Page 2 of Get Lost

Kelsey nearly purred. It wasn’t fair that he shouldlookthat sexy,soundlike sex personified,andintoxicate her with the scent of his freshly baked bread; not when she had to keep her distance. Kelsey was a professional, and this man—hot as he was—wouldn’t make her break her rules. Mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea. It didn’t matter if he was catering staff, or a groomsman, or even a groundskeeper, she never—okay, fine,rarely—broke her rule about hooking up at one of her events.

She might be boy crazy as hell, but she wasn’t foolish.

Mostly.

Kelsey stood quickly and tried to flash a confident—not dripping with lust—smile, extending her hand. “Bonjour.” The word didn’t sound quite as sexy as it did when he said it, but with only eighth grade French to pull from, she was happy to at least have something to say in this man’s native language.

His eyes lit up as he slid his hand into hers. “Parlez vous français?”

Kelsey grimaced. “Not really. Just a little. Um… petite poisson?” She raised her hand, thumb and forefinger close together to showa little bit.

He flashed a smile, nodding, so she must have nailed it.

“Tu es une belle femme, et j’aimerais coucher avec toi. Est-ce que tu comprends?”

Kelsey nodded, smiling at him even though she had no idea what he just said. But she was pretty sure he’d asked if she understood, so she nodded. Which was a lie, but he didn’t have to know that.

The man smirked, biting his lower lip.

Her gaze fell to his mouth and her belly tightened in response. Then his tongue darted out to wet his lips and Kelsey had to avert her eyes quickly, so she dropped her gaze to the ground. “Jesus,” she murmured. “Are you doing that on purpose?” Her nostrils flared on a deep breath and she hoped her whispered words went unnoticed by the sexy chef.

“Quel est votre nom, belle américaine?”

She raised her head, swallowing hard because she was way more attracted to this handsome stranger than she should be. She was the queen of chemistry, acting on impulses when she found someone her body reacted to and trusting her carnal desires not to steer her wrong. But this time, well, they were steering her right into a mix of business and pleasure that could potentially ruin her biggest event to date… before she even got to see it through.

So, as hard as it was—heh,hard—she would demonstrate self-control.

She would.

Lots of it.

“Quel est votre nom, belle américaine?”

Okay. Get your shit together. What did he just say?American, that much she’d caught and could translate. What else? Um…votre nom…

She frowned. “Nom?”

“Nom.” He nodded, then brought his hand to his chest. “Jean-Luc.”

Oh, good grief! He was the newly-famous French pastry chef the Winchesters flew in to design the wedding cake. Maybe if he hadn’t been so freakin’ sexy, Kelsey would have been able to put two and two together instead of looking like a complete hack. But just sharing airspace with this man had her brain misfiring like her engine was on the fritz.

Maybe it was. It was certainly overheating.

She couldn’t clear her mind, so she cleared her throat. “Yes, Jean-Luc. Of course.” She blushed from not realizing who he was and patted her chest like he had patted his. “Je m’apelle Kelsey Sutton.” She smiled at the bit of French she could recall in that moment.

His eyes fell to her hand on her chest, so she dropped it, but his focus remained there, setting her skin aflame. He licked his lips again and she drew in a shaky breath, giving her head a quick shake.

“I’m the event planner.” She motioned around the garage, and then out at the grounds. “I planned this event,” she said slowly, then pointed to her van and the large Kelsey’s Kreations logo covering one side.

His gaze flicked quickly to the van, then back to her. Kelsey pulled in a breath. She had to get away from the heat of this man’s stare, and, if she was honest, the way he looked at her like he might snack on her.

Were all French men this sexy?

Maybe she should have stuck with taking French after middle school and studied abroad or something. The Frenchdidinvent the best kind of kissing, after all, so it really wasn’t a stretch to think that they were all this delicious… and liked to do things with their tongues.

And now she was thinking about his tongue.

Bad, Kelsey. Very bad.

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