Romancing my Boss

Chapter 30

Jean-Pierre's roguish grin widened at my stunned silence. "Ah, forgive me, ma chérie. My forwardness appears to have rendered you speechless." He took a step closer, invading my personal space in that distinctly French way that somehow made the offense seem charming.

"Perhaps it is my accent zat has so captivated you, non?" he murmured teasingly. "I have been told it can be...most distracting when I wish it to be."

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling unbearably dry as I struggled to formulate a response to his shameless flirting. The French Adonis's unrepentant gaze caught me off guard, making my pulse quicken. His intense blue eyes seemed to see right through me.

"I...that's not..." I faltered, my gaze straying helplessly back toward Max's silent office.

What was I even trying to argue? That I wasn't the least bit affected by Jean-Pierre's attractive charm and undisguised pursuit? That would be an obvious lie. The man exuded sensual appeal like a force of nature.

And yet, no matter how disarming Jean-Pierre's attentions were, they simply couldn't compare to the raging inferno Max Pemberton had sparked within me. A fire that still burned hot and restless beneath my skin, smoldering with unspent desires and unanswered questions.

Perhaps Jean-Pierre recognized the preoccupied yearning in my expression, for his handsome face sobered somewhat. "You know, for what it's worth..." He paused, holding my gaze in an unexpectedly earnest look. "I do not pretend to understand whatever...complexities exist between you and Monsieur Pemberton. But I cannot fathom any man possessing ze utter insanity it would require to dismiss a woman like you."

The unexpected vulnerability in his tone threw me, cracking the veneer of humor and allowing a deeper sincerity to bleed through. Before I could formulate a response, Jean-Pierre had stepped fully into my space, his clean, woodsy scent enveloping me as he murmured close to my ear.

"If he cannot see ze exquisite treasure before him...zen he is a fou, and I shall endeavor to make you see reason, ma chérie." His breath danced warm against my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

Then, just as quickly as the moment had begun, Jean-Pierre drew back, his carefully curated mask of easy charm slipping back into place. "Ah, but where are my manners? I am keeping you from your work, and I have not even been properly introduced to ze great Maximilian Pemberton."

With a roguish wink and a dramatic flourish, he inclined his head toward the unyielding slab of Max's office door. "Shall we?"

I could only gape after him as he strode ahead, leaving me to catch my breath and steady my whirling emotions. Just when I thought I had a handle on the bizarre storm of feelings Max Pemberton had brought into my life, in walked Jean-Pierre Duvall as an entirely new complication.

Smoothing my hands over my skirt, I mustered what dignity remained and followed after the incorrigible Frenchman. Whatever storm awaited behind that office door, I could only hope I was prepared to weather it.

Jean-Pierre didn't wait for me to collect myself, instead striding straight toward Max's office door with his usual brazen confidence. Before I could even protest, he rapped his knuckles against the frosted glass in a quick, decisive pattern.

"Just a moment," I hissed, hurrying up behind him. The last thing I needed was for Max to witness the ease with which the charming Frenchman had flustered me. I smoothed my hands over my hair self-consciously. "Jean-Pierre, I really don't think this is a good time—"

The words died on my lips as the door swung open, revealing the last person I expected to find on the other side. It wasn't Max's towering, imposing frame filling the doorframe, but rather a strikingly beautiful woman with chiseled cheekbones and long, honey-blonde hair.