A Paris Christmas

By Cynthia Gail

Billionaire Nicholas Adrien Rousseau works seven days a week. He lives on a schedule, doesn't like surprises, plans his days, and outlines his goals. Until an irresistible blonde slides into the backseat of his Mercedes, mistaking him for the driver of the car service provided by his company, Bridal Bliss.

 

Bella Rose is late for the airport. The opportunity to turn Creative Couture into an International marketing firm is a dream come true, but if she doesn't catch the last flight home to the states, she'll miss Christmas Eve with her family.

 

Two strangers with an attraction that could melt an iceberg, are stranded in the heart of Paris, the city of light and love. When Bella throws caution to the wind, deciding to accept the spontaneity life has thrown her and enjoy the journey, she never imagines it will lead to the man of her dreams. Adrien realizes too late that by hiding his identity, he could lose the one woman who loves the man and not the money.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willow Tree Romance
• Release date: Nov 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781958355084

Book preview

One

A trickle of sweat rolled down the middle of Bella’s back. One look at the delicate white flakes falling past the eleventh-floor window, and she quickly packed her still-on laptop, cord attached, and a notepad filled with a hundred fresh to-dos into her briefcase. She would take a picture. The Eiffel Tower standing strong in the background was absolutely beautiful amidst the winter landscape, but she didn’t have a minute to spare.

Miss Rose. Caroline, the marketing assistant at Bridal Bliss, rushed into the conference room. Don’t worry, I’ve asked the front desk to send a car around front. I promise they’ll get you to the airport in time for your flight back to the states. We’re just so thankful you could stay the extra hour.

The extra hour wasn’t the problem. It was the forty-five additional minutes that put her at risk for missing her flight. She wanted to relax at Caroline’s news . . . wanted to take a full breath . . . but when she snuck a peek at her phone and realized it was even later than she’d thought, she started to hyperventilate.

I owe you. She squeezed the assistant’s hand and gave a weak smile before glancing down at her itinerary again, hoping the boarding time had miraculously changed to something more reachable. If all goes well, I’ll be back after Christmas and can take you to lunch for all your help.

The older woman winked, and leaned in to whisper as they hurried toward the elevator, I shouldn’t tell you this. Caroline looked over her shoulder. You’re the only company they asked to stay longer than their scheduled appointment.

Your secret’s safe with me. Bella grinned. I’m crossing my fingers.

Hopefully it would all be worth it. The weeks of research, phone calls, calling in favors. Not to mention the late nights and overtime she’d paid her assistant and graphics department.

And Paul.

Or maybe not. She was still debating whether Paul breaking up with her was a loss or benefit. He didn’t understand how badly she wanted this account—thought she should be content with the clients her little company currently had.

He sounded just like her father.

Here’s your suitcase. Caroline reached for her roller bag already sitting below the illuminated down arrow. It’ll be a black Mercedes. I’m sure he’s there by now. Talk to you soon.

Bella shook her hand again and stepped onto the elevator. Have a merry Christmas, she said just before the doors closed.

Adrien Rousseau sat in the driver’s seat of the company’s newest Mercedes and waited for his luggage to be loaded into the trunk. He scrolled through the pre-set destinations on the built-in GPS and looked for the best route out of town and away from the rush-hour traffic. His pilot was a patient man, but Adrien was running late and hated being off schedule.

The sound of the trunk slamming shut brought him back to the present, then he realized a young woman was sitting in the backseat.

I’m sorry, ma’am—

Charles de Gaulle, please.

He tried not to laugh at the situation; this was the perfect ending to his week. The last two days had been full of one emergency after another. He even had to miss the final round of marketing pitches for his spring line due to an issue with their latest silk shipment.

You are . . . She looked familiar, but she was turned in her seat, studying the oncoming traffic, and he couldn’t see much of her face for the lovely blond curls framing the side of her cheek.

Rose! She turned back quickly and buckled her seatbelt. Can we go? I’m in a hurry. I don’t mean to be rude, I really don’t. I’m just a little anxious about cutting it so close. If I don’t catch the last flight out, I won’t make it home for Christmas Eve.

"Mirabella Rose." He’d recognize those cornflower-blue eyes anywhere; could still see the profile picture he’d studied when reading about her company, Creative Couture. That perfect little dimple on her right cheek was possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Bella. Everyone calls me Bella. Are we ready?

He didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d gotten into the wrong car. So, he eased into traffic and headed for the airport. His private hangar was just a couple of miles away from the main terminals. His pilot would simply have to wait a few more minutes.

Two

Bella tried to relax against the back of the seat, but couldn’t. Not until they made it out of the downtown traffic and the speedometer passed twenty. Her three brothers would understand, even laugh, but her father would never forgive her if she wasn’t home for Christmas Eve.

Her eyes stung at the thought of disappointing him. Again. Ever since they’d lost her mother earlier in the year, he’d relied on Bella more and more. What had started as stopping by the grocery store once a week for something he’d forgotten had quickly escalated to joining him for dinner on Mondays and Thursdays. Next thing she knew, she was taking care of his dry cleaning and cooking Sunday lunch, too.

She blotted the corner of her eyes with a tissue and sat up a little straighter in the seat. This was ridiculous. She hadn’t missed her plane yet. Planning fixed everything; she simply needed to be ready to make a run for it.

She slid her passport into the outside pocket of her purse for easy access. Her Ziploc of three-ounce bottles was tucked in neatly beside it. Turning to her briefcase, she unplugged the cord from her computer, then tipped the MAC on end, letting it peek out from the top. They should be at her terminal in just a few moments now. All she needed