Shay couldn’t decide whether to be aggravated or impressed. Clearly, his cover was blown. He was only sorry because he’d wanted to tell her himself that he was Treves Duchesne, of the infamous New Orleans Duchesnes, owner of the maison and heir to a fortune. Lord knew what lurid tales Laura had spun for her. He should have told Tessa in the car. But he hadn’t been thinking of anything but how to finesse her out of that slinky pink bridesmaid outfit. Obviously, Tessa’d decided to let him twist in the wind. And just as obviously, she did not know him very well if she thought that would deter him from his pursuit. He’d never been concerned for reputation, and he certainly wasn’t afraid of a bunch of satin-clad women. But he had to admit, it was refreshing that the woman in question was not impressed by his outward credentials and wealth. It gave him hope that she was different. Special. He strolled over and joined them. He kissed Tessa on the cheek. “Miss me, cher?” He smiled broadly when she gave him a death-ray glare.
