you know.”
She shrugged. “And do what?”
“Stay with me. Marry me,” he blurted.
“What?” she shrieked. He had some nerve. Her first marriage proposal was not in a fancy restaurant with a bottle of champagne and a diamond ring in a black velvet box. Instead, she was in a crowded, smelly French train station getting a throwaway desperation proposal from a man she wanted to hate, a man who lied to her, a man who wore a fifteen-year-old scout jamboree T-shirt.
He looked as shocked as she was but rallied. “Yes, yes, I mean it. Marry me, Lily.”
They were drawing a crowd. No doubt thanks to Jack’s local celebrity status.
Lily spotted a wooden bench tucked into an alcove and headed for it. “Get over here.”
He followed, and when she spun to face him, he had a big grin on his face. “What are you smiling about?”
“You and me.”
“There is no ‘you and me,’” she informed him. “There is a Lily Adams and there is a Count Jacques Montford.”
“You could be my countess,” he said enticingly.
“Ack! And be called ‘milady Lily’? It sounds like a brand of bras.”
“You could start one if you wanted.”
“Stop, all right? Stop trying to bribe me with noble titles, lavender farms and bra companies.”
“What, then? What can I bribe you with?”
Himself. But she didn’t say that out loud. Or did she? His grin disappeared.
“Myself?”
Crap.
“Isn’t that what I said?” she decided to bluff.
“Yes. And actually, that is why I portrayed myself as a plain aid worker in a borrowed guesthouse. Because I am not accustomed to people looking beyond the trappings of my life and judging me for myself.”
“Right. Because everyone is so shallow they can’t separate you from your money.”
He shrugged. “Society can be that way. You grew up in it. Didn’t you know people like that?”
“Yes. But you had plenty of chances to come clean with me once you knew me—and you didn’t.” That was the part that upset her the most. “I told you all about my childhood.”
“Not all. Why do you dislike people with property, people with some money? Was she unkind to you, the lady your mother works for?”
“Her? No.” Lily looked away, not wanting to discuss it.
“Who?” he prodded.
She set her jaw. “I survived the prep school, all right? I was almost out of there but got a crush on one of the rich, good-looking guys my senior year. He invited me to prom, I was over the moon, and he saw stars when he tried to convince me forcefully to sleep with him after the dance.”
Jack took a step toward her. A muscle in his cheek twitched.
“Fortunately for me, I grew up working hard and lifting heavy objects. And our gardener had studied in Japan and taught me some self-defense techniques.”
The muscle finally stopped twitching. “Dare I hope he dropped you at home sadder and wiser?”
“Definitely sadder—and sorer. But I don’t know about wiser.” Especially since his brains were obviously in his balls, which had come out on the losing end with her pointy-toed shoes.
“Probably not. His kind rarely learn.” He studied her for a minute.
She twisted her hands together. “And yes, now I know that not all rich guys are like that, but after years of low-level harassment followed up by that one incident, it was too much for me to handle.”
Jack nodded. “I understand. But pretend I am not a rich man. How do you feel about me?”
She stared at him, mute with sudden panic.
“Maybe that is not a fair question until you know how I really feel about myself.”
A train whistle echoed. Jack gave her a stricken look. “Lily, pass me your train ticket.”
“What?”
“Stay to hear me out. Please. Then if you still want to leave, I’ll take you to Avignon myself. Or Paris, or wherever you want to go.”
She nodded, even though she’d spent practically all her cash on hand on the ticket. But something was telling her to stay as he had asked her. Not ordered, and had even said please. She handed him the ticket and to her surprise he ran away.
He was with Nadine and Lily almost got up then and there to leave, but instead he offered Lily’s ticket to the blonde and pointed to the train that was pulling into the station.
Nadine shook her head but Jack jabbed the ticket at her and made several very French, emphatic gestures. She clutched at his T-shirt, but it was so tight she couldn’t get a grip. Lily muffled a snicker. That was the type of woman