It was herself she was afraid of. Afraid that if he kissed her, she might not be able to control her emotions. And if she relinquished that control, she knew precisely where it would lead.
To experience his lovemaking would be…incredible, she qualified. To take him to her bed, and wake to his touch… Dare she?
She looked at him, saw the strength evident, the heat carefully banked, and felt her body leap with answering warmth.
Stephanie made her way through to the lounge, aware he followed close behind. Her composure was rapidly falling into shreds, and she mentally chastised herself. Nerves were hell and damnation. Raoul was just a man, like any other.
A lot you know, she silently derided. It’s four years since I was intimate with a man, and I feel gauche, awkward…dammit, scared in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
This could, he cautioned, disintegrate in a second. She was a complex mix that comprised integrity and honesty, with a well of passion a man could drown in if he wasn’t careful. Yet there was also deep-seated pain and distrust.
‘Go make some coffee,’ he said quietly.
So he wasn’t about to seduce her…at least, not right now. She should have felt relieved, but instead there was a sense of delaying the inevitable, and that in itself only worsened the state of her nerves.
Stephanie entered the kitchen, filled the carafe with water and set it into the coffeemaker, measured out and added ground coffee beans.
‘I imagine Celeste has rung to confirm their safe arrival?’
He’d moved so quietly she hadn’t heard a sound, and she spared him a quick glance as she extracted two cups and saucers from a cupboard.
‘Yes. Everything’s fine.’ A few steps to the refrigerator to retrieve milk. ‘Would you like something to eat?’
When she closed the refrigerator door he was there, and she felt her eyes widen as he took the milk container from her hand and set it on the bench.
‘You. Just you.’
He didn’t give her time to protest as he drew her close, and his mouth fastened on hers in a slow evocative tasting that became a feast of the senses.
Impossibly sensual, it dispensed all rational thought as she angled her head and indulged in an emotional ride that swept her high to a place where there was only the man, the moment…and desire.
Dear heaven, it was all she could do not to slip her hands beneath his jacket and tear the garment free. Loosen the buttons on his shirt in her need to touch his skin. To feel the warmth, the pulsing life of muscle and sinew, to savor the taste of him. And have him taste her.
The kiss deepened into possession as his hand slid to her derriere and pulled her close against him. His arousal was a potent force, electrifying and primal as she instinctively reached for him.
She felt a tremor race through his body, and for an instant she gloried in the power, the supreme, albeit brief moment of having him at her mercy.
Then the control was all his as he took his mouth from her own and began trailing a tantalizing path down the edge of her neck, drifting to tease the hollows at the base of her throat, before slipping low to the soft swell of her breast.
A beaded shoestring strap slid off one shoulder, and a faint groan escaped from her lips as he bared one breast, then shaped it, stroking the creamy contour until she thought she’d go mad.
His lips sought the sensitive peak and tantalized it with his tongue, grazing it with his teeth as he held her on the knife edge between pleasure and pain.
When he took the distended peak into his mouth and suckled she arched up against him as sensation arrowed through her body.
It was almost more than she could bear, and she made no protest as Raoul slid an arm beneath her knees and lifted her high into his arms.
His mouth returned to claim hers, and she wound her arms around his neck as she kissed him back, exulting in the sensation he was able to evoke.
It was relatively easy to discover which bedroom was hers. Feminine in soft peach and pale mint green, an antique bed, and numerous lacy pillows stacked against the headboard.
He shrugged off his jacket, discarded the bow tie and paused to brush light fingers down her cheek as she sought to free the buttons on his shirt.
In tandem they slid off shoes, then Raoul sought the zip fastening at the back of her gown and slid it free.
She was beautiful, slender curves, delicate bone structure and pale skin. Lacy bikini briefs were the only item of clothing protecting her from total nudity, and he shrugged off his shirt and dispensed with his trousers in two fluid movements.
Stephanie could only admire his physique. The well-honed muscular chest and shoulders, the taut waist and flat stomach.
The state of his arousal gave her a bad moment, and her insides involuntarily clenched at the thought of accommodating him.
He curled a hand round her nape and shaped her head as he took possession of her mouth, kissing her with such eroticism she almost cried at the sweet sorcery of his touch.
One tug was all it took to pull the covers from the bed, then he tumbled her down onto the sheeted mattress and knelt over her.
His eyes were dark and slumberous, and his strength was a palpable entity as he buried his mouth against her neck.
Stephanie lifted her arms and linked them at his nape, only to have him gently disengage them and carefully place them above her head.
She felt a tremor race through her body as he traced a path to her breast, explored at leisure, then trailed down to the soft indentation at her waist.
A faint gasp escaped her lips as he moved lower, and she whimpered out loud at the path traced by the tip of his tongue.
Raoul took intimacy to a new level, evoking a response from her that was wild and wanton. Libidinous, she added, as sensation spiraled through her body, taking her higher than she’d ever been before.
Dear heaven. If this is what he could do with his mouth, how on earth would she survive when he took possession? Go up in flames? Self-destruct?
Both, Stephanie acknowledged a long time later as she lay cradled against him on the edge of sleep.
Every nerve ending had flared into impassioned life as he’d begun a slow invasion, stirring her emotions to fever pitch with long hungry kisses that dispensed with any inhibitions. She’d met and matched his rhythm in a wild pagan dance that surpassed her wildest imagination.
She’d thought he might vacate her bed, shower, then dress and leave.
Instead he curved her close in against him and stroked her hair, pausing every now and then to brush light fingers across her cheek.
Her body ached, and she was willing to swear she could still feel him deep inside.
She wasn’t conscious of drifting off to sleep, except she must have, for she came slowly awake at the soft tracing movement at her waist. Fingers slid over one hip and brushed against her thigh, and she shifted restlessly as he began an evocative pattern.
Stephanie leaned forward and nipped the skin close to one male nipple, and had the satisfaction of hearing his intake of breath.
‘So you want to play, hmm?’
In one fluid movement he pulled her on top of him, and she arched back in a supple feline movement.
‘You woke me,’ she protested teasingly, loving the feel of his hands as they shaped her body, her breasts, and took a tantalizing path down to where she straddled him.
‘Now I have your full attention?’
Oh, yes, he had that. She wriggled a little, and took pleasure in his husky groan, the heat of his arousal pressing against her.
With provocative intent, she moved a little, causing a sexual friction that was just as electrifying for him as it was for her.
In one swift movement he curved a hand around her nape and pulled her head down to his, taking possession of her mouth in a manner that left her weak-willed and malleable.
When he released her she rose with graceful fluidity, then carefully positioned herself and took him deep inside.
She had
control, and she used it mercilessly as she rode him hard and fast, then eased to a slow erotic pace that had him growling low in his throat as he rolled her onto her back.
At some stage they both slept, and woke late to the sun streaming in through the curtains.
Together they rose from the bed and showered together…a long shower as Raoul pulled her high against him and she curved her legs over his hips in one final passionate coupling, then they dressed and breakfasted on strong coffee, eggs and toast.
It was after ten when Raoul caught her close and bestowed a lingering kiss. ‘I have to leave,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll call you from Sydney.’ His smile held a warmth that made her stomach curl. ‘Take care, cherie.’
Without a further word he slid in behind the wheel of the car, fired the engine, then reversed out onto the road.
Stephanie stood watching until the car was no longer in sight.
CHAPTER NINE
THE day stretched ahead, presenting a number of possibilities. However, the first priority was to put a call through to Celeste.
Stephanie crossed to the phone and punched in the required digits, then listened to Emma relay an excited account of the flight, the drive with her beloved ‘Poppa,’ playing with Jake the dog and a visit to the beach as soon as she woke from her afternoon nap.
‘Sounds like fun,’ Stephanie said lightly when Celeste came back on the line.
‘It is,’ her mother assured. ‘And you, Stephanie? Did everything turn out well last night?’
Now there was a question she couldn’t answer with total honesty! Revealing to your mother that you’d just experienced the best sex in your life, not once but several times in the past eight hours wasn’t exactly a confidence she felt inclined to share.
‘Really well,’ she responded easily. ‘We achieved the necessary publicity, there were no mishaps. It was very successful.’
‘And Raoul?’
Oh my. ‘He seemed to enjoy himself.’ A masterpiece in understatement! ‘He left this morning for Sydney. Business,’ she elaborated.
‘But he’ll be back?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
Don’t, Stephanie urged silently. It can’t go anywhere, because there’s nowhere for it to go.
‘I’ll ring tomorrow evening,’ she indicated, then added gently, ‘Thanks, Mom. I know Emma will have a wonderful time.’
Housework beckoned, the washing and some ironing, and when it was all done she went down to the local supermarket and bought milk, bread and a few essentials.
Afterward she curled up in a comfortable chair and indulged in the luxury of reading several chapters of a seven-hundred-page historical saga. The rich texture of the writing kept her enthralled until the natural light began to fade, and she was about to switch on the lamp when the shrill insistent peal of the telephone had her reaching for the receiver.
The male voice was deep, husky and the slight accent identified it as belonging undeniably to Raoul. Just the sound of it sent primitive awareness radiating through her body.
‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’
His throaty chuckle did crazy things to her equilibrium. ‘That’s it? Fine?’
‘What would you have me say?’ she countered unsteadily, and wondered if he was aware just how he affected her.
‘It can wait, cherie.’
There was a part of her that ached to see him again, yet there was also caution and a certain degree of despair. If only she had a casual attitude to sex without needing any meaningful emotional attachment, she could view the interlude for what it was…a brief affair with no strings.
‘Michel and Sandrine are joining me for dinner tonight.’
Stephanie curled her fingers over the receiver. ‘Enjoy,’ she bade lightly. ‘What time is your meeting tomorrow?’
‘Early afternoon. I’ll call you.’
‘Okay.’
‘Bonne nuit, cherie,’ Raoul drawled. ‘Sleep well.’
She didn’t, of course. There were too many thoughts chasing through her brain for an easy rest, and she woke next morning with the distinct need for a few hours more sleep.
However, the day awaited, and her work schedule was bound to be hectic.
A shower, followed by cereal and fruit, then she changed into a pencil-slim black skirt, added a peach-colored camisole and pinstriped black jacket, tended to her makeup and caught up her keys before heading for the car.
Only to discover she had a flat tire. The curse she stifled was pithy, and adequately described her frustration. Changing tires was becoming a habit, she muttered beneath her breath as she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the passenger seat.
She crossed to the rear of the car, popped the boot, removed the spare tire, the jack and set to work. After it was done, she retrieved her keys and went back into the house to wash up.
An essential call into the local tire mart to drop off the damaged tire for repair took up valuable time, added to which traffic was heavy, taking at least three changes of lights to get through each intersection, and consequently she was late entering the office.
Coffee, hot, strong and sweet helped, and she went through her diary, made a number of notations, then logged on to her computer.
The interoffice phone rang and she reached for it.
‘I have a Miss Chabert on the line,’ Isabel revealed. ‘She insists on speaking to you personally.’
Ghislaine? What on earth could she possibly want? ‘Put her through.’
‘Ghislaine,’ Stephanie greeted with polite civility.
‘Stephanie. We should do lunch.’
Oh, no, we shouldn’t! ‘I’m really busy right now,’ she responded calmly.
‘Meet me at the Terraces. One o’clock.’
The imperious demand grated, and she drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘I can’t—’
‘Be there.’
This was a joke, a very bad joke. It was almost laughable, except instinct warned there was no humor in the situation at all. ‘I can’t think of a thing we have in common.’
‘Raoul.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ she said quietly, and replaced the receiver. Jealousy, she perceived, was an ugly state of mind.
Lunch was a salad sandwich she sent out for, and ate at her desk. Washed down by bottled water, it sufficed as sustenance as she made necessary calls, checked paperwork and determined the film’s scheduled release date. It was important to prompt public interest by running the trailers on television and follow-up media coverage in the trade magazines. She made a note to check with advertising.
At three she broke for coffee, qualifying she needed the caffeine to get her through the afternoon. The way things were going, she’d need to take work home.
It was after four when reception alerted a Ghislaine Chabert was at the desk. Stephanie muffled an unladylike curse. She didn’t have time for this. Whatever bee Ghislaine had in her bonnet, this was neither the place nor the time to deal with it.
‘You told her I’m busy?’
‘Miss Chabert insists on seeing you.’
She quickly checked her diary, then made a split-second decision. ‘All right. Show her in.’ She stood and smoothed a hand over her hair. ‘Ring me when my four-thirty appointment arrives.’
Lipstick was an essential repair, and she’d just re-capped the tube when her secretary gave her door a peremptory tap prior to swinging it wide.
The Frenchwoman swept in on a cloud of perfume, expensive couture clothing, her face an exquisitely made-up mask.
Calm, composed, in control, Stephanie reminded herself of the affirmation as she indicated a chair.
‘Ghislaine. Do sit down.’ She crossed behind her desk and remained standing. With a cool, calculated action she cast her watch a deliberate glance. ‘I can spare you five minutes.’
‘I’d prefer to stand.’
They faced each other across the desk like two opposing enemies. Stephanie watchful
and distinctly wary, while Ghislaine played the haute dame to the hilt.
‘Leave Raoul alone. He is mine.’
Straight to the point, with as much subtlety as a sledgehammer. Stephanie deliberately arched one eyebrow. ‘Really? The purpose of your visit is to warn me off?’
Ghislaine raked Stephanie’s slender form with scorn. ‘Why else do you think I am here?’
‘Are you done?’ she posed quietly, already regretting her decision to have Ghislaine enter her office.
‘No, I am not nearly done,’ the Frenchwoman responded bluntly. ‘Raoul didn’t come back to the hotel last night. Was he with you?’
‘I don’t think that qualifies an answer,’ she said carefully, and saw Ghislaine’s expression harden.
‘You are just a diversion, someone new, different,’ the other woman said scathingly. ‘Temporary.’
Stephanie felt the anger flare, and sought measured control. A catfight here, now, didn’t form part of her agenda! ‘I think you’d better leave.’
‘Stay away from him.’
‘What if he chooses not to stay away from me?’
‘Our respective families want us to marry. I intend to see that it happens.’
She caught the vindictiveness, the irrational sense of purpose in those hard dark eyes, and experienced a chill of apprehension. ‘Then I must wish you good luck,’ she said evenly. ‘And ask you to leave.’
Almost on cue the phone buzzed, and she picked up the receiver, listened, then replaced it onto the handset.
‘My client is waiting.’ She crossed to the door, and opened it. ‘Goodbye, Ghislaine.’
‘Don’t underestimate me’ was issued as a silky warning as the Frenchwoman exited the office.
Stephanie took a deep breath, very much in need of a minute or two to dispel her anger, then regain a measure of composure.
Ghislaine was a witch, possibly a dangerous witch with a problem. Sandrine’s words came to mind, but it offered little reassurance.
Meantime, she had a job to do, and keeping a valued client waiting overlong in reception didn’t form part of her plan.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 238