Page 3 of Her Greek Inheritance

The curator of the art collection strode towards her, a Middle Eastern gentleman by his side. “Miss Larsen! Please, allow me to introduce you to Sheikh Amar el Sharid. He was the successful bidder on one of the watercolors you examined and is interested in procuring your services for the restoration work.”

Gemma nodded to the man, dressed in the white robes and headdress of his country. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Miss Larsen is an expert in the restoration of watercolors. You won’t find a better person to work her magic on your latest acquisition.”

In Oxford-accented English, the Sheikh inquired about her coming to his country to deal with the painting.

She smiled at him and shook her head, “I’m afraid I must return to the States tomorrow. However, I would be happy to work on your piece if you could have it sent to the Smithsonian.”

“Your employers won’t mind?” he asked with a raised brow.

“No, I have their permission to do so. I’m an art restoration expert with the Smithsonian Museum in Washington D.C. specializing in watercolors of the French Impressionistic period.” She retrieved a business card from her small purse. “This is my information. There’s a phone number on the back you can contact to arrange for shipment and receipt of your painting. Additional paperwork will be mailed to you outlining the restoration process and the approximate time to complete the work.

“In exchange for my services, there will be a contract included that gives the Smithsonian first right to display the painting once it is restored. If you have any questions or concerns, you can call for more details.”

The Sheikh took the card and then bowed to her and the curator before walking off with a thoughtful look on his face.

Gemma turned to the curator. “It sounds like the auction went well.”

He smiled broadly. “Yes, all but the large Monet have sold. Several individuals have expressed an interest in acquiring the piece, but due to the extensive damage we decided to pull it from the auction at the last minute. We’ll get the word out and choose the highest bidder in a silent auction later.”

Gemma nodded slowly. “That piece definitely was in the worst shape. It’s a shame. It would have been a true masterpiece in its original glory.”

The curator tugged his beard. “Yes, but I still have hope for it. Have you met any of the other bidders?”

“Only the sheikh and one man from the Netherlands.”

“With the auction’s end, that may change. You should wander around and make yourself available.” The curator caught sight of a guest beckoning him. “Excuse me.”

Gemma wasn’t sorry to see him go. She hadn’t had time to grab dinner, and two glasses of champagne had her feeling light headed.I need some fresh air.A pair of French doors stood open at the end of the hallway.Perfect.Walking carefully, one foot in front of the other, she walked toward the door. The last thing she wanted was to stumble and embarrass herself in front of the auction house’s elite clientele.Christie’swas known for attracting the wealthiest and most famous collectors in the world, and this particular auction had even drawn some world leaders and royalty out to bid. Forgotten watercolors by some of the world’s most renowned painters? Everyone wanted a chance to own one of them.

Gemma breathed in the evening air happily. Absently, she sipped from her champagne flute.Find some French guy and let him ravish you.That had been Aimee’s final suggestion. One Gemma wasn’t opposed to.How does one go about finding such a man? And why am I even considering following Aimee’s advice? I’m here to work. Work!

She turned to look over the city, letting her concerns about work and Tyler’s tuition slip away into the night. Her gaze was drawn to the Eiffel Tower. She’d driven past it on her first day in Paris in the daylight, but hadn’t found time to visit it while it was all lit up. It was one of her regrets, but since she wasn’t being required to pay for this trip, she couldn’t really complain. She currently couldn’t afford a trip out of Washington D.C., let alone across the ocean.

One day. One day, Tyler will be finished with school and get a good job and then you can start saving up for something you want to do. Maybe a small house with its own laundry facilities and a yard? That would be nice. Maybe a tall, dark and handsome guy to go with the house…that would be really nice. In fact, I could use some male companionship right now.Gemma wrinkled her nose. Was Aimee right?Where are the cute French guys when you need them?

She tipped her glass up, frowning as she discovered it was empty. She looked down and blinked. A full glass magically appeared before her. A masculine hand removed her empty glass and slid the full one between her fingers with a murmured “Allow me.”

She looked up into the most sensuous eyes she’d ever encountered, a mere six inches from her own. She gasped and took a step back. Her eyes roved over the man before her. His dark hair, just a tad longer than was fashionable, hung over his brow. Her fingers curled with the sudden need to smooth it back.

A smile curved his lips as he did his own perusal of her person. She felt a blush stain her cheeks.Wow! If I’d known all I had to do was wish, I would have done this a long time ago.Though on a second glance, the man didn’t look French.Definitely foreign. Italian, maybe?

After several long seconds, she remembered her manners. “Thank you.”

The gorgeous man smiled and inclined his head. “Efkharisto.So, tell me. What is a beautiful lady like you doing out here all by herself?” His voice was deep and gravelly, with what she thought was a Mediterranean accent. His skin was tan with just a hint of olive tone. He might be six feet three or four in height. Gemma herself was five feet seven, but she had to tip her head back to meet this man’s eyes, even with her three-inch heels on.

Gemma murmured the first thing that came into her mind. “Fresh air.” She wondered what the language he’d spoken in was, but then she looked at his eyes. Instantly she forgot her question.

“Ypérocho!” He continued to stare at her. “And your companion?”

Gemma shook her head, feeling a few curls of auburn hair escape. She’d confined her unruly locks for the evening’s auction. Her naturally curly hair was shoulder height, but for this evening’s event she’d wound her curls tight into a neat chignon at the base of her neck. Her wavy locks had been trying to escape and, with the gentle breeze blowing across the terrace, were now succeeding. She answered his question softly. “No companion. I’m here alone.”

The man’s smile deepened. His voice dropped a few steps lower. “That is a crime against humanity. Allow me to apologize for all of the other men out there who were so stupid as to leave you alone.”

Gemma felt a shiver of excitement rush down her spine and settle in her lower stomach at his words. His voice had all of her nerve endings standing at attention and his delicious accent fixed all her attention on him. She caught a hint of his aftershave as he moved, and her body reacted on a purely visceral level.I don’t want him to go anywhere. She looked him up and down, drinking in his powerful physique. Her breathing quickened. She licked her lips, letting her eyes move back up his chest. His white shirt and black bow tie subtly hinted at the muscles beneath. His tuxedo was most definitely not off the retail rack. It fit him just like it had been made for his, and only his, body. She didn’t let the obvious signs of his wealth intimidate her, lifting her head to meet his eyes.

He watched her carefully and seemed fully aware of the effect he had on her. When he raised a hand, and brushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, it felt like an electric current ran through her body.