I shook my head at myself. Of course. I wore my emotions out there for everyone to see. And he could see mine. He saw my love for Dauphine. I wasn’t “no-strings-attached” material. That was definitely dangerous territory for a single dad. Certainly one in his position. I sighed. This was probably for the best. I tried to hang onto the sense I’d talked into myself last night when I’d gone back to my room and made the decision to leave. The attraction between us was dangerous. It felt reckless. And if it felt like that to me, it must feel worse to him. He had so much to lose. A little girl’s heart to break for one.

We rounded the headland, and the low afternoon sun washed gold across the deck and over the water. The yacht cut through the waves, undulating gently. I cast my mind to what I’d read about Corsica to distract myself.

Behind me the door opened again. Andrea probably. I turned around.

It was Xavier. He stopped and we stared at each other.

The sun was blazing fire around his dark hair, and his eyes glowed, spitting gold in the afternoon light. He was so beautiful, it actually hurt my chest.

Then he came toward me and kept coming until he was inches away.

My breath froze.

His arms caging me against the railing. “Friends,” he said gruffly.

Prickles swept up my arms.

God, he was so close. “If … if that’s what you want,” I managed. He smelled so good—cedar wood and ocean salt melted into my senses. “I mean, you could always use another. Friend, I mean.” I was trying to tease, but coming off all wrong.

He shook his head. And then he swayed forward and his forehead came down on mine. “But that’s not what I want. Je veux … I want your mouth.” He paused and I inhaled his breath. “This delicious but annoying mouth. I want to devour it. I want to invade it. That might be a little bit more than friends, non?”

I had no legs. I was just fizzy air and lust melting against him.

His hand threaded into my hair, loosening the messy bun, and then twisting the locks around his hand. He mumbled some things in French, then English. Things about my hair. And if Meredith’s translating skills were to be believed, something about my ass. I was delirious.

He could be telling me he was about to dangle me over the side, and I wouldn’t bat an eye.

He tilted my face up.

My mouth watered.

His eyes burned. “And what do you want?” he rasped.

I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. Not now. “You,” I managed soundlessly. “Please. Please kiss me.”

And then sweet merciful angels, his lips closed the distance and slanted across mine.

I grabbed onto his shoulders and the lapels of his cotton shirt. Was this really happening?