“It’s, uh, about the architectural influences in the area around where I live, in Valbonne. I thought you’d be—I thought it would be good for Dauphine. My mother, she, uh, helped raise the funds to produce the book for the historical society she is part of. I had a copy. I thought you would appreciate it more. And perhaps show Dauphine. It’s in French, of course.”

“Of course. Thank you. This was extremely thoughtful.”

“As I said. It’s nothing.” Then he added, “I was only thinking of Dauphine.”

I looked up at him and gave him a grateful smile. “All the same, I really appreciate it.”

He nodded.

The boat suddenly slowed its motion, and I lurched forward. My hands were full, and unable to catch myself, I was suddenly face first in Xavier Pascale’s hard chest.

“Oof,” he huffed out a puff of air, his arms catching me.

The smell and heat of him rushed in, and before I could even get my scattered wits together to peel myself off him, his strong hands gripped my upper arms and roughly set me away from him.

“Watch yourself,” he snarled.

I almost stumbled backward from the force of action and his words. I blinked in shock. My cheeks burned with heat. “I didn’t—I’m sorry, I—”

“Careful down there,” called Paco from behind Xavier. And I realized he could see us from up on the bridge. “I should have warned you. I thought I saw a piece of wood in the water. Must have been a trick of the light.”

Anger fought with my embarrassment. Had Xavier honestly just thought I’d purposefully fallen into him? God. I yanked the canvas tote open and stowed my other sketchbook in with the new stuff. “Thank you for the supplies,” I said stiffly, unable to look at him. Then I brushed past him.

His hand reached out and took my arm, stopping me.

I swung around. “What?” I snapped, though my voice felt choked up, and I prayed to God I didn’t burst into tears.

He let go but said nothing.

I stared at him, both of us locked in a battle of God knew what. Was he so emotionally constipated he couldn’t fucking apologize for acting like an arrogant tyrant?

“I’ll be downstairs if Dauphine needs me,” I gritted out, hoping I didn’t sound like a woman unhinged.

He gave a small nod, his face devoid of any recognizable emotion, and I raced down to my room.