Читать книгу Propositioned Into A Foreign Affair / Seduced Into A Paper Marriage - Catherine Mann, Maureen Child - Страница 11

Bella faced her rescuer. Her very hot rescuer.

Muscular Sam Garrison dominated the corridor outside his office with the same authority he reputedly brought to the boardroom. She tried to distance herself by looking at him with a more analytical eye.

His chestnut-brown hair was trimmed military short, his gray gaze more like piercing steel. He appeared strong enough to take on anyone, anywhere, but even with the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled up, he didn’t look the sort to dirty his hands with this type of work often. Everything from his perfect haircut to his high-end loafers shouted privilege.

“Thanks bunches for your help with that reporter.” She fisted her hand on the sheet, securing the scant covering, and thrust her other hand out to shake. “I’m Bella Hudson.”

Sure he probably already knew who she was. Most people recognized her on sight, thanks to all the prepublicity for Honor. Posters with her face were plastered all over the U.S., U.K. and France. But it seemed rude to assume someone already knew who she was. Besides, she liked life to be as normal as possible.

Well, as normal as it could be for a girl sprinting around in nothing more than a sheet as she escaped a rabid reporter.

“I know who you are.” He extended his hand. “Sam Garrison.”

“I know who you are,” she echoed, her hand sliding into his callused grip, enfolded in heat, hidden from sight by the size of his hold.

Oh, boy.

Any hopes of staying aloof scampered away like leaves in the fall wind. Not that she felt cold. Nooo. Heat tingled up her fingers, infusing warmth through her veins from tip to toe. Too much. She’d come here to escape these sorts of feelings, damn it.

Bella snatched her hand back. “Uh, so,” she shifted from bare foot to foot, “where did a rich dude like you learn street-fighting moves like that?”

The hotel mogul Garrisons were reputed to be worth more than even her family, who’d made their money from Hudson Studio’s box-office hits. From European boarding schools to holidays in Fiji, she hadn’t exactly grown up without means, but the Garrisons had wealth that ran deeper with houses around the world. They had a Rolls Royce lifestyle all the way.

“Wealthy people don’t know how to fight?” He urged her through his office door into the empty reception area, out of the hallway and away from possible onlookers who might straggle through even after regular work hours.

“That’s what bodyguards are for.” She just hadn’t expected to need one inside a Garrison Grande spa, for crying out loud.

“I fight my own battles—always have.” His steely eyes went harder for a flash before he smiled.

Suddenly she felt very, very alone with him since everyone else must have clocked out for the night. That left her alone with Sam Garrison in the lush reception area leading to his office just beyond the open door. Alone with a very sexy male at a time when by all rights she should be swearing off any guy, much less this one, a known ladies’ man.

She’d met him briefly a few times in the past since the Hudsons and Garrisons frequented many of the same fund-raisers, parties and galas. It was a part of the whole networking game for their high-powered families to be seen in all the right places.

Sure she’d registered he was handsome in the past, but given he was nearly ten years older than her, he’d been out of her range before. What made him so much more compelling tonight? All he’d done was clothesline a reporter.

A shiver of excitement tripped up her spine.

She kept her expression bland—thank goodness for those acting skills of hers. The rogue attraction must be a by-product of raw and vulnerable emotions after her breakup. Not to mention the shock of learning about her uncle and her mother’s long-ago affair.

All the more reason to retreat to her room for a bubble bath. Far, far away from any man until she had her equilibrium back. “Thanks again for coming to my rescue. Now how can I get back to my room without flashing the entire lobby?”

“My apologies for this mess.” He knelt to scoop up Muffin then crossed to tuck the dog back into the carrier. Had he even heard her question? “We pride ourselves on privacy for our clientele. Rest assured the breach in security will be investigated and addressed.”

“It’s all right.” Stepping on the edge of the sheet, she kicked her foot free and shuffled across to take Muffin’s carrier from Sam. “I certainly don’t enjoy being hounded by the press, but I understand it’s the price I pay for having been born into this family and doing the job I love. Most of the time it’s okay.” She paused to clear the hitch in her throat. “I’m just having an especially tough month.”

He kept his hand on top of the dog carrier, preventing her from picking it up. “Then please give me a chance to make your month take a turn for the better.”

Whoa, hold on there, buster. She backed a step from the gleam in his eyes, her heel sinking deep into the lush carpet. “Getting me some clothes to wear would certainly help. I don’t even want to risk going out into the hall.”

“I have an elevator right through there in my office that will take us straight up to my suite.” He stepped closer. “My staff can deliver your clothes there, and dinner, too.”

“Dinner?” she squeaked.

He didn’t push nearer this time. He simply smiled, his steely, gray eyes glinting with appreciation. “Our chef is internationally known. I will instruct him to make anything you request.”

What about a hamburger to go? Because she should run, run, run. Run back to her penthouse for more spinsterish plans—watching a chick flick with Muffin, her third in as many days. Where again she would probably cry her eyes out. Where—yet again—she would see the beautiful French sunrise all by her lonesome.

How flipping pathetic. She needed something to jar her out of that sad routine. She needed to prove she wasn’t falling apart.

She eased her grip on the dog carrier and reassessed Sam Garrison. Perhaps he could provide just the distraction she really needed tonight. And it wasn’t like there was a chance in hell she would fall for any smooth talker’s charms again. Anything that happened between the two of them would be her choice with her eyes wide open.

Bella secured her sheet and straightened her shoulders. “Does your cook make doggie treats?”

He’d lured her to his suite.

With a gourmet meal, a little persuasion and a bit of luck, he would lure her into his bed as well.

Sam sampled the remains of his chardonnay while Bella sat across from him at the intimately small table in the alcove overlooking the moonlit water. Candlelight flickered, casting an ivory glow over her face.

She’d swapped her sheet for a voluminous white robe bearing the hotel’s crest on the pocket. Clothes would show up soon—but not too soon. He hadn’t seen the need to rush and risk her leaving before he had a chance to persuade her to stay.

The leftovers of their meal remained on the table and antique serving cart. He’d sent away their server after the hotel employee had unveiled the duck in a black currant sauce.

Bella hadn’t even blinked. She’d been too busy eating. He liked a woman who enjoyed her food. He’d wondered if the world-class cuisine would be wasted on an anorexic Hollywood type who dined only on watercress and wine.

He had the wine part right.

She alternated sips of his cellar’s best with tastes from the wooden board filled with samples of cheeses and fruit. Her face bore the smile of a content woman.

Even her dog was happily snoozing on a pile of gold tasseled pillows on the sofa after snacking on the baked puppy treats his chef had whipped up.

Bella dabbed the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “This was all amazing. Far more relaxing than even a massage.” She reached for her wineglass beside the single rose in a vase. The neck of her robe parted slightly to reveal the creamy curves of her breasts. “It’s just what I needed after a real bitch of a month.”

She had mentioned that in the hall earlier as well. He knew the look of a woman burning to vent and the more she talked, the longer she would stay. Conveniently, that would give him more time to win her over.

He set aside his drink, focusing his total attention on her so she could tell her celebrity tale of woe. An unflattering photo? A former friend spilling lies for a payoff? “Why has your month been so terrible?”

She hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “You must be the only person on the planet who hasn’t read a newspaper.”

“Gossip magazines you mean?” He spit out the words. “I stay away from them.”

“Smart man. I wish my job allowed me that luxury.” She downed half the remaining fine wine as if it were nothing more than water. A bracing breath later, she continued, “My grandmother has breast cancer, my boyfriend dumped me and my uncle’s really my dad.”

He whistled low and long. Not what he’d expected at all. “That is one helluva month.”

She glanced up from her drink. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not offering platitudes that really don’t fix anything.” She set her crystal stemware back on the table. “I prefer a no B.S. attitude.”

He simply nodded, refilling her glass. He hadn’t realized the family matriarch—Lillian Hudson—was battling for her life. Lillian was somewhat of a legend around France, her homeland until she met and married a young American soldier during WWII. “This is your grandmother you made the movie about?”

“Yes. Since my grandfather died thirteen years ago, Grandmere—I’m the only one to call her Grandmere, actually, but that’s besides the point.” Bella paused to sip her wine. “She’s made it her mission to bring their wartime love story to the big screen. We were afraid she couldn’t live long enough, but with the film making its debut in a week on Christmas day, it looks like she’ll have her wish. She’s weak, but hanging on. This project has come together in time to celebrate the sixtieth anniversary of Hudson Studios. It’s perfect timing.”

“It must have been tough playing your grandmother in the movie, especially now.” He didn’t keep up with Hollywood bios, but he seemed to recall that while Bella Hudson had made great strides in independent films she’d yet to achieve a breakout role.

She toyed with her napkin, twisting it tight. “People think my casting was some kind of family gift, but I had to fight to get that part. And I’m so glad I got the chance. Making a movie about my grandparents’ World War II romance was an honor—all the more fitting since the movie itself is called Honor. Are you familiar with their story?”

“Only what I’ve read in news releases about the movie.” He lied a bit, but hearing her sexy voice stoked his senses. And talking about her grandparents softened the strained edges around her eyes.

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?”