Mistress for Hire

by Letty James

  Gérard gave her a sharp look. “How would you know?”

  Nikki’s gaze swept the ballroom, her heart thumping with indecision. Jessica had to be wrong about whatever she thought Gérard had done. But Jessica had good instincts. So good, she’d started a blog about charities mismanaging their funds and other problems in non-profit organizations. But the blog hadn’t been updated since Nikki had arrived in France. And there never had been any mention of Beauvais Investments or Gérard.

  “Nikki?” Gérard’s hand tightened on hers.

  “I’m sorry. What?” She inwardly cringed at the dizzy blond attitude, but she had to put him off.

  “How would you know anything about Colin McGowan?”

  “Jessica mentioned him before.” She hoped Gérard didn’t catch the slight falter in her voice.

  “When?” Gérard stopped abruptly. Nikki fell into him.

  Nikki cracked like an egg under Gérard’s steely look. “Th-this evening. Before you came into my room.”

  He took her arm and led her forcefully off the dance floor, out to a balcony overlooking the Seine. Lighted tourist boats glided along in the water. She shivered, more from Gérard’s demeanor than the cold air. Backing her into a corner, he trapped her there with one hand on either side of her, hiding their conversation from the crowd. Any passersby would see a lovers’ assignation.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it didn’t make any sense. And you’ve already had a bad day.” She touched his sleeve lightly, then let her hand drop when he didn’t respond. “Something about Milk for Africa and talking to Colin McGowan. That if you talked to him, he would be fair.”

  “Like hell, he would.”

  She jumped at his vehemence. He straightened, jaw clenched, hands fisted.

  “I tried to find out where she was, but I lost the connection.”

  He looked past her as if she wasn’t there, his mind on the problem at hand.

  “Stay here,” he barked.

  Of course she didn’t, but she gave him a few seconds lead, then followed his broad back into the ballroom. His tense posture and clenched fists were the only hint of his displeasure in front of the buffet table before he hustled McGowan into one of the rooms off the back hallway. Nikki dawdled in the hall, but couldn’t hear anything. She even pressed her ear to the door for a moment but could only make out deep rumbling tones. The door flew open and Gérard gave her a thunderous look.

  “I thought I told you to stay put.”

  Nikki raised her chin, ready for battle. “I’m not a lap dog.”

  A chuckle sounded behind Gérard. “A feisty fiancée, Beauvais? I would think you would have chosen someone more, shall we say, biddable?”

  Gérard glared at the reporter. “I have nothing more to say to you.” He grabbed Nikki’s hand and led her to the front door, where he made a gracious apology to their hostess who was still in the foyer greeting arriving guests. Aimee VonDorling tottered up on stiletto heels, her ever-present wrist bangles tinkling on her arm as she wrapped her hand around Gérard’s bicep.

  “Darling, you’re not leaving?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Rosalind thrust herself into the group. “He can’t bear to share his fiancée with the rest of us.”

  Mrs. VonDorling’s forehead rose in one smooth section. “Fiancée? Are the wedding plans a secret?”

  “There are no plans, yet,” Nikki piped up as Gérard’s grip tightened on her hand.

  A deep voice interjected. “Don’t even think of depriving us of a grand society wedding.” Colin McGowan grinned over the heads of the ladies.

  A flashbulb went off in their faces.

  “Excuse us,” gritted out Gérard as he practically dragged Nikki down the marble steps and onto the sidewalk.

  “I need to get my wrap.”

  “You didn’t like it, anyway.” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Still warm, the silk lining caressed her back and enveloped her in the smell of his soap and cologne as she buried her nose in the collar. Her heels clacked against the sidewalk in contrast to his heavier tread. The cool October air ruffled the trees around them and the tension between them increased. Nikki became hyper aware of her nakedness under her gown. What had felt like silly naughtiness before, now made her feel vulnerable. She wasn’t truly a mistress, or a fiancée, or even a girlfriend. According to Gérard’s actions, she was a woman not to be trusted. To be put on hold until her body answered the million dollar question, baby or not. She stumbled, and his hand went immediately to her elbow to support her, then dropped back to his side.

  “Do you make a habit of leaving parties after five minutes? As your fiancée, I need to know these things.” Nikki forced herself to keep her tone light.

  Gérard ran his hands through his hair, ruffling the tamed waves. He gave her a rueful grin. “You know, the announcement will be in the paper tomorrow. Along with a picture of the unhappy couple.”

  She winced at his choice of words. Not exactly the grand romance she’d dreamed of growing up.

  Chapter 14

  “You said you were giving up the TV show, so maybe we’re old news,” Nikki said.

  Gérard shrugged. “Don’t count on it.”

  They crossed the street and walked along the Seine. Few people were on the streets, giving her a sense of timelessness. For years, people had been walking these very streets with troubles of their own. Did anything really change?

  She couldn’t stand not knowing any longer. She took his hand, trying to soften the conversation she knew they needed to have. “Tell me what Jessica did.”

  He spun to a stop, glowering down at her, his hand crushing hers for an instant before releasing her. “Your sister is a thief. She stole some very important documents from me.” He stared down, into the dark water, as if he could see the answers there.

  “Jessica would never do anything illegal.” She remembered all the times Jessica had landed in jail for various causes. “Not unless she had a very good reason.”

  “How about blackmail?”

  She gasped. “No! She wouldn’t.”

  Gérard turned to her, his eyes glittering in the streetlight. “She did. She’s threatening to go public with some very sensitive information about my charitable foundation.”

  She leaned against the stone wall in disbelief. “But why?”

  He snorted. “For publicity. What else?”

  “I don’t understand. Is she extorting money from you?”

  “She might as well be. Once this gets out, I’m ruined. You think the Sanford situation is a mess? This will blow up the company entirely.” He gave her a tight smile. “Not much money will be left for that big society wedding.”

  Her gut clenched at the reminder of the charade between them. “Very funny. I don’t care about your money.” And she realized she truly didn’t. Gérard would be who he was with money or not. He had risen from orphaned bakery drudge to international multi-millionaire. He was not the type of man to give up, or give in.

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrow, his gaze straying to her ears.

  “Really!” Nikki whipped off the pearl earrings, shoving them into his pocket. Leaning against the stone retaining wall, she took off the shoes she knew cost a small fortune, lobbing them at him. He caught them deftly, of course. “These, too. You’ll have to wait until we get home for the dress.”

  He laughed. A deep hearty sound that wrapped around her like a blanket.

  “Let me help you, Gérard.” Her family and her future were in jeopardy. She had to do something.

  “No. Stay out of it.” He pulled her close, his hands going around her waist to cover her back. “You are helping. You’re helping me forget.”

  His lips met hers in a t
ender kiss that turned into something more, making liquid fire rush through her. His heat branded her as he caressed her breasts through the delicate fabric of her dress. She clutched his shirtfront, yearning for him to touch her bare skin, skin to skin, bridging the gulf between them the only way she could reach him tonight.

  “Ma petite gateaux, I would dearly love to see you strip naked in the middle of Paris.”

  “I bet you would.” She nipped his bottom lip, delighting in his moan.

  A flash of light made them jump.

  “Merde.” Gérard turned his back to the photographer and yanked Nikki in front of him. “Apparently, other people would like to see you, too.”

  Two more flashes, then the sound of a motor scooter fading.

  “How did we not hear him?” She peered around his wide frame.

  He gave her a look for that ridiculous question and motioned forward. “Come on. I’ll show you a little of the city.” He leaned down and wordlessly offered her shoes back.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s hard to walk on the cobblestones, anyway.”

  He took her hand as they crossed the river at the Pont au Change, Notre Dame soaring in the distance. Moonlight sparkled on the water underneath them. She had to say something. Despite him pushing her away, she had to help fix this.

  “I’ll talk to Jessica. I can’t imagine why she would be so vindictive. She’s not like that. She’s passionate about righting the world’s great wrongs, not hurting people. We’ll get McGowan to tell us where she is.”

  “I’ve already tried that. Stay out of it. You’re no longer at the company, remember?” He gave her a stiff smile.

  Nikki flinched. Had he deliberately removed her from Beauvais Investments when he thought she was getting to know too much about the company? Did he suspect her of colluding with her sister? Now that he had a hint of where Jessica was, she was being shunted aside. It hurt much more than she’d ever imagined.

  “Whatever this information is, why keep it a secret? Perhaps Jessica has a point. If people know what truly happened, it won’t look like Beauvais Investments is trying to hide something. Unless, of course, you did.”

  Gérard sighed, stopping at the bottom of the bridge to untie his tie and top collar button. “See? You don’t know what happened and even you’re condemning me.”

  “Then tell me. I want to understand.” She kept her voice calm, seeing the anger, and for a moment something else, on his face.

  “Why does anyone have to know? Why is it the world’s business that I screwed up? I’m trying to fix this. How is an article attacking me and my company going to make anything better?”

  She laid a hand on his sleeve and felt the muscle flex underneath. “Tell McGowan you’ll give him full access to whatever information you have in exchange for approval of the article before it runs.”

  He cursed and turned away. “It’s not that easy. I’ll handle it. Simply call me when Jessica contacts you.”

  They continued along the river bank. She tripped over the cobblestones, despite her bare feet.

  “Let me carry you,” he offered.

  “No!” They walked silently across the street, their arms brushing, but they seemed miles apart. Nikki looked up and stopped short, Notre Dame Cathedral lit up before her.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, letting her absorb the magnificence of the church.

  “It’s beautiful.” She stood awed by the Cathedral’s grand edifice.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the gargoyles.”

  The next thing she knew, they were ascending the ancient, worn steps of the tower as Gérard lit the way for her, a flashlight trained on her feet as he protectively climbed behind her.

  “How did you get a key?”

  “I make sizeable donations every year.”

  She almost teased him about charity for favors, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to think about money, or business. To have him all alone in this grand place was a memory in the making. She wouldn’t open her big mouth and ruin it.

  They crouched through a small door before exiting onto the walkway, the lights of the Cathedral’s square at their feet. She looked out and gasped at the famous gargoyles within touching distance.

  “Looks like me, oui?” Gérard mimicked a gargoyle’s protruding tongue making her laugh. He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and they took in the city lights in silence, the Eiffel Tower a beacon in the distance.

  She relaxed against his chest, feeling safe and content as he sheltered her from the brisk wind whipping her dress into froth around them both. The gargoyles loomed around them as if protecting them from the world and she wished life was as easy as this bit of fairy tale. She rubbed her hands over his as if to warm them, but really wanted to touch him, to distract herself from the tears welling in her eyes. Surely, it was the wind making them water.

  She turned in his arms and brushed her lips against his cheek, loving the warm comfort of his skin against hers.

  His face had returned to its brooding repose, so much more like the fierce gargoyles than the silly look he’d made earlier. He cupped her head in his hands, his thumbs moving over her eyebrows, her cheeks, her lips. She kissed the rough skin of his fingers, trying to elicit a smile, but instead received a kiss so gentle in return it was as if Gérard’s stony exterior had been blown into granite dust.

  He brushed aside the whipping tendrils of her hair. “The world disappears when I’m with you.” His gaze met hers and she felt a bond grow like timeless ivy around an oak. He lifted her in a bear hug as her heart expanded with love. She wrapped her arms around him and met his sweet kiss, which turned into something more as their mouths opened to explore, duel, possess. Their kisses turned frenzied as gentleness became want, then need. His hands roamed her body, pushing her against the corner of the balustrade, his arousal as hard as the stone behind her. No longer the gentle giant, this was the man she recognized—the aggressor, the conqueror.

  He tugged at her hair, freeing it from its scrap of lace and elastic. His eyes widened as he realized what he was holding. The wind whisked it out of his hands. It danced over the slate roof to disappear into the darkness of Paris. His bark of laughter jumped over the gargoyles’ backs. “Missing something, Mademoiselle Sommers?” One large hand slid over her hip, assessing the situation. “Clearly, I will have to increase your salary so you can buy the basics.” His head bent again toward hers. “Or not.”

  A gust of wind circled the tower, whipping her giggles around them as he hustled her back to the stairs. So much for mistress sophistication. The picture of what a mistress should be, versus what she truly was, were very different. She didn’t want to think about how many mistresses he’d had before. Within minutes, she was bundled into his car, which had appeared at his phoned summons, while he returned the key and flashlight. She slipped out of his jacket, the air inside the car too warm.

  She attempted to finger-comb her hair as she waited, appreciating the calm of the car after the fierce breeze outside. Crossing her legs one way, then the other, she rearranged her body countless times trying to decide how a seductress would appear. Then gave up and simply curled onto the seat. He had probably figured out by now that her feminine wiles were a bit bumbling.

  Gérard shifted on the seat, reining in his eagerness to get Nikki naked. What had possessed him to take her to the roof? He’d never taken anyone, let alone a woman, up the Tower before and so irresponsibly jeopardized his privilege. The brains God had given him had disappeared on top of the Cathedral. To let her know how much she affected him had been foolish. But her softness was like irresistible icing he wanted to savor in one long lick. Laughter and happiness spread through him when she touched him. He found himself trying to make her smile, to giggle, the sound like musical champagne to his ears.

 
Damn. Even inside his own mind, he was pathetic.

  He reached for the drink cabinet, then frowned. He couldn’t offer her a drink. Ever since this woman had entered his life, it had become damned complicated. He sighed and sat back. Then forward again and poured himself a whiskey. Without asking, he poured her an orange juice and handed it to her.

  “When will you know?” They both knew what he was talking about.

  “In about a week.”

  He watched her sip her juice. “Let me know.”

  “Of course.” She turned away, but not before he saw her eyes bright with tears. Tears he had caused.

  His gut wrenched. He ran a finger down her soft arm. “I’m sorry.”

  She sniffed. “We’re both to blame.”

  He drained his glass. “No. It is entirely my fault.”

  She turned, dabbing at her cheeks with the hem of her dress. “Not entirely, Gérard.” Giving him a shaky smile, she flung herself against him and he cuddled her close. His chest eased and he kissed the top of her head. Rain spattered against the windows as they rode in silence back to the house.

  He dismissed the staff and escorted her to her room, reluctant to part from her. “Change and come down to the kitchen. I’ll make you dinner.”

  “More toasted sandwiches?”

  “Maybe fruit and cheese.” They smiled at each other, hesitating in the dark doorway. He took her hand in his, admiring her long shapely fingers. He turned her palm up and kissed her wrist, delighting in her answering shiver.