’m no saint, Meg. I may not lie to you the way Alan did or make promises I don’t intend to keep, but don’t fall into the trap of believing that I’m better than I am. The one good thing I can say for myself is that I never make promises I can’t keep to women anymore.”

“Not even about this business?”

He gave her a grim smile. “I have high hopes for this business, but there are no guarantees. Mistakes are sometimes made that can’t be called back.”

Meg was pretty sure that he was thinking of his wife then, but she had no right to ask. She appreciated the gentle warning, however. Maybe he had just been trying to tell her that he wouldn’t be like Alan, but she had needed a reminder that it would be dangerous to get too close to Etienne. And there was no secret about that. She already knew that he was a man who would only be in her life for a short while. His world and hers would not intersect once he returned to France.

“I should get back to work,” she said.

He looked down at her then. “When I made that comment about women and promises, I hope you know that I wasn’t implying anything, Meg. I didn’t mean that you might be thinking of me romantically. I wouldn’t be so arrogant as to presume that.”

He ran one hand back through his hair and Meg couldn’t help laughing.

“What?”

“You,” she said. “Since we met two days ago, you always seem so self-possessed, so in control and calm and cool. Now you’re flustered because you’re worried I might have thought you were warning me not to fall in love with you.”

“I never thought you might be.”

Which only made her laugh again. “Etienne, have you looked in the mirror lately? Half the women in the office, old and young, are smoothing their hair and reapplying their lipstick when they hear the office door open. I’ll bet they’re all horribly disappointed when it’s me and not you who appears.”

“But you’re their friend.”

“Yes, but I don’t have a Y chromosome, broad male shoulders and a French accent. I don’t think you need to apologize for warning women away if there’s no chance you’re going to fall for them. It’s only fair to let them know you’re not available.”

He shook his head. “Yes, but it still feels arrogant to say so.”

“Better than letting them think you might be interested.”

“Should I wear a sign saying that I’m not available?”

She grinned. “That would be interesting, but I don’t think it’s necessary. In an office this size word gets around quickly.”

“Ah, the rumor mill. Who starts these rumors, I wonder.”

“In this case,” she said, with a mock curtsy, “I will.”

“Meg Leighton, spreading rumors?”

“Spreading the truth,” she corrected. “It’s a tough job but hey, someone has to volunteer to do it.” And she sighed.

“You are a very admirable woman,” he said.

“Ah, more pretty compliments. I love them,” she teased. Where had this man been all her life? And where would he be in two months?

Gone. The answer came in a flash. She’d be wise not to forget it.

THE next few days went by in a blur of work, work and more work. The entire company had to be inspected, taken apart and put back together, and Etienne marveled at the enthusiasm with which Meg and her team tackled every task. He might be the planner and the one with the experience, but once he had made a decision, Meg led her troops full steam ahead into whatever he asked them to do.

What’s more, she was a creative genius, so when he suggested that, besides updating their product, they needed to make the building suggest the appearance of a thriving concern, she drew up some ideas.

Now, here she was beside him, looking a bit uncertain. “Problems?” he asked.

“I…It’s the paint for the office.” She fidgeted with the poppy-red scarf at her waist. Meg’s penchant for color wouldn’t quite let her go the monochromatic route, Etienne had noted, and red was her favorite. It was a charming habit.

“There’s a problem with…paint?”

She sighed. “I’m sure that you wouldn’t find it a problem, but…see, I feel perfectly comfortable handling the books or the employees or the orders, but as for choosing paint…I’d really, really appreciate your input. I have this teensy little habit of fixating on colors that are overly bright.”

She did. He adored that, but for this, she was right. The office needed to have the right look for the brochure they were making.

“All right, let’s go buy paint.”

Meg shook her head. “Oh, there’s no need. I stopped by the store and picked up some color cards yesterday. I narrowed it down, picked out a few and got some samples to try on the wall. I just want you to tell me what you think of the results. I found a corner of the room where I painted a few squares. All you have to do is tell me which square is the right one.”

She led him into the main room and over to the spot she had indicated. There were four large colored squares painted on the chalk-white wall. There was a very pale almost invisible blue, a classic colonial-blue, a bold darkish blue and the last, a dazzling electric-blue.

“That last one looked better on the card,” Meg explained, clearly embarrassed. “I just…I need to see things, but even I can tell that one won’t do. It’s a bit shocking, isn’t it?”

Just then, a man stepped up to the water cooler not ten feet away. He stared at the squares, pretending to shield his eyes.

“Whoa, Meg, did you do this? Take it easy, will you? You’re going to blind me with that bright blue.”

Meg smiled self-consciously…and noticed that Etienne had moved to her side.

“What does that man—Jeff?—what job is he involved in?” Etienne asked, his voice low.

“Excuse me?” she said, lowering her voice to match his own.

“What task in particular is he working on?”

“He’s…I believe he’s working on the payroll statements.”

“All right. Good. Ask him when you can expect them on your desk. Say it calmly but firmly,” Etienne instructed.

“Is there a reason you need to know? He’s right there.”

“And you’re right here, too.” Etienne said. “A woman who wants to establish her place in the business world and wants to know how to do it.”