to restrain himself from doing it in the past,” he pointed out, not as if he felt it was any guarantee of future results.
“I know. But you can feel the restraint.”
“Look, don’t ask me to defend Dominique Richard.” For some reason, Philippe glanced at Magalie and away, his mouth hardening. “He’s an arrogant bastard. But you know, so are you, Sylvain.”
“I am not a bastard,” Sylvain protested. “And I’m not arrogant, I’m just realistic. Richard is a bastard.”
“C’est vrai,” Magalie suddenly intervened, her mouth curving in amusement. “Sylvain’s a sweetheart compared to Dom. That is, Sylvain, you just assume everyone will fall at your feet when you walk by, the same, ah, realistic way Philippe does.” She cast her fiancé a dark look. “But Dom—he knows he might have to bludgeon some people into bowing. He’s ready to do it.”
Bludgeon. The word evoked an unfortunate visceral reaction in Jaime. But in her head, that hard face softened into boyishly grinning pleasure. Magalie didn’t mean bludgeon literally, she reminded herself.
“Since when do you call him Dom?” Philippe asked Magalie sharply. “Are you getting to know him so well?”
“He’s just being Dominique.” Magalie waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t let him get to you. That’s all he’s trying to do.”
Philippe curled one hand around Magalie’s under the table, his face hard. Magalie leaned to whisper something in his ear. His mouth softened enough for one corner of it to curl up as he glanced down at her.
Had Dominique Richard hit on Magalie? Jaime toyed with her fork. It figured. Magalie was intensely vivid and cute. There was just something about having the movie star flirt with someone she knew that made her . . . wistful.
Still, what did she expect? Even though she wasn’t really attractive in the way Magalie and her sister were, she didn’t normally base all her worth on her looks. She had changed lives. Saved children. Found a break in the world and fixed it. She had been someone even a man like Dominique Richard could love, if he could get past the freckles. But right now . . . well, what did she have to offer him?
Hey look, you know, I’m not gorgeous or anything, but I used to know how to fix the world, and now . . . I’m scared of it.
She sighed and shoved the wistfulness away. If he hit on Magalie, he did; it wasn’t her business.
And if his rivals thought he was a bastard, what did it matter? They probably thought that about each other and all their other rivals, too.
She was quite sure plenty of her teenage movie star idols had been bastards when you got to know them. And like a teen idol, Dominique would probably be appalled that she might think something could develop between them. So she would just enjoy the crush for what it was.
Bastard or not.
C HAPTER 6
“I can’t keep shaving every day,” Dom cursed the next morning, looking into the mirror above the sink outside the toilettes in the corner of the laboratoire . “It’s making my skin break out in a rash.” He ran his hand over the path of tiny red bumps around his jaw. He supposed a man with a rash looked less threatening than a man with a four-day growth of black scruff, but it couldn’t be sexy, could it?
How long was this normal style of getting a woman interested in you supposed to take, anyway? He had built hopes yesterday, but then she had refused to use his first name and refused to give him her own, and he had known he had to pull back again or lose her. Then, later after the manif , he hadn’t dared, not so soon after letting her glimpse his true colors. He might have dipped himself in chocolate, but the fact was that no one who bit through his chocolate exterior would find a soft, sweet ganache inside. Even after years of therapy, he was ready to let fly with his fists at the first provocation. She hadn’t seemed to mind, but then she had just proven she had no sense about danger. He had minded for
“I know. But you can feel the restraint.”
“Look, don’t ask me to defend Dominique Richard.” For some reason, Philippe glanced at Magalie and away, his mouth hardening. “He’s an arrogant bastard. But you know, so are you, Sylvain.”
“I am not a bastard,” Sylvain protested. “And I’m not arrogant, I’m just realistic. Richard is a bastard.”
“C’est vrai,” Magalie suddenly intervened, her mouth curving in amusement. “Sylvain’s a sweetheart compared to Dom. That is, Sylvain, you just assume everyone will fall at your feet when you walk by, the same, ah, realistic way Philippe does.” She cast her fiancé a dark look. “But Dom—he knows he might have to bludgeon some people into bowing. He’s ready to do it.”
Bludgeon. The word evoked an unfortunate visceral reaction in Jaime. But in her head, that hard face softened into boyishly grinning pleasure. Magalie didn’t mean bludgeon literally, she reminded herself.
“Since when do you call him Dom?” Philippe asked Magalie sharply. “Are you getting to know him so well?”
“He’s just being Dominique.” Magalie waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t let him get to you. That’s all he’s trying to do.”
Philippe curled one hand around Magalie’s under the table, his face hard. Magalie leaned to whisper something in his ear. His mouth softened enough for one corner of it to curl up as he glanced down at her.
Had Dominique Richard hit on Magalie? Jaime toyed with her fork. It figured. Magalie was intensely vivid and cute. There was just something about having the movie star flirt with someone she knew that made her . . . wistful.
Still, what did she expect? Even though she wasn’t really attractive in the way Magalie and her sister were, she didn’t normally base all her worth on her looks. She had changed lives. Saved children. Found a break in the world and fixed it. She had been someone even a man like Dominique Richard could love, if he could get past the freckles. But right now . . . well, what did she have to offer him?
Hey look, you know, I’m not gorgeous or anything, but I used to know how to fix the world, and now . . . I’m scared of it.
She sighed and shoved the wistfulness away. If he hit on Magalie, he did; it wasn’t her business.
And if his rivals thought he was a bastard, what did it matter? They probably thought that about each other and all their other rivals, too.
She was quite sure plenty of her teenage movie star idols had been bastards when you got to know them. And like a teen idol, Dominique would probably be appalled that she might think something could develop between them. So she would just enjoy the crush for what it was.
Bastard or not.
C HAPTER 6
“I can’t keep shaving every day,” Dom cursed the next morning, looking into the mirror above the sink outside the toilettes in the corner of the laboratoire . “It’s making my skin break out in a rash.” He ran his hand over the path of tiny red bumps around his jaw. He supposed a man with a rash looked less threatening than a man with a four-day growth of black scruff, but it couldn’t be sexy, could it?
How long was this normal style of getting a woman interested in you supposed to take, anyway? He had built hopes yesterday, but then she had refused to use his first name and refused to give him her own, and he had known he had to pull back again or lose her. Then, later after the manif , he hadn’t dared, not so soon after letting her glimpse his true colors. He might have dipped himself in chocolate, but the fact was that no one who bit through his chocolate exterior would find a soft, sweet ganache inside. Even after years of therapy, he was ready to let fly with his fists at the first provocation. She hadn’t seemed to mind, but then she had just proven she had no sense about danger. He had minded for
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