Page 39 of Pleasure Games

CHAPTER NINE

THEPLACEWASlike something out of a storybook and Jasmine couldn’t contain her sense of excitement, excitement that made no sense. Here she was, without a penny to her name, no ID, no passport, stuck on a remote and practically abandoned estate in France with a man who was running from someone, most likely the police.

And yet things had never felt so right.

There must be something wrong with her.

Maybe it was the fact that Luca had almost kissed her in the orchard.

You are getting some tonight! Her inner critic had even traded in her sarcasm for a little bit of excitement.

With a skip to her step, Jasmine followed Luca up to the terrace where the older gentleman waited for them. He spoke rapidly to Luca, pointing inside the house and then gesturing to the grounds. After they finished, the man met her gaze and bobbed his head.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle.”

“Bonjour,”Jasmine said, liking the feel of the French word on her tongue.

“Monsieur Gauthier, this is Jasmine,” Luca introduced them.

In halting English, the man greeted her and welcomed her before turning his attention back to Luca. They ended their conversation with a handshake and the man left by way of a path around the house. When they went back inside, there were three baskets full of staples waiting for them on the kitchen table. Bread, cold meat, cheese, butter, milk, flour, sugar, coffee, and fruit and vegetables that were not in plastic bags but looked like they’d just been pulled fresh from the garden...there was even a box full of pastries.

In addition, stacked in an ironed pile, were freshly laundered linens.

“Why don’t you go make up the beds,” Luca said, “while I put lunch together?”

Beds? Did Luca say beds?

Oh, hell, no. There were not going to be any “beds” for them. One bed. One for both of them. However, that would all be sorted later, so Jasmine took the linens—which smelled like sunshine—to the first bedroom on the main floor. She pulled the dustcover off the queen-sized mattress and got to work. Once she was done, she couldn’t help but lie down on top of it. The mattress was a little firm, but that was okay. She gazed up at the high ceilings with the old beams running across. There was a gorgeous antique chandelier above the bed—a little dusty, but still pretty. The bed had one of those old-fashioned canopies arching up from the headboard, which contributed to her sense of being caught up in some modern-day fairy tale. The furniture wasn’t buffed to a high polish like the furniture in her hotel, but was nicked and worn, as if well used.

She shut her eyes, and just like last night, images of Luca filtered through her brain, though with less clarity than her constructed fantasy.

Luca, damp after his shower.

Luca’s hard body in front of her as they raced through the streets of Paris.

Luca, smiling seductively with the sun dappling his face through the foliage in the orchard.

Luca kissing her in a way no one had ever kissed her.

Luca...just Luca...

* * *

Where had she gone? How long did it take her to make up a couple of beds?

When Jasmine didn’t return, Luca went in search of her and found her curled up in the middle of the bed in the master bedroom. Sound asleep.

Instead of closing the door and letting her rest, like he should have, Luca walked softly into the room and sat on the bed beside her. What was it about this woman that compelled him to do such irrational things, like watch her sleep? He’d only known her for twenty-four hours, yet already he felt the need to crawl up beside her and fit her slight body within the circle of his arms and hold her.

Protect her.

Make love to her.

Then do it again and make her scream in ecstasy...

What the fuck is your problem? You barely know her.

Luca got up carefully, so as not to wake her, picked up the rest of the linens and left the room to make up the bed in the room down the hall. After that was done he went back to the kitchen and ate, though his thoughts were still on his unwanted guest.

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