Royally Seduced - By Marie Donovan Page 0,22

ready to hop into the backseat with him?

Her hesitation was enough to break the spell. “Get out, Lily. I’ll follow you in a minute.”

“But why…” She spotted the front of his shorts and understood why he needed some down time, so to speak. She opened the door and staggered out, not in much better shape herself.

She quickly put on her sunglasses to hide her dazed expression. Now what, Lily? Jump into bed with a guy she’d met the day before? Not her style, but then the whole getting-to-know-you routine hadn’t worked much for her previously. And it wasn’t the whole perfumed air, blue sky and beautiful scenery that was making him appear so sexy. He just was.

She had the feeling she’d find him as sexy if she’d met him in whatever jungle he usually lived in. Maybe that was what had saved him from being snapped up? And did she even know if he was snapped up or single?

Nope, and she needed to learn that before she made her decision. She leaned down. “Jack, I’ll be right back.”

“What?” He started to get out of the car but made a face and sat back down. Lily stifled a giggle. She’d never had such an effect on a man before and it made her feel powerful. Sexy.

She whipped around the corner of an old limestone building and pulled out her phone. The number was the newest she’d input. “Madame Finch, this is Lily. I have a question for you.”

She asked her question and got the answer she’d wanted. Now all she needed to do was make her decision.

LILY LOOKED AROUND the perfume factory in wonder. The House of Laurent was housed in a historic building painted the color of ripe cantaloupe with white-shuttered windows. Jack had gone to the hostel around the corner to make a reservation for them for the night. Lily was relieved to put off her decision, for tonight at least.

For now, she was on the clock, so to speak. She couldn’t very well come to Provence and not write about perfume, could she? She took several photos of the display of ancient perfume pots, delicate perfumed gloves that had been all the rage in a smellier society, and Art Deco French glass perfume vials and cut-crystal bottles that were works of art in themselves.

She’d been lucky enough to catch two spots on the English tour, but where was Jack? Not that he needed a tour in English, but she found herself wanting to share more and more with him.

They had gathered the group when a hand rested on her waist—he was back.

“Just in time.” She smiled up at him. “What’s with the hat?” He was wearing an olive-drab, military style sun hat pulled down practically to his eyebrows.

“This? The sun is very strong this time of year and I am a bit pale.”

“Oh, true. I have my own sun hat, but it’s in the car.”

“We can get it after the tour if you’d like.” He cleared his throat. “The hostel had two beds left—one in the male bunkroom and the other in the female. I reserved them for us.”

“Ah. Good.” Right? She tried to ignore her feeling of disappointment. The tour started right after that and Lily was swept away in note taking.

Jack leaned down to her, his brim bumping her head. “If you don’t get all the details, ask me later. We learn much of this growing up in the area.”

“Great.” After that, she relaxed a bit and learned about different methods of extracting the fragrant oils from plants, such as steam distillation, pressing the flowers into fats and more modern methods such as volatile solvents and pumping gases into the flowers to release the scent molecules. “Very high-tech, isn’t it?” she murmured to him.

“Pah. If you have premium flowers, you don’t need fancy methods.”

“A purist, eh?”

“But of course. You should never settle for less than the highest quality in everything.”

“That’s a nice theory.”

“But not practical?”

She shrugged. “My budget doesn’t always allow for top of the line in everything.”

“Very true. But a woman’s perfume should be an indulgence, something that makes her feel wonderful.” He gestured to a case with a frosted-glass bottle blown into the shape of a swan.

“I can see that.” This would make a great blog post.

“She lifts the stopper and fragrance fills the air. It reminds her of the last time she wore it because scent is a powerful memory trigger. Did she meet her lover then? Is she meeting him tonight?”

There was

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