“Oh, Braxton,” she murmured, intimidated. “This place is spectacular.” She turned to him. “Thank you so much for—”
He cut her off by placing a finger over her lips. “You’re wearing me out, woman.”
Lenna frowned. “Huh?”
Laughing at her bewilderment, he added, “If I have to say ‘you’re welcome’ to one more of your ‘thank-yous’ tonight, my tongue is just going to plum fall off.”
Lenna winced. “Have I been overly grateful?”
He nodded. “Just a tad.” But then touched her cheek and grinned. “And I’m the one whose thankful and honored that you agreed to come here with me.”
The
maitre d’
appeared before she could respond. He led them to their table, where Braxton’s client already waited.
“Farris,” the man greeted, getting to his feet as Braxton and Lenna approached. He spoke English with a thick accent.
“Mr. Trousseau,” Braxton said, stretching out his hand. The men shook, and Braxton turned toward Lenna. “Lenna, this is Richard Trousseau of the Renault Automobile Company. He’s just signed on with Farris Industries to purchase our mufflers for their luxury vehicles.”
Lenna’s dimple appeared as the man turned toward her. “
Enchanté
,” she answered meekly when he took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers.
“And this is Lenna Davenport,” Braxton told Richard. “She came with me to tour Paris tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Richard answered, continuing to hold Lenna’s fingers as he glanced at Braxton. “You said you would be bringing a dinner companion, Farris, but you forgot to mention she was so beautiful.”
“
Vous êtes très gentil
,” Lenna murmured, telling him he was very kind.
Richard turned to her in delighted surprise. “And you speak French,” he exclaimed.
“Lenna minored in it while she was in college,” Braxton announced, looking like a proud father.
Hearing that, Richard started off in a barrage of French. Lenna smiled and answered him in kind.
When he heard her reply, Richard threw back his head and laughed heartily.
“This flower you’ve brought me is a delight,” he informed Braxton happily and motioned toward their seats. “Now let us sit before they kick us out for loitering.”
Braxton pulled out a chair for Lenna. She started to thank him but caught herself and paused to guiltily meet his gaze. She could tell he knew exactly what she’d just about said. His eyes glittered with mirth, and his lips tightened with the effort to repress a gloating smirk.
“
Merci
,” she told him instead, refusing to be rude and not thank him in some fashion.
He chuckled as he took his own chair. The waiter, who’d been waiting for them to be seated, stepped forward and proceeded to rattle off the house wine of the day.
Lenna kept glancing at Braxton, but he avidly watched the waiter as if hanging off each syllable the man pronounced. She wanted to shake her head in amusement. Braxton looked, for all the world, like he understood every word the waiter spoke.
Finally, the waiter asked if they wanted to order their drinks. He turned immediately to Braxton with an expectant look. Braxton’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. Lenna could actually see his Adam’s apple slide up and then bob nervously back down his throat as he swallowed.
Having mercy on him, she leaned close and whispered. “He wants to know what you’d like to drink.”
Braxton lifted his eyes to the waiter. “Oh,” he murmured. Then he turned to Lenna. “Uh...water?”
She grinned and then transferred her attention back to their waiting attendant. “
Est-ce que nous pourrions avoir de l’eau
?”
The waiter nodded and then turned to Richard. As Mr. Trousseau requested his drink of choice, Braxton murmured into Lenna’s ear. “God, you’re good at that.”
Beaming, she lifted her chin. “I am, aren’t I?”
With a low chuckle, Braxton set his hand high on her thigh and squeezed lightly.
Their next obstacle came when the waiter passed out the menus. Braxton took one look at the foreign words and quickly whispered, “Lenna! Help.”
Beyond pleased he needed her so much, Lenna glowed. She covered his hand supportively. “Don’t worry. Just tell me what you’re hungry for.”
“A hamburger,” he moaned, nearly whining.
Lenna tightened her fingers sympathetically. Yeah, he was definitely American.
She scanned the list. “They don’t have hamburgers. What about, uh...” She checked the menu again. “Steak?”
He closed his eyes and sighed in relief. “God, yes! A nice juicy medium rare steak sounds like heaven.” Then he leaned closer, “They have French fries, right? I mean, come on. This is France. They gotta have fries.”
Lenna pursed her lips to fight her amusement. “They don’t call them French fries here.”
“Oh,” he said. “Well, of course not. They’re probably just fries, right?”
Holding in a spurt of laughter, Lenna glanced away to keep the giggle in. God, he was cute when he was utterly clueless. “Actually, they’re called
Pommes Frites
.”
“Tell me, Miss Davenport,” Richard said, interrupting her and Braxton’s private exchange.
Lenna lifted her face, a little embarrassed that she’d actually forgotten he was present.
“What kind of work do you do in America?”
Braxton was able to slip in a little business conversation with his client over dinner, but most of the night was spent listening to Richard and Lenna chat in French. To his ears, she sounded like a native. The language spilled from her lips as if she spoke it daily.
Richard repeatedly complimented her flawless delivery, and she continued to blush. It didn’t take long for Braxton to grow jealous because his client was a little
too
delighted by her, but mostly he remained satisfied with how well she’d enchanted the other man. Smug relief filled him when it was
his
arm she clung to as they left.
“
Au revoir
,” she called to Richard, waving and beaming as Braxton ushered her away.
God, he loved being with her. She thrilled him, and challenged him, and touched something inside that gave him a sense of power and elation.
As they sat huddled close together in the back seat of the cab on the return ride to their hotel, she rested her head on his shoulder.
He tightened his arm around her waist and lifted his hand to stroke her hair. “Tired?”
“No, not really,” she answered, even as she snuggled closer. “I’m overwhelmed. This is all just so exciting and exotic. I feel like a princess.”
Braxton grinned. “Like Cinderella again?”
“No, this is different. I must be Sleeping Beauty this time around because today has to be a dream.” She sighed and relaxed against him. “The most amazing dream ever.”
* * * *
When they arrived at the hotel, Lenna remembered not to thank Braxton as he held the door open for her. But she did give him a big, enticing smile as she passed. As he stared back, his eyelids grew heavy and his grin predatory.
Slipping his arm over her shoulder, he murmured into her hair, “I have to admit, listening to you talk French all night was definitely a turn on.”
They stopped at the entrance to their suite.
Braxton reached around her to unlock the door and let her precede him inside.
Lenna turned so she could face him. Walking backward into the room, she met his gaze and let out a husky laugh. “So, just
how much
did you like my French?”
His eyes lit with desire as he shut the door behind him and stalked toward her. “So much I’m glad Trousseau didn’t notice my raging hard on.”
Lenna giggled and coyly kept backing away but he snagged out a hand and caught her wrist.
“I’ve been hot and bothered all night,” he murmured, drawing her closer in order to kiss his way down her neck.
Lenna shut her eyes and sighed, tipping her face up to give him better access. “
Pouvez-vou parler plus lentement, s’il vous plait
,” she said huskily.
Braxton shivered. “God,” he groaned. “That sounds dirty. What’d you say?”
“I said, ‘please speak more slowly.’”
He threw back his head and laughed.
Lenna grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him closer, wanting to run her tongue along his jaw. “Je
voudrais une chamber avec sale de balcon
,” she murmured in his ear and then nipped at the lobe with her teeth. “I’d like a room with a balcony.
Est-ce qu’on peut nager ici sans danger
?” she continued. “Is it safe to swim here?”
Braxton filled his hands with her hair. “I don’t need the translation,” he muttered in a thick voice. “Just...keep going.”
Grinning, Lenna kissed her way down the side of his neck. “
Pouvez-vous preparer ma note, s’il vous plait
?” she murmured and kept saying inconsequential phrases that seemed to drive him mad.
As Braxton backed her toward the bed, she ached for that all-consuming burst of animation she knew he could give. She wanted to wrap herself around him and live in this moment for the rest of eternity.
She refused to think about what lay ahead of them after they returned from their trip. She didn’t want to remember how Braxton was her dirty little secret and she only added to his complications at work. She just wanted this.
So, she took it. She took Braxton into her mouth and sucked him until he cried out her name in a hoarse voice and begged to be inside her. She relented only because she desired it as much as he did.
Later, when Braxton was wrapped around her and their bare legs were tangled together under the warm sheets, he rested his cheek on her shoulder and idly stroked her hip.
“I love being here like this with you,” he murmured drowsily.
Without answering, she stared up at the sculpted ceiling and kept playing with tendrils of his hair. But she smiled wistfully.
“I don’t feel like I have to carry a world full of responsibilities on my shoulders when I’m in your arms. I can just...be.”
She tipped her face to the side to kiss his forehead. “It does feel incredibly right, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He hugged her to him as if she were his favorite blankie and turned in toward her to return the kiss, placing his on her chest, right over her heart. “Nothing else has felt quite so...right.”
With a relinquishing sigh, he relaxed and his breathing changed, growing long and steady. He’d definitely put in too long of a day.
She continued to play with his hair but had to pause once to wipe away a stray tear. Being in his life caused him plenty of complications but knowing she eased his troubles was worth it. Promising herself she would remain worth it to him, she softly whispered, “
Je t’adore
,” as he slept deeply and peacefully in her arms.
* * * *
The next morning, Braxton sat Indian style on his hotel bed, skimming through a Paris guidebook he’d bought. “So, where do you want to go first?”
In the bathroom, Lenna had left the door hanging open while she applied the finishing touches of her makeup. “I don’t care,” she called. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, let’s see here.” He glanced through the book until something caught his eye. “We could ride on a double-decker bus and take a two-hour trip through the city. Then there’s also a boat tour on the Seine.”
Lenna gasped and popped her face into the room. “A boat ride?” she sighed. “How romantic. Does that last long?”
“Uh...” Braxton consulted the guidebook. “Seventy-five minutes.”
“Could we do that?” Her gorgeous green eyes begged.
He shrugged. “Sure.” Hell, he didn’t have a clue what to do. As long as he was with her, anything sounded appealing.
“I want to see another museum too before we leave,” Lenna added, disappearing back into the bathroom. “Oh, and I’ve always wanted to visit the market and buy fruit and stuff like that. Then there’s the Notre Dame Cathedral and...” As she named off a few more things, Braxton quietly closed the guidebook.
Alrighty then. Why bother with a paperback when he had a walking, talking tour guide with him? He tossed the book onto the mattress beside him and scooted off the bed. Strolling into the bathroom, he sat on the closed lid of the toilet, where he watched Lenna lean closer to the mirror and apply eyeliner to the base of her lashes.
Spellbound, Braxton didn’t think she could look much better than she had this morning, about half an hour earlier when he’d had her naked in the shower. Her face had been scrubbed free of all cosmetics, and she’d been absolutely breathtaking. Especially when she came. But he had to admit, it was fascinating to watch her primp.
“I know this sounds kind of morbid,” she went on, capping the eyeliner wand only to lift a tube of lip-gloss and bring it to her mouth. “But I think it would be neat to go to
Les Catacombs
too.”
“What’s that?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off her lips as she rubbed them together.
He hated to tell her he’d have that gloss kissed off in about five seconds because, damn, she looked good putting it on.
“It’s this underground tunnel thing that’s, like, a thousand yards long, or something, and it’s full of six million skeletons.”
Braxton paused.
Skeletons
? “Real skeletons?”
Finished with her makeup, Lenna turned from the mirror and took in the sight of him perched on the commode, watching her.
“Of course they’re real. Why would they put a bunch of fake skeletons in a grave?”
Why indeed? Braxton found himself grinning, but he couldn’t think what was so funny. He just felt incredibly content.
She held a hand down to him. “Ready?”
In a teasing mood, he pushed to his feet and reached toward her pile of makeup on the counter. “Well, I need to put on some blush first, and then I—”
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and tugged him away from the mirror.
“No, really.” He resisted her pull and tried to get a peek at his own reflection. “Does my foundation look even to you?” He batted his lashes prettily.
“Shut. Up,” she stressed and lightly punched him in the arm, though amusement glittered in her eyes as she pulled her lips tight.