Aimee has trouble finding a career that really interests her, something to settle her life around. Then just when she thinks she has found it, an American cowboy comes into her life and complicates everything
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Aimee LaClaire tends to be a bit flighty, at least according to her father. She has trouble finding something that really interests her, although she believes she now wants to be a photojournalist and work for a friend of hers. Her father thinks it is yet another foolish idea and wants her to settle down. He wants her to help run the family’s French hotel and winery. They cannot agree. Then an American cowboy comes into their lives and complicates everything even more. She wants to dislike him…yet she is irresistibly drawn to him. Making the problem worse, her father decides to play matchmaker.
Wade Robertson’s life is complicated enough with running his Texas ranch. When his father dies, he learns that he has a French family and has inherited half of a French chateau/winery. Uncertain what to do about all of that, he goes to meet his uncle and the man’s adopted daughter. While he struggles with what to do about the chateau business, he faces an even more unsettling situation…he can’t seem to resist Aimee. She’s a spoiled, sassy, annoying young woman. And he can’t keep his hands off of her, in more ways than one. But he is determined to fight off his attraction to her, except she makes it damn hard.
It wasn’t like Aimee to fidget, to be at all concerned with how someone viewed her. She was who and what she was. Period. But she was fussing with the table settings at the dining table she had arranged per her father’s request. And she kept glancing at her reflection in the mirrored wall across from it. Should she have tied her hair back? Her father liked it being under control; she liked it flying free down her back. Should she have changed into another dress? Something slightly longer? Something that didn’t make her father frown in disapproval.
“How many times are you going to move those forks and spoons around?” came the deep, velvety voice of the American cowboy from the doorway.
She sucked in a startled breath. “You move quietly for such a big man.”
As their gazes met, she saw a hint of amusement in his rich, chocolate brown eyes. For some reason that annoyed her. Maybe he was recalling the brief spanking he’d observed a short while ago. She raised her chin. “What do you find so amusing, Mr. Robertson?”
The left corner of his mouth quirked up. He stepped easily into the large, glass-walled dining room. “Nothing really. My brain cells are a bit fried with jet lag.”
She moved away from the table before she could nervously rearrange the silverware one more time. Why was she nervous? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been around handsome men before. Besides, he was her cousin. Not by blood, her inner voice reminded her. Unfortunately she had thought about his deep, melting voice ever since the phone call. Something about it….
She blinked. The tall cowboy was standing right in front of her. She glanced down to see if he was barefoot or something because he moved too quietly for her ease of mind. But his big feet were encased in neatly polished boots. Shifting her glance higher, she noted how amazingly well a pair of ordinary jeans fit his body. He definitely had some muscle tone to his thighs and the denim cupped a ….
Heart fluttering, she stepped abruptly back. “I’m fine. Just fine” Not at all, really. But she would be. She would find a way to ignore this ridiculous attraction she had for him.
“Ah, I see you have already met my precious Aimee.” Jean-Pierre strode into the room with a smile, looking from his daughter to Wade.
Wade seemed to be curiously studying her, but he said, “Not formally, no.”
A flash of disapproval swept over her father’s face. “Manners. You should have properly introduced yourself.” Shaking his head, he moved closer. “This is Aimee Marie, my beautiful daughter, though sadly not of my loins.”
Aimee shot him a puzzled look. He had never introduced her in that way; she had always just been his daughter with no hint that she was adopted.
Before she could question him, he reached out a hand to greet the American. “Wade Robertson, I am pleased to meet you at long last. My sister, Marie, would have been proud.” There was a sheen to his eyes.
The men shook hands, but Wade appeared as uncomfortable as she felt. “Shall we eat?” she asked in an attempt to get past this awkward moment.
The cowboy looked relieved and pulled out a chair, waiting for her to sit. The gentlemanly act flustered her. She slipped onto the chair and allowed him to help her scoot it forward. “Merci.”
He tipped his head at her and she noted the nearly two-inch long, faded scar across his left cheekbone and another smaller one on the side of his chin. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten them, but a rare moment of politeness kept her from speaking her mind.