Lucy woke and slid out of bed. Conor had slept on the sofa. Such a gentleman. Wandering toward the bathroom, she shook her head in disbelief. This could not be real. But she was in for the fantasy.
After a shower and a selection from the clothing rack—sunny yellow dress, low kitten heels—she swept up her hair, with long tendrils falling around her face. Minimal makeup again because she only had the eyeliner, lipstick and rouge in her purse. She was already plotting a tutorial on how to make it work when you suddenly find yourself without access to your makeup case.
Conor stood before the tea tray, sans shirt. Seeing his bare, muscled chest stopped Lucy in her tracks. Oh. So. Perfect. And she hadn’t run her hands all over him last night? What was wrong with her?
He set down his teacup. “I was waiting for the shower. How was your sleep?”
“Perfect,” she answered, but it wasn’t in reply to his question. Because all that muscle pulsing with every move, forming ridges and valleys, and sun-burnished— She pushed the thoughts away. “So that tattoo on your arm…you said it was for your gran?”
He turned his wrist to reveal Audrey Hepburn’s face again. She really was a classic silver screen beauty. She was on Lucy’s must-do list for her glam makeovers in which she made herself look like a famous person and which her followers loved.
“Gran loved Hepburn,” Conor said. “Whenever I look at this, I’m reminded of her.”
“That’s adorable.”
Was that a blush? Conor bowed his head shyly, a move that made her heart flutter. “I’ve never been called adorable before.”
“You deserve it.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve had a wonderful time with you, Conor.”
“Me too.”
She bit her lip. She’d be foolish to ask for more, yet her heart…
“Does it have to stop?” she asked suddenly.
Mercy. She was out of her depth, trying to project herself into something romantic with a trillionaire whom little ole Lucy from Manchester could never dream to snag.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m in the mood for croissants,” he said. “You up for breakfast?”
So he didn’t intend to put her on a helicopter and send her back home? Lucy exhaled. She shouldn’t have asked to stay. She did have work to do, after all. She really shouldn’t impinge on his generosity any longer…
“Changing your mind about me?” he asked with a seriousness that startled her.
No, he was still the sexy trillionaire she was falling for. And lusting over. Work could wait.
“I’ll need to check in with my flatmate so she doesn’t think I’ve been kidnapped, but yes, I’m in.”
He kissed her. A slow but ultimately too-short connection. With another quick kiss, he wandered into the bathroom.
While the shower pattered, Lucy called Maeve to fill her in.
“Go girl! I’ve been following your posts. Is it the great romance you’ve dreamed of?” Maeve squealed.
“It…could be?”
“But?”
“Is it just Conor’s thing?” Lucy wondered aloud. “With all women?” Rich men did not find their soul mates shilling makeup online to get by. “Lucy Ellis can’t compete with the privileged, beautiful women I’m sure he’s dated.”
“Don’t overthink it, sweetie. Just enjoy yourself.”
Maeve was right. “Love you, Maeve.” Lucy hung up.
Right then. Time to dive in deeper. What was the worst that could happen? She’d gain wonderful memories, some stunning photos of the city, and could finally mark Paris off her bucket list.
Or…she might fall in love.
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