Scent of a Woman Read Free

seersucker suit paused beside her at the rail, forcing his friend—a younger man dressed more casually in khakis and a black polo shirt—to stop beside her, as well.

    She recognized the older man as Jonathan Nordham, the retired owner of one of England’s few top-notch fragrance companies.

    “It is Danielle, Monsieur Nordham,” she greeted him easily in English, knowing she looked a great deal like her late mother, “and it is wonderful to see you. Are you attending the conference with your daughter?”

    “Forgive me for my mistake, Danielle. You look so much like your mother when I first met her.” He rapped his forehead. “My daughter says I live in the past more often than the present.”

    “I consider it a compliment to be mistaken for my mother, monsieur . And how is your daughter?”

    “She’s at home taking care of my first grandchild—at long last.” A wide smile broke over his weathered face as he retrieved a monogrammed handkerchief from his breast pocket. “I don’t tell her how to run the company now that I’m out of the business, but I can still lay down a few laws as a father, and I insisted she enjoy her time home with young Jonathan whenever she can.”

    The old man beamed with pride as he mopped his forehead beneath a white straw hat.

    “Congratulations.” Danielle spoke the word in the same breath as Monsieur Nordham’s younger friend.

    His younger, extremely attractive friend, she noticed. The man was tall with wavy, dark hair and blue eyes that could have belonged to a European, yet Danielle would bet her new fragrance line that the man was an American. There was a restless tension about him even when he stood still, almost as if standing still was an occupation that was foreign or uncomfortable to him. Danielle had noticed the same restrained energy in many of her American friends and business associates.

    Although none of them were quite as wickedly handsome as this man, even in clothing that was decidedly casual for the perfumers’ set.

    “Pardon me, where are my manners?” Nordham shoved his handkerchief aside and made room for the server bringing Danielle’s water. “Danielle, may I introduce Adam Burns of Prestige Scents? Adam, this fetching young lady is Danielle Chevalier, and she runs one of the most innovative and exclusive French fragrance companies on the market today. Les Rêves has been making organic scents since long before the current trend toward natural ingredients.”

    Shifting her glass of sparkling water, Danielle extended her hand.

    “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Burns.”

    “The pleasure is all mine,” he returned, squeezing her hand in a grip that was slightly more forceful than that of most European men.

    Curious about why his name hadn’t been listed as a Prestige representative, she found herself holding his gaze along with his hand. He looked vaguely familiar, although she was certain she would have remembered if they’d met. A woman did not forget such a sharp physical reaction to a man, and Danielle could count on one hand the number of times she’d felt that in her life.

    Of course, as Marcel would be quick to remind her, each of those meetings had only hurt her in the long run.

    “You are not Joseph.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud until a short bark of laughter escaped Adam’s lips.

    Monsieur Nordham backed up a step.

    “Will you young folks excuse an old man while you get to know one another? The heat is a bit much for me and I have heard rumors that there is an English tearoom on board.”

    “Certainly,” Danielle assured him, realizing belatedly she still held Adam Burns’s hand. She eased her fingers out of his palm and cleared her throat. “I think the ship map said the tearoom is on deck six. Maybe I will join you tomorrow?”

    “That would be lovely.” The older man was off with a wave, leaving Danielle alone with the entirely too good-looking Prestige rep.

    “Don’t let him fool you,” Adam