They were strong and graceful, his arms.
“Adrien,” she said, tilting her head to look into his eyes. “Why in heaven have you been hiding that hunky body under those huge sweaters?”
“What’s wrong with my sweaters?” He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Wait—did you just call me hunky?”
“Who, me? I’d never.”
“I’m sure I heard you say ‘hunky’.”
She turned her head away from him and stroked the lean muscles on his arms. “I said ‘hanky’. As in handkerchief.”
“Ah. I should make an appointment with the ear doctor.”
“Uh-huh.”
He pushed her hair to one side and nuzzled her neck. “There’s something you should know about me. I travel frequently for tournaments. Sometimes as often as every month. Sometimes more.”
She tensed. What was he trying to tell her? That his life was all about chess? That she shouldn’t expect too much?
She forced herself to shrug. “Take it easy. I don’t expect us to be serious just because I left Fred.”
There, now he wouldn’t think her needy.
“Oh, I was hoping . . .I was hoping we’d be serious,” he said, disappointment palpable in his voice.
Crap. She screwed up her face, cursing her stupidity. This was Adrien, not Fred. He didn’t speak in codes, didn’t expect her to read between the lines and decipher his messages. He was real and trusted her to be real. To be herself. Provided she could still remember how to do it.
She shifted her position and sat on her heels, facing him. “Forget what I just said. I didn’t mean it.”
“What was it you meant then?” He gave her a searching look.
She closed her eyes and went for it. “I’d like our relationship to be serious.”
He was silent.
She opened her eyes and shook her head in dismay. “This is so against every rule in the dating manual. Too much. Too soon. Can you handle it?”
A crooked smile spread on his face. “Is there more?”
“You want more? I couldn’t possibly. I’m not used to this level of frankness . . .What the hell. Yeah, there’s more. Corny as it may sound, I hope you’re the one. Because I really like you.”
“I like you, too. Very much.” He paused. “Can you handle more?”
“Try me.”
“I lied. I don’t like you. I’m crazy about you.”
She cupped his cheek. “I doubt you’ve even heard of the dating manual.”
“Brace yourself, ma chérie. It gets worse.” His expression grew serious. “I want to make your dreams come true. And I sure as hell hope I am the one for you.”
She grinned, awash in happiness.
He added with infinite tenderness, “Because I know you’re the one for me.”
<<<<>>>>
Excerpt from “What If It’s Love?” (Bistro la Bohème Book 1)
Introverted heiress Lena moves to Paris to nurse old wounds reopened by her neglectful boyfriend. Enter Rob, a charismatic and handsome Frenchman who waits tables at La Bohème—a café on Lena’s street—and has big dreams.
He makes her laugh and forget her insecurities. She stirs something infinitely tender in his soul. Before they know it, they’ve fallen for each other, even though both had good reasons to fight the budding love.
But their passionate romance is cut short when she discovers his dirty secret…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once inside her apartment, Lena took a long shower and then started the kettle to make tea. As the kettle went off, so did the entrance buzzer.
She went to the intercom by the door. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Rob. I have your eyeglasses. Can you buzz me in?”
She just stood there, unable to wrap her mind around the situation. “But . . . Did I leave them on the train?”
“Yep. I noticed them just before I got off, and by then you were already gone. I thought you might need them tonight, so I just . . .” He trailed off. “I was in the neighborhood anyway . . . Can I come up?”
“Yes, yes, of course!” She shook off her bafflement. “Third floor, left of the elevator.”
Two minutes later Rob walked in, as sexy and gorgeous as ever. Lena suddenly felt self-conscious about her tangled damp hair, her jersey tank top, checkered boxers, and rubber flip-flops.
Oh, well—too late to do anything about it now.
He handed her the glasses. “As I said, I was in the neighborhood.”
“Thank you.” She motioned him to the kitchen. “I was making myself some herbal tea . . . if you like that sort of stuff. Otherwise, I’ve got regular tea, coffee, soda . . .”
“A soda will be fine, thanks.”
She gave him a glass and a can of soda from the fridge, and turned away to make tea. As she dropped the teabag into the mug, she heard him take a few steps toward her, then place the soda and the glass on the countertop. Slowly, she poured scalding water into her mug and put the kettle down. Rob was now so close she could feel his warm breath on her bare shoulder.
And then he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his chest against her back.
She stood motionless, as her heart raced and her vision clouded. A swarm of delicious sensations overwhelmed her—his head-turning masculine scent, the gentleness of his strong arms, the comfort of his chest against her back. She told herself she had to stop him, right then, before he went too far. But she knew at some visceral level, in every nerve ending under her skin, that there was no force on the face of the earth that could make her stop him now.
--
Rob’s mind had gone completely blank when he followed his crazy impulse and put his arms around Lena. But when Lena froze, he began to panic. He had no idea how she would react to this. Seconds stretched into an eternity. And then she leaned back into his embrace, ever so slightly, but enough to tell him what he needed to know. He wanted to roar with joy. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to remain in that moment forever.
Then she turned around and looked into his eyes. She was radiant. It was one of those charmed instances when everything, absolutely everything was perfect. This universe, this city, this specific spot in the kitchen, and this precise instance in time. And so he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. Tenderly at first and then passionately, claiming her mouth, sampling the warm softness of her lips, and sweeping his tongue between them.
She responded with ardor, saying yes with her kisses, with her hands stroking the back of his head and with her body pressing into his. Rob was walking on air. He craved Lena, and she left no doubt she wanted him back.
But through his arousal and bliss he heard an admonishing voice. You don’t deserve her trust. You don’t deserve this pleasure. And all at once, he felt like a fraud, like a thief who had acquired something precious through deceit.
He needed her to know the truth.
End of Excerpt
Buy What If It’s Love? now!
Thank you for purchasing this book and reading it! I hope you enjoyed it. If so, I would be very grateful if you could take a minute to post a short review on Amazon.
Do let me know how you get on by joining me on these social networks:
Blog: http://www.alixnichols.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorAlixNichols
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/AuthorANichols
Goodreads: goodreads.com/alixnichols
Sign up for Alix Nichols’s Newsletter
to hear about new releases and offers, and receive a free copy of the
Bistro La Bohème Cookbook: Quick and Easy French Recipes!
(http://www.alixnichols.com/sign-me-up)
ends
You're the One: a Contemporary Romance Novella Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème) Page 6