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nature. “The pleasure is all mine.” And somehow, when he said it, the words came off as charming and self-effacing rather than smarmy. All in the delivery, she suspected. He took her hand and bent to buss a kiss along the back. “I love your food.”
    Julia decided she liked him. The pout slipped off her face, more easily than it had slipped on, replaced by her real, natural smile. “You’ve been to the restaurant?” She hadn’t planned to talk about food. Today was about numbers and contracts, budgets and projections. The back-end things that needed to be done properly to allow her to focus her attention where it belonged. In the kitchen.
    “A few times. The coq au vin blanc is amazing.”
    Since the coq au vin blanc happened to be one of Julia’s favorite dishes, she couldn’t knock his taste. She inclined her head. “Thank you.”
    “And the fact that you’re not making life easy for my brother is just one more reason to like you.”
    No, she decided, eyeing Owen Ford. She didn’t like him—she loved him.
    Owen’s smile deepened, showing off his dimples. “He’s used to getting his own way. Being the boss. Always has. It’s good that you’re standing up to him.”
    Julia opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t standing up to Donovan so much as standing up for herself, but another voice spoke first.
    “Owen, what are you doing here?”
    Julia turned to see Donovan behind her, arms crossed over his chest. She hadn’t realized quite how broad his shoulders were. Not that she should be noticing now.
    Owen’s tone remained easy, a noticeable difference from the tightness that edged Donovan’s. “Just checking in.”
    Donovan frowned and looked from his brother to the pretty receptionist and back again. “Well, if you’re all done checking in, perhaps you could do some work.”
    Julia felt a twinge of sympathy, but the loaded statement appeared not to bother Owen. “Sure thing, boss. Bailey.” He nodded at the receptionist. “Julia.” He kissed her on the cheek and then exited the offices.
    Julia watched him go, wondering what all that was about. She hadn’t been kissed goodbye by someone she’d just met since her time in France, but somehow Owen pulled it off. Maybe because it felt genuine. He was the kind of person who liked people and was comfortable sharing easy affection. She liked it. She liked him.
    “Julia.” There was a low growl in Donovan’s voice. She turned and took his outstretched hand, noting that it wasn’t nearly as warm or friendly as his brother’s handshake, and yet unlike Owen’s handshake or kiss, Donovan’s touch sent an arc of attraction through her.
    Why? Why, after all these months of being perfectly content to focus on the restaurant and her staff, being satisfied with the occasional night of flirting when out with Sasha, was she suddenly finding her hormones waking up? And why were they waking up for him?
    Seriously, she was going to kill Sasha for ever mentioning the attraction and planting that seed in her head. Because, yeah, she totally wouldn’t be attracted to Donovan at all if Sasha hadn’t brought it up.
    Julia batted away the thought. Even if she were interested in pursuing the lure of Donovan Ford, now was not the time. She followed him as he led her down the hall, decorated with a few discreet black-and-white photos and a flashy starburst mirror, and into an equally glossy office with a wall of glass overlooking the city street.
    “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee?” He turned to look at her and the attraction flared again.
    “Water, please.” Something to cool the fire within her. She needed to focus—and not on Donovan Ford.
    He nodded and procured a bottle from a small fridge built into the mirrored sideboard along one wall. The glass he handed her was heavy crystal. Julia recognized the style as Baccarat tumblers. No plain or inexpensive glassware for the Fords.
    She took a seat in the visitor’s chair across the desk. No