Free Blame It on Paris by Jennifer Greene

sappy marshmallow, smiling at the sunshine, high from the inside out. “Will,” she said, not wasting time answering any of his ridiculous questions. “You’re a wicked, dangerous man. Did I remember to tell you that this morning?”
    So she left the place, humming, skipping down the boulevard, high as the spring breeze. Yes, of course, she had to deal with the extremely serious chaos she’d thrown herself into. But temporarily, she focused her attention on Will.
    He wasn’t lost, the way she was.
    But he had twists and secrets in his personality, too. All the big money in his family, yet his denial of it. His claim of being lazy, when his place was neat to a fault. His claim of being irresponsible, when he’d stepped up to take care of a complete stranger—and an incorrigibly nosy stranger, besides.
    Why was he living here instead of home? And how come there wasn’t already a woman in his life? Parisian women couldn’t all be crazy.
    Not that his love life was any of her business, of course. Nor were his family or career, for that matter.
    She wouldn’t interfere for the world.
    Â 
    I T HAD BEEN a long day and looked to be turning into an even longer night, Will thought. The waiter had just brought the wine and left menus when Kelly started in. “So…what’s the real story? Why are you living here instead of back home?”
    Will wanted to shake his head. She looked so sultry and sexy, in slinky black slacks and a red silky top, something kohl-dark on her eyes and something shiny sex-red on her mouth. Nothing about her resembled an elephant, but damned if she didn’t have a memory like one.
    â€œYou remembered that question from early this morning?” he asked in disbelief.
    â€œOf course. And we’ve been talking about me nonstop. I’m sick of me. It’s your turn.”
    It was true he’d grilled her on her paper situation from the minute he got home from work. Nothing miraculously fast had happened, but she should have her own cash by tomorrow, which was exactly how she’d talked him into going out to dinner, as payback for his being so good to her.
    Of course it was on his tab, but she ardently promised that she’d be paying back every dime. And in the meantime, she’d pored through her tourist books and come up with a list of restaurants.
    He’d tried to talk her out of that list. He’d specifically tried to talk her out of this one, but she had heart set on it. The name was L’Alivi, a restaurant famous for its interesting decor and Corsican cuisine. It was good. But the food definitely wasn’t for every taste. When he caught her reading the menu with a sudden frown, he said, “I tried to warn you.”
    She flashed those brown eyes up at him again. “Warn me about what?”
    â€œThis place. The guidebooks never tell you the whole story. I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be happy.”
    â€œHey. I’m not remotely fussy. I can eat anything. I’m just having a little trouble reading the menu.” Then, like a hound who couldn’t quit worrying a bone, she went for a perky tone. “So, what’s the real deal on your doing the expatriate thing?”
    She’d planned this, he thought. Not the restaurant. The inquisition. She’d planned it when she put on that red top and the slinky slacks. The top, she’d worn braless. He hadn’t been initially aware of that until they’d got here. Someone had decided to keep the restaurant around thirty degrees. Her nipples were puckered up like bitsy soldiers standing at attention.
    â€œI’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll answer the questions. But let’s order first. I’m starving. Okay?”
    â€œSure…” Again, her gaze dropped to the menu. Again, she frowned. When she glanced up again, Will promptly jerked his attention from her frozen nipples to her face.
    She