Page 45 of One Night in Paris

But what Dave was talking about—which included some higher-end hotels and restaurants which were not on the city’s initial plans—sounded a lot different. The more I listened to the smarmy bastard at the podium, the more I realized we were all missing something. The other people in the crowd were smiling and nodding along with him, but to me, this reeked of corruption. Was Dave getting kickbacks for this or had he paid someone else?

Either way, I wanted no part of it. As soon as Dave finished his initial spiel and stepped aside so that one of his associates could take the mic, I grabbed Harper’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t argue. I released her, and we headed for the door.

One of Dave’s associates was standing there. “Everything all right, Mr. Winters?” He had the same air about him as Dave—untrustworthy.

“Yes, everything is fine. We’ve just decided this isn’t the right plan for us. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

“But if you stick around a bit longer, you’ll hear more about why we need your company to be a part of this,” he continued, stepping in front of me.

“I’m sorry, but I already told you no. Now, kindly step aside.” I glared at him, and he did just that, looking over my shoulder at where Dave was standing.

Irritated at having wasted my time and Harper’s, I led her out to where the car was waiting. She said nothing, only came along. Once we were in the car, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t like the way that felt.”

“You don’t have to explain to me.” Harper gave me a supportive smile and lightly touched my arm. “You know what you’re doing.”

Feeling relieved that I wouldn’t have to explain myself, I told the driver to head to the Golden Gate Bridge.

The moment the iconic landmark came into view ahead of us, Harper’s face lit up like the sun, and all of my worries immediately melted away. Squeezing my hand, she stared out the window, gasping at the sight.

The driver found a place to park, and we headed over to take a look in person. Keeping Harper’s hand in mine, I assured her, “We are not jumping off this bridge.”

Laughing, she said, “No, no way! Oh, but still, it’s so pretty. Would you mind taking my picture for my mom? You’re so good at taking photographs.”

My eyes widened slightly hearing her say that. Most people didn’t know I loved photography almost as much as I loved architecture, but Harper had picked up on that already from the photo in my bedroom. “Sure.”

Taking her phone, I snapped several photographs of her before someone happened by and volunteered to take ourpicture. Since it was a mom with children, I felt safe handing over my phone to her, giving Harper’s back to her—just in case I was wrong. The woman took a few shots and then handed my phone back. Glancing at them, I thought one of these might need to be framed and hung beside the Eiffel Tower. It wasn’t the bridge that was so beautiful, though I did love the Golden Gate. Harper looked amazing.

We spent about an hour looking around and then I offered to take her to a few other sites before we headed to dinner at a fancy restaurant that served some of the best local seafood.

By the time we arrived at the Golden Star Hotel, we were both beat. But I’d had an amazing time watching Harper take it all in.

At check-in, the woman only handed me one key. Figuring it must be a suite or something, I said nothing, but all the way up the elevator to the top floor, Harper had a little smile on her face.

Unlocking the room, I headed inside, noting right away that it had an amazing view of the bay. Everything about the room was luxurious, from the sitting area in white, plush fabric to the massive four-post bed, cherrywood gleaming in the moonlight pouring in from the open window.

But this wasn’t a suite. There was only one bed. Confused, I turned to ask Harper what was going on.

Then I saw the most beautiful sight of all.

While I’d been looking around, Harper had been stripping down. Standing there with the moon’s beams playing off her skin, she smiled at me. “Now, it’s time for me to thank you for being such an extraordinary boss—Mr. Winters.”

24

HARPER

Logan’s mouth dropped open, his eyes bulging, as he stared at me, standing in the hotel room I’d booked for both of us in San Francisco. I’d completely caught him off guard. The way he stared at me, unblinking, made me think this was a pleasant surprise.

His eyes blazed with excitement. “Harper, you’re incredible.”

Grinning back at him, I felt more invigorated than I thought I would when I’d planned this in my mind. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed me taking my clothes off—takingallof my clothes off—behind him while he checked out the room. It was a great space, with a huge bed and plenty of luxurious furniture. I imagined the view was to die for, too, but right now, the only thing I had an eye for was the man in front of me.

After a moment, he recovered from his shock, and Logan closed the space between us. His hands came to my hips as his mouth crashed down on me, our tongues beginning to twirl with one another as he deepened the kiss.

My plan had been to take control in here like I had last time, but it became quite apparent quickly enough that Logan intended to treat me as a conquest, and I was there for it.

Scooping me up, he stepped over to the bed, his hands planted firmly on my ass. Dropping me down on top of the mattress, he spread my legs and immediately began to ravish me. He’d done this in Paris, but this felt different. There was an intensity about it now, like he simply couldn’t plunge his tongue deep enough or lick me thoroughly enough. Within seconds, I found myself crying out, tangling my fingers in his hair, lifting up off the bed to press against his face.

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