Latin Lovers: Seductive Frenchman: Chosen as the Frenchman's Bride / The Frenchman's Captive Wife / The French Doctor's Midwife Bride. Fiona Lowe

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СКАЧАТЬ her gently. It was Xavier. His face was very close to hers. She could see the darker flecks of green in his eyes. It brought back a vivid image of his pupils dilating as his head descended to hers before he took her mouth with his. She hunched back in the seat to escape the potent memory.

      He frowned at her movement. ‘What … what is it?’ she asked, her voice strained.

      ‘We’re here … in Paris.’

      She looked out of the window. Sure enough they were on the Tarmac; she could see a waiting limo just at the bottom of the steps. None of the usual Customs or red tape for Xavier and his wife.

      Once in the limo, it wasn’t long before they were in the thick of traffic in the city. Jane looked out with undisguised awe.

      ‘Have you never been here before?’ Xavier asked incredulously.

      She shook her head. ‘Never had time … or the money. When I left school I worked straight away through college. I wanted to start paying Mum back for all the years that she’d worked her fingers to the bone.’

      ‘If I didn’t already know you I’d say that was a line …’

      Jane looked at him, shaking her head. ‘So cynical … how can you bear it?’

      ‘Not everyone sees the world through rose-tinted glasses.’

      ‘Well, mine are rapidly turning more opaque.’

      She could feel his sharp look of enquiry, but didn’t elaborate.

      She picked out the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame … and before long she could see that they were going over an ornate bridge on to what looked like an island in the middle of the river.

      ‘Wow …’ she breathed.

      ‘This is the Île St-Louis—one of a few islands on the Seine … it’s mainly residential.’

      I’ll say, Jane thought to herself. Chic, immaculately made-up women walked their beautifully coiffed dogs. And she had thought that image of Paris was such a cliché!

      They drew to a smooth halt outside one of the buildings and were effusively greeted by the doorman. Jane was fast becoming accustomed again to the bowing and scraping people did in Xavier’s vicinity. In the lift she wasn’t surprised to see that they went all the way to the top floor. Nothing but the best.

      The doors opened straight into a hall with one door, which Xavier opened.

      ‘This is where I come and stay when in Paris on business or for stopovers on long haul journeys—have a look around.’

      Jane tore her eyes away from his and did as he asked. It was the quintessential bachelor pad. The age of the building meant that the shell and windows were still of a certain period, but the whole of the inside had been remodelled. The colours were dark, and it was full of sharp corners, with abstract art on the walls, state-of-the-art sound and TV systems. The kitchen was worse, all gleaming steel and not a hint of homeliness in sight. She hated it.

      He stood back, arms folded, and watched her face with amusement. She couldn’t hide a thing. He felt a sharp, uncustomary burst of pleasure, remembering her refreshing honesty, and became aware of just how much he had missed it …

      ‘You hate it, don’t you?’

      ‘I’m sorry …’ She blushed. ‘It’s just so cold and characterless.’

      And he became aware of how he’d missed her blushes.

      ‘I suppose I’d be offended if I’d actually had a hand in the decoration, but thankfully for my ego I didn’t. I allowed a friend who was trying to build up his interior design portfolio the run of the place. I’m here so infrequently that it doesn’t really bother me.’

      He thought of the women that he had brought here. He couldn’t remember one who hadn’t oohed and ahed delightedly over every room. Either they had all loved it or, more realistically, said what they thought he wanted to hear. Now he could see it through Jane’s eyes he hated it too, and vowed to rip it all out and do it up again.

      Her heart hammered when he suddenly took her hand. He led her to a bedroom, where he faced her again.

      ‘What … what are you doing?’ she asked desperately, hating the effect just holding his hand was having on her, but determined not to pull away and reveal the extent of her discomfiture.

      He indicated with his head round the room, starkly decorated in creams and browns. ‘This is your room.’

      The relief on her face was comic. ‘Thank … thank you.’

      He rested heavy hands on her shoulders. ‘Your hands-off signals are loud and clear. Rest assured, Jane, I’ve never forced myself on a woman and I’m not about to now … but you know you’re fighting a losing battle, don’t you? This scared virginal act is wasted on me. We both know you’re no virgin.’

      He brought his face down to hers, his mouth close to her ear, and she closed her eyes weakly. His breath tickled the sensitive part of her neck just below her ear. The fine hairs standing up.

      ‘But if you think for a second that you can hold out for ever … then you’re very, very mistaken. It’s only going to be a matter of time. It’s there, vibrating between us like an electric current, and it’s not going to go away. Do you know what happens when you suppress something? It just gets stronger and stronger.’

      He straightened up, his eyes taking in her flushed face, the bead of sweat on her brow, the pulse hammering against the base of her neck, and he had to use every ounce of his will-power not to pull her into him, mould her body to his and make her acquiesce—which he knew he could do.

      He would wait until she was shaking with longing, weak with desire. Until she could barely look at him because of it. He wanted her. Badly. But that was all it was. Sheer, unadulterated lust. Nothing else. This was why he’d been unable to get her out of his head the past few months.

      ‘Settle in, and I’ll get lunch ready.’

      He walked out of the room. Jane pressed her hands up against flaming cheeks. That was her reaction after mere words! What would she do if he kissed her? Or if she lost control and grabbed him? Which seemed more likely right at that moment. She’d go up like tumbleweed to a lit match on a dry day.

      All the more reason to be strong.

       And what then …?

      One day at a time. That was the only way she was going to handle this.

      Chapter Ten

      THE next morning Xavier insisted on a day of sightseeing.

      In the early evening they emerged from the Louvre. Jane was bone weary, even though the ever-present limo had whisked them from place to place.

      Bone weary because at every opportunity during the day he had touched her—usually just the slightest glance of physical contact, a brush of a hand here, a light touch on her waist or shoulder … pressing close against her in the crowds. But it had been enough to set her nerve-ends jangling, almost as though he knew exactly what he was СКАЧАТЬ