The Italian's Unexpected Heir

“Stand right there.” Sylvie pulled her phone from her sparkly black purse. “Turn to me.”

And then he realized she was going to take his picture—all alone. Just like he was in life. The thought stole the smile from his face. He didn’t want to be alone—at least for tonight.

Tonight he wanted Sylvie to be next to him. After all, she’d dropped everything to come with him on this trip. And he knew it hadn’t been easy for her as a wedding planner to get her work done ahead of time and then show someone else what needed to be accomplished in her absence. Luckily for him, a wedding had been canceled, otherwise Sylvie wouldn’t have been able to accompany him.

But she was here and she was captivating. It wasn’t just him who noticed but everyone at the awards ceremony. Her black gown with the sparkly, strapless, fitted bodice was tapered at her tiny waist, and a plain, gauzy white material touched her hips and flowed to her ankles. And then the most delicate black heels showed off her painted toes.

She went from being a businesswoman in her smart tailored suits to a stunning siren who could turn all of the males’ heads—his most especially. And it was making him quite uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what to say or do around her.

Because what he wanted to do now was pull her into his arms and kiss those very sexy, very tempting lips. But he resisted—just barely. They were friends. Nothing more. Even if she did look like some sort of goddess in that dress and that makeup that highlighted her alluring eyes, her high cheekbones and kissable lips. Wow!

She signaled for him to move to his right. “A little more. Perfect.” She held up her phone to snap a picture.

“Oh, no.” In the glow of her smile, he felt his dismal mood begin to lift. “You have to come over here and have your picture taken, too.”

Sylvie shook her head. “Not me. I didn’t do anything special tonight. You’re the man of the hour.”

“But without you, I might not have entered.” It was true. She’d nudged him into submitting his wine to the prestigious contest.

Was that a blush? He looked harder but it was too dark to be sure. Maybe it was just that he was starting to know her well enough to know his words would cause her cheeks to pinken.

Tonight hadn’t been some small, local contest. This had been an international event with worldwide recognition. He honestly hadn’t thought their small winery had any chance of winning against the big establishments. But Sylvie had insisted he would never know unless he entered. And so he’d decided he had nothing to lose and entered.

She snapped a picture. The flash lit up, blinding him for a moment.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I want a picture, too.”

“I’ll send you a copy.”

“No. That won’t do. I want one of us together, so I’ll have it to remember this night.” It wasn’t until the words were out of his mouth that he realized how they might sound. Or maybe he was just being paranoid because he was having this very intense, undeniable attraction to her. His sister’s friend—his friend.

He knew following this attraction through to its logical conclusion would be a mistake. Sylvie wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. She was a let’s-get-to-know-each-other-fall-in-love-and-get-married type of woman. And that was the exact wrong type for him at this point in his life.

He stopped his rambling thoughts. What had gotten into him? He never allowed his thoughts to go in this direction with Sylvie. So why tonight? Was it being in Paris together? Was it one too many toasts to his winning success?

He latched on to the last thought and clung to it like it was a life preserver and he was a man adrift in a big, stormy sea. Or did he have it all wrong and Sylvie was his life preserver?

The next thing he knew, she was standing next to him. It was only natural to put his arm around her—for the picture, of course. But then she leaned into him, sending his heart racing.

Just ignore it. You’ve got this.

“Smile,” he said—at least, he thought he said it. It was so hard to tell because he couldn’t hear his thoughts over the echo of his heartbeat.

He snapped the picture. There. It was done.

But when he went to move his arm, she said, “No. Don’t. Take one more.”

There was a little voice in his head that said he should get while the getting was good, but that thought was drowned out by the thumping of his heart. It was just a picture. And she was just a friend.

He once more held the camera out in front of them. “Okay. Are you ready?”

When she didn’t respond, he turned to look at her. It was the same moment that she turned her head to look at him. And with those stiletto heels, she was closer to his height.

When he thought back upon this moment, it would be the defining moment. This was when he should have turned away instead of staring deeply into her warm brown eyes that were so expressive. And right now they were saying that she wanted more from him than their platonic friendship. And so help him, so did he. So much more.

* * *

Her heart pitter-pattered.