As if the impromptu trans-Atlantic flight on a freaking private jet isn’t crazy enough, we’re met on the tarmac by a black sedan at our destination. The rear door of the car is open, held by a man in a tweed flat cap, a pair of white gloves and a big, friendly smile.

“Merci, Alain,” Heath says as he hops in beside me on the backseat.

The man nods and closes the car door.

The interior of the car smells like fresh lavender and vanilla. The leather seat feels buttery soft on my skin—except for the few inches between Heath and me. That space is electric, like I’d risk a zap if I were to get too close.

This feels like a dream, and not just because I’m suddenly all the way in France, when I’d never even traveled out of the country before—say, to Canada, for example.

To be honest, though, this morning… Or was it yesterday morning? This time difference thing is really messing with my head.

Anyway, when I walked into Heath’s office—whenever it was—I was considering cancelling the whole arrangement.

Who cared about my romance career? If it was meant to be, it would happen.

And there was never any guarantee that I’d get a lightbulb moment that shines a light on the circumstances of my own birth and helps me understand my birth mother. Same went for the tearful reunion with my dad.

These were just pathetic, impossible, childish wishes.

But then Heath knocked me completely off my balance. Who the hell just randomly takes a girl to another continent just to have some wine?

But then again, who the hell just randomly hires a girl to have his baby?

The answer to both is Heath Anders.

He just keeps coming up with surprises. This is not just about him having the money to do these things, but also about his spontaneity.

Contrary to what I told him, I actually love surprises.

It's just that I was already feeling conflicted, and he was making it hard for me to stick to the decision I’d made while tossing and turning in my bed last night.

When I saw him, I couldn’t end it. I wanted to know what else he had up his sleeves.

But if nothing else, at least the lack of sleep allowed me to snooze like a baby in the plane, all the way to the south of France. That's probably one of the reasons why I still feel like I’m trapped in a surreal dream.

“So this place we’re going to, it’s this small, organic vineyard. Most vineyards in this area are like, 100 hectares, but this one is only 6 hectares. The couple that owns the place doesn’t use chemical fertilizers. They have pet donkeys and sheep to help with that. So these animals just graze among the vines and fertilize the soil naturally,” Heath says, suddenly chatty after dodging my questions about our destination the whole flight.

“Did you read the guidebook on the flight here?” I ask, only half-joking.

“Something like that,” he admits with a boyish grin. “You were asleep for a long time.”

“You said to rest up.” I shrug.

“I’m not complaining,” he says. “I enjoyed watching you sleep. You looked so peaceful.”

I’m not sure if that’s a compliment. “Uh… thanks?”

“I took some pictures and videos, I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t help it, especially when you starting moaning my name…”

“I what?” I ask, louder than I intended.

Heath chuckles, and laugh lines appear around his startling blue eyes.

“I really did that?” I ask again. I need to know.

“No,” he says, still grinning from ear to ear.

Relief and embarrassment flood my chest at the same time. I’m glad I didn’t actually do that, but I’m annoyed that Heath has pulled a fast one on me again.

Or maybe I’ve been in a bad mood all day. Without knowing what we were about to do, I couldn't come up with a challenge for today. And now it's… I don't even know the day anymore because of the time difference.

“You didn’t say my name in your sleep, kitten,” he says as he traps my gaze, his eyes darkened by lust. “But you’ll scream it out loud while you’re wide awake. Soon. You’ll see.”

* * *

The small vineyard is enchanting. It’s like something straight out of a fairy tale.

The main building is an old stone cottage, that nevertheless is equipped with all the modern comforts, like Wi-Fi, which is very important to me. I need it to check Jane’s latest notes on my manuscript, which I update on Google Docs whenever inspiration strikes.

All around us are other squat, old buildings that have probably stood here for hundreds of years, keeping watch over the village, generation after generation. The rolling green hills around us have been here even longer.

Everything’s old. Ancient. It’s like stepping back in time, to an era when the world was small and everybody knew everybody else.

The wines are exquisite, and the food is out of this world. Everything’s fresh from the local farms: the eggs, the breads, the jams, the milk, and the butter.

Now, I’ve had all these foods before, but not like this. I feel like holding up any one item from this meal and going, “Now this is bread” or something equally theatrical. They’re that good.

The couple who owns the place sits with us as we eat. They tell us about their vines, their traditional processes, and their little experiments to improve the subtle notes of the wines. It’s obvious they’re passionate about their products.

All I want in life is to be like them. I want to do something I love and watch people enjoy my work. That would feel so rewarding.

“I can see why you’d fly all the way here for this. This is easily the best meal I’ve ever had,” I say to Heath when we're finally left to our own devices.

“Actually, I didn’t expect them to serve food as well. I thought it was just going to be the wines.” Heath takes another sip of the red wine.

I follow suit. “My first day, and I’m already drinking on the job.”

“And in front of your boss, too,” Heath adds.

“What can I say?” I give Heath a grin. “I eat danger for breakfast.”

“Actually, I think they call this déjeuner,” Heath says, pointing at the food on the table between us. “And it means lunch, not breakfast.”

I laugh as I recall that one French class I took years and years ago. I’ll admit that’s a good one.

I don’t know what I expected, but I definitely didn’t foresee myself having such an easy banter with my boss, the rising star of Wall Street.

Sure, he’s got good looks and a truckload of money. But I didn’t expect him to also be funny, and that’s somehow more impressive to me than all the things he’s accomplished.

As the sun starts to set in the late afternoon, we leave town—sadly, before we get the chance to have dîner.

I don’t know why I expected us to stay the night. Probably because I’ve never actually flown anywhere for just one meal before. But then I’ve also never had a private jet waiting at my beck and call before.  

And so I sleep the whole way back, my natural clock confused by the time zones that keep changing.

My first day has been delayed.

I’m relieved to have more time to think (although I can’t be bothered to calculate exactly how much time), but at the same time, this romantic trans-Atlantic trip doesn’t bode well for my resolve to keep things strictly professional.

It kind of scares me. Obviously, I shouldn’t get attached because we have an expiration date. Once my work with the baby—Heath’s baby—is done, there's no reason for me to stick around anymore.

But it doesn’t make me want to turn on my heel and run away. On the contrary, it just makes me want to spend more time with Heath.

Looks like this going to be my challenge for many, many days throughout this strange arrangement of ours: try not to fall for my boss.

I’ve never failed one of my challenges, except for when I was trying to decide if I should sign Heath’s contract.

To be honest, these challenges have been getting easier for a while anyway, ever since I moved out of Vera’s, so maybe I’m overdue for a good one.

Heath Anders, I’ve decided. You’re my next challenge, and I’m not going to fail this one.

I’m going to let you have my body however you please, but my heart belongs to my fictional heroes. You’re just a stepping stone so I can introduce them to the world one day.