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“Paris!” She sucked in her breath, her lovely face filled with shock, then delight. He smiled, touched that she knew what it meant to him. He did not have to explain. She wanted him to have it.
“The yacht will go full speed to Paros, where my jet will be gassed up and waiting to take me to Paris.”
“Paros to Paris,” she laughed. Then the light in her eyes faded. “Taking you? Just you?”
Still holding her hand, Theo looked up at his approaching yacht, its lit-up windows illuminating Santorini’s dark sea. He looked down at their entwined hands barely visible in the moonlight.
“It’s going to take all my energy to work up a new pitch,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll be working sixteen-hour days for the next month.”
“Eighteen-hour days,” she corrected.
She knew him too well. He gave her a crooked smile. “Eighteen.”
“Why not bring me with you?” she said slowly. “You know I could help.”
He knew. He’d never had a better secretary—ever. She’d been his protector, his partner, his friend. “I can’t.”
“Why?” she demanded.
Swallowing the temptation, he shook his head. “As you said. You’re not my secretary. I promised you’d live in New York, close to family and friends. Plus, you’re pregnant.”
“So?”
“So?” He stared at her incredulously. “You can’t work eighteen-hour days.”
“Don’t tell me what I can do.” Emmie stroked her cheek thoughtfully. “You think developing the pitch will take a month?”
“Or longer,” he was forced to admit. “And you’ll want to be home, comfortable and safe, with people you love, not bored and alone at the George V, or working at the office till you drop. No.” He gave a regretful smile. “I’ll leave tonight while you’re sleeping on the yacht. As soon as I reach Paris, I’ll send the jet back to Paros. When you wake tomorrow, it will take you home.”
She stubbornly focused on the point. “Maybe it will be easier than you think. We still have the pitch from last year.”
“Harcourt already heard that and rejected it. We have to rethink the pitch entirely. It needs to be visionary. I’ll send for additional staff from London and New York.” He thought of sending for Edna and shuddered. “I’ll get a secretary from the agency. But just being first to pitch isn’t enough. This time we’ll focus on dazzling not just Old Man Harcourt but also his daughter.”
“Daughter.” Her gaze darkened. “Celine will be there?”
He shrugged. “She’s his only child. He values her opinion.” In fact, he valued it too much, in Theo’s opinion. Celine didn’t give a damn about the property, just the money it would provide her.
Emmie looked out at the moonlit sea and seemed to shiver. No wonder she was cold, with her arms, legs and neckline so bare. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, forcing his gaze not to linger on the swell of her breasts. No. He wouldn’t even look.
“I’ll miss your expertise.” He quirked a wicked smile. “And a few other things.” She wouldn’t even meet his glance. He sighed. “Once you’re in New York, maybe you could look over the list of secretaries we get from the agency. At least if you approve—”
Emmie turned her head sharply. “I’m coming with you to Paris.”
Theo blinked. “What?”
“I’ll be your secretary. Just like before.”
But you’re not my secretary anymore, Theo knew he should say.You’re my wife.
Something held him back. Having Emmie as his secretary would make it more likely he’d achieve his objective.
Having her as his wife would burn his nights like fire.
“Are you...sure?” he said slowly. “It’s really what you want?”
Emmie tilted her head, looking at him beneath the sweep of her dark eyelashes as a little smile played over her red lips. “You’re too much to handle for any secretary but me.”
“True,” he said, amused. He felt a rush of gratitude. “Thank you, Emmie,” he said quietly. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
