Page 36 of Signed, Sealed, Married

Yet you’re going to hold her to the deal, aren’t you?

Of course. He’d gone to immense trouble to acquire the company, and Gisèle. He was determined to win through. He couldn’t imagine walking away from her. And that had nothing to do with the takeover.

Minutes later Adam stood before her adjoining hotel suite.

He could have obtained a private house for their stay in Paris, especially as they’d spend time in the French capital in future. But he liked sweeping through the best hotel in the city with Gisèle on his arm.

Not because he wanted to show her off to the public. To his surprise, his instinct was to keep her to himself. Instead he wanted to impressher.

Adam’s raised arm stilled and he watched his fingers form a fist. The realisation stunned him.

You want her to admire you for your wealth, when you hate avaricious women?

No, what you really want is for her to like you. To want you. To have her eyes light up when she sees you.

Fat chance. Unless she acquires Stockholm syndrome and falls for her captor.

His lips twisted against the bitterness filling his mouth and he rapped on the door.

He needed noise, people, distractions. The exclusive charity event promised that and suddenly he looked forward to it as an escape from his thoughts.

The door opened and his hand fell. His sharp hiss lodged in constricted lungs. His semi-aroused groin became a hard-on before he had time to blink.

Gisèle had adopted a new look since the Cannes party. Her clothes still concealed more than they revealed, but she’d abandoned the sedate suits and muted colours.

If he didn’t know better he’d think her aim was to seduce him. Or drive him crazy with lust.

Tonight she’d outdone herself.

Adam’s gaze locked on the glossy crimson of her lips before dropping to the dark red of her full-length dress. By current standards it was demure, covering her from shoulder to floor. The neckline ran straight across from below the tip of one shoulder to the other. There was no cleavage on show but a wide expanse of pale golden skin that he wanted to lean in and taste. The lustrous fabric cupped her breasts close. Not just her breasts but her narrow waist and the gentle flare of her hips.

She shifted and he caught a flash of pale thigh. His pulse rocketed as he realised the dress was slit over one leg. She moved again and the slit disappeared.

But he knew it was there, felt it with every urgent, masculine impulse he possessed.

‘I...’ Adam cleared his throat and dragged his attention back up her delicious body. Something flared in her eyes. Triumph? Pity? Excitement?

He wasn’t accustomed to being on the back foot. He was always in charge. Now it was all he could do to breathe steadily and not gawk like a fourteen-year-old.

‘You look magnificent.’ At least now his voice sounded normal. ‘New dress?’

Gisèle shrugged and he watched the rise of bare shoulders above lustrous satin. What kept the dress up? What would happen if he caught the edge of it and tugged? Did she wear a bra? Or would her breasts spring free into his palms?

There was a buzzing in his ears and he swallowed jerkily, barely resisting the need to check his bowtie hadn’t suddenly tightened.

‘New enough. Don’t worry, I haven’t worn it before. It will still make a statement at the gala.’

Statement! It would make headlines!

‘Good. Excellent.’

He didn’t care if she’d worn it before. He just wondered how he’d get through the evening without hauling her close and breaking their no-touching rule. Or roughing up the men who were bound to undress her with their eyes when she sashayed into the grand gala.

‘You’re ready to go?’ she asked.

Go? The idea appalled him. He wanted to stay here.

With her blonde hair loose around her shoulders in a fall of glossy waves, and those red, red lips, she looked like a vintage Hollywood star. All gleaming sex appeal and sophistication that made his heart hammer and his blood simmer possessively. He didn’t want any other man to see Gisèle like this.

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