The Accidental Boyfriend. Maggie Dallen

and sister-in-law moved here for Robbie’s new job.

      He couldn’t think about Robbie right now. Things had gotten so strained between him and his older brother that he didn’t know where to begin to make things right.

      But Holly—he could make things right for her.

      She looked up then, as if just realizing that there was a world beyond the food on her plate. She was adorable when she was voracious. A bit frightening, but adorable.

      “I was really hungry,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food, a slightly sheepish look on her face.

      “Feel better?” he asked.

      She rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “Much.” He refilled their wine glasses as Holly settled back in her seat, clearly more at ease now that she was fed.

      “So how long have you been in Paris?” she asked.

      He fiddled with the fork on his plate. “I just got here today,” he said. He knew where this was going.

      Her brows furrowed together as she studied him and he was uncomfortably aware of the intensity of her stare. Why did he have the feeling she could see right through him?

      Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, you didn’t come all the way to Paris just to find me, did you?”

      He opened his mouth to say no but stopped with his mouth open. Somehow he knew she would see right through his lie.

      “Yes,” he admitted.

      He thought for a moment that she would ask why but she didn’t. Perhaps she was just as averse to rehashing their apology conversation. He figured neither of them came out looking great in that debacle.

      “I’d assumed you were here for business. Or for pleasure, maybe.” Her voice was soft and for a moment her eyes didn’t meet his. There was a vulnerability there that he’d never seen before. She looked…embarrassed. Or hurt, maybe. The expression was there and gone so quickly he wondered if he imagined it. Then her gaze met his again and for one crazy moment he was certain she could see everything—every lie he’d told, every friend he’d let down, every heart he’d broken.

      Her next question cut into that disturbing train of thought. “Do you like Paris?” she asked. Her head was cocked to the side and he again had the uncomfortable sensation that she would see through any lie or evasion.

      He let out a sigh, “Not really, no.”

      Her eyes widened in surprise but she didn’t give him a hard time, which he appreciated. Most people he knew would try to sell him on the romantic city’s illustrious charms or go on and on about the amazing food. He knew all of that. His aversion to the city had nothing to do with the city itself.

      She surprised him with a wide grin that made his groin ache in recognition. Jesus, that smile was magnetic.

      “So you just came to find little ol’ me?” she teased with an over the top southern accent. “Much obliged, I’m sure.”

      He pretended to tip an imaginary cowboy hat. “My pleasure, little lady.”

      Her giggle made him think of sunshine and rainbows and hot air balloons. This woman was sweeter than candy.

      He leaned across the table; he needed to be closer to her like he needed oxygen. “Brunelli would like you to stay at his apartment in the city. He insists.”

      She shook her head and her curls bounced around her shoulders. “Tell Brunelli thanks, but no thanks. I’m fine at the hostel.”

      He wanted to push the issue. The hostel was not what anyone would call clean, and he had little confidence that it was a safe place for anyone on their own, let alone a beautiful woman. But pride was obvious in the set of her jaw and her stiff posture. The last thing he wanted was to come across as the spoiled rich guy who tossed around phrases like “my private jet” just to impress. If she wanted to stay in the dingy hostel, that was up to her, whether he liked it or not. And he did not like it.

      “Fine,” he said, as he hailed the waitress for the check. “But at the very least let me walk you home so I know you get there safe.”