Читать онлайн «One Week With The French Tycoon»

“Look, Indigo, I should apologize for being so rude last night at dinner. ”

She couldn’t meet his gaze, the memory of the humiliation she’d felt burning through her once again. “Forget about it. It doesn’t matter. ”

“Yes, it does. ” He moved his head to the side, then bent toward her, waiting until he’d caught her eye before he spoke again. “Indigo, it does. I’m not normally so unfriendly. You’ve just caught me at a bad time. ”

She gave him a shaky smile, cocking her head and splaying out her hands on either side of her. “Okay, I accept your apology. ”

There was relief in his eyes and something else. Her lips tingled as his gaze dropped to her mouth and her pulse rocketed.

He looked like he wanted to … kiss her.

The thought lit a fire inside her, burning through her veins and turning her nerve endings into a crackling mass of need.

One Week with the French Tycoon

Christy McKellen

Formerly a video and radio producer, CHRISTY McKELLEN now spends her time writing fun, impassioned and emotive romance with an undercurrent of sensual tension. When she’s not writing she can be found enjoying life with her husband and three children, walking for pleasure, and researching other people’s deepest secrets and desires.

This one’s for my beautiful, witty and fiercely clever sisters-in-law, Kat and Buffy. Thank you for being the sisters I never had and welcoming me so warmly into your family. I love spending time with you. Here’s to spending many more fabulous weekends in London together.

Contents

Arriving in Amalfi—a most lively and dramatic town in which to begin your journey...

WHEN INDIGO HUGHES had spent long hours daydreaming about her walking holiday along the Amalfi Coast of Southern Italy, this wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned.

Luggageless—after the airline had inexplicably sent her backpack containing her carefully organised walking gear to goodness knew where instead of Naples—and apparently dispossessed, because of a foul-up on the computer with her hotel booking, she was now facing the reality of spending the first night of her much anticipated holiday sleeping rough on the streets of Amalfi.

Whilst she wasn’t averse to roughing it—she’d travelled to enough festivals and partaken in enough camping trips for that not to be an issue—she’d been looking forward to falling into a comfortable bed after a crazy week of late nights and early mornings, and was not in the mood to laugh this off.