Page 110 of Sinful Escape

I burst out laughing.

Bye

I turned my phone off and shoved it back into my bag.

By the time the train pulled into the station, my mind was a tornado of swirling thoughts that were impossible to grab. It was an effort just to put one foot in front of the other.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when I strolled onto Avenue de Saint-Gwendolyn, tugging my case behind me. All the little restaurants were bustling with life and with each one I approached, a hopeful maître d’ tried to tempt me with menu choices or a free glass of champagne. Each time I politely declined and stepped closer to the pale blue Vespa parked against the streetlamp.

My heart thundered and my mouth was so dry, I imagined I was an intrepid explorer, crossing the desert—the desert of uncertainty!

Twenty or so feet from his cafe, the door to Château de Vin et d'antiquités opened, and four women trotted out on heels that were so high it was a wonder they didn’t get nosebleeds.

I paused, watching them like a stunned rabbit. All the women were meticulously dressed. Their clothing, their shoes, their bags, their hairstyles—everything about them screamed wealth. One more lady exited the restaurant and as she joined the foursome, Pierre also stepped from the doorway.

He spoke to them with his usual flamboyant animation and whatever he said had the ladies giggling. He blew them air kisses and as they strolled away, balancing precariously on stilettos that defied gravity, I was on the verge of turning around and scurrying away.

But destiny was awakened, and Pierre turned toward me. Our eyes met and I just about melted as his flicker of recognition turned to an expression of desire. I remained still, as did he. Everything around me vanished into obscurity as I admired my view. Pierre’s gaze was intense, his jawline utterly masculine, his lips utterly kissable.

He was six and a half feet of suave sexuality.

The small smile that curled at the sides of Pierre’s mouth grew wider and he gave a slight nod.

I did the same. It was a silent communication between us that said a whole lot more.

Pierre nodded again, then he turned and disappeared through the door of his café.

I swallowed the nerves threatening to topple me over and forced my feet to move. With each step, my heart thumped louder. When I stepped over the threshold, my vision took a moment to adjust to the dimmed lights. But when they did, my reward was spectacular.

Pierre stood in the middle of the empty café, halfway between me and the door to the kitchen. He had two glasses of champagne and had undone the top two buttons of his shirt.

All of that was marvelous, but two other aspects of my sexy Frenchman truly captured me: the look on his face was one of pure desire, and the bulge in his pants left no mistake as to who he desired.

The butterflies in my stomach swirled around as the air between us bristled with anticipation. He stepped forward, and I was certain he could’ve heard my beating heart.

“Bonjour, Daisy. Je suis tellement heureuse de vous voir.”

He handed me one of the glasses. “I’m happy to see you too, Pierre.”

His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, leaving a trail of moisture in its wake. “I didn’t think you’d return to me.”

I swallowed, hard. “I contemplated never coming back.”

He smiled a knowing smile. “I’m glad you changed your mind.” He leaned forward and touched his lips to mine. There was no hesitation this time—I met his kiss with as much want as he offered. This kiss was very different from our first. Our lips molded together, firm, intentional, loaded with anticipation.

It was the type of kiss every woman dreamed about.

His lips were soft yet assertive. He tasted sweet and smelled of manly spices. When his hand touched my waist and he eased our bodies together, the heat of his flesh enveloped me in a warm caress.

Pierre was a passionate man. Everything he did was done with obsessive perfection. I’d witnessed it often over the years, from the way he ensured his patrons were well taken care of to the magnificent meals he prepared.

But now, with our lips together and our bodies touching, I was in the front row, experiencing a whole new facet to Pierre’s passion.

We pulled back from each other, and his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Our eyes met and the sexual tension twinkling in his chocolate pools had my knees quivering. I rolled my bottom lip through my teeth and waited for his next move.

A tinkling bell shattered the erotic bubble that’d swathed me, and I turned to three women strolling through the café door. I turned back to Pierre, and the distress on his face was laughable.

He blinked a few times and seemed to crumble. “Excusez-moi, un moment.”

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