The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel

by Jones, Gwen

  “If not criminal,” Andy said. “Lilith didn’t give a damn about her reputation in Congress. All signs were pointing to her getting crushed in the election, and that’s the way she wanted it. By the time Hitchell’s bill passed, she’d be out of office. So she needed to steal your phone so any evidence of what was really going on would be gone.”

  “And then maman snatched that possibility away,” Marcel said.

  Rex looked away a moment, absorbing it all. “Goddamnit—you should have told me.”

  “I’m sorry, mon ami,” Andy said. “Perhaps we should have. But once you decided you were going down to Washington, Marcel said it would send Hitchell and Lilith into panic mode.”

  “You’re like a fucking car crusher when you get pissed,” Marcel said. “I knew you’d scare the shit out of them and make them get sloppy. And that’s when they went nuts and started buying Richette stock like there was no tomorrow.”

  “So where did all of this lead to?” Rex said.

  “We called Richette’s bluff on the takeover attempt,” Andy said. “As of this afternoon, they’re now on their way to becoming a wholly own subsidiary of Mercier.”

  “What?” Rex said, astonished.

  “That’s right,” Marcel said. “We pulled all our resources together, and with a couple of low-interest loans from all that cheap American money floating around, we grabbed fifty-five percent of Richette stock and gained a controlling interest.”

  “And now they’re all scampering like rats from a sinking ship,” Andy said, pulling out his phone. He tapped it a couple of times, holding it up. “Look at this text I just got from Julie.”

  Hot off the police wire! Tell Rex that his little lobbyist friend just spilled her guts to the DA and she’s been arrested on filing false charges.

  “Damn,” Charlotte said. “And I’ll bet that’s only the beginning of it. They’re all going down.” She looked to Marcel. “And I thought Rex was devious.”

  “They don’t call Marcel the enfant terrible for nothing,” Dani said.

  “It was the recordings that really did it,” Marcel said. “Now that was brilliant. That made her fuck up even more.” He clapped his other hand over Rex’s shoulder. “You’re the best there is, Rex.”

  “So if I am,” he said, taking a couple of steps back, “why are you firing me?”

  Marcel glanced to his brother. “Well, now that we’re so big, how can we leave you over in Marseille? Who’s going to run our North American operations? Especially now,” he said, glancing to Charlotte.

  “You’re joking,” Rex said, almost as a whisper.

  “I joke a lot,” Marcel said, “but not about this. You’d control everything from the Hudson Bay to the Panama Canal, and it’ll be yours to run any way you want. You see”—he clasped him by the shoulders, his expression never more serious—“Mercier is and always has been a family business. We’d like to keep it that way. What do you say, cousin?”

  Rex’s gaze shot to Andy’s. “You told him?”

  Andy nodded. “After this, Marcel proved he was ready.”

  “I’ve been riding too long on your coattails,” Marcel said. “But they’re just too big and comfortable. If I don’t get off now I never will. Like Andy said, it’s time. And it’s time for you, too. What do you say?”

  Charlotte took a double sip of her scotch and set it down, as Rex’s expression couldn’t have been more impassive. No wonder he was such an excellent card player. A look like that could break the bank. But it did nothing to absorb the roiling in her own stomach. She couldn’t help thinking her own future was being decided here as well. And for the first time in her life it hinged not on what she’d decide for herself, but hopefully, with someone else.

  If only he’d ask. Oh God, she thought, if only he’d ask.

  Then Rex looked to her, all his feelings toward her seeming to pool in his dark eyes. “I need to consult with my attorney first.”

  Charlotte let out a long breath. “Yes,” she said, her arm in his. “If you’ll excuse us we’re—”

  “Going to take a walk,” Rex said, swallowing his scotch in a single gulp. A moment later he was leading her toward the gangplank.

  They didn’t speak until they were halfway down the wharf when he stopped, turning toward her. “So what do you think?”

  She noticed he made no attempt to keep hold of her hand, slipping his own into his pockets. If anything, the expression on his face was much the same as it had been that night at the police precinct—cold, impartial, slightly sinister. But a lot of time had passed since then, even if it was only within the space of a few days. She now knew him well enough to read beneath that baleful mien and see a man weighing the rest of his life. But if he was asking her for advice, she couldn’t give it. This wasn’t a decision she could make for him. She could only offer him observations, what was balanced on either side of the scale. This was a decision he’d have to make it on his own.

  Even if it broke her heart.

  “Rex,” she finally said, “It sounds wonderful, the opportunity of a lifetime. It sounds like you wouldn’t have to answer to anyone but yourself. Just think of the things you could accomplish. But you’re also a very rich man. You could fly back to France and live the life you always wanted to. Run for that office. Go sail a yacht. Finally do whatever makes you happy.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few moments, his gaze washing over her. “You know what makes me happy?” He took her hand. “You do. For the first time in my life I finally met someone who does, and it’s you, Charlotte. You.”

  Was it what she wanted to hear? Of course it was. But until he made a decision, she had to remain neutral. This was his life they were talking about, not hers.

  She brought her hand to his cheek, her heart in her throat. She’d didn’t want to ask him but she would anyway. “So what are you going to do about it, Rex?”

  He brought her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against it. “I’m going to ask you if you love me. Do you?”

  It was as if her heart burst wide open. “Oh Rex, I do. After four days, and waiting a lifetime, I do.”

  His gaze was still on her. “And do you trust me, too?”

  “You know I do,” she said, slipping her arms around him. “In everything.”

  He kissed her quickly, reaching for her hand. “Then come on.”

  Charlotte had to trot to keep up with Rex as they hurried back to the Esther Reed. While they were gone Julie had arrived, the news van just pulling away as Andy helped her down onto the deck.

  “I’m here for my scoop,” Julie said, looking decidedly expectant. “What do you have for me?”

  “Stick around,” Charlotte said as they climbed aboard. “You’ll hear it as soon as I do.”

  “Well?” Marcel said. “On advice of counsel, do you accept?”

  Rex looked to Charlotte, saying, “Still trust me?”

  She never trusted anyone more. “I do.”

  He turned back to Marcel. “I accept a variation of your first offer.”

  Marcel looked at him, mystified. “My first offer?”

  “You know, where you fired me?” He looked to Charlotte. She beamed back at him. “I quit.”

  It was then Charlotte knew for sure.

  Margate City

  Christmas Eve

  Charlotte’s grand-mere had always spent the holidays in Margate, ever since she had bought the house. There had been just the two of them, but the house had never been empty. Every Christmas Eve they had filled it with each other, stringing greenery and singing Noël songs, and then on Christmas Day, they’d gather with the neighbors, a different house every year, for one big celebration.

  This year she had much to celebrate, just two of them again, sitting before the tree. “Oh Rex . . .” she said as he slipped the diamond on her finger, “it’s just beautiful.�
�

  “But you still didn’t answer me,” he said, one knee bent to the floor, firelight and illuminating his face. “Or it’s just my diamonds you want?”

  “Well, let’s see.” She set a forefinger to her cheek. “What do you have to offer? You’re unemployed.”

  “Gainfully,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve decided not to work for wages anymore. I am now just a humble philanthropist, out to do your bidding. And look what I’ve accomplished already. Didn’t I just buy that big building for your—what’s it called, Operation—”

  “That’s Occupy Vagina. But we don’t call it that anymore. It’s the Women’s Equal Employment Project.”

  “Mon Dieu. Do you realize its acronym is WEEP?”

  “Because maybe that’s what I’ll be doing any minute. Do you realize an accused felon just asked me to marry him?”

  “Hey, those charges were dropped,” he said. “Or are you forgetting you defended me in court?”

  “How could I? You still owe me the retainer.”

  “And you still owe me something else.” Rex handed her another box from under the tree, this one white and tied with string.

  Charlotte arched a brow. “And what could that possibly be?” She untied the string and lifted the flaps back, revealing two chocolate éclairs.

  “Hey,” she said, dipping into the chocolate glaze, “whose present is this anyway?”

  Rex leaned into kiss her. “I’ll take it back unless you say yes, chérie.”

  “Yes,” she said. “How couldn’t I? You know it’s my favorite dessert.”

  His mouth crooked wickedly. “And you’re mine, mon amor.” He kissed her. “Joyeux Noël. Je t’aime.”

  “Je t’aime,” she said as he lifted her into his arms, the best present yet to come.

  Give in to your impulses . . .

  Read on for a sneak peek at five brand-new

  e-book original tales of romance from Avon Impulse.

  Available now wherever e-books are sold.

  VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: VIRGINIA

  By Laura Simcox

  THE GOVERNESS CLUB: LOUISA

  By Ellie Macdonald

  GOOD GUYS WEAR BLACK

  By Lizbeth Selvig

  SINFUL REWARDS 1

  A BILLIONAIRES AND BIKERS NOVELLA

  By Cynthia Sax

  COVERING KENDALL

  A LOVE AND FOOTBALL NOVEL

  By Julie Brannagh

  An Excerpt from

  VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: VIRGINIA

  by Laura Simcox

  If she had it her way, Virginia Fulton—daughter of the President of the United States—would spend more time dancing in Manhattan’s nightclubs than working in its skyscrapers. But when she finds herself in the arms of sexy, persuasive Dexter Cameron, who presents her with the opportunity of a lifetime, Virginia sees it as a sign . . . but can she take it without losing her heart?

  Virginia threw her hands in the air and walked over to face him. “Come on, Dex! Be realistic. You need a team to fix this store. An army.”

  “So hire one.” He leaned toward her. “I need you. And you need me.”

  “I don’t need you.” She narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was going to tell him about dumping Owlton. Not right now, anyway.

  Dex slid off the desk and covered the few feet between them, frowning. “Yes, you do,” he said.

  She stared at his mouth, her legs suddenly feeling wobbly. “No, I don’t.” She raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself.

  “You can choose to keep telling yourself that, or you can make a move.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Move forward.”

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can.” The words came out raspy, and the look of irritation in Dex’s eyes changed into something much more focused. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned closer. “Make a leap of faith, trust your instincts, and take the job. You’ll have my full support.”

  As she gazed up into his steady eyes, she was all too aware of her fear. Because of cowardice, she never acted as if she expected anyone to take her seriously—and so they didn’t. It pissed her off. She didn’t like being pissed, especially not at herself. Dex took her seriously, didn’t he? She closed her eyes. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  When she opened them, he smiled. “Great. Now . . . about moving forward?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Literally moving forward would be fantastic. I never got to kiss you back, you know.”

  “I . . . didn’t expect you to,” she said.

  “That might be, but the more I thought about your kiss last night, the more necessary kissing you back became to me. And now? I can’t think about much else.”

  She gripped his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “To be honest, neither can I.”

  “Please tell me we can try again. Kiss me and see what happens.” His voice was low and thick.

  Virginia’s legs almost gave out from under her, and a shuddering breath left her body. She should be taking a step back, not contemplating kissing him again. Her body swayed forward, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders to steady herself. Just as she closed her eyes to think, his mouth descended, hot and sweet, angling over hers and stopping a hairsbreadth from her lips.

  “Mmm,” he uttered, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and it was all she needed.

  She pushed up onto her toes, her fingers laced behind his neck, and she kissed him. He tasted earthy—wild, almost—and that surprising discovery sent a shock wave through her brain. She kissed him again. “More,” she murmured, even though she knew she shouldn’t. His tongue invaded her mouth; he turned and, in one motion, lifted her onto the desk. Electricity sang through her body, and, as she twined her tongue with his, the idea of shouldn’t started to become hazy. Her hands threaded through his cropped hair and she leaned back—arching her breasts toward him—wanting Dex to press her down with his body. Please, she whispered in her mind, Please, Dex.

  His hands ran over her hips, but he didn’t move closer, so she deepened the kiss, letting her hands trail over his smooth jaw, the taut sides of his neck; then she slid her fingers around the lapels of his suit and tugged. With a groan, Dex pulled her against his chest again, his hands skimming up her back to gently tug on the blunt ends of her hair. She complied, letting her head fall back, and his hot, open mouth slid down her throat and nestled in the crook of her neck. He kissed her there, lingering.

  “More,” she gasped out loud, clinging to his shoulders.

  He kissed her throat again, his tongue branding a circle under her jaw. Then slowly, he pulled away. “We have to stop,” he said, looking into her eyes. “If we don’t . . .” He swallowed and she watched his throat work. She hadn’t gotten to kiss him there, yet. Dipping her chin, she leaned forward, but he pulled away. He gave her a sheepish smile. “I think we sealed the deal, don’t you?

  An Excerpt from

  THE GOVERNESS CLUB: LOUISA

  by Ellie Macdonald

  Louisa Brockhurst is on the run—from her friends, from her family, even from her dream of independence through the Governess Club. Handsome but menacing John Taylor is a prizefighter-turned-innkeeper who is trying to make his way in society. When Louisa shows up at his doorstep, he’s quick to accept her offer to help—at a price. Their attraction grows, but will headstrong, fiery Louisa ever trust the surprisingly kind John enough to tell him the dangerous secrets from her past that keep her running?

  Her eyes followed his movements as he straightened. Good Lord, but the moniker “Giant Johnny” was highly appropriate. The man was a mountain. A fleeting thought crossed her mind about what it would be like to have those large arms encompass her.

  He spied her packed portmanteau and looked at her questioningly. “You are moving on? I
thought your plans were unconfirmed.”

  Louisa lifted her chin. “They are. But that does not mean I must stay here in order to solidify them.”

  He put his thick hands on his hips, doubling his width. “But it also means that you do not have to leave in order to do so.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he stayed her with his hand. “I understand what it is like to be adrift. If you wish, you can remain here. It is clear that I need help, a woman’s help.” He gestured to the room. “I have little notion and less inclination for cleaning. I need someone to take charge in this area. Will you do it?”

  Louisa stared at him. Help him by being a maid? In an inn? Of all the things she had considered doing, working in such a place had never crossed her mind. She was not suited for such work. A governess, a companion, yes—but a maid? What would her mother have said about this? Or any of her family?

  She pressed her lips together. It had been six years since she’d allowed her family to influence her, and this job would at least keep her protected from the elements. She would be able to protect herself from the more unruly patrons, she was certain. It would be hard-earned coin, to be sure, but the current condition of her moneybag would not object to whichever manner she earned more. It would indeed present the biggest challenge she had yet faced, but how hard could it be?

  “What say you, Mrs. Brock?”

  His voice drew her out of her thoughts. Regarding him carefully, Louisa knew better than just to accept his offer. “What sorts of benefits could I expect?”

  “Proper wage, meals, and a room.” His answer was quick.

  “How many meals?”

  “How many does the average person eat?” he countered. “Three by my count.”

  Would her stomach survive three meals of such fare? She nodded. “This room? Or a smaller one in the attic?” She had slept in her fair share of small rooms as a governess; she would fight for the biggest one she could get.