A Very French Affair. Эбби Грин

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      Just then Dominic called for her to step onto her mark. She glared at Romain, who was looking far too smug at her obvious discomfiture.

      Sorcha found out more at lunchtime, and she mulled it all over in her head as she took off for a brief solitary walk afterwards. It turned out that the shot Romain had told her about had to be done at sunset, and Claire the stylist had already flown back to Dublin to get the dress required, as it was meant to be part of the wedding sequence. That had made Sorcha’s nerves go completely. She’d been too scared to ask what exactly was involved.

      Would she have to kiss him?

      That thought sent all sorts of shivers through her, and not all of them were of disgust…or trepidation. Was he doing this on purpose, just to mess with her?

      She berated herself. Now she was just being silly.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      A FEW hours later, feeling very nervous, Sorcha stood on the shoreline again, this time in a simple knee-length white broderie anglaise dress from an exclusive designer. It was meant to be a wedding dress. Her hair was up in a loose knot, and a white orchid was tucked behind her ear.

      Claire the stylist was muttering as she secured the dress at the back. ‘You would not believe the pressure I was under to get back here…And this dress—it’s not even been on the catwalk yet. We weren’t meant to be shooting it for another week. It had to come from Paris with a courier and a bodyguard. And now you’re the one that gets to be held in Romain’s arms…honestly…’

      Held in his arms? Sorcha’s insides froze. Surely she just meant with his arm around her shoulders as they looked out at the sunset?

      And then he was there, striding towards her. He wore a white tuxedo shirt that was open at the neck, a bow tie dangling untied. His black trousers were rolled up to the knee, showing off strong, shapely calf muscles. She felt weak.

      The sun was setting over the horizon, and the mood of the crew was getting more frantic, with Simon and Dominic shouting out orders as they worked simultaneously. Romain came and stood before her, slanting a look down her body, taking in her long, slim, very pale legs.

      ‘Very sweet—almost virginal, in fact.’

      Sorcha felt a familiar secret pain grip her. She had so much to hide from a man like this.

      ‘Let’s just get on with it, shall we?’ she bit out.

      And in the next instant her world was upended and she was lifted against a broad, strong and very hard chest. Immediately and instinctively her arms had to go around his neck. Wide, surprised eyes clashed with his.

      ‘What the—?’

      Romain felt the rigidity in her body. ‘Hush. We’re meant to be in love.’

      ‘Don’t make me sick! And if this is your idea of a joke—’

      Simon came over and held a light meter close to Sorcha’s face, making her shut her mouth abruptly.

      ‘That’s great, guys. Let me know if you need a break, Romain. You’ll need to stand there for a while.’

      Simon walked away and Sorcha smiled sweetly at Romain. ‘I do hope I’m not too heavy for you?’

      ‘Not at all,’ he said lightly. ‘Like the proverbial feather.’

      His arms did feel secure around her—not a tremor. And Sorcha knew well that she wasn’t exactly small. She always ate well, but had been lucky enough to inherit a metabolism that burnt off calories quickly. Still, she was no lightweight. The fact that Romain seemed to be holding her so effortlessly made her feel small and feminine, delicate for the first time in her life.

      She sighed deeply and looked out to sea. But as she sighed, her breasts moved against his chest. She stopped breathing as her nipples reacted and tightened.

      His mouth came close to her ear and he whispered softly, his accent pronounced. ‘It helps if you breathe…’

      She turned her head, and the retort on her lips was quickly forgotten. Their heads were so close together that she could feel his breath reach out and mingle with her own. She saw the deeper flecks of grey in his eyes, the small lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes, and that suddenly made her want to see him laugh, to see how they crinkled up.

      Surrounded in a bubble of sensation, Sorcha couldn’t deny it any longer—not when she was held so tight against him. This man had broken through the wall that she’d built around her sexuality. He was smashing it down with what seemed to be little more than that proverbial feather.

      Her other hand was somewhere around his shoulder. It had been in the act of pushing him away. But now the feel of his warm skin underneath the shirt was acting like a magnet. Completely unaware of what was going on around them, but perhaps subconsciously knowing that it might be sanctioned, Sorcha’s hand moved up of its own volition to his neck.

      In a completely untutored and sensuous move that had Romain’s heart-rate soaring, Sorcha allowed the back of her hand to drift up his neck, pushing aside the open collar of his shirt. And then, her eyes following the movement as though mesmerised, her hand drifted upwards until her palm rested on his lightly stubbled jaw.

      Romain stared down into her face. He willed her eyes to meet his, and as if she could hear him they did. A silken cord had wrapped itself around his every sense and he felt himself tighten and harden. She had become soft and pliant in his arms, her curves moulding to his form like a jigsaw piece slotting into place.

      All Sorcha could see was his mouth. Her thumb moved closer, traced the corner of his lower lip. They were so close. And then his head dipped slightly. She felt his breath feather again. Her eyelids felt heavy and started to flutter closed. Every part of her was aching to feel that mouth on hers…

      ‘Very good! And do you know what? We don’t even need to see a kiss. I think this works really well…’

      Simon’s voice cut through the haze of sensuality that had been clouding Sorcha’s brain like an alarm going off. She actually flinched—a minor movement, but one which had Romain gripping her tight to him again. But this time she held herself stiff and would not look at him. God. What on earth must he think? They’d been shooting all the time and Sorcha hadn’t even noticed!

      Romain felt dazed…out of sync as he put Sorcha down until her feet touched the ground. Surrounded by all the crew, he couldn’t do what he wanted and keep her close, take that lush mouth as he’d been so close to doing. The way she’d been looking at him just then…He felt limbless. Had he just been taken for a complete fool?

      After what seemed like aeons, he put her away from him with two hands. She was very shaky.

      His mouth was hard, his face taut. ‘You’re a good actress.’

      She looked up quickly and saw the harshness there, twisting his mouth.

      Acting?

      Well, if that was what he thought…thank God.

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