I stared flabbergasted at him for a long moment, wondering if he was serious. It seemed like he was. “You’re not going to apologize?” I asked.

Oliver looked mildly at me. “For the vase? It was an accident, and of course I’ll pay for it, whatever it’s worth.” He looked over at the thing, shrugging, and then whispered in a mock-conspiratorial tone, “To be honest, I think I did them a favor by breaking it.” He shook his head. “Anyway, we’ve already concluded that you’re not the person I need to talk to about the vase.”

I continued to stare at him, a frown forming on my face. “If someone walked into your business, Mr. Lewin, and mistook you for a secretary, how would you feel?”

I could see the faintest trace of a smile at the corners of his lips, and I suddenly realized he was playing with me.

There was something about that playful side of him that intrigued me, that made me suddenly understand why there were so many people flocked around him. Well, that playful side and . . . everything else, my mind pointed out snidely. Now that I was up close, I couldn’t help but study his features. His physique looked trim, yet muscular, and those dimples when he smiled . . . they were a complete game-changer. They appeared every time he showed that sexy, mischievous grin—which was basically all the time.

The last thing I needed right then was to be thinking about how sexy he was.

Oliver gave me a mocking bow, and some of the other women started to back away. “Ms. Sophia Boutelle. You’re twenty-seven years old, born in America but your mother was French. You lost your parents at a very young age, but you inherited their wealth and were able to put yourself through school at the University of California, Berkeley, before moving across the country to New York. Some say that you moved because you found better philanthropic opportunities in the Big Apple, and indeed, your success all seems to have come since you started Le Monde Ensemble here, with the help of some old family friends. However, others speculate that you moved here because it was as far away as you could get from the horror of losing your entire life, without moving out of the country entirely.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Will that suffice, or should I continue?”

I was blushing; I could feel the heat spreading from my neck all the way up to my forehead. “I see you’ve done your research,” I said, feeling pathetic and silly in front of all these people. I couldn’t believe that he had just walked in here and ruined this whole event for me. This was my one night of the year to really impress people, and instead . . .

No one was paying attention to us anymore, I realized as I glanced around. The fallen vase seemed to have been forgotten, and people were talking again.

I looked over at Jeri. “Can you find someone to . . . deal with this?” I asked, gesturing toward the vase.

Jeri looked annoyed, and I remembered her saying earlier that she wanted to put the moves on Oliver. I had undoubtedly just cramped her style by making her look like a servant of sorts. However, she was my assistant, and I still had a thing or two that I wanted to say to Oliver.

As Jeri moved away, she gave Oliver a long, lingering look, as though promising to return. Oliver, for his part, stared after her, and I was tempted to just blurt out that she had a boyfriend. But it was none of my business, and there were more important things to say.

I took a deep breath. “Mr. Lewin, while I very much appreciate your attendance here tonight, as well as the generous donation that you’ve made to Le Monde Ensemble, I have to say that I’m a little miffed,” I said.

But Oliver wasn’t paying any attention to me; his gaze still absently following Jeri as she chatted with someone at the edge of the hall, pointing back towards the vase. I felt a momentary stab of jealousy—for some reason, I wanted the intensity of that lusty gaze on me. But I wasn’t that kind of woman, or else I’d be in the ass-hugging kind of dress that Jeri favored.

I pursed my lips. “Mr. Lewin, I do have to ask if this is all in the name of getting a little good press,” I said. “As much as I appreciate the donation, I’d rather not have my charity organization involved with . . . unsavory types.”

Oliver still wasn’t listening. I snapped my fingers to get his attention. Oliver turned a charming smile on me, as though there should be no reason for me to feel upset with him. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I haven’t killed anyone or been part of some huge scandal.”

“So you do listen,” I muttered, folding my arms over my chest. “Please do tell, then, why you’re here.”

Oliver shrugged. “Well, I have to do something with my money, don’t I?” he asked.

“Yes, but why my organization?” I asked.

“I threw a dart at a list of organizations, and yours was the one that I happened to hit,” Oliver joked—at least, I hoped he was joking. “Tell me, do you grill everyone who’s made donations to your charity? Because it seems like that would have a negative impact in the long-term.”

I blushed, feeling flustered again. “Of course I don’t,” I snapped. “But we don’t usually get donations as generous as yours.”

“If that’s your way of saying thanks, sweetheart, it could use a little work,” Oliver said, his eyes twinkling as he adopted a similar pose to mine, folding his arms across his chest. “How about you thank me by agreeing to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

“What?” I asked, blinking at him. I quickly shook my head. “Mr. Lewin, I’m sure your social calendar is already very full, and I’m afraid that I myself am too busy with my work.”

“Pity, because it really seems like you could stand to get laid,” Oliver teased. He took a step closer to me and reached his hand out to whisk away the hair that was covering my ear. He leaned in so close that I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. “I can only imagine how tight you must be. I bet you slip into French as you get close to your orgasm too, don’t you?”

If I had thought I was blushing before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. Everyone in the room must be able to feel the heat coming off my face. My whole body tingled with it . . . and with something else which I furiously pushed away. I was not attracted to Oliver Lewin. Merde.

Fortunately, Jeri came back just then, holding a brush and a trash bag. She started cleaning up the vase. I normally would have offered to help, but I couldn’t wait to get away from there. Besides, Jeri had made no secret of the fact that she wanted to be left alone with Oliver—let him help her.

“Thank you for taking care of that,” I blurted to Jeri. She looked surprised and curious when she saw my expression, but I darted away before she could ask. I made a beeline for the refreshments table, cracked open a bottle of water and drank half of it before I dared to look back over.

When I did, Oliver was on his hands and knees, helping Jeri. They were both laughing, and it was as though nothing had ever happened between Oliver and I.

Not that it had, I quickly reminded myself. Oliver had probably invited half the women here to dinner tomorrow night. Then again, everyone else would have jumped at that invitation; I was the only one who would turn him down.

I shook my head. “I turned him down for a good reason,” I reminded myself in an undertone.

I forced a smile and began to make the rounds again, leaving Jeri and Oliver to it—Jeri cheating on her boyfriend, and Oliver working his way through every woman in the city. As far as I was concerned, they were perfect for one another.