Page 6 of Prelude To You

I played along because, well, just because. “And you know this how?”

“I witnessed it.”

“Yet you didn’t stop me,” I said. “Doesn’t that make you a co-conspirator?”

He seemed to think this over. “You know what, I think it does.”

“Maybe they throw us in the same jail cell,” I mused. “Just to torture us for eternity.”

“If they throw us in the same cell, that would hardly be torture,” he said. “In fact…”

His words sizzled across the air, and inexplicably made the muscles in my thighs squeeze into a ball of raging desire.Was I insane?I just got fired and here I was imagining this strange man doing all kinds of things to me. Shouldn’t I be attempting to break the spell right about now?

Rick and another salesperson peeked around a distant corner at us. By now my legs felt a bit unsteady and I couldn’t figure out whether it was Stranger or the champagne having this effect on me. Either way, I had to escape the situation before I made an even bigger fool of myself.

“Anyway,” I rambled, “thanks a lot but I’d better go before Rick sees right through this charade and bans me for life.”

No sooner had I aimed myself toward the exit than Stranger caught my arm and gently tugged me back, branding his fingerprints on my skin. “Wait a second,” he said softly.

I faced him again, those blue eyes piercing my soul. I could now affirm it wasn’t just the champagne making me feel all loose and wonderful inside. My guard was immediately on high alert. “Wait for what?” I fired back. “I said thanks. What more do you want?”

With a patient smile, he whipped out his handkerchief and gently wiped a spot from my flushed cheek. “If you want to act tough,” he said, “it’s critical to first wipe the chocolate off your face.”

His handkerchief smelled of him, a fresh-out-of-the-shower scent, with a bit of musk and spice mixed in. And it was soft, very soft and… I stopped myself.What the hell was I going on about?Wasn’t it more important to figure out what this man’s end game was?

The chocolate mousse was going to leave an indelible stain on his handkerchief, and he didn’t seem to care. I felt compelled to correct him about the pastry filling, though. “It’s not just chocolate.”

“Oh?” he asked. “Tell me more, please.” He continued the arduous task of gently wiping at whatever insidious blotch was apparently ruining my appearance.

“It’s a French pastry calledprofiterolewhich is filled with brandy-infused, chocolate-mousse-and-hazelnut truffle,” I said, as casually as the raging desire in my lower belly allowed.

Satisfied that I was now blemish-free, he ran his finger gently over my cheek. “You know what, I have never given French pastries a second thought… But that sounds delectable.”

“You might as well throw that handkerchief away,” I added for good measure. “You’ll never get the fat stain out. I only use double cream with all my fillings.”

His lazy smile made its way from his lips to his eyes. “Tell you what. Why don’t you take it as a souvenir?”

My weary self detected some serious snark in that. He was toying with me, and yet here I stood, daydreaming about that perfect mouth wandering eagerly all over my skin.

A minuscule moan involuntarily escaped from the back of my throat. There was no walking that noise back, so I went fora breezy tone while pulling the handkerchief slowly from his fingers. “And you are?” I asked.

This time he laughed. It was an obscenely wonderful laugh, and any other time I might have enjoyed hearing it. But just then it was very frustrating that nothing seemed to affect him. He was cooler than a November evening, and so utterly in charge of himself.

I had another glimpse of Rick and two different store employees, this time peeping around the bookshelf at the end of the aisle. Paranoia crept into my head. “What are they looking at?” I said. “They’re going to figure out this whole thing is a sham.”

Stranger tilted my face up to his. He was so tall. And that mouth. Those eyes. Everything stoking flames inside me that desperately needed putting out. All I knew was that he, and he alone, could douse the inferno now blazing through my veins.

“Well then, why not reaffirm our alliance?” he suggested calmly. “Teach that prick a lesson. But only if you want to...”

The illusion that I had any kind of control over the situation vanished. “What did you have in mind, exactly?” I murmured, mesmerized by what was happening.

His face moved closer to mine, his thumb gently rolling over the outline of my lips. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I feel like I’ve missed out on the brandy-infused, chocolate-mousse-with-hazelnut-truffle you mentioned. Maybe there’s a hint of the taste left in your mouth.”

Those long fingers that just caressed my lips slipped to the nape of my neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of my throat.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, “I don’t even know your name. But if you think that will teach him a lesson…”

He smothered my words with his mouth, those lips gently parting mine, and when our tongues slid together a sensational shiver pulsed through my body. The kiss barely had time to bebaptized a French kiss before Stranger pulled back, his hand trailing my cheek. Guilt and remorse clouded his features, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

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