Mistress for a Month

“Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“No.”

“Excellent. I can be there as soon as you can be ready.”

“But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I don’t really object to that,” he teased. “I could bring dinner over, and we could stay in. You could wear…nothing. I wouldn’t mind. I swear.”

She laughed. “You are terrible.”

“So I’ve been told.” He laughed. “What do you want, chérie?”

If she wanted lessons in love from an expert, she should say, “You.” She should say, “Yes! Yes!”

“Fortnam and Masons is only two blocks away. If I could just pop over there…”

“I particularly liked your dress this afternoon.”

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” he said in a dark, eager tone that sent a chill through her.

“Me, too,” she responded in a voice that was probably too low for him to hear.

When he hung up, she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and drew a slow, deep breath. Just talking to him made her feel sexy and daring.

She exhaled a long, shaky breath. And then another. Oh, my God. She was so excited she’d held her breath almost the entire phone call.

Deep down she knew that if she were smart and practical, she would return to Honolulu and regroup. No way should she fly to France to negotiate with his agents or his family about the vineyard or even think about the Matisse until she had her head on straight. If she were smart and practical she would tell him she knew who he was and ask him to leave her alone.

But despite everything she’d read about him, or maybe because of it, she wanted to go out with Remy. Which was crazy.

He’d tricked her!

But he’d been charming, devastatingly charming. And he had not pressed his advantage, she told herself.

Not yet, anyway.

Her mind warred with itself, but soon the hunger for adventure with a dangerous, incredibly attractive man won out over good sense and logic.

He was a comte. Despite his many faults, that would cut a lot of ice chunklets with her shallow mother and brilliant sister. Definitely, he was a win-win.

Now all she had to do was to find a sexy red dress!

Three

Is nothing more tempting than the bad and the forbidden? Now that Amy knew who Remy was, he fairly oozed danger with every white smile and seductive touch.

Maybe that was why the evening with him was one of the most desperately wonderful evenings of her life. Not that she wasn’t bothered by what she’d read about him or by her plan not to let on that she knew.

Her senses were heightened to an extreme state of agitation when she looked out her living-room window as she was putting up her hair in a clip and saw him at the end of the block, striding up Duke Street with a single white rose. When he rang the bell, her throat closed as if a fist circled it. She tore the clip out of her hair and ran to the door.

As he handed her the long-stemmed rose, did she only imagine that his expression was darker and more haunted than it had been earlier? Then their eyes touched, and he smiled. As she sniffed the delicate blossom, he stepped across the threshold.

“I needed this tonight,” he murmured as he gazed at her. “You’ll never know how much. You’re like a breath of fresh air.”

He wore the look of a hunted man, and she imagined he must have read the ugly publicity, too. Did he have a conscience, after all?

When she turned around, he gasped. “You look beautiful.”

“I don’t usually shop in expensive stores,” she said, feeling pleased with the flirty red dress and silver strappy sandals that made his intense gaze linger until her skin heated.

Tonight he looked very masculine and elegant in black.

“You don’t look like the same playful girl I watched buying silky, see-through knickers in the flea market this afternoon.”

Blushing at the memory, she held up her new bag.

“Very nice,” he said.

The ensemble had cost a fortune, but as she’d stared at herself in her bedroom mirror, she’d been thrilled with the beautiful girl she barely recognized. For the first time she’d thought she was almost as beautiful as Carol.

“Are those shoes comfortable?”

“Naturellement.”

“But can you walk in them?”

She pranced back and forth in front of the sofas as she had in front of her mirror earlier just to prove she could.

“Wow!”

She picked up her hair clip and coiled her hair high on her head. When she secured it, he whispered, “Better down.”

She removed the clip again, and he smiled as her hair fell about her shoulders again. “Much better.”

She bit her lip and set the clip on a low table.

“What do you say we take a walk first?” he asked.

“First let me find a vase for the rose.”

Later in the gloaming twilight when he took her hand and led her across the Millennium Bridge, she enjoyed the warmth of his long fingers entwined with hers and enjoyed the feeling that for the moment, no matter what their differences, she belonged with him.

A young couple was letting their preschool children dash about blowing bubbles. Remy’s indulgent grins made her smile. Did he like children as much as she did?

The captain of a small motorboat looked up and waved gaily at the children and their parents. The children stopped blowing bubbles when gulls and a lone pelican swooped low over the gray, churning waters.