“I want to take a moment to thank all of you for your hard work and loyalty to Harper Rose,” Nigel Harper said from the head of the long conference table, his sweeping gaze encompassing everyone gathered. “We’ve had a lot of transitions lately, haven’t we? First, Daniel took the helm.” He shot a fond look at his son, seated to his right. “And now with the merger, we’re going to become Château Harper Rose.” A glance at Baptiste, on his left. “I appreciate you all more than you’ll ever know. Especially those of you on the transition team. You still with me down there, Samira?”

Samira started unpleasantly. She’d been lost in her thoughts of last night with Baptiste and what the hell she planned to do now that he’d reappeared in her life. She was not, in fact, still with Nigel. But she could fake it.

“Oh, I’m still with you.” To make it look good, she typed a few words—I’m so screwed! —on her laptop and hit Enter with a flourish. “Just getting started on my to-do list.”

Everyone laughed, including—she sneaked a peek out of the corner of her eye—Baptiste. He’d been watching her with his not-so-veiled interest during the entire meeting, which had run a lengthy and tortuous several hours as they discussed the merger’s logistics.

She felt like a bunny in a falcon’s sights.

He sat very still, high up in a tree. She sat very still, under cover of the tall grass, knowing both that he watched and that she should run away. If she were a smart bunny, which, clearly, she wasn’t, she’d keep her head down and leap back into her hole at the first opportunity. Smart bunnies didn’t want to stare up at falcons and ruminate on how gorgeous they were. Didn’t long to stare into their amazing green eyes again. Didn’t nurse secret feelings of relief that the falcon remained nearby.

Yet Samira did all of that.

Making her a very dumb bunny.

And what was with the banked laughter in Baptiste’s eyes, as though she amused him to no end? Did he know how agitated his renewed presence in her life (at her job!) made her? Could he tell it had taken every ounce of her waning strength to walk out this morning without agreeing to see him again?

Did he know about the sweet soreness between her thighs? Or that her resolve to stay away from him was teetering on the edge of collapse?

Baptiste.

The freaking owner of the vineyard that was about to merge with Harper Rose.

Unbelievable. And yet… it figured.

So much for the free and easy one-night stand that was supposed to get her back in the saddle after her demoralizing breakup. So much for telling herself that he had a girlfriend somewhere, or sternly warning herself that she didn’t need him anyway. Hah. Only she could pick a guy with whom she’d have to work closely for the foreseeable future.

“That’s enough from me, folks,” Nigel said. “I’m retired now. That means I’ve got a golf lesson after lunch. I’ll leave all the messy details to you young people.”

More laughter as Nigel waved and ducked out of the French doors and Daniel stood.

“That’s it for now. Time for us to get back to making the wine.”

Everyone stood and stretched, heaving a collective sigh of relief and chattering with excitement over the merger news. Samira closed her laptop and headed for the door with the crowd, desperate to make a clean getaway—

“Samira?” Daniel said. “Can I talk to you and Baptiste for a minute?”

Samira stiffened, stifled her curse and manufactured a pleasant and enthusiastic smile. “Of course.”

“Great,” Daniel said. “Give me a sec.”

Daniel had a quick word with someone before they left while Samira waited at attention by the windows, staring out at the grapevine-covered hillside and trying to ignore Baptiste’s looming presence at her side.

Baptiste leaned closer to murmur in her ear while Daniel’s back was turned.

“You’re not going to able to ignore me for much longer, ma reine.”

“Eh.” She shot him a sidelong glance while trying to ignore the way his proximity made her skin tingle with awareness. Why did he have to smell so damn good? “I might surprise you. I’m pretty tenacious.”

He chuckled. “You do surprise me. Every time I’m with you. And your tenacity is nothing compared to mine. I can assure you.”

Direct challenges always goaded her. She lost her head and turned to face him, receiving an unexpected jolt from the green blaze of his eyes.

“You’re not a stalker, are you? Or can’t your ego take the word no?”

He grinned, all white teeth and dimples.

“My ego is strong and healthy. Like the rest of me.”

Samira made a scoffing noise even though she had an unwelcome flash of his body—big and heavy—straining over hers, and her inner muscles clenched. Unsmiling, she stared him in the face, determined never to reveal so much as a flicker of ongoing desire for him.

“But if being a stalker means I’m determined to change your mind so we can enjoy each other again very soon,” he continued, “then yes, I’m a stalker.”

“That is not what being a stalker means,” Samira said. “I’m surprised you don’t know that. Your English isn’t very good at all, is it?”

He laughed outright this time.

The sound aroused her as if he’d kissed her low on her belly.

“Being a stalker,” Samira said, well aware of the growing heat in her face, “means that you’re harassing someone who doesn’t want to be bothered. In the U.S., companies get sued for that. It’s called sexual harassment.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m neither your boss nor an American citizen, isn’t it?”

She stepped closer and tipped her chin higher, gearing up to blast him into next week, and that was when they heard it.

The exaggerated clearing of Daniel’s throat from the doorway.

They hastily backed up a step and looked at Daniel.

God only knew what kind of expression Baptiste wore, but she tried to look innocent and politely puzzled.

Daniel did not seem amused. Splitting his glower between them, he snapped the door shut with awful finality.

“The thing is,” he said with slow deliberation, “we’re all adults here. What consenting adults do on their own time is their own business. I’m busy. I have other things to worry about. But what happens here at my winery? That concerns me. We all know the winery is facing some challenges right now, and we need to get the business back on track. That’s my number one priority.”

“Of course,” Samira said quickly.

Baptiste, she saw out of the corner of her eye, nodded and rested a hip on the table, crossing his arms.

“Samira, you’ve been part of the Harper Rose team for years,” Daniel said. “My father swears you’re a PR genius. Baptiste, we need your money. Bottom line. So we have our team in place. Our teammates need to work together and get the job done. If either of you, ah, teammates, know of any reason why we can’t have a functional team, then you need to speak up now. Samira?”

She squared her shoulders and infused her voice with the kind of confidence she wished she felt.

“I’m fine. I’ll do my job like I always do.”

Daniel studied her hard. “You sure? Would you prefer to talk to me alone?”

“No.”

“You don’t want me to get human resources in here?”

“What? No. Of course not,” she said.

“Great.” Daniel turned to Baptiste with a chilling smile. “Am I going to have any problems from you?”

Baptiste had the nerve to look shocked and outraged as he pressed a hand to his chest.

“Me? Of course not.”

Daniel seemed far less than convinced. He glared at Baptiste for several long seconds before turning back to her.

“Samira, we’ll throw a gala to hype the merger. Are you up for that?”

“Absolutely,” she said, brightening.

“So we’re all good?” Daniel asked.

“All good,” Samira said.

“We’re great,” Baptiste said.

Judging from his ongoing glare at his friend, Daniel didn’t care for this level of enthusiasm from Baptiste. Several long beats went by while Baptiste kept his expression politely innocent.

“Great.” Daniel finally blinked and gave Baptiste a tight smile. “Carry on, troops.”

Daniel left. Samira hurried after him without a backward glance, all but sprinting down the hall in an attempt to get away from Baptiste before things got any worse.

Her thoughts churned like the foaming waters of her washing machine as she turned into her office. What the hell had happened to her life between last night and now? One-night stands? Mergers? Working closely with Baptiste? What the hell was she—

“So I take it dinner is still off the table for tonight?” Baptiste asked right behind her.

She squawked, jumping a foot in the air, and turned to discover him sinking into one of her chairs as she edged around her desk.

“Do not sneak up on people,” she barked. “That’s very rude. And why are you here? We just discussed everything we need to discuss about work—”

“We didn’t, though.”

“—and everything else got settled this morning.”

Baptiste said nothing, and it was a powerful nothing. There was no amusement now. Just quiet reproach and a faintly wounded look, as though he felt insulted that she took him for a big enough fool to buy what she was selling.

When the moment’s tension overcame her, she looked away, smoothing her hair because she couldn’t figure out what else to do with her fidgety hands.

“I like it this way, too,” he said, gesturing to her hair. “It’s spiky.”

“Thanks,” she said, with a tiny but unstoppable grin that she quickly wrestled into submission. She opened her mouth to tell him about all the work she should be doing, but the words refused to come. Coherent thought refused to come.

When he looked at her like that?

She was all on her own in the world. Like a guppy in a shark tank.

“Samira,” he said, lowering his voice and checking over his shoulder to make sure no passersby were within earshot, “I like to tease you, and you like to give me a hard time, but now it’s time to be serious.”

No, it wasn’t. She didn’t want to be serious. Didn’t want him to melt her with his looks and the sound of his voice.

“I have work to do—”

“Did you think about me?” he asked quietly. “After you left this morning?”

Samira froze. No way in hell was she answering that question.

Instead, she took a deep breath.

“Please understand. I’m not trying to hook up with anyone now.”

“Hooking up.” He made a face. “Hateful American term. Why can’t we enjoy each other’s company without labeling or judging it?”

“I told you. I’m just coming off a bad breakup. I’m not up for the drama. And besides that, I love my job. I really need it, especially right now—”

His eyes narrowed with keen interest.

“—and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. This is a family-run company in a small town. The last thing I need is a complication at work. Or people gossiping about the nature of our relationship. Plus, you’re probably eager to get home to Daphne.”

“I already told you there’s no longer a Daphne.”

“Does Daphne know that? She seems confused.”

“She does know that. And what happens between you and me is our business alone.”

“My boss Daniel just made it his business.”

“I can handle Daniel,” he said.

“I don’t want you to handle Daniel. It’s my career. I’ll handle it.”

Another long pause while he stared at her, clearly replaying her words and formulating his counterarguments. And those eyes! They were everywhere, seeing everything. Noticing the way she clasped her hands in her lap, the way her foot jiggled when he made her nervous and, probably, the way her pulse thumped in her throat when he looked at her with that relentless focus.

“I respect women,” he finally said, his words slow and measured. “I respect their wishes. I respect your wishes. No means no. I understand that.”

She waited, a perverse sinking feeling in her heart. So that was it then. She’d driven him away that easily. Well, no surprise there. She’d been an expert at driving people away since birth.

He leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees.

“The thing you need to understand is that we like each other. Very well. Work has thrown us together and will continue to throw us together. In a case like this?” He shrugged. “We will find a way to be together. It’s inevitable. We both know it. I won’t have to stalk you because you’ll seek me out. And that is as it should be when people connect the way we connect.”

“Baptiste…”

“This is where we are. We have to deal with it.”

Samira sat there, mute and mutinous, drowning inside her fears. What could she say to any of that? That she didn’t like him, when he could probably catch the scent of her lust leaching out of her pores? That she was afraid he’d hurt her when he up and disappeared back to France, which he would eventually do? That he didn’t talk sense about work conspiring to put them together, when she knew he did?

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she lied smoothly. “I just know how much you enjoy hearing yourself talk, and I didn’t want to interrupt. If that’s all…?”

Another burst of his addictive laughter.

“You know what I enjoy as much as listening to myself?”

“I can hardly imagine,” she said, pretending to stifle a yawn before rifling through some papers on her desk.

“Matching wits with you. You are a fascinating woman, Samira.”

God, he was good at pretending he meant it.

A sudden flare of panic triggered her flight response. She had to shut this whole thing down before she got hurt again.

“I’m not getting attached to you. Not in any way. Just so you know.”

“Samira.” His look was almost pitying. “You already are. As I am to you.”

Lacking a coherent response to this 100 percent accurate assessment of her feelings, she focused on a diversion.

“Don’t let me keep you,” she said, stapling something that didn’t need to be stapled. “Bye.”

Sighing, he stood and turned to go just as the receptionist’s voice came over the line.

“Samira? You done with your meeting? Terrance is here. He’s been waiting for you.”

“Terrance?” Samira was too shocked to keep the dismay out of her voice. Evidently Baptiste heard it, because he looked back over his shoulder at her, frowning. “What does he want?”

“He said he wanted a quick word,” the receptionist said. “I can tell him you’re too busy…?”

“Umm…” Samira kept her gaze lowered, thinking hard while trying to avoid Baptiste’s intent and curious gaze on her face. Honestly, could this day get any worse? It wasn’t bad enough that she had to keep a sexy Frenchman at bay, but now she also had to deal with a surprise appearance from her ex? “No, it’s okay. Send him back. I can spare a few minutes. Thanks.”

Samira stood and smoothed her slacks. By this time, continuing to ignore Baptiste just seemed childish, so she hit him with her most withering glare.

“What?”

“You sounded upset.”

“I’m not upset. I’m fine,” she said, her voice a good octave too high. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Shadows collected across his face, dimming the light in his bright eyes. “And who is Terrance?” He paused, then seemed to reconsider the rough edge in his tone. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

The none of your business was right on the tip of her tongue, so it was with some surprise that she opened her mouth and said,

“My ex fiancé.”

Baptiste went very still, except for a twitching muscle at the back of his jaw.

“I see.”

There was a knock on her open door.

“Hey, Samira,” Terrance said. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time. I can come back when your meeting’s over.”

“It’s fine,” Samira said. “We’re done.”

But Baptiste didn’t look done. He didn’t look done at all. He loomed in the middle of the office, a flinty-eyed and insurmountable obstacle that Terrance would have to vault or dynamite out of the way if he wanted to get to Samira.

After a long and measured look at Terrance—Baptiste was a little taller and more muscular, with broader shoulders, Samira noted—Baptiste stuck out his hand.

“Jean-Baptiste Mercier,” he said. “Pleasure.”

Lobbing a quizzical glance at Samira over Baptiste’s shoulder, Terrance shook his hand before squinting at him.

“Terrance Shields. Don’t I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” Baptiste said. “And now, I will give you your privacy.”

With a final and particularly pointed glance in Samira’s direction, Baptiste left, taking all the room’s air with him.

“What was that about?” Terrance asked, one brow hiked.

“Never mind that,” Samira said. “The question is, what are you doing here?”