February (Calendar Girl #2) (2 page)

“Now, your question, about mirror images?”

I nodded and bit my lip. He lifted a hand and with one finger traced the center of my face from the hairline at my forehead, over my nose, down between my lips and stopping at my chin. A shiver rippled through me at his heated touch, or was it the sultry way he looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Wes looked at me like that. Hell, Wes made me
feel
that way. A pang of guilt needled at me, but I shoved it away. Wes and me, we were not an item. Friends with benefits absolutely…with the hope of more. One day. Maybe. Not today.

“If you cut your face down the middle here,” he traced my face again with the pad of his finger, his eyes seemingly lost in his task, “each side would mirror the other.”

I frowned. “So would anyone’s.”

His hand cupped my cheek, long fingers twining through the dark tresses to cup the back of my nape. “Yes,
ma jolie
, but they would not be symmetrical. Your face, it’s
perfection
. Equal on both sides. Neither better nor worse than the other. It’s unusual. Astonishing. You are unique,” Alec’s faced dipped close and he pressed a warm kiss to each cheek. “Tomorrow, we start work,
oui
? Today, you rest.” He placed my swollen ankle onto the ottoman after setting a pillow under it. “I must work now,” he said moving around as if he was already distracted by the tasks ahead.

Interesting guy, Alec Dubois.

***

For the entire afternoon, not willing to brave the stairs up to the loft on one leg, I hobbled around, took a nap on the couch, called my best friend, Ginelle, and checked in with Aunt Millie. Both Gin and Aunt Millie found it hysterical that I’d twisted my ankle and was stuck at the mercy of a hot French artist guy. Gin called me a lucky bitch and Aunt Millie just ended her call with a “Have fun doll-face.”

The door of the elevator dinged, and I could hear the metal scraping as the gates were opened. I couldn’t see anything from my position on the couch, but I didn’t have to wait long. Alec strode through the room carrying crutches and a white takeout bag that smelled deliciously like Chinese food. Without delay, Alec set the food on the coffee table, leaned the crutches on the side of the couch, then came to my side where he sat.

Before I could open my mouth he’d cupped both sides of my neck, his thumbs on the apples of my cheeks where he proceeded to kiss each cheek. His lips were warm and left an impression long after he’d moved back to stare into my eyes. “How are you,
ma jolie
?”

“Uh, fine, I guess,” I blinked and he smiled. “What does
ma jolie
mean?”

Alec’s lips curved at the edge as he cocked his head to the side. His hand reached out and pushed a lock of my hair away from my forehead, past my temple and behind my ear. The air around us was thick, filled with the promise of something I couldn’t yet name. “It translates to ‘my pretty’ in English.”

“Oh, okay,” I whispered not capable of looking away from those tawny-colored eyes.

“Hungry?” he asked, his Rs rolling delectably.

I nodded. My throat felt dry as I watched him stand, enter the kitchen and bring back some plates and serving utensils before coming back to sit too close to me. One entire side of his body was plastered against mine. If I moved away, it would be obvious, and I didn’t want to make another bad impression on my new client, so instead I endured his warmth. And his scent. That smell would be my demise. It was a mixture of fresh paint and Hugo Boss. The only reason I even knew that scent was because I’d once worked as a spray girl in the local shopping mall in Vegas. They had me spraying all kinds of crap. So much so you left working smelling like a bag of potpourri. Hugo Boss had a yummy male smell that seemed to arrow through my nostrils and land bullseyed between my legs.

With effort, I tried to scooch over a bit. Alec just looked at me and winked then finished plating the Chow Mein and Kung Pao. “I hope you like Chinese food,” he offered the plate to me.

I gripped it greedily, brought it close my face, closed my eyes, and inhaled the heavenly mix of chicken, sauces and noodles steaming on the plate. The food smelled so good my mouth watered, and I moaned then dug in. When I looked up, Alec had stopped plating his own food and was staring at me. What I saw almost made me choke. Those eyes of his were blazing hot, his lust plainly visible. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“You are startlingly beautiful.” He touched the side of my cheek and cupped it. Inadvertently, I curved my face further into his palm, sealing the connection. It had only been a few days, but I missed a man’s touch. Alec traced my bottom lip with his thumb then his voice turned husky.
“Tu est le cadeau de Dieu au monde.”

“What does that mean?”

“‘God’s gift to the world.’ That’s what you are. And I intend for everyone to glory in such a gift.”

A gift. Alec thinks I’m a gift to the world. A beautiful one.

I wasn’t able to respond. Not when he set aside the making of his dinner. Not when he took my plate and set it on the table. Not when he leaned into my space until we were a scant couple inches apart. But I did respond the moment my frazzled brain registered his kiss.

Warm, supple, and sweet. His lips brushed mine before he sucked in my bottom lip and ran his tongue along the sensitive tissue. That was as far as it got before I gripped his neck and pulled him further into me. My fingers tunneled into his hair. When I encountered a hair tie, that just wouldn’t do. I pulled on that tie until it snapped and lemon-scented, thick hair tumbled in waves against my cheeks, shrouding our kiss in the haven of his luscious locks.  Alec cupped my chin and turned my head to the side, sliding his tongue in and out, learning what made me tick, moan, and bite. And I did. Bite that is. I nipped at his lips like a starving animal would a steak. He didn’t seem to mind. At one point, I was pretty certain he growled—yes, growled—into the kiss taking it impossibly deeper.

Excitement roared through my body, and I tensed, wanting to bring Alec closer, needing him to be. As I was trying to lean back on the couch so he could get on top of me, he pulled back. His forehead rested against mine. “
Très jolie fille,
” he whispered in the language that was quickly becoming a major turn-on. Not that it wasn’t before, but after having his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his words caressed along my senses as easily as I imagined his touch would. With purpose, with desire, with lust.

“Calm
chérie
.” His tone was a murmur and a balm over the heat burning inside. “There would be plenty of time for us to know each other physically. I want to enjoy you, anticipate your sweet taste on my tongue, your smooth skin along the pads of my fingers, your body on my canvas.”

I pulled back and our gazes held. “Wow.” I bit my lip and swallowed. He grinned.

“I do believe ‘wow’ is an understatement. Let’s eat. Get to know one another on all levels. Only then will the physical manifestation of our joining be as sweet.

Alec Dubois was bizarre. Who the hell even talks like that? ‘A physical manifestation of our joining?’ He may have spent too much time reading
Ask Jeeves
online.

“You’re a weird guy,” I said before grabbing my plate, setting it on my lap and shoveling in a giant bite of noodles. Pure heaven! Almost as good as the kiss we’d shared moments ago.

Alec tipped his head back and burst into laughter. See, totally weird dude.

He grabbed his plate, loaded it up and leaned back, set his feet next to mine on the ottoman, turned his head to the side and looked at me. “Oh my sweet, you have no idea, but soon you will. Let’s eat.”

Chapter 2

That evening, after being filled to the brim with the best Chinese food I’d ever had, Alex carried me up to the loft and settled me on his bed. He didn’t have another room in the converted warehouse as far as I could tell. Regardless, he didn’t assume we’d be sleeping together, even after our kiss. All of which I was grateful for. I needed the evening to find myself in this new world.

It was difficult for me no longer being in Wes’s Malibu home hidden away in the hillside and snug as a bug in a rug in my bed of clouds. No, I was deposited onto a firm, but comfortable, king size bed and surrounded by cool tones and textures. Soft blue, Heather grey, and a few midnight tones interspersed. The bed sat on a small platform with a solid wood headboard no footboard but plenty of pillows to allow the user maximum relaxation. There were very few pieces of furniture in the space. A sleek, boxy five-drawer dresser, two minimalistic nightstands, one with a lamp, the other with a stack of books. I scanned the titles and noted several of them were in French. A few even had library seals with numbers that denoted an indexing system. I guess Frenchie liked to read and had a library card. Something about that made me smile on the inside as much as the outside.

So far, Alec had been mostly a gentleman. He’d not sent me packing when I twisted my ankle and had been very doting since dinner last night. Even though he had a distracted air about him, when he focused on me, really looked at me, he gave me everything. A girl could get used to being looked at as if the world around her had stopped moving. Then of course, there was that kiss. Shivers of excitement tingled down my spine remembering those warm lips. His tongue, knowing exactly how to tickle and taste, was a nice surprise. The fact that he kissed me at all was a surprise but not by much. I mean, the guy spent a lot of time in my space. He’d touched me more in one day than pretty much anyone ever did in a day, including Wes, and I know Wes
really
liked touching me.

Wes.

Nope, not gonna let myself go down that path. We agreed to be friends and move on from here. He knows I need to do what I need to do to save my dad, and I won’t be doing it while abstaining. That’s just not me. Once I’d gotten a taste of that heat, the passion like Wes gave to me—I craved it. Needed it. Felt bereft without it. My guess is it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, howl in pain for a few seconds and it’s done. Ready to hop on a new cowboy and ride, so to speak. And that’s exactly what I planned to do. There’s chemistry between Alec and me, that’s for certain. Based on that kiss alone, he’d be good in bed, and the way he spoke, it was a given in his mind as well. Time to have fun. Enjoy myself.

At some point in the night, Alec placed my crutches on the wall near the bed. I looked around then hopped to the clothes in the small closet. All men’s clothes hung on the hangers. Nothing frilly, girly or pink in sight. Huh. Part of my contract was to provide me with the appropriate clothing needed for the month’s stay.
Wonder where he put all my stuff?
I opened each dresser drawer methodically, scanning the contents. Men’s boxer briefs, socks, pajama pants, t-shirts and jeans. Nothing for me.

My suitcase was also delivered sometime in the evening, so I pulled out a pair of clean jeans and a Radiohead concert tee. Thinking back, Ginelle and I had rocked out so hard and screamed so loud at that concert we couldn’t speak the next day. We didn’t care, Tom York was crazy talented and when a band like Radiohead comes to Vegas, I did whatever it took to get tickets.

Once I got dressed, I put on one sneaker and left the other foot wrapped and socked for the day. At the top of the stairs, I sat on my ass, let my crutches slide down the stairs and used the strength in my arms and my bum to get down the stairs without hurting my foot. I felt damned good about the process.

“Hey! I would have helped you down
ma jolie
.” Alec came around the kitchen bar and over to me. My mouth dropped wide open. Alec was wearing loose plaid pajama bottoms and nothing else. His chest was golden, ripped, and on full display. A veritable feast for the eyes. His hair was long, wavy and came down to his shoulders. The colors were mesmerizing hues of brown, russet and gold. He walked over to me as if in slow motion. The muscles of his abdomen bunched as he leaned down to help get me settled with my crutches. I placed a hand around his waist and felt nothing but sinewy muscle.

Sweet Mother of God I was in so much trouble.

He helped me get settled with my crutches and led me to a barstool in the kitchen. Once I was seated, he turned around, and I couldn’t contain the burst of air that left my lungs. Alec turned to the side and his eyes caught what I was staring at, positively drooling over. On the left side of his back from his shoulder blade and curling around his ribcage was a giant black tattoo. It was a swirl of words written in French.

“Your tattoo...it’s...” I stared in awe at a loss for words. “It’s…beautiful,” I finally finished. Alec went to the stove, and in a cool trick move, cracked two eggs with one hand into a frying pan. For a moment, I wondered if I could get him to teach me how to do it before our month was up.

“
Merci,
” he answered cracking another couple eggs into the pan. Next to the eggs he plopped several strips of bacon into another frying pan. Instantly the bacon started popping and sizzling.

“What does it say?”

He pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear and moved about his kitchen half naked very much at ease. I watched his body move as he reached for a ceramic, multicolored mug hanging from a hook then filled it with coffee. “It’s a poem from Jacques Prévert a French writer. He wrote it in 1966.” Alec pointed to the coffee in front of him. “Cream or sugar?”

“Both please,” I responded. He finished up my cup, set it in front of me, then went back, flipped the eggs and turned the bacon.

“Do you mind me asking what the poem says?” I sipped my coffee trying to hide behind the large mug.

He licked his lips, leaned against the side of the counter and crossed his bare feet at the ankles. Jesus the man was fine. Wes was good looking but this man is no slouch. The two were polar opposites. Where Wes was light, Alec is dark and vice versa. They seemed to have the exact opposites in every aspect, right down to Alec’s dark hair, mustache and beard to Wes’s clean shaven yet sometimes scruffy chin.