Mistress for Hire

by Letty James

  Nikki wished she could control the blush that bloomed under Louisa’s scrutiny. “We had dinner. And discussed business.” She tossed the paper aside with a tight smile as if it were of no consequence, the whole time her mind raced over the information. He hadn’t told her he was on TV, much less a food critic. That’s probably why he’d turned down her invitation to cook for him. He didn’t think she would be any good. Just wait, Monsieur Formidable, I’ll show you.

  “Just dinner? And you went to his house, spent the night and nothing happened?” The other woman picked up the paper and studied the picture as if it would move before her eyes.

  “I’m only his assistant.” Nikki looked down and turned a page of the Sanborn files, although she had no idea what had been on it. She didn’t dare look up and let Louisa see liar written all over her face. She pushed her glasses up to her forehead and rubbed her eyes, feigning disinterest in the conversation. She would love to have poured out her heart to Louisa and gotten her advice, but who knew what Louisa’s motives were. Maybe Gérard had instructed Louisa to interrogate Nikki to see if she could keep her mouth shut. There was probably a nondisclosure clause in the contract she’d signed. Why hadn’t she read the whole thing? Mimi had always accused her of being too impulsive. When would she learn?

  “Are you all right?”

  Nikki jumped at Louisa’s touch on her shoulder and realized she’d been staring down at her desk. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “Don’t stay too late.” With a wave, Louisa left. As soon as the office door closed, Nikki jumped out of her seat and raced to Louisa’s trash can to pull out the offending newspaper. She noted Gérard’s smile and his arms practically around her as he guided her into the restaurant. The blurb explained everyone’s fawning attitude toward Gérard. She read it again and again. Was it rumor about the reality show? And why hadn’t she heard anything about it? And why hadn’t she figured out his celebrity status last night when the photographers had been there? Questions had evaporated under the cloud of his charm. Nikki plopped back in her chair feeling incredibly stupid. Surely, this would affect future jobs. And would she be taken seriously in the pastry world or would everyone think she was trading in on her relationship with Gérard? Which she certainly could if she stayed with him for a year.

  This would teach her to start asking questions before she made decisions. She tore the article out of the paper and stuffed it in her backpack. To confront Gérard with later, she told herself. It had nothing to do with wanting to look at the picture again.

  Gérard tossed his phone onto the car seat. He watched the incessant, gray winter rain and wished he was at home having dinner in front of the fire with Nikki—a dinner she’d offered to cook him. He was curious about her cooking abilities, but his mind turned to other activities. Running his hand over his face, he tried to shake the image of her wrapped in nothing but a robe, with her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders. Mon Dieu, what was wrong with him? He’d deliberately left her alone at the office to see if she would poke around in his files. Security had rigged a web-cam so he could monitor his office from home or from his phone. And now, instead of channeling James Bond, he felt like a villain spying on her.

  In an hour and a half of checking between meetings, there’d been nothing. He was starting to feel like an idiot. Still, he punched the app on his phone one last time. Nikki stood at his desk, her hair in a loose topknot, her sleeves pushed up as if she had been actually working. She plunked down the large file he’d left for her and blew some wayward strands of hair out of her eyes. Her dark-framed glasses rested on her head, and her top blouse buttons were undone, creating the delightful image of the naughty librarian. Gérard shifted in his seat. His finger hovered over the close button. She sat down, resting her arms and chest against the stack of papers. His hand tightened on the phone. She looked right at him, a slight smile making her look worn out, but happy. Then she leaned back in his chair and stretched, her back arching, thrusting her breasts out to strain against the fabric of her blouse.

  He swallowed.

  Nikki got up, turned her back, and he groaned aloud as she stretched again, bending over to present him with her delectable backside. He grit his teeth and exited the warm car into the cold November air.

  “I’ll walk from here,” he told Marco.

  Still watching the small screen, he saw Nikki stand in front of his window as he’d done so many times before, looking across the Seine at the lights of Notre Dame. She sleepily rubbed her eyes.

  He felt a pang of remorse. No one would dare spy on him like this. Here he was, stalking an innocent girl merely because her sister had wronged him.

  Gérard looked up and pushed through the crowd at the street corner, the sting of guilt making him angry. This was business. He had a perfect right to know what she was up to.

  He glanced back down at the small screen and stopped. Someone bumped into him with a curse, but he ignored it as he studied the small, still figure in profile. The kiss last night had nearly brought him to his knees. Soft and full, Nikki’s lips were intoxicating. His finger stroked the screen as if he could touch her. And for a moment, he thought he had as she turned to face him, releasing her hair and shaking it out. Gérard smiled when Nikki dropped her glasses and cursed. She put them back on with a sigh and left his office. No rummaging through files. No hacking into his computer. He switched off the webcam app and called Marco. “Please pick up Mademoiselle Sommers at the office and take her home. I’ll get a taxi.”

  He walked the short block to his dinner meeting, wishing he could cancel this engagement as easily as he’d cancelled last night’s. It seemed an apology was in order to Mademoiselle Sommers, although he would never tell her. He had doubted her, harbored distrust, and she had proven herself once again as she had with Sanford. And despite what he’d put in the contract, he’d keep his hands off her. After all, he didn’t want to lose such a hard-working assistant.

  Nikki’s eyes popped open, her breathing loud in the dark. It took her a few seconds to realize she wasn’t in the bakery kissing Gérard, flattening baguettes against her back as he dipped her over the counter. She had so clearly felt the warmth of his mouth, the pressure of his arms. She’d heard the crackle of the bread against her back. And just as she’d put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, she’d awakened. Not a good idea to be dreaming about the boss man. It was bad enough she was mesmerized by him, watching him underneath her lashes at work, giving a good stare when no one was around.

  Rolling over, she buried her face in the pillows, remembering the strength of his arms under her when he’d carried her upstairs. She groaned and spread her arms wide. Would Gérard steal the soft sheets? Did he sleep naked? She imagined his glossy brown hair would appear even darker on the pristine white pillow . . .

  Augh! Nikki flung off the covers and slid out of the high bed, landing with a thump on the floor. She would not think about Gérard. She needed to focus on something else.

  The digital clock on the nightstand read one o’clock. Moonlight spilled across the carpet. She could hear the grandfather clock ticking at the end of the hallway. Her tummy rumbled.

  “Nobody stirring, not even a mouse,” she whispered. She still felt odd roaming around in a house that wasn’t hers. She picked up her cell phone and checked for messages. Nothing. She’d come back to the townhouse to find her wish for a new cell phone, complete with her old number, had come true. Nikki waved her hand to conjure up Gérard offering her a sandwich. And perhaps a glass of champagne. And maybe he would be half-dressed. She giggled. If only life were that easy. Her stomach growled again, settling her internal debate.

  She shrugged on the bathrobe she assumed was now hers, over the lovely pajamas she’d found on the bed earlier. Cute, little, pink velour sleep shorts with a white tee shirt printed with pink and red hearts. Whoever did the clothes buying was
doing a bang up job. She didn’t want to think about who was actually choosing her outfits. Gérard didn’t seem the type. She smacked her hand against her head. Stop thinking about him! Tying the robe tight over her pajamas, she tip-toed down the stairs to the kitchen. She sighed as she flicked on the kitchen lights. What a beautiful room.

  “Restless, Mademoiselle?” A deep voice rumbled behind her.

  Nikki jumped, accidentally smacking Gérard on the arm. “Don’t do that!” Her pulse raced to see her fantasy materializing next to her.

  “Then stop sneaking around,” he said, his tone teasing. His lips pressed together as if he were trying not to laugh. He still wore his work clothes, absent his jacket and tie. His shirt hung open and loose from his waistband as if he’d been interrupted while undressing. Never had she imagined a cotton undershirt could be so sexy.

  She gulped, pressing one hand against her pounding heart. His gaze flicked to her hand, then back to her eyes. He smiled as if he could see every one of her thoughts about him. The air sizzled, drawing them closer even as they stood still. Nikki bit her lip and watched Gérard’s gaze shift to her mouth, his eyes darkening as her lip slid free.

  “Sandwich?” He ruffled his hair with his hands as he turned toward the refrigerator.

  “Yes. Thank you.” She leaned against the counter and took a deep breath.

  Gérard rummaged through the shelves, handing out meats and cheeses and pickles and condiments of every type. She spread it out on the island top and pulled out a cutting board from the rack underneath.

  “Bread?” she asked.

  “Somewhere around here.”

  She found a plastic bag of rolls in the walk-in pantry where the shelves were stocked with all sorts of brightly colored boxes and jars and bags. She turned, hitting Gérard with the bag.

  “Oh! Sorry!”

  “Again?”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t take up too much of your space, do I?” He moved closer.

  “Just the right amount.” Her breath caught in her throat. Oh my stars, he would make a tasty snack. No, make that a meal.

  He stood so close, the bread crackled between them. Gérard took it out of her hands, but didn’t move. Still holding her gaze, his eyes smoldered with promise. Déjà vu swept through her at the scent of the bread. But, he hadn’t kissed her yet as he had in her dream. She wanted him to so badly. To see if last night had been as she remembered. Strength and tenderness. Hard and soft. She had to be kidding herself. This was crazy to toy with each other. She backed up a step. He followed.

  “Did you, did you date my sister?” Nikki stumbled over the words, not wanting to even think about Jessica, but having to know what happened between them.

  He gave a soft snort and took a step closer. “She’s not my type.”

  Nikki’s spirit soared. “Is that a no?”

  “A resounding no.”

  Nikki’s ankle hit a step stool and she clambered up one step, giving him a cheeky smile.

  He raised an eyebrow, humor teasing the edges of his mouth. “Are you trying to see if I’m lying?”

  She went up another step, hanging on to the edge of the shelf. Now, she was the taller one.

  His hand went to her hip. “Careful.”

  “Would I be able to tell if you were lying if I looked in your eyes?” Nikki peered into Gérard’s eyes. What had started as a joke suddenly became so much more.

  He placed the bread on top of bright yellow tomato cans, gently, slowly, as if it were a carton of eggs. Then his hand covered her hip.

  She should move.

  She should laugh it off.

  Push away.

  Be a good girl.

  Or she could tumble off the stool into his arms. There was no wine to excuse her behavior this time. She put her hands on his shoulders, the cotton of his shirt cool under her warm palms. She met his dark gaze.

  “What do you see?” His breath whispered across her neck. “The truth between us?” With each word, his hands tightened, drawing her to him. Not waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and kissed the center of her collar bone.

  Nikki gripped his shoulders. Surely, he could feel her heart pounding.

  He lingered, kissing the exposed V of skin.

  Never had a kiss been like molten fire. Heat shimmied through her entire body. Her breasts grew heavy and tight. Her clothing felt scratchy and confining, like kindling that would burst into flame around her.

  Touch me.

  His hands slid lower, molding her buttocks, drawing her ever closer, with each kiss, until they were fused together. He licked her neck and she plunged her fingers into his thick hair. Better than her dream.

  Better. Better. Better.

  One large hand cupped her cheek, pulling her mouth down to his. Lips met lips. Tongues fiercely joined. They both moaned.

  Hot. Thick. Wet.

  Nikki twined her leg around Gérard’s waist. His hand skimmed the back of her thigh, under her panties, onto her bare butt cheek.

  Yeeeessss.

  His erection pressed against her.

  Hard. Thick. Oh, God!

  She groaned, breaking their kiss, flinging her head back as he dove into the front of her robe, latching onto her breast through the thin cotton.

  “Gérard!” She dug her heel into his buttock. He stumbled and flung his arm out. A crash of glass. The smell of apricots filled the small room.

  The world stopped.

  Nikki hung in the air.

  His arm encircled her, pressing her against the wood frame of the pantry, holding her against him. Their harsh breathing sounded extraordinarily loud in the small space. His hand released her bottom, sliding along her leg to wrap her once more in her robe. Nikki pressed her lips together in disappointment, forcing herself to keep quiet. No begging.

  “You are one dangerous woman, Mademoiselle Sommers. Remind me never to take you skydiving.”

  A nervous giggle burst out of her. “I’d be too scared to jump.”

  “With your luck, I think we’d both fall out.”

  Nikki wiggled to get down, wanting distance between them, physically and emotionally. He held her tight.

  “Be still.” He hoisted her higher, stealing one swift kiss before he carried her out of the pantry, glass crunching under his shoes. He deposited her onto the stainless steel island.

  Nikki gasped at the cold shock of metal on the back of her bare thighs, bringing her back to earth with a slap. She yanked her robe together and retied it. Wiping a trembling hand over her lips, she squeezed her legs together, as if denying him further access would cut off her own feelings.

  As if!

  Gérard leaned over her, one hand on either side of her thighs, trapping her against the metal. “This isn’t over.”

  If she had any sense, she would bolt right now. Except she didn’t think she could walk.

  Chapter 9

  Gérard turned away and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it. He’d gotten a glimpse of her bare belly before she snatched her robe closed and all he could think about now was carrying her upstairs and stripping her naked. Swirling his tongue over her stomach to dip into her navel. Delighting in her sweet flesh one slow lick at a time. Plunging into her creamy sweetness.

  What was it about this woman that tempted him like no other? He’d had countless lovers, beauties all. But none of them made him want to lose control as this woman did. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Except she held back, widening those luminous green eyes, from innocence or intelligence, he wasn’t sure. It would be foolish for them to get involved, although he’d known the minute she’d sat on his desk they would make love. That’s why he’d put it in the contract, so she would know his intent. He wanted a fierce primal j
oining. He wanted to hear her scream in release, feel her clench around him.

  But it was more than sexual. It was a longing for a connection. To know what she was thinking when she looked into his eyes.

  Damn, he didn’t have time for this. She was merely a way to lure her sister into giving back his documents. He did not . . . repeat not . . . need to get involved with this family.

  Thankful for the distraction, Gérard eyed the spreading glossy puddle on the floor.

  “You make the sandwiches, I’ll clean this up.” Gérard grabbed a handful of paper towels and the trash bin. And groaned.

  “Are you all right?”

  Her petite toes appeared next to him. All he would have to do was run his hand up her leg. On impulse he had done it last night, exploring her soft skin. He closed his eyes.

  “I’m fine. Don’t step on the glass. There’s wine in the chiller under the other island.” When he opened his eyes, she’d moved away.

  “I think I’ll have a glass of milk tonight. It’ll help me sleep.”

  “That sounds good.” Maybe it would relax his raging cock so he didn’t jump on her like some randy teenager. He sighed, craving a double whiskey. Maybe later if the milk didn’t work. He grabbed an apron and tied it around his waist.

  He tossed the sandwiches Nikki made into a fry pan to heat them up, melting the cheese and toasting the bread. Joan Jett curled around his ankles begging until he tossed some chopped ham into her bowl. “Don’t ever ask me to cook much more than this. That’s why I have Jean-Luc.”