Mistress for Hire (8 page)

“Sandwich?” He ruffled his hair with his hands as he turned toward the refrigerator.

“Yes. Thank you.” She leaned against the counter and took a deep breath.

Gérard rummaged through the shelves, handing out meats and cheeses and pickles and condiments of every type. She spread it out on the island top and pulled out a cutting board from the rack underneath.

“Bread?” she asked.

“Somewhere around here.”

She found a plastic bag of rolls in the walk-in pantry where the shelves were stocked with all sorts of brightly colored boxes and jars and bags. She turned, hitting Gérard with the bag.

“Oh! Sorry!”

“Again?”

“I know.”

“I don’t take up too much of your space, do I?” He moved closer.

“Just the right amount.” Her breath caught in her throat.
Oh my stars, he would make a tasty snack. No, make that a meal.

He stood so close, the bread crackled between them. Gérard took it out of her hands, but didn’t move. Still holding her gaze, his eyes smoldered with promise. Déjà vu swept through her at the scent of the bread. But, he hadn’t kissed her yet as he had in her dream. She wanted him to so badly. To see if last night had been as she remembered. Strength and tenderness. Hard and soft. She had to be kidding herself. This was crazy to toy with each other. She backed up a step. He followed.

“Did you, did you date my sister?” Nikki stumbled over the words, not wanting to even think about Jessica, but having to know what happened between them.

He gave a soft snort and took a step closer. “She’s not my type.”

Nikki’s spirit soared. “Is that a no?”

“A
resounding
no.”

Nikki’s ankle hit a step stool and she clambered up one step, giving him a cheeky smile.

He raised an eyebrow, humor teasing the edges of his mouth. “Are you trying to see if I’m lying?”

She went up another step, hanging on to the edge of the shelf. Now, she was the taller one.

His hand went to her hip. “Careful.”

“Would I be able to tell if you were lying if I looked in your eyes?” Nikki peered into Gérard’s eyes. What had started as a joke suddenly became so much more.

He placed the bread on top of bright yellow tomato cans, gently, slowly, as if it were a carton of eggs. Then his hand covered her hip.

She should move.

She should laugh it off.

Push away.

Be a good girl.

Or she could tumble off the stool into his arms. There was no wine to excuse her behavior this time. She put her hands on his shoulders, the cotton of his shirt cool under her warm palms. She met his dark gaze.

“What do you see?” His breath whispered across her neck. “The truth between us?” With each word, his hands tightened, drawing her to him. Not waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and kissed the center of her collar bone.

Nikki gripped his shoulders. Surely, he could feel her heart pounding.

He lingered, kissing the exposed V of skin.

Never had a kiss been like molten fire. Heat shimmied through her entire body. Her breasts grew heavy and tight. Her clothing felt scratchy and confining, like kindling that would burst into flame around her.

Touch me
.

His hands slid lower, molding her buttocks, drawing her ever closer, with each kiss, until they were fused together. He licked her neck and she plunged her fingers into his thick hair. Better than her dream.

Better. Better. Better
.

One large hand cupped her cheek, pulling her mouth down to his. Lips met lips. Tongues fiercely joined. They both moaned.

Hot. Thick. Wet
.

Nikki twined her leg around Gérard’s waist. His hand skimmed the back of her thigh, under her panties, onto her bare butt cheek.

Yeeeessss.

His erection pressed against her.

Hard. Thick. Oh, God!

She groaned, breaking their kiss, flinging her head back as he dove into the front of her robe, latching onto her breast through the thin cotton.

“Gérard!” She dug her heel into his buttock. He stumbled and flung his arm out. A crash of glass. The smell of apricots filled the small room.

The world stopped.

Nikki hung in the air.

His arm encircled her, pressing her against the wood frame of the pantry, holding her against him. Their harsh breathing sounded extraordinarily loud in the small space. His hand released her bottom, sliding along her leg to wrap her once more in her robe. Nikki pressed her lips together in disappointment, forcing herself to keep quiet. No begging.

“You are one dangerous woman,
Mademoiselle
Sommers. Remind me never to take you skydiving.”

A nervous giggle burst out of her. “I’d be too scared to jump.”

“With your luck, I think we’d both fall out.”

Nikki wiggled to get down, wanting distance between them, physically and emotionally. He held her tight.

“Be still.” He hoisted her higher, stealing one swift kiss before he carried her out of the pantry, glass crunching under his shoes. He deposited her onto the stainless steel island.

Nikki gasped at the cold shock of metal on the back of her bare thighs, bringing her back to earth with a slap. She yanked her robe together and retied it. Wiping a trembling hand over her lips, she squeezed her legs together, as if denying him further access would cut off her own feelings.

As if!

Gérard leaned over her, one hand on either side of her thighs, trapping her against the metal. “This isn’t over.”

If she had any sense, she would bolt right now. Except she didn’t think she could walk.

Chapter 9

Gérard turned away and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it. He’d gotten a glimpse of her bare belly before she snatched her robe closed and all he could think about now was carrying her upstairs and stripping her naked. Swirling his tongue over her stomach to dip into her navel. Delighting in her sweet flesh one slow lick at a time. Plunging into her creamy sweetness.

What was it about this woman that tempted him like no other? He’d had countless lovers, beauties all. But none of them made him want to lose control as this woman did. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Except she held back, widening those luminous green eyes, from innocence or intelligence, he wasn’t sure. It would be foolish for them to get involved, although he’d known the minute she’d sat on his desk they would make love. That’s why he’d put it in the contract, so she would know his intent. He wanted a fierce primal joining. He wanted to hear her scream in release, feel her clench around him.

But it was more than sexual. It was a longing for a connection. To know what she was thinking when she looked into his eyes.

Damn, he didn’t have time for this. She was merely a way to lure her sister into giving back his documents. He did not . . .
repeat not
. . . need to get involved with this family.

Thankful for the distraction, Gérard eyed the spreading glossy puddle on the floor.

“You make the sandwiches, I’ll clean this up.” Gérard grabbed a handful of paper towels and the trash bin. And groaned.

“Are you all right?”

Her petite toes appeared next to him. All he would have to do was run his hand up her leg. On impulse he had done it last night, exploring her soft skin. He closed his eyes.

“I’m fine. Don’t step on the glass. There’s wine in the chiller under the other island.” When he opened his eyes, she’d moved away.

“I think I’ll have a glass of milk tonight. It’ll help me sleep.”

“That sounds good.” Maybe it would relax his raging cock so he didn’t jump on her like some randy teenager. He sighed, craving a double whiskey. Maybe later if the milk didn’t work. He grabbed an apron and tied it around his waist.

He tossed the sandwiches Nikki made into a fry pan to heat them up, melting the cheese and toasting the bread. Joan Jett curled around his ankles begging until he tossed some chopped ham into her bowl. “Don’t ever ask me to cook much more than this. That’s why I have Jean-Luc.”

Nikki leaned her elbows on the counter and he got a delicious glimpse of cleavage. She’d tasted like vanilla and spice.
Merde
. He wanted more.

“Didn’t you literally grow up in a bakery? How can you not cook? How can you judge chefs if you’re not one yourself?”

“So many questions,
ma petite gateaux
. So you have discovered my real secret,
oui
?”

She frowned and he found it adorable. He resisted the urge to kiss the frown away.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on television? Now everyone will think I have some diabolical plan to use you to further my career.”

“Don’t you? Stick with me, baby, and you’ll learn a thing or two.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“That is a very bad Groucho Marx impersonation.” She took a swig of her milk and he watched her.

“Where are your glasses?” She had beautiful eyes. He wanted them to watch him pleasuring her.

“They’re upstairs in my room. I don’t need them all the time, just for distance. You’re avoiding my questions.” She fiddled with her earlobe as if unsure she should be so direct, but her gaze boldly met his.

“I thought you’d know everything about me. What with Emmaline and Mimi emailing so often.” He slid the grilled sandwich onto the plate in front of her.

“Mimi never mentioned anything about you. She just kept telling me I should go work for
Madame
Guiscard. We both thought it would be a done deal. I didn’t expect to be turned away.” She waited until he had picked up his sandwich before she took a bite.

“Ever since my Uncle Victor died, Emmaline has been very cautious.”

“Wouldn’t you help her if she got in trouble?”

“Of course.” He frowned at her. What kind of man did she think he was? “She’s family. Wouldn’t you help your family?”

“Absolutely. I stayed with Mimi while she was sick instead of going to college. It seemed more important.” Nikki ate her sandwich with gusto, the juices from the roasted pepper dribbling down her arm.

He couldn’t let himself be distracted from his goal. “Jessica didn’t help?”

Nikki sighed, sucking on her arm before she wiped it with a paper towel. “Jessica’s never been the most reliable person. She did look out for me as a kid when we were young. And she was like a second mother to me, after Mimi, of course. But she’s gone her own way for the past five years—found other causes. I guess she figures I can take care of myself now. Although, I have you to thank for rescuing me this time.”

“That’s me—the knight in shining armor.” He gave her a wry grin. If she only knew, she’d probably run screaming from the room. Or take a knife to him. That seemed more her style.

Nikki shifted on the stool, giving him another of those looks as she had in the pantry, trying to decipher if he was lying or not. “I don’t want to talk about her. Tell me about you. How can you judge people’s food when you don’t cook? How can you criticize me for wanting a life making pastry, when you yourself enjoy it so much? And tell me how you can kiss me, then act like nothing happened.” She twisted the paper towel between her hands.

He stood and opened a high cabinet, took out the Green Spot whiskey, and splashed some into two highball glasses. He handed her one. “To your health.” With a clink and a salute, he tossed it down, noting with satisfaction as Nikki threw hers back. She gasped at the burn and he smiled. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you?” He poured another glass and waved the bottle toward her in a silent question. She nodded. He sat down and sipped his second measure.

“One, a person can know flavors without having cooked them. Two, the bakery lifestyle is perfect for
Madame
Guiscard. How do you know it will be perfect for you?” He held up one finger to stop the argument sputtering out of her mouth. “And three, once we go up those stairs, things change. Are you ready?”

Nikki gripped the paper towel so hard she ripped it.
The arrogant SOB
. “After two days, you think you know me.”

Gérard stalked over to her side of the island and leaned against the counter, his body seemingly in repose, but more like a lion on alert. She took a slow sip of whiskey. To keep her hands busy or for courage, she wasn’t sure.

“I know you’re smart. It goes without saying that you’re beautiful.” His finger stroked the top of her hand, circling her knuckles.

Nikki’s toes curled against the rung of the stool.

“You would get bored after six months at the bakery. All of the jobs you’ve had before this one kept you interested for only a while, then you left. For bigger and better things. Could you learn pastry? Yes. Could you run a bakery? Absolutely. But you’d hate it. It’s repetitious, back-breaking work. You like adventure.” He ran his finger over her wrist. “Excitement. Taking risks.” He picked up her hand and kissed her palm. Meeting her gaze, he nipped the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb, making her shiver. He released her and stepped back—she tried to hide her disappointment.

“I want to make love to your properly. Not in the pantry. Not on the kitchen floor.” He extended his hand on the counter, palm up. “Will you come upstairs with me?” Her nostrils flared, smelling the slight scent of apricots. Her peaked breasts rubbed against her tee shirt, throbbing for his touch. She wanted to fling him against the counter and tear off all her clothes. And his. This job was necessary. He was her boss. And he could probably break her heart in two like a day-old breadstick. She didn’t have any future with him. Girls from Loray, Georgia didn’t have any business sleeping with French billionaires. But he was giving her the choice, not dictating.

She placed her hand in his.

Gérard led her upstairs, not carrying her, as she’d expected and half hoped. If she were carried, she couldn’t change her mind. His room was at the top of the stairs—the opposite end of the hall from hers. Her feet sank into the plush oriental carpet as she crossed the threshold. Like her room, it was a suite, with a sitting area, whose wide windows overlooked the garden. A multitude of closed doors which she imagined led to closets and a bathroom. Dominating the space was a huge canopy bed with gold-fringed bed hangings. It made her feel overwhelmed and she was glad when he sat down on a large, red velvet wingback chair. With its gold swirls and brass tacks, it looked like a throne. Nikki had only a moment to appreciate the softly-lit reading nook, stacked with gardening books, before Gérard pulled her down onto his lap.

She’d never made love in a chair before, not being as adventurous as he might think.

He smiled as he turned her so she straddled him. Running his hands through her hair, he splayed it over her shoulders, the thick waves falling past her breasts. “Lady Godiva,” he murmured.

“The chocolate?”

He laughed, tugging her down until she lay snuggled in his arms. “No silly goose, the seductress. Like Lady Godiva’s husband, I find I would do anything to see you naked.”

“Anything?” She teased, but he stiffened underneath her and she wondered how many women would use this opportunity to make demands. Or how many had? He was probably a constant target for gold diggers. But where she was sitting now, how could any woman think beyond the warmth and strength of his embrace? She sat up to see a frown marring his sexy mouth. “You first,” was all she could think to say.

His face completely changed with his sudden laugh. Full and rich, it sounded like wood smoke and whiskey. His gaze met hers as he shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it behind her. His biceps bulged under the thin cotton of his tee shirt and she had a sudden urge to rip the material right down the middle. She grasped the arms of the chair instead, her fingers digging into the soft fabric.

“You next,” he demanded. Her robe felt as heavy as lead as she fumbled with the tie. Impatiently, he pushed her hands aside and swiftly undid the knot, then pushed the robe from her shoulders. The heat of his hands seared her skin.

They eyed each other, his gaze smoldering. Even fully dressed, she could feel his growing hardness underneath her bottom and her insides clenched with anticipation. A game of strip poker without the cards. And she’d thought she wasn’t a betting woman.

“Your turn,” Nikki whispered. Gérard twisted and tugged off his undershirt to reveal a massive sculpted chest, dark hair swirling over its contours. “Oh, my.” She shivered.

“Are you cold?” He caressed her arms, cupping her shoulders, then trailed his fingers down her back, making her stretch and arch against the firm pressure.

“Not at all.” Never had she been so warm. And wet. And ready. Yet, he prolonged the game, pointing with his chin for her to remove her top.

She grasped the edge of her shirt and lifted it slowly off, wondering where this wanton woman had come from, but reveling in her actions all the same. His quick intake of breath gave her the power of confidence. She flung the garment aside and sat still, letting him look his fill as her breasts peaked in yearning.

His gaze rose to hers and his eyes were blazing with desire. He throbbed beneath her.

“You are so beautiful.”

For once, she was tongue tied, awed by the sensations coursing through her body with just one look from him. “Thank you,” she stammered, wanting to comment on his own magnificence, but he crushed her to him, capturing her mouth with his, plunging in his tongue to mimic what he would do to the rest of his body. Nikki took him in, moaning, her nails scraping his shoulders.

She let her head fall back as he kissed his way over her jaw to nibble at her earlobe, his breath hot against her ear. She cupped his face, delighting in the feel of his evening bristle against her palms. Slight lines crossed his forehead and deep grooves etched the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He was very much a man. Not a boy, as she now realized Tim was. She kissed his twisted nose and he smiled deeper, shallow dimples appearing on his cheeks.

His hands, the hands she constantly admired, clasped her breasts and she moaned again as his thumbs grazed their tender tips. “Ah, Nikki. I knew it would be like this. You are so luscious.”

She could only groan in reply as his fingers plucked, then caressed her nipples before dancing away to trail down her sides. She kissed his full bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth, then smoothing out the contours with her tongue. A deep sigh rolled through him. Like a cat, she rubbed her face against his.

“You like?” His voice rumbled in her ear.

“I like,” she whispered back.

Dragging his chin along each of her arms, he nipped at her shoulders and both times she let out a squeal. He growled and buried his face in her cleavage, lifting his head to drag his tongue over her breasts, followed by his scratchy chin. She felt as if she would die from delight.

“Such beautiful skin.” His fingers swirled over her shoulders and down her arms. “Like smooth cream, waiting to be licked.
All over
.”

Blushing hot from his bold words, she wiggled against him and he groaned.

“Enough of this.” Gérard picked her up off his lap and gracefully rolled onto his feet.

She hugged his neck. “I thought we were going to stay here?” Her voice rose in a question.

“No, my little creampuff. A bed is more preferable for certain activities. Especially at my age.”

“Oh yes, you’re ancient.”

He dropped her on the bed in retaliation and she bounced delightedly. She watched as he shed the rest of his clothes. With sculpted abs and bulging thighs, he looked like a modern Saxon warrior in his boxer briefs. She wanted to peel off his underwear like the skin off a grape. But he didn’t give her the chance as he stripped out of them and stood before her in all his beautiful, naked, enormous, full-erect glory. She imagined a cudgel in his hand and a shield in the other. Men would run at the sight of him. Every woman would want him. And she had him.