Lost In France (Firebird Trilogy)

by Kay, Jani

  “You forgot your pen.” He placed it on the entrance table. “I just wanted to check if you were OK.” The acid in his voice was unmistakable.

  “I…I am fine… , ” I stammered. Talk about career-limiting moves. I shuddered.

  If Maxwell Grant could have my head on a plate…

  Alain stepped between us, consciously claiming me. “Mademoiselle Clarke is fine. We were just in the middle of… ”

  “I can see,” Maxwell spat, his voice booming. His steely eyes narrowed. “I expect you to be ready bright and early, Miss Clarke.” He turned on his heels and slammed the door behind him.

  Shaking, I sucked in a breath.

  Who the hell is he to tell me what to do?

  In two quick steps Alain was by my side, rubbing up my arms. “Are you OK?” he said, concern lacing his voice.

  “Y…yes,” I stammered. “I…I’m tired. Must be jetlag. I’d like to go to bed now.”

  Alain cocked his head, his disappointment clear. “Good night,” he said gruffly, as he kissed each of my eyelids gently, holding both my hands in his. He brushed his lips over mine as he whispered, “Dream of me.”

  The door clicked softly behind him.

  What the hell just happened?

  My body burned with desire. I wanted my Frenchman to ravish me, yet here I stood, feeling like a naughty child. Alone. My new boss was goddamn infuriating.

  After a long hot shower, I slipped into the over-sized bed. My body was tired, my eyelids heavy. I sighed as I sank into the soft mattress. Pure bliss.

  The shrill ring of the phone jerked me from drifting off.

  What now?

  “Hello?” I croaked. Every muscle in my body ached from exhaustion.

  “I will meet you at eight a.m. sharp. In the lobby.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  Fucking Maxwell Grant.

  “Be ready,” he grunted. The steely command in his voice remained unwavering. “Good night, Miss Clarke.”

  The man was unbelievable.

  Go home to your wife and leave me the fuck alone.

  I wanted to shout at him, but the words froze in my throat.

  The phone clicked in my ear. Was Alain right? Did my boss have lascivious ideas? How absurd. I was simply not interested, the sooner he realized it, the better for us both. All I wanted was a delicious romance with my hot Frenchman.

  Maxwell fucking Grant could go to hell.

  Arrogant bastard.

  Sleep would probably evade me for the rest of the night. I punched my pillow in a rage, imagining him trying to force himself onto female employees just to show them who were boss. Just because he was powerful and good looking, didn’t mean I would succumb to him. He could take his contract and shove it.

  I tossed and turned, and as I finally drifted into a fitful sleep, I felt the heat of those angry dark-blue eyes boring into me.

  Chapter 16

  There were few things I hated as much as the shrill sound of an alarm clock. Especially, this morning. I opened one eye and killed the damn thing. It felt as if I’d hardly had any sleep.

  It's going to be a bloody long day.

  I cursed as I dressed in a light gray business suit and crisp white shirt. My fingers were still dumb as I did up an extra button on my shirt for good measure. I certainly didn’t want to give my boss any wrong impressions. I was a goddamn professional, and I’d prove it today. Determined to not let him unnerve me, I put on my “tough-bitch” face. I only had to keep my cool today; he was flying back to New York later tonight.

  This morning I was doing a presentation at eleven. Suppressing the jittery butterflies in my stomach, I swallowed the lump in my throat. Knowing Maxwell was going to be in the audience—no doubt judging me—unnerved me more than I cared to admit. I hadn’t expected my boss to be present when I’d agreed to be the keynote speaker.

  Room service delivered my breakfast. I stared at the beautiful view from the ceiling-to-floor windows as I enjoyed the hearty meal. I was going to need every atom of energy I could muster today.

  At exactly three minutes to eight, I exited the elevator, knowing that Maxwell would already be waiting in the lobby. My gaze fell on him and for a moment I slowed down, observing my boss. He sipped his steaming coffee, deeply engrossed in the newspaper.

  I hated admitting it: Mr. Grant cut a fine figure. He was clean shaven this morning; his large frame filled his dark suit, his authoritarian air ever present. He was seemingly relaxed, yet raw masculine power exuded from every pore of his being. It was hard not to stare, there was a primal magnetism about him that made me feel a little lightheaded.

  The man probably had a sixth sense; he looked up into my eyes, catching me staring at him. A wicked grin spread across his face. He leisurely raked his gaze over my body and I could feel the warmth spread from my chest to my cheeks. Great. With my pale skin and light suit, the blushing was probably even more visible than normal. Shit. I hated feeling vulnerable. I hated even more that he could freak me out with a look only.

  Damn him.

  As I drew closer, I noticed that Maxwell appeared well rested. He didn’t have to hide puffy dark circles under his eyes like I had. I cursed under my breath.

  “Ready for your big presentation this morning?” He grinned at me as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Did you sleep well?”

  Bastard didn’t have any problems sleeping after last night’s little episode.

  Hell-bent on not giving him the pleasure of knowing he managed to spoil my evening with Alain, I glared at him, pursing my lips tightly.

  “Of course.” I grimaced. I simply wasn’t a morning person at the best of times. And there was no way in hell I’d let him know his piercing stare and arrogant voice had haunted me all night long. Every time I’d closed my eyes, Maxwell’s face was the one that popped up, driving me crazy till I drifted off to sleep from sheer exhaustion.

  “Coffee? We still have time.” He nodded toward the chair next to him.

  I shook my head. “No.” Remembering my manners, I continued, “No, thank you. I’m ready to go to the conference.”

  If he thought he could order me to be ready at eight a.m. sharp so that I could sit around idly drinking coffee with him, he was sorely mistaken. This bitch needed her beauty sleep and she wasn’t going to be kind to anyone who deprived her of that one small, but necessary, pleasure.

  Pivoting, I stormed toward the elevator, fuming at the cheek of the man. Still pissed off that he could get me so riled, I gasped as he appeared beside me, easily catching up to me with a few strides of those ridiculously long legs. Goddammit. My head was going to explode as my blood pressure rose dangerously fast.

  The elevator doors opened and a sea of faces stared at me. Already full; I realized there was really only space for one more person. For the first time this morning, I allowed myself to grin. I would squeeze in, leaving Mr. Smartass Grant standing there. Alone.

  “Hang on. I’m sure there is space for me, too?” Maxwell smiled sheepishly at a tall blonde woman, which had exactly the effect on her he was going for. She shifted up to allow him space next to her, smiling coyly at him.

  What the hell?

  Folding my arms across my chest, my gaze was glued to the numbers above the doors.

  Maxwell was standing so closely behind me that I could feel his breath on my neck. I arched my back, desperate to avoid touching him. Despite feeling stiff and awkward, I couldn’t help but be acutely aware of every inch of his muscular body so close to me, the heat radiating from his body, burning through me.

  Strong fingers gripped the tops of my arms, squeezing hard, before sliding down to draw my wrists behind my back. I gasped, shuddering. His hold tightened as I tried to wriggle free without drawing attention.

  “Hush,” he whispered, trying to calm me down. “Struggling only makes it worse.” I couldn’t believe the nerve of this man.

  Who the fuck does he think he is?

  He pulled me back into his chest, and wi
th his hands over mine, pressed my palms into his erection.

  Holy mother of…

  I stopped breathing.

  The elevator doors opened and I lurched forward, desperate to get out first. I needed air.

  “Miss Clarke, are you mad at me? Or are you always this grumpy in the morning?” The amusement in his voice riled me further.

  Yes, I'm mad as hell at you. And no, it's only you that brings out the worst in me. I wasn’t usually like this. But every time Maxwell came near me, it turned me into a super bitch.

  What was I so afraid of? Why was I protecting myself from liking him?

  He grabbed my wrist and turned me toward him. His touch scorched my skin. Towering above me, he stared down at me. I pushed my chest forward, chin up.

  Like hell would I let him intimidate me.

  “Why on earth would you think that, Mr. Grant?” I shot back coolly, pretending I did not just rub against his hard cock. Surely he knew why I was angry?

  “Next time, watch your balls,” I hissed.

  I didn’t think he was used to women—or anyone else for that matter—answering him back so insolently. His eyes narrowed, his mouth opening as if to say something. He thought better of it, and suddenly let me go. I staggered backward as I struggled to regain my balance.

  “Good luck with your presentation,” he said, his voice cold and hard. Before I could respond, he turned and strode off. I stood gaping at the back of the most infuriating man on this planet.

  Oh my God!

  I disliked him more every time we met. Yet I was also turned on by him. How the hell was that possible? It was something I didn’t want to acknowledge, even to myself.

  How was I going to cope with a full eight months of working for him? I shook my head, determined to shrug off all thoughts of my boss. I wouldn’t let him unnerve me. I wouldn’t allow myself to think of him in any other way than the person who signed my paychecks. I’d treat him with the disdain he deserved.

  I glanced at my watch, it wasn’t long to go. I had to set up for my presentation.

  It had to be goddamn perfect.

  I’d show that prick.

  Chapter 17

  “It gives me great pleasure to introduce Dr. Rebecca Clarke.” The applause died down and I braced my nerves to start my presentation. If only Maxwell had decided to leave. It wasn’t my lucky day.

  Instead he sat in the front row, all six foot and several inches stretched out comfortably, right beside the chairman. He narrowed his eyes, and watched me with a guarded expression on his face. He stopped clapping and nodded at me slightly as if to encourage me to proceed, his eyes burning though me.

  Fuck off. I’ll wipe that goddamn sneer off your face.

  Somehow his gaze made me feel as if I were naked. There was no way in hell I’d let him know I was feeling unnerved and exposed behind the glass podium with his eyes trained on me. I was a goddamn professional woman and I’d show him just how much. I slanted my body away from him, fastening the button of my jacket. Throughout the presentation, I refused to look in his direction, swallowing my rising anger. I couldn’t allow him to disarm me so easily and throw me off my game.

  I’m good at this, dammit.

  And I intended to prove it today.

  As soon as I finished, the crowd rose to their feet, clapping.

  What the hell?

  My chest expanded. It was my first ever standing ovation. The fire in my belly had pushed me to perform as I’d never done before. I’d put on a damn fine show, all for the benefit of my new boss, proving that I was worth every cent he was paying me. Proving he wouldn’t get the better of me. Could it be that Maxwell Grant actually brought out the best in me?

  Screw him.

  Unable to help myself, I peeked in his direction. From the corner of my eye I saw that Maxwell was standing too, grinning from ear to ear, applauding loudly.

  Round one: Rebecca.

  Hell yeah.

  “Please join us for lunch, Dr. Clarke,” the chairman invited as I left the stage.

  “Yes, please do, Dr. Clarke,” Maxwell said, emphasizing the word ‘doctor,’ a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  There he goes mocking me again. Asshole.

  Before I could conjure up an excuse, Maxwell steered me toward the dining room with a forceful hand in my back. There was no escaping.

  “I’m suitably impressed, Dr. Clarke,” Maxwell said, as he raised his glass, “and I’m glad you are on my team. But tell me, are you always this articulate and animated?”

  “Rebecca,” I said coolly, looking him straight in the eye. I didn’t like the way he called me ‘doctor’ Clarke. That title was reserved for my clients and my family when they teased me.

  “Always challenging me, aren’t you Dr. Clarke?”

  Arrogant bastard.

  If I started a full blazed war here with the chairman watching, I may be looking for a new contract very soon. I didn’t want to burn any bridges. Not yet, anyway.

  He smiled. “Well done Rebecca, that was a first class presentation. Should bring Grant Industries a few new clients.”

  Oh, so that’s it then?

  It was his company he was concerned about. New clients and more profits.

  “I am proud of you. Really,” he said quickly, as if sensing my disapproval.

  The man was a chameleon, one moment tormenting me, the next surprising me. He was actually smiling at me, genuinely showing pride. His hand covered mine as if to appease me. Even when he was being nice to me, he confused me. I quickly withdrew my hand, as I couldn’t bear him touching me.

  His smile evaporated as he clenched his jaw. “I have urgent business to take care of this afternoon. However, I will be back in time for this evening’s cocktail party. Miss Clarke, I will meet you at 7.15p.m. in the lobby.” It wasn’t a request.

  So, it’s back to ‘miss’ now, is it?

  It could have been worse.

  Add exasperating to the list of things I hate about my boss.

  Chapter 18

  I’d sent Alain a text message that I couldn’t see him tonight—again. He wasn’t happy, but since it was work related and the reason I was here in the first place, he had to accept it.

  What I hadn’t told him was that my annoying boss was going to be there too. Although it made me positively glow that a man as sexy and good looking as Alain, who could probably have any woman, wanted me, his jealous streak wasn’t something I wanted to deal with tonight.

  Back in my hotel room, I drew the heavy curtains and I crawled under the sheets in my underwear for a power nap. When I woke in an hour, I’d feel revitalized and still have enough time for a long warm shower to freshen up and get ready for the cocktail evening. I hoped the speeches weren’t going to be long and boring.

  The bed felt heavenly, as I stretched out, yawned and closed my eyes, succumbing to the sleep I craved.

  The sound of my name woke me with a jolt. Someone was banging at my door. The alarm clock blinked in the darkness. Seven thirty-nine. Shit, I’d slept solidly for two and a half hours. Then it hit me. I was late for the cocktail party.

  The banging at the door was more insistent now. “Rebecca.” I heard Maxwell’s voice booming. “Are you in there?”

  Oh shit. Angry bastard is going to break the fucking door down.

  I jumped out of bed and grabbed the top sheet, wrapping myself in it as I rushed to the door. I jerked the door open, catching him with his fits in the air.

  “Rebecca,” he huffed, looking over my shoulder at the bed to see if anyone else was there. He took in my sleepy eyes and messed up hair. He drew in a sharp breath.

  “Sorry,” I said, still sleep mussed. “I overslept. Jetlag.” I half smiled apologetically. I was still too sleepy to be in fighting mode.

  Maxwell pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He’d invaded my comfort zone now, so I took a step back instinctively, clutching the sheet around me.

  His eyes widened and his jaw clenched. “Stop fight
ing me, Rebecca,” he said with menacing calmness as he took another step forward, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me toward him. Before I could protest, his mouth was crushing mine.

  Searching. Hungry. Invasive.

  He gripped my hair at the roots. I couldn’t move. I tried to push him off me with all my strength, letting the sheet slip from my grasp. I winced as it fell to the floor, feeling exposed and vulnerable. There was only one thing I could think to do. I bit his lip, drawing blood. With a jerk, he stopped his invasion of my mouth and instinctively stepped back.

  His gaze traveled down my barely clad body, the sheer pink lacy panty and bra leaving very little to the imagination. He groaned loudly and pushed me against the wall, pinning both my wrists above my head with one large hand, palming my breast in the other, squeezing hard. I yelped.

  “God, I want you.” His mouth claimed mine.

  Probing. Relentless. Possessive.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  His tight grip was digging into my flesh, hurting. I wriggled and tried to free myself from under him, but he was too strong. His torso pushed against my chest, his knee between my legs, rubbing against my apex. The friction was…delicious.