Читать книгу Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress: Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress - Barbara Dunlop - Страница 12

Filming went on until eight o’clock that night. Alec requested dinner in his office, not wanting to inflict his foul mood on anyone else. He’d signed up as a film location—a stupid decision, obviously. But it was a decision he’d made, and now he was going to have to live with it.

Things hadn’t turned out exactly as he’d planned, but that was life. He’d leave for Tokyo in the morning. Might as well roll up his sleeves and ensure the new bicycle line launch came off without a hitch. He could also make a stop in New Delhi and touch base with the high-tech division.

There was always a long list of social events he should attend. Maybe he’d find a plain-Jane date, get his picture taken, make Kiefer happy. He might as well make somebody happy, because it sure wasn’t going to be him, not if he stayed here.

There was a light tap on his office door.

“Oui, Henri?”

The door cracked open.

“It’s Charlotte.”

Oh, good. Now he could apologize on top of everything else. He sighed and came to his feet. “Entrée.”

She slipped into the room, closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She was drop-dead gorgeous in a jazzy gold spaghetti-strap cocktail dress. Its vertical streaks shimmered against her toned thighs.

The wide, mahogany desk and two padded guest chairs formed a barrier between them. Just as well.

“They’re going to replace the driveway,” she finally said.

He moved around the desk, drawn to her. “It wasn’t about the driveway.”

She nodded her understanding. “Still. They broke it, they’ll replace it.”

“I take it you’ve been doing your job this afternoon?”

“I was.”

“I appreciate that.” What he really appreciated was that she was standing here in front of him, and they were alone for the first time in days.

“It was part of the deal.”

“I was angry because you stayed away,” he admitted, moving closer still, marveling that she grew more beautiful with each step.

“I’ve been here every day.”

“With Raine glued to your side. Where is my sister, by the way?”

“She had to do something with Kiefer.”

“At the office?”

Charlotte nodded.

Alec came to a halt in front of her. “And Jack?”

“At the hotel. With the crew.”

Tokyo faded from his mind as Alec stroked his thumb over the fabric of her dress. He discovered the shimmer came from ribbons, beads and sequins. There was a weight and fullness to the dress that felt good under his hand. It had a double hem—scalloped over straight. It was a perfect dress for dancing.

Her long legs flowed down into strappy gold sandals. And the gold hoops dangling from her ears set off her shiny blond hair.

“You know,” he told her softly, reframing his mood. “We all did something wrong.”

She tipped her head questioningly.

“You shouldn’t have stayed away. I shouldn’t have yelled. And Jack should have decked me.”

That got a smile from her. “Jack thinks you’re crazy.”

“He needs to learn how to be your brother.”

“I can only hope that doesn’t involve too many fist-fights.”

Alec closed his hand around her rib cage, feeling the texture of the dress tickle his palm.

“I missed you,” he admitted.

She closed her eyes for a long second. “Are we deep into the complicated end of the relationship spectrum?”

“It’s simple from where I’m standing.” He gazed at her creamy shoulders, the delicate straps of the dress, thinking how easy it would be to roll one off and press his lips against the warm fragrance of her skin.

“You’re gorgeous,” he elaborated. “I can’t keep my hands off you. And there’s finally nobody else here.”

He slipped his index finger under the strap, sliding it back and forth. “What could be simpler than that?”

“I came here to talk to you about expectations.”

He smiled. “I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

“I mean my job here. For the film. I don’t want to let you down again.”

“Forget it.”

She searched his expression. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I wasn’t angry about the driveway. I wasn’t angry you had fun with Raine. I was angry because you weren’t in my bed. And that’s not a fair reason to be angry.”

She stilled. Not breathing, staring up at him with desire, trepidation and anticipation all mixed up together.

His hand tightened, drawing her in. He bent his head, parted his lips and met hers in a slow, gentle exploration.

Last time had been too hurried. He’d behaved like a teenager, not giving a thought to savoring the moment, to making sure she felt cherished, to kissing her the way a Frenchman should kiss, the way a Frenchman ought to approach everything in life.

She tasted of fine wine, his own vintage. Her lips were soft and smooth, warm and malleable under his. She was kissing him back, and passion uncoiled within him. His forearm went to the small of her back, pressing her soft curves against his firm body. She was ambrosia, a gift from the gods, an angel set down on earth for him and him alone.

Her tongue flicked against his lips, kicking a jolt of desire from his body to his brain. He struggled to keep it slow, but his mouth was moving of its own accord, delving deeper, kissing harder, bending her backward so that her body arched into his own.

Blood rushed through his system, priming his body, challenging reason. Her hands gripped his shoulders, while small moans worked their way from her chest to her mouth. His lips moved to her neck, and she arched back farther. Her breasts were taut against the dress, cleavage bursting from the V-neck, her nipples outlined against the fabric.

His hand covered one breast, and they both gasped in wonder. He drew his thumb over the peak, and her knees buckled. He held her steady, whispering words of endearment and encouragement.

He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, pushing her dress out of the way and pressing her against the solid door. He took her mouth once more, kissing her deeply. His hands roamed from her breasts to her waist to her bare thighs revealed by the bunched dress. When he touched the lace of her panties, she hissed out a yes.

Her hands cupped his face, and she covered him with tiny kisses. She drew his earlobe into her hot mouth, and his body nearly jackknifed in shock. He slipped his thumb between her legs, over the silk of her panties. She was hot and moist and delectably sweet.

There were condoms in the bathroom adjoining the office. He cradled her bottom, lifting her away from the door, carrying her to the en suite, all the while kissing, caressing and assuring her she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Inside, he perched her on the counter, stripped off his slacks and the scrap of her panties, donned the condom, then stepped between her legs. The counter was the right height, and their bodies touched intimately.

He smoothed back her hair and gazed into her eyes. Then he drew his thumb along her swollen bottom lip, following it up with his mouth, drawing her lip inside, tasting her essence as his hands roamed lower.

She squirmed forward, bringing his fingers in contact with the fire between her legs. Her hands fisted in his hair, and her moaning little pants heated his ear.

He parted her flesh.

“Now?” he asked.

“Right now,” she gasped in return, and he pushed inside.

She arched back, and he anchored his hands at the base of her spine, pressing her forward, refining his angle, savoring the feel of her body for long moments before he withdrew. Then he pushed in again, swifter, harder.

Her eyes were closed, and sweat dotted her hairline. Her skin was slick and fragrant against his. Her dress rustled against the counter. He drew down the neckline, revealing her breasts, closing his mouth over one pert nipple, laving it, drawing hard, eliciting a groan as her hands tightened and her fingernails dug into his upper arms.

He moved to the other breast, repeating the motion.

Her eyes were scrunched tight. Her hips arched, her body matching his motion. He wished he could rip off the dress and see her naked. But there was no time for that.

His speed increased of its own accord, and her keening cries made his brain buzz with need. There was nothing left but a roar of desire and a primal need to take them both to the clouds and over the edge and straight into eternal paradise.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the tremors shook both of their bodies and heat drenched their skin.

Charlotte lay in the tangled sheets of Alec’s big bed. Her cheek rested on his chest, and his breathing was even and strong. A breeze flowed through the open, third-floor window, billowing sheer curtains and revealing the garden lights below.

“I guess we should probably keep this a secret,” she ventured.

“You think?” He trailed his fingertips lightly down her bare arm. “Or should we let Kiefer in with the camera?”

“Or we could hold a press conference right here in the bed like John and Yoko?”

“I can guarantee you the front page.”

She turned her head, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Seriously.”

He gazed into her eyes. “Seriously. It’s our secret.”

She nodded.

“What about Jack?”

Charlotte frowned, not understanding.

“Are you going to tell Jack?”

“No.” Her brother had never been privy to her love life before. “Are you going to tell Raine?”

Alec shrugged. “Your call.”

“She’s suspicious, you know.”

“Really?”

“After you yelled at me this afternoon, she asked if you’d made a pass at me. She thought you were mad because I’d turned you down.”

“She’s not far off the mark,” he said.

“I told her we’d kissed.” Charlotte settled more comfortably against Alec’s chest, toying with the edge of the white sheet.

“Are you going to tell her…” His voice trailed off.

Charlotte didn’t exactly know what to call it, either. A one-night stand? A fling?

But one thing she did know, she wasn’t going to get all needy on him and start demanding to know what this meant and where it was going. She’d gone into it with her eyes wide open. She knew what and who Alec was, but she’d hopped into his bed anyway.

“It’s better if she doesn’t know,” Charlotte admitted. “But I don’t want to lie to her. My grandfather—” She stopped.

She wasn’t going to start borrowing trouble here. Her grandfather didn’t need to find out. Nobody needed to find out. Unless Alec was a complete cad, and she certainly didn’t think he was, this interlude would remain locked in her heart forever.

“How long have you worked for the ambassador?” Alec asked, obviously prepared to move on.

She followed his lead. “Since I was a teenager. I started off helping in the office. Then, after college, I worked full-time. And when his executive assistant quit to get married, I stepped in temporarily.”

“When was that?”

“Three years ago. Right before I met you the first time.”

“Ahh.” He nodded. “Rome. You should have taken my key that night.”

“Right. And I’d have made the front page, scandalized my family and been fired from my job.”

Alec paused. “That’s altogether a worst-case scenario, isn’t it?”

“It’s a likely-case scenario. You nearly ruined my life.”

“Good that we waited, then.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, gathering her close. “Honestly—right now, I’m very, very glad we waited.”

Charlotte didn’t know what to say to that. He made it sound as if they’d done it deliberately, as if they’d had some kind of connection, as if they’d been thinking about each other over the past three years. Had he thought about her after Rome? Did he even remember her in the long line of women he flirted with?

She gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t going to make more of this than there was.

“Is Kiefer still worried about rumors of you and Isabella?” she asked, moving on.

“We seem to have an ally in Ridley Sinclair.”

“We do?” Charlotte hadn’t even met the man yet.

“I hear he generally has an affair with his costar.”

Interesting. “And he’s staying in the same villa as Isabella?”

Alec nodded. “That he is.”

“You think they’ll have an affair?”

“Rumor has it they already are,” said Alec. “Though that rumor may have been started by Kiefer.”

Charlotte laughed. “I think I’m starting to like Kiefer.”

“You be careful of Kiefer.” There was a serious note in Alec’s tone that caused Charlotte to twist to look him in the eyes again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Kiefer has a way with women.”

“And you don’t?” She glanced down at her naked body, the twisted sheets, the comforter that had been kicked off the bed an hour ago. If she needed to be careful of anybody here, it was Alec.

“I hear your father’s due tomorrow.” Alec changed the subject. She didn’t blame him. What more was there to say?

“I heard that Lars has a few more days of secondunit work,” said Charlotte. “But they want to start rehearsals for the major scenes.”

“Will it bother you?”

“The major scenes?” Charlotte expected it to become even more chaotic at the château. But they’d known this was coming.

“Seeing your father. Is it worse than seeing Jack?”

“It’s nowhere near the same,” said Charlotte, burrowing farther beneath the sheet to combat a growing chill from the open window.

Alec reached to the floor and retrieved the comforter, spreading it over both of them.

“Thanks.” She sighed as their body heat formed a warm cocoon.

“Your father?” Alec prompted.

“It’s funny,” she admitted. “I think I always knew David was a terrible father. Even when my mom was alive, he was never around. When she died, I honestly thought it would be Jack who took care of me.”

“How old was Jack?”

“Nine. But he seemed very worldly wise. He used to pour me juice, make me sandwiches and read me bedtime stories.” She smiled wistfully at the memory.

“And then he abandoned you.”

“No, he didn’t.” She knew none of it had been Jack’s fault. “But for years, I expected him to come and get me. I don’t know what I thought, that he’d turn eleven, get a paper route and we’d live happily ever after. Pretty absurd, huh?”

Alec straightened the comforter around her. “You were a little girl.”

“Who took a very long time to wake up to reality.”

“Do you think you might be angry with him?”

She shook her head. “I missed him. That was all.” She still missed him. She wanted a brother, and what she had was an acquaintance.

“Tell me about you and Raine.” Charlotte knew she should go back to her own room before anyone else got home, but she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want it to end just yet. “Did you protect her? Tease her? Gang up with her against your parents?”

Alec chuckled. “I was Raine’s worst night—”

A deafening boom shook the château. Orange flames lit up the sky. Alec instantly threw himself on top of Charlotte, bracing her protectively against the bed.

“What the hell?” he ground out, glancing to the window behind him.

Charlotte blinked at the fire, smoke and ash rising toward the dark sky.

“You okay?” he demanded.

Her ears were ringing, and she’d experienced an adrenaline shot strong enough to stun an ox, but she nodded jerkily.

Alec sprang from the bed, crossing to the window while he stuffed his legs into his slacks. “Good God. One of the trailers is on fire.”

“It blew up?” Charlotte stated the obvious as she clambered out of bed herself, glancing around for her dress and shoes.

He dialed his cell phone with one hand, pulling his dress shirt on with the other as he headed for the bedroom door. There, he paused. “Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” she called. She could hear sirens in the distance, and people were shouting down on the lawn.

She prayed that nobody had been hurt. But the sirens were getting closer, and the shouts were getting louder. She struggled into her dress and into her shoes, then she clattered down the stairs to find out if she could help.

The front lawn looked like a disaster zone. Staff members and crew rushed to the aid of those lying on the ground. Alec was in the middle, shouting to his staff to bring blankets and first aid, while helping the gardeners to set up hoses to soak the semitrailers and a small cottage that were next to the fire.

Charlotte stopped, unsure of what to do.

She glanced at the man next to her. His face was black with soot, and he was cradling his left arm, his sleeve covered in blood.

“You’re hurt,” she stated, moving closer.

He looked down at his arm. “It’s just a cut.”

“Anything else?” She gingerly supported him on the uninjured side, helping him to the porch where he could sit down.

“It was the FX trailer,” he rasped.

She separated the torn sleeve, revealing a long, deep cut on his forearm.

“They were getting the pyrotechnics ready for the battle scene.” The man seemed to be in shock.

Charlotte’s gaze shifted involuntarily to the burning trailer. Alec was silhouetted against the flames. The fire trucks arrived, and he signaled them forward, clearing people out of their path as the firefighters jumped down and began connecting hoses.

If anybody had been inside…

A member of the housekeeping staff appeared, and Charlotte quickly latched on to a couple of towels and a bottle of water. She soaked one towel, carefully cleaning around the wound. Then she pressed the other towel against the cut, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked.

The man barely shook his head, his attention fixed on the firefighters and the approaching ambulances.

The attendants ran to a couple of people lying on the ground, and Charlotte wasn’t sure whether she should flag them down.

“I can wait,” the man said, guessing her thoughts.

“Are you sure?” The towel was soaking up a lot of blood.

“Charlotte?” It was Raine’s voice.

Charlotte looked into Raine’s stark expression.

“What happened? We just got back—”

“Can you get us a paramedic?”

Raine’s gaze jumped to the injured man. “Of course.”

She scooted across the lawn in her skirt and high heels. She stopped a woman in uniform and pointed to Charlotte. The woman grabbed a black case and trotted toward them.

“Thank you,” said Charlotte as the woman knelt down.

“I’m fine,” said the man.

“Let’s take a quick look,” said the attendant, swiftly removing the towel.

She opened the case and retrieved gauze, disinfectant and medical tape.

“I’ll be sending you in for some stitches,” she told the man.

He simply nodded, looking exhausted.

“What happened?” Raine repeated.

“The FX trailer blew up,” Charlotte told her.

Raine’s voice went hushed. “Anybody inside?”

Charlotte looked to the ambulance attendant.

The woman shrugged.

“We made it out,” said the man, and all three women looked at him.

“We…” His eyelids fluttered rapidly, and the blood drained from his face.

“Mon dieu.” The attendant quickly laid him prone, raising his feet. “Shock,” she told them, then lifted her radio mic. “Etienne? Can you bring a stretcher?”

Her radio crackled something unintelligible in response.

“Have you seen Alec?” asked Raine as the stretcher clattered toward them.

“He was hosing down buildings.” Charlotte peered into the gloom. The trailer was beaten down to a glowing pile of rubble. The other trailers and the shed were still standing. The lawn was a mud bog, and the surrounding flower beds were completely in ruins.

Charlotte’s stomach turned hollow. She was causing the destruction of Alec’s home. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered.

“Freak accident,” said Raine, gazing around.

The man with the stretcher came to a halt.

“Fatalities?” asked the female attendant, attracting Charlotte and Raine’s attention.

The man shook his head. “It sounds like there were three people in the trailer. They all got out. One broken arm. One concussion. Some superficial burns. And this one.” He nodded to the man who was still unconscious on the porch.

“He’ll need some stitches. We should start an IV and get a blood-pressure reading.”

The two counted off, hoisting the man onto the stretcher, securing straps and hooking up tubes.

“He’s going to be fine,” the female attendant told Charlotte.

“Thank you.” Too bad the same couldn’t be said for Alec’s front yard.

“It’s not your fault,” said Raine as they wheeled the man away.

“I promised him nothing would go wrong.”

“Did you set off the explosion?”

“No.”

“Then Alec will understand.”

Charlotte watched Alec talking to the fire chief. His hands were waving, his face contorted and he was talking fast and emphatically. He didn’t look as if he understood much of anything.

“We can replant the flowers,” said Raine. “Haul away the rubble.”

“Fire me,” said Charlotte with a sigh of defeat. She really didn’t want to face Alec’s anger, particularly after she’d seen such a very different side of him.

“You’re a volunteer,” Raine pointed out. “I don’t think we can fire you.”

“Do you think he’ll back out of the deal?” Butterflies formed in Charlotte’s stomach as Alec started toward them, eyes hard, mouth pulled in a grim line.

“I think we’re about to find out,” said Raine.

Charlotte moved slightly closer to Raine for protection as Alec marched ominously toward them. Her heart rate seemed to increase with every step he took. His hands were dirty, his clothing soaked to his skin, and his face was streaked with soot and sweat.

He looked ruggedly sexy. Except for the scowl. Okay, even with the scowl, he looked sexy. She was hopeless.

He came to a halt. “No one was seriously hurt.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Charlotte.

Alec’s eyes narrowed, and she assumed it was going to take a whole lot more than an apology.

“Do they know what happened?” asked Raine.

“Some kind of electrical malfunction with the pyrotechnics. It’s going to put them behind schedule.” He glanced around in disgust, and Charlotte figured the movie schedule was hardly his first concern.

He looked to Charlotte. “Can I talk to you alone?”

“It’s not her fault,” Raine jumped in.

Alec gave his sister a look that questioned her sanity.

Charlotte supposed it was her fault. And she didn’t blame Alec for being angry. She was ready to face the music. But she was sorely disappointed at having let the Hudsons down.

Alec reached for her arm, then he seemed to remember his filthy hands, because he pulled back, nodding toward a quiet corner of the porch.

“I feel terrible,” she began as soon as they were out of earshot. “I should have thought about security. I should have thought about safety—”

“I need to ask,” said Alec, coming to a halt, turning to face her. He didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked concerned.

“What?” she asked bravely, watching his expression closely.

“What happened earlier—between us.”

Ahh. Now she got it. She shifted gears. This was the it-was-a-good-time speech, the we’re-both-adults speech, the no-expectations speech.

Okay. She was prepared for that. They were both adults, and neither of them were under any illusions.

Charlotte squared her shoulders. “You don’t have to say it, Alec. I understand. And I agree with you completely.” They’d go on as if nothing had happened. If he’d let them stay and complete the movie, that was a huge win for her. She wasn’t going to sit around and cry over a one-night stand.

Well, maybe she’d cry a bit. But only because it was such an incredible one-night stand. It would have been nice for it to be two nights or three. But that wasn’t the way Alec operated. Or so she’d read in the tabloids.

“You agree with me?” he asked.