by CC MacKenzie
"It's a jungle, a mighty jungle, out there in the wilds of dating-land," T.C. continued, "infested with grasping gorillas, wretched reptiles and avaricious anacondas."
"Well, that's what you get when you dip your toe into internet dating," said Anastacia.
"They're all lying bastards."
"Uh-huh." Anastacia was studying the mouth-watering dessert menu, and now sent T.C. a bland look over her reading glasses. "Didn't you say on your profile you were a nurse? Funny that, because I don't remember you attending nursing college."
T.C. merely shrugged.
"It got lots of hits. Nurses are notoriously good at handling man-bits. It's the nurturing, caring thing.
"You're a wild and wicked woman."
"Too fucking right."
Danni just shook her head at the constant banter, her eyes now focused on her cell as it lit-up with incoming.
"Hello?" she said, knowing perfectly well who was on the other end.
"Where are you?" A deep voice growled in her ear.
She rolled her eyes to heaven when T.C. gave her a wide-eyed look.
"Pascal," Danni mouthed to her friends. "Late lunch date," she said out loud, her tone brisk and professional.
Silence.
"Last night we agreed to meet for lunch in my office to discuss next summer's shoe line..."
"No," she interrupted his silky tone. "You said you wanted to run an idea past me and I said I'd get back to you if I found time in my very busy schedule. Obviously I haven't found time." She refused to be at this man's beck and call. And she ignored the way T.C.'s baby-blue eyes went huge at her snarky tone.
"Daniella," he said in a low voice, his French accent turning her bones to jelly. "Who is your lunch date?"
What business was it of his?
Hadn't he left her high and dry last night?
She simply couldn't shake the horrible idea that he'd played her.
And there was no way she was going to accept any man playing her for a fool.
"A close friend."
"How close?"
"Very close."
"A man?" His voice had gone all silky again.
Her eyes narrowed with sharp annoyance at a possessive tone he had absolutely no right to have.
"Yes, a man," she snapped. Then her mouth jumped way ahead of her brain. "Actually, we're about to go up to his hotel room for a quickie."
She stabbed End Call and defiantly ignored the way T.C.'s jaw dropped in stunned amazement.
"Did you just tell the Big Bad Wolfe you're having sex with a man who doesn't exist?" she whispered, her baby blue eyes filling with delighted laughter.
Danni went too hot and then too cold.
Her, "Omigod," was a mortified wail. "I'm behaving like a raving lunatic. He's driving me nuts."
"You know he'll take that as a direct challenge," said Anastacia as she topped up Danni's wine glass with a cheeky Merlot. "The wolf is on the prowl, for you."
Danni gulped down half of her wine, wondered if she'd lost her tiny mind.
"What am I going to do?"
"Well," drawled a T.C. who looked as if she was having the best time of her life. "You can't lose face, so you'd better come up to my room and we'll watch a movie and drink wine and eat lots of dark chocolate."
Danni's eyes went wide. "That's it?"
T.C fought to keep a straight face. "Love you lots, babe. But I'm not having a quickie with you."
"It's not funny."
T.C.'s focus moved over Danni's shoulder and her brows shot into her hairline.
"Actually, there's been a sudden change of plan."
"What?"
"Daniella," growled Monsieur Wolfe.
Danni closed her eyes as the mere sound of his voice sent her pulse wild. And on the way her best friends' smiled, like two Cheshire cats, at the man standing behind her.
She swallowed a pathetic little whimper.
Hell's bells.
She turned her head and came face to waist with Pascal in a charcoal grey bespoke suit, the tailoring amazing. Without thinking, her eyes dropped and she realized he was hung to the right.
On cue heat raced up her neck.
Her hands cupped hot cheeks.
What the hell was she doing, looking at him, there, and in public?
"Like what you see?" The murmur was deep, almost a purr, not quite a growl
Omigod.
She wanted to scream, 'Yes!'
Instead she turned away, pretended she hadn't heard the whispered question in the first place.
"Enjoying lunch?" he asked in a loud voice, which gave her no option but to turn and lift her eyes to his.
Pascal looked down into her face, and smiled.
There was a distinct gleam in those grey eyes.
Her face went nuclear, but her chin jerked.
"Lunch was delicious."
"Hi, Pascal," sang T.C.
He turned to her friend, gave her his most charming, most lethal, smile.
"Lovely to see you again, Theresa."
"Won't you join us?" asked Anastacia and ignored Danni's betrayer glare.
"Oui, merci."
He made himself comfortable and then turned those grey eyes on Danni's stony face.
"You're date, Daniella, takes the term quickie to a whole new level. There are little blue pills available to help him last longer."
By this time both Anastacia and T.C. were wiping away tears of silent laughter.
Eyeing each and every one of them with a black look that would melt solid steel, Danni simply spat the words, "Shut up."
Without taking his eyes from her face, Pascal held out his hand, palm up. She knew what he was asking her, knew that if she took his hand she'd end up in his big bed sooner rather than later. Without a word, she placed her hand in his. The triumphant little curve to his mouth, the glint of success in his eye, didn't bother her. She'd made her choice. She'd made her bed. And now she was going to lie in it.
She couldn't wait.
Then he stood, and pulled her up with him.
He turned those glittering grey eyes on her friends and bowed his head.
"If you will excuse us, ladies?"
T.C.'s response was to give Danni a little finger wiggle, while Anastacia winked.
That was it?
No argument?
No, 'Be careful.' No, 'Take care of yourself, Danni?'
That was the best of her besties support?
Now a big hand gripped her waist and moved her away.
And without a word, Danni went with him.
As she strolled hand in hand with Pascal Wolfe along the banks of the glorious river Seine towards his apartment Danni was having a very serious conversation with... herself.
She'd made a complete fool of herself in front of her best friends and the man she was determined to, finally, have sex with. The way she'd lied through her teeth about meeting an imaginary man for a quickie hadn't been her most shining moment. As she glanced down at the flimsy sundress and her flat silver sandals, she decided she wasn't exactly looking her best, either. After a night of burning hot and cold with memories of how Pascal touched her, how he'd kissed her, she'd had very little sleep. Bleary-eyed, she'd hit the shower this morning and done nothing more than brush her teeth and slap on sun-screen. Then she'd tossed on an inexpensive dress with a built-in bra, and slid into her comfy flats. Last night she'd been dressed to kill. Today, she didn't exactly look like a woman ready for her first big seduction scene. Then she consoled herself with the happy thought that at least she was wearing fabulous silk panties.
"Stop worrying," growled the Wolfe.
Now his fingers laced with hers.
The move was intimate and one filled with erotic promise.
As was the look for her in those pewter eyes when she'd risked a peak at his face.
The lashes that surrounded those eyes were dense and long and black as jet.
She wouldn't dare call them girly, but she seriously envied those
lashes.
She hadn't missed the lustful and hungry looks Pascal was receiving from other women either. Parisian women always dressed beautifully with a unique style, and a couple of them let their greedy eyes slide lustily over the man who held her hand. She could hardly blame them when she felt lustful and greedy for him, too.
In fact, she felt too hot, too aware of him.
Her entire system seemed to be on a state of high alert.
Pascal, in his Lord-of-all-he-surveyed business suit, looked more than stunning. His glossy dark hair was brushed back from his face, showcasing those carved peaks and dips of his cheekbones, the sculpted line of his strong jaw. That long and wonderful mouth was curved now as he looked at her. In her little summer dress she felt like a serf walking hand-in-hand with royalty. Last night she'd felt more than equal.
She didn't feel like his equal now.
If anything, she felt vulnerable, foolish and incredibly shy.
"Stop thinking," he said in the bossy tone that pressed her hot buttons. This time he added a finger squeeze in warning.
"I can think if I want to," she muttered under her breath.
Then immediately regretted it when she found herself hauled into his arms and his mouth punishing hers. And then she couldn't think at all.
As he tasted that petulant mouth, as he took everything she willingly gave, Pascal thrilled to the way her soft body seemed to melt against his. Last night, in her black silk dress and heels she'd looked like a goddess, all long legs, shiny hair, and a mouth made for...
Today, he held a beautiful woman in his arms. Even with her face bare of enhancements, she still looked gorgeous. Today, he had a real girl who smelled of flowers and sun kissed skin. She tasted sweet and tart and he couldn't get enough of her. Never enough.
When he realized it wouldn't take much for him to totally lose control of himself in the middle of the street, he shifted to look down into her flushed face. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming fast through a full mouth still wet from his. And he didn't think he'd ever seen anything so erotic in his life. Now his forehead rested gently on hers as he got his own breath back and fought for control over an erection aching so bad he needed to grit his teeth.
There was something very special happening here.
Something he wasn't entirely sure he wanted or needed in his life.
A wise man might take a careful step back and ask himself what he thought he was doing. But Pascal knew he would not walk away from what might be with Danni. The need, the want, to have her in his bed, to have her squirming under him, was riding him hard. But so was the need, the want, to take care of her and to get to the bottom, finally, of what had happened to her in her past. And that meant that before he gave into those needs, those wants, they must have a very open and honest discussion. Twice, he'd let her evade a discussion they should have had long ago. The time for evasion had passed. His vivid imagination had gone into overdrive, especially in the wee hours of the morning, wondering just what exactly had happened to her.
The time had come for both of them to face her past before walking together into the present and the future beyond.
As Danni opened her eyes, she found herself the recipient of a focus so intense it made her blink. A strange feeling of a cloud covering the sun, a single shudder, like lightning, went through her. Whatever was happening between them was more than sex. Even inexperienced as she was in the ways of the flesh, she knew it. She saw it in the way that strong jaw clenched, in the way his grey eyes turned to pewter as they met the need in hers, in the way his hands now held hers, in the way their fingers linked.
"Pascal?"
"Danniella?"
The way he growled her name, with need, with want, with a desire that even now was pressing against her belly, made her mouth curve. It was true that smile wobbled, just a little. Now she took a deep breath and lifted her chin.
"How far is it to your apartment?"
"Two minutes."
She closed her eyes. "Thank goodness for that."
His soft laugh as he wound an arm around her waist, and as she mirrored the move, was full of promise of good things to come.
Together they turned as one, step matching step, and their pace quickened.
And Danni knew that whatever was about to happen between them was right.
She was doing the right thing with the right man at the right time.
For too long she'd lived with self-doubt, with fear.
The time had come to put doubts and fear aside.
No regrets.
Neither Pascal or Danni were aware of the slight woman, dressed like a tourist in a short-sleeved grey T-shirt and battered jeans, who stood utterly still beneath the leafy canopy of a tall Linden tree. Her cropped dirty-brown hair, hidden beneath a peaked cap emblazoned with the NYC logo, shaded a colorless face, a face that had spent too long among the sick and the insane. Through the lens of a small digital camera clutched in a hand that shook as if fevered, she tracked the kiss, and then their progress. She took shot after shot after shot. No-one, not the wide-eyed Japanese tourists taking selfies, the smart Parisians going about their business, or even two strolling gendarmerie, eyes sharp behind Ray Bans, armed to the teeth and dressed in battle-ready black fatigues, took any notice of her. If they had they might have commented on how strikingly skinny she was. They might have noticed the criss-cross of livid scars, still healing, on both wrists. They might have noticed a single tear that very slowly tracked down her cheek.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When they arrived at his apartment, Pascal poured Danni an icy glass of wine and told her to make herself comfortable while he, 'Cleared his schedule'.
Lips still stinging from a very hard and swift kiss, Danni took the opportunity to enjoy the freedom to explore his stunning rooms, especially the private roof terrace filled with the heady scent of creamy roses crammed into big terracotta plant pots. The floral color palette in the arrangement of pots was one of sweet-smelling ivory among a bounteous shades of green foliage. He'd constructed three vast ivory sunshades in the shape of sails, beneath which sat a round table of heavy metal with eight comfortable padded chairs and a huge round sun bed set with fat cushions of cream linen. The whole vibe was one of a decadent luxury she could get right behind.
Nursing her glass, she felt her heart kick with the heady sense of anticipation that she was finally going to do it. She was going to have sex with a wonderful man.
As Danni leaned her elbows on a sandstone wall that came chest-high, she simply enjoyed the sensation of a gentle and warm breeze lifting her hair, enjoyed the feel of the rays of a relentless sun, shining in a cloudless sky, on her face. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of the tourist boats on the river far below and the fragrance of flowers simply spin around her.
It wouldn't be hard to get used to this, to get used to doing nothing for a change.
When was the last time she'd simply lived in the moment?
She couldn't remember.
Since that terrible night all those years ago, she'd focused on the positive rather than the negative. Determined to move forward and to work hard on what brought her joy. And to keep her busy brain occupied. Being busy meant she'd not had much time to think, to brood, to give-in to the constant if onlys - those negative thoughts that crowded her mind if she didn't have enough to do. And that thought brought her very neatly to her parents and the guilt that ate away a little of her soul each and every day.
There was nothing more she could do to undo the physical and emotional damage done to her that night, and to her parent's ever toxic relationship. How could you talk to the people you loved if they refused to let you talk? How could you try to reason with the people you love if they were utterly determined to hate each other? It just wasn't possible. After too numerous attempts to count as peacemaker, Danni had stepped back and finally left her parents to it. That didn't mean being dragged into a constant war-zone didn't hurt. It did. Of course it did. No matter how cr
azy or destructive their relationship was, she loved them. They were her parents. And she'd come to accept the sad fact that they'd never change.
"Danniella?"
She took a moment, just a moment, to let that glorious deep voice with the divine accent simply ripple an erotic caress over her skin.
Then she turned to him, and blinked.
Slicked back damp hair, the scent of a citrusy soap and clean male, told her he'd showered. And the soft blue jeans and loose buttoned-down white shirt of soft cotton, plus bare feet, told her Pascal was in a kicked-back relaxed mode.
Dear God, the man looked even better out of a suit than in one.
A delicious little curl of sheer lust unfurled low in her belly.
"Just admiring the view," she said honestly.
Not once did she take her eyes from his, and saw the moment he caught her meaning.
His grey eyes seemed to sparkle with a self-deprecating mirth as heat streaked his cheekbones. She'd embarrassed him. An expression that gave her a tantalizing glimpse of the boy in the man. Something that thrilled her so much, she couldn't help but smile back.
Shaking his head, he helped himself to a glass of Pinot from the bottle buried up to its neck in ice in a silver bucket set atop the table in the shade.
"It is too hot to stand unprotected in the sun. Come..."
He sat on the edge of the sun bed and his hand reached for her, this time capturing her wrist. He gently pulled her until she was standing between his spread legs. His head at breast height.
Then he tipped his head back to study her face.
"What is worrying you? I can see it in your eyes. I will not hurt you."
As he spoke words meant, she knew, to reassure, his fingers now wove themselves between hers. His thumb circling in a way that made her breath hitch.
"I know you won't. It's just..."
His eyes still held hers.
"Just what?" he whispered.
"You might not want me... after you know..."
He shook his head. "Never happen. I want a lover to share my life, someone I can depend upon and someone who will learn to depend upon me. I want you."