The Pleasures of Autumn (16 page)

The restaurant Sinead led him to was old and dimly lit. The menu was scribbled on a blackboard, in French. There was no translation and a limited choice. They arrived before the rush and the waiter found them a table. The patron came out and kissed her effusively while exclaiming at her paleness. He looked Niall up and down and sent out a bottle of Cahors that he swore he kept just for her.

Sinead didn’t even bother to read the blackboard. ‘Two of whatever you’re having yourself, Manu.’

‘Steak for me,’ Niall said. ‘They seem to know you?’

Sinead looked around her. ‘It’s one of my favourite places. I come here every time I’m in Paris. Sotheby’s has an office here.’

She sat down, and her skirt rode up again, another flash of thigh, this one even more tantalizing than the last, because it was within touching distance. Niall shoved his hands into his pockets to prevent himself reaching out to see if that skin was as soft as it looked.

Get a grip, man. It’s not as if you haven’t stroked every inch of that skin already.
But it was different when they were out in a restaurant and he was looking at the lure of the forbidden. She shifted and the skirt fell back into place. Niall took a breath. He could cope with this.

Their soup arrived, a rich onion soup, fragrant with
sherry. Sinead ate with enthusiasm. ‘I had forgotten how good Manu’s cooking is. He used to work in a two-star restaurant, but left to take over his father’s zinc.’

‘Zinc?’

She waved her arm around. ‘This place. His family’s restaurant.’

She stretched out when she had finished her bowl, clearly relaxing. That damned skirt rode up again.

‘Are you enjoying your soup?’ she asked.

‘Hmm?’ He couldn’t drag his attention away from her legs. He should tell her. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. But then she would pull down her skirt. He could see one of her suspenders now. He had picked them out in the shop, thinking they would drive her mad. He had no idea how mad they would drive him.

‘Niall? Are you feeling all right?’

He flushed and jerked his attention back to her face. ‘Yes, fine. Perfect. Amazing.’

‘You seemed a bit distracted.’ She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the movement somehow as erotic as the stocking top. He didn’t know where to look.

‘I’m wondering how Manu can top that soup.’

She laughed. ‘He’ll manage it.’

The main course was
Andouilles et crozets
. ‘Peasant fare,’ said Manu. ‘But tasty.’ Garlic and spices wafted off Sinead’s plate. Niall’s steak was cooked to perfection, but he still hungered for a taste of her dinner.

‘Lucky I won’t be kissing anyone tonight,’ Sinead said. ‘This gives you wicked bad breath.’ It couldn’t have been clearer that she was not planning to invite him into her bed tonight.

‘I’ve got garlic on this, so I’m immune.’ It was worth a shot.

‘You won’t be scoring either then.’

Dessert was tarte Tatin served with crème fraiche, crisp and glossy with caramelized apple. He looked at it longingly. Most of the time he was quite happy with meat and vegetables, but this was torture. With the ingrained discipline of years of training, he ignored the temptation.

‘Aren’t you having any?’ Sinead asked.

‘I’m coeliac.’

‘Really? You never said.’ She scooped a bit of the golden apple off the top of her dessert. ‘Have a taste of the apple. It’s gorgeous.’

He shook his head. ‘That would be enough to trigger a reaction.’

‘In that case, I’ll have to eat it all by myself.’ She made a production of putting the spoon into her mouth, closing her eyes in simulated bliss and making purring sounds as she savoured it.

Watching her luscious lips curl around the spoon was setting off a different reaction. But he couldn’t look away. Never had any woman in history spent so long eating a slice of tarte, or enjoyed it so much.

When the plates were cleared, Sinead suggested they move to the counter to have their coffee, and free up the table for the hungry people waiting. Niall was not in the least surprised that so many people were willing to stand in line. This was the sort of meal that food critics raved about.

Even the counter was crowded. Niall snagged the single remaining high stool and helped Sinead up onto
it, while he stood beside her. She settled herself, crossed her legs – and her skirt rode up again, revealing the tops of both stockings. Niall began to sweat. He swallowed.

By the time he had control of his tongue again, Sinead was chatting away to the man sitting on the stool beside her. He was dark-haired, with smooth olive skin and a lot to say.

‘I am French, not Canadian,’ he was telling her. ‘I choose to live here. This is a country where you can take your glass of wine outside while you smoke. In Canada, I told my friends about this, and the staff in the bar came running up. “Sir, are you planning to steal one of our glasses?” I said, no, of course not, but they still told me to leave. When I insisted on finishing my drink first, they banned me from that bar. So now I live in France.’

He introduced himself as Daemon and continued to chat, but Niall noticed that his eyes kept dipping. To where Sinead’s stocking tops were clearly on view.

He wasn’t the only one. The bar was crowded, and at least one other couple had noticed. They nudged each other and whispered, but did not speak to her.

Niall positioned himself to shield her from the eyes of the other patrons in the bar.

Sinead was oblivious. She asked questions, exclaimed at what Daemon said, and generally flirted like a professional. And her eyes never once dropped below her waist level.

Why, the little madam!
She knew what she was doing. It was a deliberate tease. Niall had to admire the artistry of
it, but he would never have expected it from Sinead. She was just full of surprises. He had no intention of letting her get away with it.

His inner Dom, usually buried beneath layers of ironclad control, rose to the surface. He leaned over and whispered into her ear. ‘Pull your skirt up another inch.’

She froze. For endless seconds, she didn’t even breathe. Niall held his own breath, wondering what she would do. An eternity passed while their little corner of the café was locked in stillness. Without turning her head or acknowledging his order in any way, she moved, crossing her legs so that her skirt rose an inch higher.

Yes! She had obeyed. He had given her an order and she had submitted to it. His cock rose, rock hard. He moved behind her so that it wasn’t visible. Sinead continued to tease Daemon about his Canadian roots and resolutely ignored the inch of pale thigh. Niall managed to join in, asking the odd semi-intelligent question about the weather in Toronto.

Manu refilled their wine glasses, reminiscing about the last time Sinead had eaten there, along with a bunch of friends. He was not in a position to see her display. She cut across him at one point, changing the direction of the conversation.

‘Pull it up another inch,’ Niall told her.

This time, she obeyed at once. Now her skirt was so high that he caught a flash of her rose-pink panties. There was a muted buzz in the atmosphere as the table opposite them noticed Sinead’s display. Niall moved so that he blocked their stares.

Daemon looked from Niall to Sinead and back again,
aware of something in the atmosphere. ‘Say, what is it with you two? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?’

‘No!’ They answered in unison.

‘There’s something between you.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Sinead told him. ‘He’s a business associate of mine.’

Nettled, Niall leaned down and murmured into her ear. ‘Go to the Ladies room, take off your panties and give them to me.’

She turned shocked eyes to his. He held her gaze, silently commanding her to obey his order. He didn’t repeat himself, just waited.

‘Nature calls,’ Sinead told Daemon. She placed her glass on the bar. ‘Back in a couple of minutes.’ She slid down from her stool and disappeared into the back of the café.

The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes. The minutes dragged on. Sweat dripped down his back, cold against his hot skin. He had almost forgotten how to breathe when she came back, smiling and cheerful, weaving her way in between the crowded tables as she returned to the bar. She apologized for taking so long, and as she climbed back onto her stool, she pressed something into Niall’s hand. He opened it barely enough to catch a glimpse of rose-pink.

She had done it. His Dom roared in triumph. Sinead had submitted to him, obeying his orders, and was now naked beneath her dress. Only the two of them knew, and the knowledge made his cock swell.

The panties in his hand were damp.

He couldn’t resist running his hand down her back,
caressing it gently. ‘Good girl.’ She shifted subtly, moving into his touch. He dropped his hand lower, below her waist. He could feel the curve of her buttocks, unobstructed by panties. He dipped his fingers inwards, pressing into her warmth.

‘Mmm,’ she said. Her skirt was rising up again.

‘What’s that?’ asked Daemon.

‘Oh, nothing. I’m getting a little tired. Perhaps it’s time to go home.’

Niall couldn’t agree more. He had a raging hard-on and needed to do something about it. He had to get Sinead to himself. He needed to get his hands on her.

She took her bag from him, let him help her into her jacket, kissed Manu goodbye, accepted a card from the Canadian and promised to ring him soon, and waved as she left the café. She had been centre stage all night, Niall realized, ruling the café as if it were her own personal stage. Again, that sense of familiarity nagged him.

He kept his hand on her back on the walk back to the Jeep. She was silent on the ride back to the apartment.

‘That was a fun evening. We must do it again some time. I believe you have something belonging to me.’

Niall reached into his pocket and reluctantly handed over the panties.

‘Good night.’ She closed the bedroom door in his face.

Fuck! It was going to be a long night.

Sinead leaned against the door and closed her eyes.
Oh my god, I can’t believe I did that.
She had meant to tease him a little in the bar. After all, it was his fault. He had bought
the lingerie, and the stockings, and the impossibly high heels. What did he expect? To dress her up like Lottie and hope she behaved like a nun? He deserved payback.

The ardour in his eyes on the bridge had set her inner imp off like a rocket. After that, she couldn’t resist. She fingered the scrap of rose silk and tossed the panties onto the bed. They were still damp, which was hardly surprising, given that he had switched on her libido and she couldn’t seem to turn it off again. What had he done to her?

Watching Niall watching her was one of the most erotic things she had ever experienced. That ice-cool veneer of control that he always wore barely masked what lay beneath – pure dominant alpha male. After the previous night, she knew what passion Niall was capable of. In a way, they were both hiding what they were.

She had no idea how much like Lottie she really was, but Niall had tapped into her naughty side.

When he had ordered her to remove her panties, she had never been so turned on in her life. The heat in his eyes, that rough edge of command in his voice had sent the blood rushing south. She realized that her breasts were still tender, aching for his touch. Her nipples were standing to attention like two …

Stop that right now. Think cool thoughts. Ice. Snow. Frost.

A vision of Niall, a sliver of ice between his teeth as he …

She had a bad case of lust. A sudden attack of Niallitis. ‘It’s just sex. It can’t possibly lead to anything,’ she told the empty room. ‘He is the head of a security firm and you are a … a criminal.’

Well, not quite. But after talking to Maurice, she realized how precarious her position was. Other people wanted the stone too and until she tracked down her sister, she didn’t have time for romance.

And then there was the whole Lottie thing. There was no way that she could keep that hidden. But back at the lake, she had told him she wasn’t hiding anything else. How could she tell him about Lottie now?

Stop thinking about him,
she told her libido. It is not happening.

Sinead kicked her heels off. Her feet hadn’t hurt this much since her last performance. Padding across the room she unzipped her dress and hung it carefully on a wooden hanger. She caught a glimpse of herself in the wardrobe mirror – stockings, suspender belt, half-cup silk bra.

If she opened the door and went to him now, she had no doubt that they would be in bed within five minutes. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

The ache between her thighs said something else. She wasn’t going to get a minute’s sleep unless she took the edge off. Where was her friendly vibrator when she needed it? She unclasped her bra and dropped it over the back of the chair before switching off the lamp and lying down on the quilt. The open drapes let the shimmering lights of Paris into the room. Here she was in the most romantic city in the world and she was sleeping alone.