by Ju Ephraime
The smell of the hospital was beginning to make her feel nauseous. She wanted to go home. She was going to be sick all over the floor if someone didn’t come in to check on her soon. She wished she could again enjoy the delicious smell of her handsome stranger, but he was probably well on his way to wherever he was going. Come to think of it, what was he doing on the grounds of Orange Europe? She’d never seen him before—she would’ve remembered—so she ruled him out as an employee. As if she conjured him up, she heard his voice. It was not that he didn’t speak French fluently; it was that he spoke it with an English accent, yet not quite. He rolled his “R” much more than the English, almost like Spanish.
“Bonjour.”
“Ah, you came to check up on your wife, sir,” she heard one of the doctors say. She strained to hear his response. She hoped he told them he was not her husband, but whatever answer he gave the two doctors who were conferring about her was accepted with a laugh, and all three of them walked into the room where she was lying with her left foot in an ankle brace.
“Madame, I see you are awake,” one of the doctors said, as he hung her chart at the foot of her bed.
“Can I go home?”
“Yes, you can, now that your husband is here. You have to remain off your feet for a couple of weeks. X-rays revealed a hairline fracture in the fibula, the thin outer bone of the bone that stabilizes your ankle. This is a common type of stress fracture and can usually heal in a month or so if pressure is kept off the foot. It does not require a cast, but wearing a cast will speed up the healing time significantly. I have casted it to speed things along for you. You also have two bruised ribs. The ribs will get better in a week or so; however, how soon your ankle heals depends on how much you stay off your feet. It’s critical in the first week. Then you can return for me to check it. I’ll talk to your husband about that. Are you in pain now?”
“No, but you’re making a mistake, I don’t have a h—”
“Well, that’s good because we were thinking of keeping you overnight because of the bruised ribs, but now that your husband is here, there’s no need. Just take the pain medication I’ve prescribed, as needed.”
She’d been about to tell them that the stranger was not her husband, but if he was the reason they were releasing her, she would play dumb, if he was willing to play along. She sneaked a sheepish look at him to see how he was handling the husband thing and was shocked to see him wink at her.
This gave her a moment of pause; she could be making a bargain with the devil going with him. But she wanted to go with him. God help her, she could not explain her reasoning. Also, her only other alternative was having Marcella come pick her, and then what? She would be alone in her flat hobbling around on one foot. The prospect didn’t appeal to her.
She would much rather be with the handsome stranger. Already, the thought of being alone with him was sending frissons of excitement shooting down her back. She must have too much pain medicine in her system. She didn’t feel any pain at all, only a feeling of helplessness. She had never been incapacitated in her life. She was very seldom sick if ever. She was usually as healthy as a horse, so this would take some getting used to.
Pressing her lips together to control the smile of satisfaction she was trying hard to conceal, she glanced at her pseudo-husband from beneath her lashes. She was fascinated by the way he took control of things, not that she needed a man to take charge of her, but it felt good to lie there and let someone else make the decisions for her.
She signed the release papers, and, as if by magic, a wheelchair appeared in the room. She had been so busy looking at Damon she had not paid any attention to what was going on around her. As it turned out, he was skilled in using the wheelchair as well. She was about to get out of the bed, but he was over her in two strides, and lifting her he carried her to the wheelchair where he placed her with all the care in the world. When their eyes met as he released the brakes on the wheelchair, Franchesca knew he was enjoying making her feel less in control by the twinkle in his eyes.
Soon they were on their way out of the hospital. As they exited the building, she could no longer remain silent. “I take it you know where I live, and you’ll be taking me there.”
“Actually, no, I’m taking you to my home. It’s not far from here.”
There was that cadence in his voice again. She was dying of curiosity to know from where he hailed, but now was not the time. She had to set him straight.
“No, I’m not going to your home,” she all but hissed. She wanted to go, but a girl had to maintain her dignity. Anyway, he was just too bossy. She didn’t like him telling her what to do and asking would be nice.
“Why? My housekeeper will be there to help you until you are able to put your weight on your foot.”
“I can’t go to your home, Damon.”
“So, you do remember my name. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten it.”
“What made you think that?”
“You had not addressed me directly in all the time you were in the hospital.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I was so blown away to hear the doctors address you as my husband and you not correcting them that I was rendered speechless.”
“Good. I’m happy to hear I was able to render you speechless.”
“If you are trying to annoy me, you are succeeding beautifully,” she told him, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Franchesca. I contacted Josh, and he told me you have no one locally, that you lived alone.”
“You contacted Josh?” she asked, stunned by how bossy he was, to take it upon himself to call her boss.
“How did you know Josh was my boss?”
“You were on the employees’ track, and I happen to know Josh, so I called to inform him about your accident. He was worried about you and let it slip that you were alone in France. I told him I’d take care of you. I felt responsible for causing your accident.”
“You didn’t cause my accident. I fell. And how do you and Josh know I don’t have a significant other or a close friend?”
“I asked the nurse at the registration desk if you were being swamped with visitors, she told me no one had come to inquire about you. So when they assumed I was your husband, I didn’t correct them,” he informed her, raising his left brow.
She’d noticed he did this a lot. She wondered if he was aware of doing it. Stop this, Franchesca, she reminded herself, focus on the matter at hand. No way was she going to this strange man’s house without any knowledge of him.
As if he’d read her thought, he told her, “I’ll give you my driver’s license, and you can check me out on your phone.”
“Speaking of which, where’s my phone?”
“It’s in a bag beneath your wheelchair. I’ll give it to you when we get to the car.”
“No, I want it now,” she responded.
“My, you are a suspicious little prickly pear, aren’t you?”
“I’m not a prickly pear.” But she was happy to see he’d stopped immediately in the hospital hall while he reached underneath the wheelchair and handed her the phone. It had been turned off, and she was glad to see she still had a couple bars left.
No sooner had she turned the phone on than there were four messages beeping in her inbox. Three were from Marcella, who was wondering if she got captured by the boogeyman, and one was from her brother, Raymond. She texted Raymond back, telling him she was okay and looking forward to his wedding. Marcella she responded in the affirmative, that she was indeed captured by the boogeyman, ending with, you have no idea. LOL. She couldn’t help smiling as she thought of Marcella reading her text.
“I’m glad you found something to make you smile. So what’ll it be? My home, where there’s a perfectly competent staff to help in your recuperation, or your lonely flat, where you will hobble along and delay your healing progress?”
She had to give it to him; he knew exactly wha
t to say to her to make her accept his proposal. She really wanted her ankle healed as quickly as possible. So she acquiesced and agreed to go with him, albeit a bit ungraciously.
“Okay, I accept your offer, but no hanky-panky. I have to call my office to let them know I’ll be out sick.”
“Yes, I called Josh to let him know one of his employees got injured on the track. How long have you worked at Orange Europe?”
“A few years. Come to think of it why were you on the track? I know you don’t work with OE, not in this branch anyway.”
“No, I don’t work for OE, but I had a business meeting with Josh Turbine.”
“So, you know Josh personally?”
“Yes, we go back some years.”
“But, that does not explain how you knew Josh was my boss.”
“I took a guess, and I had a direct line to him.”
“Well, okay. I guess if you are an associate of Josh, then I’m willing to take you up on your offer.”
“Josh and I go back a ways and I visit the facility quite frequently every time I’m in the area. So are you willing to put yourself in my hands?”
“Yes, I’m willing, even if it’s with a bit of trepidation. I’m accepting your association with Josh, as Carte Blanche. It has settled my last bit of reservation.”
“Great. Let’s get you out of this chair and get you something to eat. You must be starved.”
“I am,” she admitted.
CHAPTER FOUR
Damon couldn’t get over his fascination with this remarkable woman. From the moment he’d collided with her on the track, she had occupied his every thought. He couldn’t believe his good fortune when the doctors mistook him for her husband. He wasn’t going to correct them because he’d decided he wanted her from the moment she had regained consciousness on the track. When he’d looked into her gorgeous eyes, he’d felt the effect in his groin, and it had not quit. He had been trying to ignore it ever since.
He wheeled her up to the hospital pickup zone where they waited for the vehicle to be brought up by the valet. It’d cost him fifteen Euros to valet park for less than fifteen minutes, but he considered this a small price to pay to get what he wanted, and what he wanted was Franchesca. He felt like a teenager about to embark on his first fling, almost breathless from the thought of having her as his guest.
After opening the passenger door, he lifted her and deposited her into the seat. He was careful not to let her body touch him below the waist. He was certain she wouldn’t welcome the fact that he was so violently aroused. As he was reaching to buckle her in, she found she’d already done it. He was looking forward to buckling her in that would’ve given him an opportunity to touch her. But the fact that she’d buckled herself before he could get to it, gave him cause for pause. Did she find him so repulsive that she wanted him touching her as little as possible? He hoped not.
He slipped into the driver’s seat, and they were soon cruising toward his home, which was a mere twenty minutes away. Turning on the radio, he selected an English station which played a wide variety of music. Not knowing her taste in music, he chose to err on the side of caution.
“I knew I detected a hint of English in your accent. Are you from United Kingdom?”
“No, not originally, but I spent all my formative years there.”
“I love England,” she admitted.
“You do? That’s good to know.”
“Where in England?”
“It’s a small seaside town in Cornwall.”
“You are from Cornwall? What are the odds? That’s my favorite place in all of England,” she admitted. “I love the balmy weather and the easy access to the sea. In a way, it reminds me of Nice, only with a British flair.”
He almost spoke his thoughts out, but he caught himself in time. This must be fate. What were the odds of meeting a woman whose mere presence sent him into a meltdown? He’d always thought he’d meet his soul mate in England. And not only had she been to England, she had been to his neck of the woods. This had to be fate.
“I’m pleased to know you are familiar with what I consider to be my second home. I spend most of the summer in Cornwall, on my boat.”
“That explains the tan. I thought you were the outdoorsy type.”
“If by outdoorsy you mean being out on the water, then I’m guilty as charged. It’s my turn to ask a question. Where are you from? I know you’re not from France originally.”
“How do you know?” she said with a soft laugh.
“Ah, come on. There’s a distinct singsong to your accent that I’ve not heard before. I’ve racked my brain trying to place it, but I’m coming up with a blank.”
“I’m from Martinique; it’s a French island in the Caribbean.”
“You don’t say? I would’ve never guessed. What do you do at Orange Europe?”
“I’m a biochemist.”
“Brains and beauty, a lethal combination,” he said.
“You think I’m beautiful?” she began, but just then they had turned off the main road and were driving down a private driveway. It was so beautiful it took her breath away. There were cherry trees in full bloom on both sides, their branches meeting at the top forming an arch.
There was a slight bend in the driveway, and then it opened up again to the most breathtaking home she had ever seen, and she’d seen her share. Her parents’ home, for instance, on Martinique, was a masterpiece in itself, but his home was not just beautiful. It had an air of stated elegance about it that was undisputed.
In a peachy cream color, the house was built with two side wings and a center main section that had two levels, each with three Roman arches. The front of the house faced a beautiful water fountain, the sound of its water falling adding to the peaceful atmosphere of the place. Franchesca could smell the sweet scent of the cherry blossom through the open window. She was, therefore, not surprised when Damon brought the vehicle to a stop, and she was able to read the sign over the top arch. Tranquility.
“How appropriate,” she couldn’t help saying.
“What is?”
“The name, it suits.”
“I think so. I felt it the moment I drove up the long driveway and came to this clearing. So, after the home was built, I named it.”
“You live here alone?”
“Not alone, I have a quite competent staff.”
“That is not what I mean. No Mrs. Dumont?”
“No, there isn’t. Come, let’s get you inside.”
“Yes, let’s. One could get lost in this huge house.”
“It’s not that big. It only gives an illusion of being big.”
“Right, how many bedrooms? I’ll bet dozens.”
“You’d be wrong. Not dozens, only seven.”
Only seven, she thought. This man must be terribly rich. The Bentley Azure had alerted her, but she knew some men did not skimp on their cars. So, she just took it in stride. After all, she drove a Jaguar XKR. It was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself.
She was a tall girl, and she needed to be comfortable with enough legroom in her car, so she’d cashed in some of her company stock and bought the car and her flat. She had not regretted her decision. But this house put this man in a whole other league. She was beginning to have second thoughts about coming here.
She was about to ask him to take her to her flat when he bent down and lifted her off the seat, holding her quite snugly against his body. The words died in her throat because she found herself looking into his hot, steel gray eyes, his sensuous mouth only inches away from hers. She had to close her eyes quickly because the temptation to reach forward, just a teeny-weeny bit, and press her lips against his was a temptation that was hard to resist, but resist it she must.
*****
Damon couldn’t get over how exceedingly attractive she was. Her fiery auburn, silky hair framed her beautiful face like a picture. She had huge hazel eyes that were more green than brown, surrounded by exceptionally long lashes, which looked like
a pair of fans when she looked down or closed her eyes, as she was doing now. Her nose was short and adorable, like a cute button, sitting over a full generous mouth with lush, berry-red lips that made him think of them doing all sorts of things to him.
But it was her complexion that was the most unusual. It reminded him of mocha chocolate covered in frosting. There was a light dusting of freckles on her cheeks, which added to her unique, exotic appearance. He loved feeling her body close to his. She was all woman with all the attributes he loved. She reminded him of a hothouse orchid, true perfection.
“I should have gotten some crutches from the pharmacy so you wouldn’t have to keep lifting me. I could hobble on one leg.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want you doing, hobbling on one leg.”
*****
There he went again, telling her what she could and couldn’t do. This was a very controlling man. She had to remind him she was not a child and had been making decisions for herself more years than she cared to remember.
“I beg your pardon?” Much as she had acknowledged that he surpassed her in every way, i.e., financially and physically, she had no intentions of allowing him to control her. She had her own selfish reasons for accepting his hospitality. But she could easily put it aside if he thought he could tell her what to do.
*****
Damon looked down at her in his arms as he made his way up the driveway to his front door. She looked terribly self-conscious as she smoothed her hand over her hair. The gesture drew Damon’s attention to her ample breasts and the long expanse of her legs, and the smile he’d been wearing ever since she’d reprimanded him like a naughty boy grew broader.
She was tall, at least five feet ten, and most of her height was in her legs. Her long, shapely limbs began with smooth, rounded hips, which then blended spectacularly into firm thighs and legs that went on for miles. Damon could easily imagine those legs wrapped around him while he buried himself to the hilt in her heat.
The thought sent frissons of excitement shooting through him as he found himself growing a full-blown hard-on. He was tempted to ease her down to get her to feel the effect she was having on him. Even as he thought it, he was astonished by the strength of his reaction to her.