Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair: Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair

He suspected the telling would relax her far more than any wine and he most definitely wanted to make Bella feel at home.

She eased back into her chair, toying with the stem on her wineglass. “My grandfather was a U.S. soldier when he met my grandmother here in France. She was a struggling cabaret performer. They secretly married. After the war, he brought her back to the States. My grandfather Charles founded a movie studio so Grandmere Lillian could bring her talents to the big screen. He made her a legend and she made his fledgling studio a huge success. It’s a fairy-tale story.” Her eyes sparkled more than the crystal in the candlelight.

“Sounds like you have romance in your genes.”

Her smile faded fast. She rose from her chair, taking her drink with her as she turned her back to him and crossed to the window, boats bobbing in the busy French port outside.

“My belief in romance took a serious hit recently.” Her voice trembled. “My mother had an affair with her husband’s brother. My parents have split up as a result. I always thought they had such a great marriage and now everything has come crumbling down.”

He shoved back his chair and walked over to her, stopping an inch shy of touching her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, fiery spirit replacing any tears in her eyes. “I’m not sure why I’m spilling my guts to you this way.”

“Maybe you just needed to tell someone rather than having the press tell it all for you.”

She tossed her head, her hair a flame-red contrast against the white robe. “Perhaps.”

The exotic perfume of her shampoo mingled with the scent of the massage oil slicking her skin. His body stirred in response, but he could control himself.

The payoff would be worthwhile for both of them if she decided to stay—and it needed to be her decision. “I’m afraid I don’t have any reassuring words to offer you, Bella. My Garrison cousins are all jumping on the marriage bandwagon, but I’m still a cynical soul when it comes to tying the knot.”

She laughed low, her eyes lingering on his face a second longer than casual interest. “Did your parents have a crummy marriage, too?”

He slid around to stand beside her, leaning one shoulder on the picture window overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. He normally didn’t roll out his life story for strangers, not that his private life was any secret after the way the press raked his mother over the coals. Anything he said, Bella could find out on her own.

So why not use those same facts to wrangle his way a little closer to her? It wasn’t like any of the information upset him anymore.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her too soon and risk spooking her. “My parents never had a marriage at all. My father was a scam artist looking to hook up with a wealthy Garrison. Mom fell for him at first, got pregnant, but wised up before actually tying her life to the jerk.”

Her hand fluttered to rest on his arm. “I’m sorry, for your mother and for you.”

“No loss on my part. He’s an ass. He tried to get custody of me once, but everyone knew he was only interested in the trust fund that came with me. The courts threw out his case once three women showed up with marriage licenses bearing my dad’s name.”

“He’d been married before?”

“But never divorced.”

“Ouch,” she gasped. “Your father was a bigamist?”

“Big time.” This wasn’t something he talked about, but if sharing it would gain him traction in winning over Bella, then why not? He’d long ago hardened himself to the facts that made up his parentage. “Mom was forty-one, single, pregnant and hounded by the press.”

Her eyes went wide. “Your mother was forty-one when she had you? From the way you told the story I thought she was younger.”

His mother had once told him that she hated being a cliché most of all—the old maid taken in by a younger Lothario. Sam hated most of all that the press had hammered home that image to his mother. They’d made her life miserable to the point she’d become a recluse, living in a barrier island bungalow off the coast of Southern Florida.

He stared back at young and vibrant but too vulnerable Bella. Would the media wear her down? Or would she develop Teflon defenses over time?

And speaking of relationships and breakups…“You mentioned an ex-boyfriend.”

She looked down and away, out the window again. “My costar in Honor. Ridley the Rat.”

He stroked a strand of her hair back over her shoulder, leaving his hand there, caressing the inside curve of her neck. “Ridley the Rat, huh? I’m glad he’s out of the picture.”

Bella studied him through narrowed eyes, but she didn’t pull away. “Your empathy factor is sadly lacking.”

He slid his fingers into her hair, cupping her head. “But my attraction factor is not. Ridley the Rat is an idiot.”

“Oh.” Her pupils widened and she swayed closer toward him in unmistakable attraction.

Enough dancing around the subject. Time to let her know how much she affected him and see if she felt the same. He dipped his head and skimmed his mouth over hers. Her breathy sigh, and the downward glide of her eyelashes encouraged him.

He traced the seam of her lips until she parted for him and finally her hands slipped up his arms to rest on his shoulders. A jolt of desire shot through him, instantaneous. Undeniable. He deepened the kiss, stroked, searched, learned the taste and feel of her.

She edged closer to him, returning his kiss with an enthusiasm that made him hard with desire. Her soft curves grazed his chest, her fluffy robe warm from her heat. He could keep pushing the point and he was fairly certain she would follow him all the way into his bedroom a simple door away. Her response indicated as much. But he needed to hear her total, unreserved surrender.

Sam eased his mouth from hers, his hands sliding down her back to loop loosely around her waist. He watched her, waiting for her to open her eyes again.

Finally, her lashes fluttered open again, her blue gaze passion glazed. “Wow.”

Yeah, “wow” pretty much summed it up. He wasn’t sure what it was about her kiss that sent him so high so fast, but this woman packed a hell of a punch to his libido. He didn’t want to think overlong how much a simple kiss rocked him. He gathered up his shaky control and focused on winning her over for what he wanted most.

More.

More of her.

Tonight.

“Wow,” she said again, her voice steadier this time.

He glided his knuckles along her jaw, the silky feel of her skin making him ache all the way to his teeth. He wanted to discover if she felt this good all over. “My eyes followed you more than once at parties we both attended over the years. But you don’t need me to tell you what a gorgeous woman you are when there are magazine covers devoted to stroking your ego.”

“I hardly know you.” Yet her face dipped toward his touch. “You’re polite and this dinner was lovely, but I’m not even sure I like you.”

“Ah, but do you want me?”

Three

Bella gripped the edge of the winter-cool windowsill to keep from falling straight into Sam’s muscular arms. Even the romantic Marseille skyline twinkling beyond the pane seemed to be special-ordered for seduction. With the power of his kiss still zinging through her veins, she couldn’t deny the obvious to him, much less to herself.

She wasn’t sure why he affected her so much, so quickly. She didn’t like to think of herself as shallow, falling into bed with a man because of his looks. But then hadn’t she done just that with Ridley?

God, even thinking of how easily he’d tossed her aside still hurt. Ridley had said he loved her. He’d even discussed getting married. All lies, lies she hadn’t seen through because she’d been too caught in the romantic air of filming her grandparents’ story. She’d been ripe for the picking when Ridley showered her with his flowery charm.

Apparently he was an even better actor than she’d given him credit for.

She scrubbed memories of him from her brain. Thoughts of him now, while she was with Sam, felt disloyal somehow. For tonight, in this moment, she would be totally with this man, a man who issued bold, blunt statements of fact rather than fake, empty, flattery.

Yes, she wanted Sam. Yes, she needed something to ease the pain inside her and it seemed being with him might help her forget for at least a night. But no way could she let him think she was a total pushover.