by Ju Ephraime
He reminded himself that it had been a while since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman in any capacity outside of work and friendship. Knowing all this, he couldn’t fight the strong need to have her feel him, just once, but before he could act on it, he was saved by the opening of his front door and his housekeeper, Madame Flavene, standing there, giving him the strangest look.
He gave her a brief smile. Never was he so glad to see her. He’d almost messed things up. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Franchesca away. He wanted to spend some time with her to see if this was an anomaly or the real thing. He’d been wrong before, so he didn’t want to be wrong a second time. Once was enough. As things were, he was still trying to extricate himself from his first mistake. If he was being honest, he really shouldn’t be pursuing any relationship at the moment, but the pull to this woman was stronger than even his strong self-control.
“Bon après-midi, Monsieur Dumont.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Flavene, this is Ms. LaCasse. She and I were involved in an accident, and she hurt her ankle. Do you have a room ready that I can put Ms. LaCasse in?”
“Yes, do you want her in the left or right wing?”
“I think the right wing, in the suite adjourning mine, will be better for her. She needs to stay off her foot for at least a week until it heals. Can you fix a tray and bring it up to her room?”
Franchesca remained silent until the woman turned to acknowledge her. She probably didn’t want to appear pushy.
“Good afternoon, Miss LaCasse. Welcome to Tranquility. I’m sorry about your injury. We’ll have you up and about in no time. I’ll be up shortly with a light snack to tide you over until dinner.”
“Good afternoon, Madame Flavene, please call me Franchesca. Yes, I would appreciate a snack, a little hot soup will do, thanks.”
Damon continued striding rapidly through the house. He had not been able to get rid of the massive erection he was touting. He felt her gaze on him, and he found himself looking down into boldly appraising eyes as her tongue peeked out of her mouth to wrap around her bottom lip.
He returned her stare with an inquiring raise of his brow. She flushed and looked away, quickly crossing her arms over her breasts and rubbing her hand over her upper arms as if she’d caught a chill. Damon had a sudden insight that made him smile a bit wolfishly. This problem he was experiencing was not affecting him alone. It was definitely being felt by his beautiful guest, and suddenly he didn’t feel so reprehensible. He found himself wondering how much of a reaction she was hiding beneath her crossed arms. If she wasn’t telling, he wouldn’t either, but he would be glad when he could finally remove her body from his person.
He took the steps two at a time and was striding down the hall as if he was out on the track. He had chosen to put her in the room adjourning his. He knew his housekeeper thought he had an ulterior motive, but he told himself she was wrong; he just wanted to be close at hand in the event she needed help to get in and out of bed. Much as he wanted her on her back, he wanted her fully engaged in whatever he was doing with her in that position, and taking her while she was incapacitated was not his idea of fun. He liked his women mobile and participatory. They had to be able to keep up with him; he had a healthy appetite where sex was concerned.
*****
Franchesca tried to look around as he practically raced down a large, oval-shaped hall floored with gleaming rose-colored marble. She was beginning to wonder if she was becoming too heavy for him to keep carrying her around, not knowing how far the room he was taking her to was from the main entrance.
“This is a huge house. How many people do you have working for you to keep this house in such pristine condition?”
“I have a staff of ten, but only five work in the home. The others work on the grounds. There’s the head gardener, his two assistants, my chauffeur, and my all-round man. Mrs. Flavene has three maids and a cook.”
“What’s an all-around man?”
“Thorpe is my man of business. He’s from Cornwall also and works between both offices. I like him here when he’s is in Nice. He runs errands for me and does other little things that I don’t have the time to get to. You’ll get to meet him at dinner, if you are up to it.”
“I hate feeling so helpless. If I had a pair of crutches, I would be able to hop around on one leg. I guess it’s too much to hope you have some lying around,” she said.
“I’ll take care of that tomorrow. I’ll have Thorpe pick up a pair at the pharmacy.”
They finally made it to the room that she assumed would be hers. She’d thought she was blown away by the house, but this room left her with her mouth hanging open. This was actually a suite of rooms. The bedroom was decorated in Wedgwood blue and white, with an armchair in solid blue next to the wide circular window, which was decorated with white drapes and the Wedgewood pattern repeated in the valance.
The wall over the headboard was decorated with three large Wedgwood plates. The entire effect was stunning. Who was this guy that he could afford to have rooms decorated like this lying vacant on the off chance guests would stop by?
“What line of business did you say you were in again?”
“I didn’t. Is the room to your liking?”
“You know it is. What’s not to like?” she replied.
“Your comfort is my main concern, so if there’s anything you’d like changed, you only have to ask, Franchesca.”
When she saw he was heading toward the bed, she quickly told him, “I don’t want to get into the bed. I’d like to sit in the chair next to the window.”
He gave her a smoldering look as he put her down into the chair. He pulled over a footstool and placed it under the leg with the cast. Shivers went down her back as she recalled the way he cradled her against his body and the feel of him against her side. As their eyes met and held, Franchesca was suddenly sure he knew the effect he was having on her.
She broke eye contact and lowered her eyes to her hand. She was fully aware he had not answered her question about his business. Just as she was about to ask him again, there was a knock at the door, and the housekeeper walked in after he asked her to, carrying a tray. Whatever she had on that tray smelled delicious, and Franchesca’s stomach chose that moment to remind her she had not eaten since dinner the night before.
The housekeeper set the tray down on the small table next to the chair and proceeded to pour her a cup of tea. The last thing she needed was his housekeeper waiting on her.
“That’s okay, Ms. Flavene, I’ll take care of it. Thank you very much for all your help.”
“It’s not a problem, dear. I’m happy to help. You rest like Monsieur Dumont says, and the girls and I will take care of you.”
Not knowing how to respond to this, and knowing she would get nowhere being stubborn and putting her foot down, she allowed Ms. Flavene to arrange the wonderful bowl of lamb stew and buttered toast that was on the tray. After handing Franchesca the tea, the housekeeper left the room and said she would return to collect the tray after she was done.
Franchesca was ready to be left alone, when, to her surprise, he took a chair from the adjoining sitting room and sat down next to her. She didn’t know how she felt having him watch her eat.
“I am an investment banker,” he responded to her question from out of the blue.
There she was thinking he wasn’t going to give her an answer. She was so unprepared for the information she sat there speechless, the cup of tea arrested on its way to her lips. As she fought to regain her composure, she couldn’t help thinking he would give her quite a dance. There he sat, a slight smile tugging at his sexy mouth, as he watched her.
“Are you saying you own your own investment firm or you work for an investment company?” she finally asked.
“I own an investment firm, have for years.”
“Here in Nice?” she asked.
“No, my head office is in Paris, but I do have a branch in Cornwall.”
“But why do you h
ave your home in Nice? Is there a home in Paris?”
“There is, but it’s not on the scale of Tranquility. I don’t stay there often, except when I have to entertain business associates who are local to Paris.”
She watched his handsome face. This man was so unusual. She wondered what he wanted with her. She tried to keep her face expressionless, not wanting him to know what she was thinking. He kept his eyes firmly on her as if he was completely enthralled with her.
That explained this house and his presence on the track at work. She was at a loss. She had no idea what to say to him. How did one make small-talk with an investment banker? Her knowledge of investments was limited to the few stocks and shares she owned. Suddenly, she felt foolish. To think this man would have any interest in her when he could have his pick of the cream of the crop was nothing short of ludicrous.
*****
Damon could sense he was losing her. For whatever the reason, the fact that he was an investment banker did not sit well with her. He sensed her withdrawing from him, putting up a wall. He was having none of it.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, trying to bring her back to him.
“Only a penny?” she said with a forced laugh.
“I’ll pay whatever price you name.”
The minute the words left his mouth, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. He could see the thoughts chasing across her face as she shifted her body and reached for the bowl of stew. She busied herself eating.
He knew she no longer wanted to talk, and knowing that some people didn’t like to carry on a conversation while they were eating, he excused himself and went in search of his man of business to see about ordering a couple crutches for Franchesca.
He knew she had to stay off her foot, but he didn’t want her to feel confined to her room. This wouldn’t serve his purpose in bringing her to his home. And this he couldn’t have. He walked into Thorpe’s office just as he was getting off the phone.
“I was on my way to you when this call came in and I had to deal with it. Madame Flavene said you have a guest, and a hot one at that. She was in a pickle when I walked into the kitchen while she was putting together a tray for your guest.”
“Why, I have guests here all the time.”
“Agreed, business associates, not any that you deliberately ran the woman down just to be the one carrying her around,” he told him, giving him a knowing look.
“You’ve got to take your mind out of the gutter, Thorpe, and for the record, I did not run down Franchesca, as you so delicately put it. She fell, and I did the only thing I could do, which is arranged for her to recuperate here.”
“Franchesca, is it? Then why are you still ‘helping’ her, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I do mind. It’s none of your business, so leave it. I came to ask you to pick up a pair of crutches for her when you go into town. When are you going next?”
“I could go now, if you want; although you may not believe it, but I too want to see your guest make a rapid recovery. That is what you want, no?”
“Thorpe, you can be so annoying sometimes. Please let me know when you’re leaving. I have some calls to make. I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll see you in a bit.”
Damon left Thorpe, feeling like a heel. He knew even though he’d not done anything to cause injury to Franchesca, he suspected she fell because she was trying to run from him, and for that, he felt responsible. Everything that happened afterward was just fate playing her hand, and he was a willing recipient in accepting it.
He couldn’t get over how completely Franchesca had taken over his life. A day ago, he’d not even met her, and now, he couldn’t carry on his work without thinking about her. She was weaving her spell on him, slowly but surely. He was sinking fast, and he had no intention of fighting it.
He found that he welcomed it. He had been alone too long. Ever since he and Izzabella parted ways, he had been reluctant to go down that road again, but it had been two years, and he was tired of surviving off one night stands. He wanted someone to love and to love him in return. Call him an optimistic fool, but he believed he might have found her in Franchesca. He hoped he was not making a mistake. As an investment banker, he made his living taking chances and going with his gut, and his gut told him she was the one. He only needed some time with her to convince her of that. Speaking of which, he had to get a move on if he wanted her to have dinner with him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Franchesca finally took a deep breath and leaned back to sip the excellent tea after she had made short work of the stew and toast. It was excellent, but then, she expected nothing less. In all the years she’d been living in France, she had yet to be served a bad meal. She didn’t think she would be hungry by dinnertime, but she’d wait and see. Wait and see was the game she and Damon seemed to be playing with each other. She felt the pull toward him every time she looked at him. She had no idea what it meant. She knew only that she’d never felt that way about any man before. So she was willing to wait and see and thought she would be the first to acknowledge that he and she didn’t move in the same class, but stranger things had happened.
She needed to freshen up, but she had none of her personal belongings with her. She was just wondering how she was going to address this when the door opened and a young woman walked in, carrying an overnight bag.
“Hello, miss. I’m Ange, and I’ve brought you the items Monsieur Dumont ordered for you. This should tide you over until you can get some of your own things.”
She was a pretty girl with a cheery demeanor and a shy smile. Franchesca liked her instantly. She felt more at ease with her than she did with Madame Flavene. Not that the latter had done anything to make her feel uncomfortable. It was just that she felt a more genuine friendship coming from Ange. Also, she was too young to stand in judgment about her presence in Damon’s home.
“Hello, Ange, I’m Franchesca. This isn’t mine. I didn’t have a suitcase.”
“You do now, and it’s a beautiful one, if I say so myself. Mr. Damon had me pack the suitcase for you.”
“Let me see.” She was about to get off the chair but quickly sat back down as the sharp pain from her ankle reminded her of her injury.
“Please, don’t get up. I’ll bring it over to you.”
She placed the suitcase on the chair that Damon had occupied earlier and opened it for her inspection. Franchesca couldn’t believe it. The suitcase was packed to capacity with everything a woman would need for a long weekend. This had to have been put together by a woman, and one with excellent knowledge of what a woman would need. How many surprises would she receive from this man?
“Just you sit there, miss. I’ll put them away for you. Would you like me to select a change of clothes for you, or would you prefer to do this yourself?”
“I’ll let you decide, Ange. I find I’m not up to doing much.”
She felt foolish, making a fuss over things that were selected for her by some woman, whom she didn’t know. There was no way Damon could convince her that he’d selected those silky cool blouses and short sets that were all in her size and those gossamer silk panties and bra sets. She was surprised to see even the bras were in her size. Granted, if you could guess the panty size, the bra usually fit in a set. But if he wanted to impress her, he was succeeding beautifully.
“Would you like me to help you with a bath, miss?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to take a bath, Ange. I can’t get the cast wet, and either a bath or a shower will get it wet. There’s no getting around it.”
“I’ll help you with a bath if you want one. It will be no problem at all. You’ll see.”
And true to her words, Ange was like a magician, helping to keep her injured foot out of the bath as she helped Franchesca into the tub. It was not the most comfortable bath, but between them, they got the job done.
When she was finally dressed, she didn’t have the energy to leave the room, and the pain medicine s
he had taken was beginning to work its magic. She was barely able to keep her eyes open. Dinner would have to wait until another day. She was out like a light by the time her head touched the pillow.
*****
Damon was disappointed when he learned that Franchesca would not be joining him for dinner. He’d been so looking forward to their verbal sparring. She was a feisty one, and he liked that about her. It was stimulating having a conversation with her. He didn’t imagine he would ever be bored if they were living together as husband and wife. He had no idea where that thought came from. After all, it seemed way too early for thoughts like that.
Finishing his dinner, he went in to check up on Franchesca and found her still out cold. He stood there watching her sleep. It was stimulating to watch her sleep in total abandonment. He felt like a pervert, the place his thoughts were going as he stood there watching her. The flimsy nightshirt she was wearing clung to her every curve, and his beast raised its head.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he tried to stifle his inappropriate reactions and quietly walked out of her room. He was nowhere ready to turn in for the night, so he thought he might as well get some work in, freeing him up for tomorrow when he could give Franchesca his undivided attention. This would give him time to purge his mind of all lascivious thoughts about his beautiful guest.
Hearing his name being called, he stopped and waited for Thorpe to catch up with him. He was really not in the mood for Thorpe’s ribbing, but he’d left himself open to it. After a long period of paying little attention to the opposite sex since Izzabella, here he was being all possessive over a woman he’d only met less than twenty-four hours earlier. It certainly felt more like several weeks. No, more like months. That’s how right this thing felt to him.
“It will please you to know, sir, that I was able to purchase the crutches for your patient.”
“She’s got a name—Franchesca—so stop referring to her as my patient. She’s not.”