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being served. She had abandoned her staff when they needed her most. Kissing a man when she should have been supervising them was bad enough. When that man was also a guest and probably a friend of her landlord, her guilt became a real wall of worries.
    Gwen had brothers. She knew what men were like. The thought that this aloof man with the smouldering eyes might tell Nick, her landlord, about their kiss made her feel sick. Nick and his family had been good to her, letting her buy out the business for a good price. They had taken a loss on the deal, but it had still cost Gwen everything she’d had and hefty loans from her parents and the bank. Nick was still owner of the little gite in the hills where she was staying. His rich, influential friends were Le Rossignol’s best customers, so she needed to stay on the right side of them. This was not the way to do it.
    A breeze sighed over the balcony, but this time it was chill. It reminded Gwen of the groans of ‘I told you so’ waiting for her back at home if her dream of running a top-class restaurant in France failed.
    Etienne’s face was expressionless; he seemed to haveretreated from her. ‘This was an accident. Accidents happen,’ he said in a low voice.
    Gwen tried to catch her breath. It wouldn’t be held, and escaped as a sigh. His attitude should have come as a relief to her. Instead it left an aching void. She wanted this man to want her, in exactly the same hot, heady way she wanted him. It nearly sent her over a precipice of temptation. Colour flared in her normally pale cheeks. What had possessed her to do a thing like that? With his relentless masculinity close enough to touch, that was an easy question to answer. Etienne’s body was a powerful incentive for Gwen to behave in a way she would never have dreamed possible. He roused her to fever pitch, but now he was leaving behind a burning ache for him, deep within her body.
    ‘Tension expresses itself in many ways,’ he added. A tiny muscle flinched in his jaw as he spoke.
    The tilt of his chin and that macho dismissal told Gwen all she needed to know. Now she understood why Clemence had warned her about this man. He was the sort who took what he wanted, without offering anything in return. He would never feel the need to feign interest in her as a thinking, feeling human being.
    ‘I discovered long ago that money and manners don’t often go together, monsieur ,’ she said icily. ‘I’ mcertainly not proud of this little interlude either, I can assure you.’
    Picking up his forgotten glass, she started towards the French doors.
    ‘But I am.’ Etienne’s voice was low with amusement and he seemed to have recovered his wicked smile, as if the odd tension that had covered him a moment ago hadbeen shrugged away. ‘It’s in my blood, cherie. You are irresistible. I succumbed to your charms. What better reason for pride could there be?’ he finished in a throaty whisper.
    Gwen gave a huff of disapproval at that, but she was hiding a blush as she hurried away. Those words of his would echo in her head for the rest of her life. He called me irresistible! she marvelled. No one had thought to give her such a compliment before. Five feet three with a tumble of unruly honey-blonde waves, she felt too short and shapely to turn heads. Her bright blue eyes with their long dark lashes were a good feature, there was no denying it. But irresistible? Me? she wondered, wishing she could believe him. There was no doubt she had preened before her bedroom mirror when she had first tried on this stunning dress, but that had been behind a securely locked door. Now the delectable Etienne Moreau had kissed her, and complimented her. Much more of his talk and she might—just might —start believing it!
    There was no time for Gwen to try out her budding self-confidence. As she left her office the countess Sophie steamed towards her with an evil glint in her eyes.
    ‘I hope you aren’t annoying my stepson,’ she