He smiled. 'In a different way from you and me, Alicia. Isabelle is a possession-oriented woman. She liked the idea of possessing me. But only as her latest acquisition. Only to show off to her friends.'
'To be the woman who caught the Last of the Great French Lovers, you mean?' Alicia studied him soberly, her jealousy of Isabelle dying instantly. 'Yes, that must have become quite a cross for you to bear.'
He made a wry face. 'I was nicknamed that when I was very young. It stuck. By the time I was old enough to realise quite what a nuisance it was—it was too late.' He gave a cool laugh, shrugging broad shoulders. 'I'll be the Last of the Great French Lovers till the day I die. There's nothing I can do about it.'
'Well,' she said softly, looking at him through her lashes, 'I must admit, you certainly live up to it!'
He looked down at her with a smile. 'Do I, cherie?' he said under his breath, and lowered his dark head as her heart began to thud faster. His hard mouth closed over hers in a kiss that made her heart burn with slow excitement and the power of love.
She was breathless when he drew away, her eyes blazing. 'Jean-Marc...'
'I've waited so long to hear you say my name like that!' he whispered, staring into her face. 'You make my life so complete, Alicia.'
'I love you,' she said with feeling.
He kissed her again, said thickly, 'Think of what we can do together. How exciting our lives will be when they're joined, and how richly fulfilling. I love everything about you. I can't wait to know you utterly, to hear you talk every night, tell me what you've done, what you plan to do.' He smiled. 'We'll be able to tell each other how busy and exciting life is... and make love, hold hands, grow old together.'
'You still want me to design Dominique's wedding?' she asked huskily.
'Of course!' he said, dark brows lifting. 'I want you to keep working, for as long as you want to.'
'I'd be bored silly if I stopped working,' she admitted, smiling. 'I love to feel all those cylinders going!'
His smile understood and loved her. 'But you must stop,' he said, 'when you get pregnant.'
A quiver of violent emotion ran over her face and she felt Jean-Marc slide his strong hands possessively down to her belly, making her say in a hoarse whisper, 'Oh, God, children...' her eyes blazed with love '... your children!'
'Our children!' he said, his eyes intense. 'And just think of what they'll be like, cherie!'
Her face sobered. 'They might not be like either of us, darling. They might just be themselves.'
He studied her, grey eyes lit with love. 'You're right,' he said deeply. 'We must never make any of them feel they don't belong. But maybe one of them will be like us, Alicia. Maybe a son. Maybe he'll become President of France or --'
'How many children are you planning to have?' she asked, laughing.
'As many as you want to give me,' he said huskily, and kissed her.
Her eyes moved over his strong face. 'I'd give you the moon and stars for your birthday, Jean-Marc. You changed my life completely. You made me real again. You made me capable of love and of trust.' Her voice shook with the realisation of how much he had given her. 'If you asked me for a hundred children, I'd give them, because nothing could ever repay the debt I owe you.'
'Alicia,' he said, 'I love you. There is no debt. There's only the future. And personally,' his gaze dropped to her full red mouth, 'I can't wait to rush into it.'
His mouth closed over hers, and she twined her arms around his strong neck, filled with love, her naked skin next to his, their bodies beginning the slow blend until they were one person, and she knew this was what she had waited her whole life for: her other half.
Last of the Great French Lovers Page 15