Page 12 of Sinful Temptations

“All right.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and huffed. “I’m sorry I told your mother your phone number. It was wrong.”

“And?”

His face morphed into a scowl. “And what?”

I cupped my breasts and bulged my eyes at him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his jaw. A groan tumbled from his mouth. “I promise not to look at . . .” He cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat. “. . . not to lower my eyes again.”

“It’s a creepy habit, Bruce. It could be the reason why your last three wives left you. Have a think about that.”

His jaw dropped and anger simmered in his bloodshot eyes.

“Right then.” I smiled one of my most becoming smiles. “I’m glad we had this chat. See you in twenty days.”

While he crumbled into his seat, I walked on an air of wonderful out of his office. I stopped at reception. “How did you go with Richard, Tracy?”

Tracy’s wide, darting eyes flitted from Bruce’s door and back to me. “He, ah, he didn’t answer.”

“Right then. If he does show up, tell him he’s too late.”

She jabbed her thumb toward the manager’s office and leaned toward me. “What was that about?”

“Just Bruce being an asshole.”

“Pfft.” She smirked. “You only just figured that out?”

“No, but he crossed the line this time. Oh, and hey, if he ever looks at your tits again, you pull him up on it. Okay?”

Her eyes bulged and her hand shot to her mouth, attempting but failing to smother a giggle. I left her grinning like a woman who’d got the pay grade she’d been denied for years and strode toward the exit.

The glass doors slid open, and I stepped into a glorious London morning. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the scattering of clouds was light and fluffy, and there was even a pair of doves flying overhead. It was like the war that’d been raging in my mind had just ended with a peace agreement.

Halfway toward my bus, I burst into laughter.

It was going to be a great tour. I could feel it in my tingling loins.

ChapterThree

Our trip to Paris was uneventful except my August group was proving challenging in the enthusiasm stakes. Maybe poor Laura had dragged in some kind of mood killer that was affecting everyone.

Whatever it was, it made my plans to go see Pierre after our first-night information session was over even more enticing.

I rode the elevator to the hostel’s rooftop bar alone. It surprised me how good my new lingerie felt. Not only did I feel sexy, but I was also contained. It was a lace miracle.

I couldn’t wait for Pierre to see me in this pink matching bra and panties. Just the thought of his reaction had my insides thrumming like my body was playing harp strings.

The elevator door opened to the thumping music and vibrant crowd that was synonymous withHaute Voltage. Our group was in the roped-off area. Strolling toward them, I spied two things. One was the Eiffel Tower, beautifully lit up in the distance.

The other was poor Laura. The forlorn expression on her face had those lovely harp strings that’d been hummingthrough me yanking right out. She looked to be a million miles away from the partying crowd around her. The wine glass in her hand was still brimming with the yellowy liquid, confirming she hadn’t touched it. She was flanked by the South African twins and three more female tourists from our group.

Other than Laura, the women had obviously snapped out of whatever funk had gripped them during the bus trip here as they were now glowing with smiles and jiggled to the catchy beat played by the DJ in the far corner.

Planting a grin on my face, I joined them. “Hey, ladies.”

They all replied with varying versions of hello. Laura’s eyes met mine and the sorrow flooding them deflated my heart. “Hey, Laura, are you okay?”

She nodded.

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