The Billionaire's Bedside Manner

by Robyn Grady

  Cupid’s wings were raised behind him, his head slanted over the unconscious Psyche’s as he held her close. Bailey was in awe of the depth of emotion the master had captured in marble.

  “This is my favorite,” she decided. “You can see how in love with her he is.”

  “Legend has it that Venus was jealous of Psyche’s beauty,” Mateo said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “She sent her son, Cupid, to scratch Pysche with an arrow while she slept. When Psyche awoke, she would fall in love with the first man she saw: a hideous creature that Venus planned to plant in the bed. But Cupid woke Psyche and, startled, he accidentally scratched himself as well. Under the arrow’s spell, they fell instantly in love.”

  “And lived happily ever after?”

  “They had a spat and Venus put some more obstacles in the way. The last sent Psyche into a dead sleep, that only Cupid’s kiss could cure.”

  She sighed. “Like in Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Like you in the mornings,” he murmured against the shell of her ear.

  She smiled and admitted, “I’m not the lightest of sleepers.”

  “Waking you is my favorite time of the day.”

  He brushed his lips down the side of her throat and the backs of her knees turned to jelly. But she was well aware of their public surroundings.

  “You want to get us thrown out.”

  He chuckled. “We’re in France.”

  While Mateo continued to nuzzle her cheek, she thought again of the sculpture and its legend. “What happened at the end of their story?”

  “Our old friend Zeus blessed their union and gifted Psyche immortality. She and Cupid had a daughter, Voluptas, the goddess of sensual pleasure.”

  Bailey’s eyes widened. “Voluptas. Bet she has a story or two of her own.”

  Laughing—his old self again—he led her away.

  They cruised around the exhibits until the museum closed up at ten. But outside they found the city sparkling and very much awake. Making their way along the Seine, they drank in the river’s shimmering reflections and music floating over the cold night air.

  He released her hand and drew that arm around her waist. “What would you like to do tomorrow?”

  “That’s easy.” She cuddled in as they walked. “Everything.”

  “In a single day?”

  “We have a day and a half,” she corrected. “And I put myself entirely in your hands.”

  “Entirely?”

  “And exclusively.”

  He growled playfully, “I like the sound of that,” then turned her in his arms to steal a bone-melting kiss that sparked a wanting fire low in her belly and kept it burning.

  They found a warm place to enjoy coffee and share a pastry, then walked again. When dawn broke—a palette of pink and gold soaking across the horizon—cold and worn out, she yawned and couldn’t stop.

  Mateo raised his hand to hail a cab. “Time to turn in.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” he growled before opening the back passenger door of the cab that had pulled up. “We have another big day coming up.”

  She didn’t like when he was bossy. Even if he was right. Nestled in the back seat, she rested her cheek against his shoulder. Smiling drowsily, she found she couldn’t keep her eyes open. As her lids closed, all the sights and sounds and smells of their day in Paris flooded her mind. She snuggled more against his warm hard chest and murmured, “I loved our night. Love it here. I love…I love…”

  Mateo waited for Bailey to finish. But, with the sun rising—with the full day they’d had—she was asleep before her last words were out. After pressing a kiss on her brow, he too closed his eyes.

  When they arrived at the hotel, he roused himself and eased away. But Bailey didn’t wake, so he carefully scooped her up in his arms and, entering the lobby, asked the doorman to follow him to an elevator and help him into his suite. A few minutes later, the concierge swiped open the suite’s door and, on Mateo’s orders, hurried to draw back the bed’s covers before bidding him a hushed very good morning.

  Searching Bailey’s contented face, Mateo carefully laid his sleeping beauty upon the sheets. She stirred when he removed her coat and shoes but after he stripped and lay down to join her, she curled up against him and huddled deeper as he drew the covers up around her chin. His body cried out for rest but he didn’t want to give into sleep.

  The view was too good.

  As he stroked her hair and watched growing light play over the contours of that button nose, the curve of her lips, Mateo’s chest grew warm. Despite lingering memories of the Chapelle earlier today, he’d never known this depth of peace. The feeling that he had what he needed to survive, to be happy, was right here with him now in his arms.

  He’d mulled it over before. Now his mind was made up. No more wondering if Bailey was anything like his manipulative ex. When they were home again in Sydney, he’d make it official. He would make their current living arrangement more permanent. No contracts. No rings. Just an agreement to share each other’s company.

  And his bed.

  Twelve

  At nine the next morning, a soft caress at the shell of Bailey’s ear stirred her from her dreams. Smiling, stretching and sighing, she rolled over and remembered where she was and with whom. In Paris with the most incredible man.

  Mateo dotted a kiss on her nose, on her cheek.

  “You were sleeping soundly.” His voice was deliciously husky the way it always was first thing in the morning, and she found herself sighing at her body’s reaction to the desire evident in his hooded eyes and slanted smile. Coiling her arms around his neck, she brought his lips to hers while his hot palm trailed up her side. Within seconds her heartbeat was racing.

  She couldn’t remember the last of that cab ride last night. Couldn’t remember how she’d arrived back in this suite. She did know, however, that this minute she felt amazingly snug, wonderfully safe. She remembered their agreement…today she was entirely, exclusively his. How she wanted to pull the covers up over their heads and spend the next few hours in bed.

  Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he murmured against her lips. “It’s time to get up.”

  Groaning, she dragged the back of her hand over her tired eyes. Bossy again. “What time is it?”

  “Time to see Paris.”

  A second passed when she could have smoothed her fingers over his muscled shoulder and drawn his mouth back to hers. But this was their only full day left in France. She couldn’t pass that up, even for such a compelling reason.

  With not nearly enough sleep, Bailey was slow to shower and dress. But the moment they were back on the Parisian streets, coats pulled up around their ears, she was bubbling with excitement.

  They visited Notre Dame, the legendary home of the hunchback, then went on to an artist’s paradise, Montmatre et Sacre Coeur, situated on a hill in the north of Paris. It boasted the famous Moulin Rouge at its base and the famed Sacre Coeur Basilica, with its inspirational equestrian statue of Joan of Arc, at its summit. She made sure Mateo took plenty of snapshots.

  After changing for dinner back at their suite, they took the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower where they caught the last of the sunset. Gazing over the city’s buildings and monuments draped in a coat of gold, Bailey tried to imprint her mind with every inch of the breathtaking panorama. Mateo circled his arm around her waist and handed his camera to a German tourist who ensured the moment was captured.

  He thanked the man then asked her, “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving.” They’d had a bagel on the run, but that was hours ago. “What do you have in mind?”

  “A special treat.”

  As they descended, Mateo revealed his biggest surprise of the day. He’d booked well in advance a table at The Jules Verne, one of Paris’s most exclusive restaurants, situated on the tower’s second floor.

  They were shown to a table by a window facing north across the fountains and enjoyed a night of ex
quisite cuisine, the best of champagne, while surrounded by a glittering blanket of city lights.

  When the waiter removed their dessert dishes, Mateo slid a hand across the white linen tablecloth. His fingers folded around hers.

  “Did you enjoy the meal?”

  “I enjoyed everything.”

  He grinned, and the smile lit his eyes. His index finger had begun to toy with her bracelet’s charms…the heart, the bear…. He looked down but then frowned and took a closer look.

  “You ought to have that catch checked out. It’s near worn through.”

  Worried, she inspected the clasp then each of the charms to make certain none were missing. “Guess it should be worn. I don’t take it off.” Bailey’s stomach looped and knotted at the thought of losing it. “After so long, I wouldn’t feel whole without this around my wrist.”

  “We’ll get a safety chain for it tomorrow.”

  “I’ll look after it when we get home.”

  Mateo didn’t look pleased. But it wasn’t his place to insist.

  He reached and took her hand again, angling her wrist to study the charms. “Have you added to it since your sixteenth?”

  “It’s never felt quite right. It’d have to be a really special charm.” She didn’t own much, but this possession was sacred. Not that her father would understand that. Even now he probably thought she was a day away from harming or losing it.

  “What about you?” She asked, looking up from their twined hands; hers looked so small and pale compared to his. “Do you have any childhood mementos hidden away?”

  Mateo’s gaze grew distant and his brows knitted before he shook his head. “No. Nothing material.”

  Bailey’s heart went out to him. Given all his chattels back in Sydney, that answer made sense.

  “But I do have something,” he said. “A memory I treasure.”

  She sat straighter. “Memories are good.”

  “The day Ernesto came back to the Chapelle for me. It was spring and everyone was playing outdoors. He called me over, beside that old oak and he said, ‘Mateo, if you’d like to be my son…’” His Adam’s apple bobbed before he seemed to come back from that distant spot. Then he shrugged and gave an offhanded smile. “How’s that. I’ve forgotten the rest.”

  From the way his dark eyes glistened, she didn’t think so. But she understood. Memories were the most valuable of all keepsakes. He was entitled to protect his. He’d certainly given her some amazing memories these past days to cherish.

  Leaning closer, she confessed with all her heart, “I’ll never forget our time here.”

  When his gaze darkened more and his jaw jutted almost imperceptibly, Bailey sat back as a shadowy feeling slid through her. They’d shared so much. Seemed to have gotten so close. But was that open admission too much? Had she sounded too much the lovesick schoolgirl?

  But then a smile swam up in his eyes and the tension seemed to fall from his shoulders. He lifted her hand, dropped a light kiss on the underside of her wrist and murmured against her skin, “I won’t forget either.”

  After dinner they strolled again, but the weather had turned even chillier and, while they’d been lucky so far, Bailey smelled rain on the way. She tried her best but when she couldn’t keep her teeth from chattering, Mateo stopped to turn and envelope her in his coat-clad arms.

  “I’ll take you back to the suite,” he said.

  Her heart fell. “I don’t want to go in yet.”

  “We can always come back.”

  Come back? She searched his eyes. Was she reading him right? “You mean…to France?”

  “And sooner than I usually plan.”

  Bailey couldn’t take a breath. It was a generous, wonderful offer but…should she read more into it? She supposed she ought to ask herself, How much more did she want? They’d been sleeping together, enjoying each other’s company, but did she want a relationship, if that’s what he was saying?

  Her smile quavered at the corners as she tried to contain her whirling mix of emotions. As they headed for a cab stand, she smiled a jumpy smile and said, “I’d like that.”

  Thirteen

  Mateo made love to Bailey that night feeling both content and never more conflicted. Caressing her silken curves as they played upon the sheets…kissing every sensual inch of her and only wishing there were more. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to keep this woman in his life even if, with every passing hour, he felt himself treading farther into dangerous ground.

  After the Emilio affair, it was safe to presume Bailey wasn’t interested in exchanging vows and wedding bands. He’d invited her back to Paris and she’d agreed. Would she presume, too, that he would also invite her to live under his roof on a more permanent basis? In time, would she expect more? Deeper commitment?

  Diamond rings?

  Mateo slept on the problem and when they stepped out to bid the City of Light good morning, with Bailey looking so vibrant and fresh on his arm, he made a decision—one he hoped she would be happy with. But now wasn’t the time to discuss it.

  He arranged for them to spend the morning on a cruise, absorbing the sights from a different point of view. They boarded near the Pont-Neuf Bridge.

  “Its name literally means the new bridge,” Mateo said as they settled into window seats beneath a Perspex roof that allowed an unhindered view of the sights, including the many graceful arches of the stone bridge. “But this is the oldest bridge in Paris.”

  Bailey narrowed her gaze on a distant point then tipped forward. “Look there.”

  She pointed out a couple standing at the center of this side of the bridge in the midst of a passionate kiss. Before their lips parted, the man swept the woman up in his arms and twirled her around. They were both laughing, bursting with happiness.

  Bailey melted back into her seat. “I bet he just proposed.”

  Mateo’s chest tightened at her words, at her tone. Shifting, he got comfortable again and explained, “The Pont-Neuf is rumored to be one of the most romantic places in the city.”

  She laughed. “Is there anywhere in Paris that isn’t romantic?”

  He gave an honest reply. “Not this trip.”

  All expression seemed to leech from her face before she blushed…her cheeks, her neck. From the look, she’d gone hot all over. That made him smile but also made him want to pull back. He really ought to rein it in. Although she knew his mind on the subject, he didn’t want to confuse the issue. Companionship was good. A marriage proposal was not.

  After a leisurely time enjoying the sights from the river, he helped her off the boat. Her posture and thoughtful look told him she wasn’t looking forward to leaving this behind and boarding that jet. But he had one more surprise before they left. One that would, hopefully, surpass all the others.

  As they meandered along the avenue, she said, “Suppose we’d better get back to the suite and pack.”

  He kept a straight face. “I need to duck in somewhere first.”

  “Souvenir shopping?”

  He twined her arm around his. “In a way.”

  He hailed a passing cab. When they arrived at their destination, Bailey didn’t seem able to speak. Her eyes merely sparkled, edged with moisture, as she clasped her hands under her chin.

  “It didn’t seem right that we leave without visiting here,” he said, stepping out from the cab.

  “The Paris Opera,” she breathed.

  “I have tickets, but the matinee starts soon.” He extended his hand to help her out. “Let’s hurry.”

  He escorted her toward a magnificent facade adorned with numerous towering rose-marble columns. The highest level was bookended by two large gilded statues. The interior luxury, including mosaic covered ceiling and multiple chandeliers, had been compared to the corridors in Versailles. When Bailey spotted the 98-foot high marble grand staircase—the one his own was based on—she gasped and held her throat. As he took her arm and escorted her up the flight, she looked over and beamed.

  “I don�
�t need a ball gown or glass slippers. No one could feel more like Cinderella than I do now.”

  When they emerged from the theater, she was floating. She literally couldn’t feel her feet descending those incredible grand stairs. The performance was a thoroughly beautiful ballet Bailey knew she would dream about for months.

  As they made their way toward the exit, all those amazing sparkling chandeliers lighting their way, Mateo checked his watch.

  “We have a little time yet before we need to head off to the airport. What would you like to do?”

  She remembered a mention of souvenirs earlier and piped up. “Buy a gift.”

  “Who for?”

  “I wanted to get Natalie something to thank her for taking me on then letting me have this week off. But then I thought she’d appreciate something for Reece far more.”

  Chuckling, he wound her arm more securely around his. “You’re right. She would.”

  “Maybe some kind of stuffed toy. A Gallic Rooster.” Her step faltered at his unconvinced look. “It’s this country’s national animal, isn’t it?”

  “But Reece isn’t a baby. He’d appreciate something more—” he thrust out his chest “—masculine.”

  She slanted her head. Okay. “How about a football?”

  “Too young.”

  “Suggestion?”

  “That we go to the experts.”

  “And that would be?”

  He quickened his step and propelled her along with him. “The oldest and largest toy store in Paris.”

  Soon they arrived at Au Nain Bleu, the massive store that had been serving French children’s play needs since the mid-nineteenth century. There were lots of stuffed floppy-eared rabbits. Bailey seemed especially taken with a pair of bunny slippers. But Mateo ushered her through to a spot where boys’ toys ruled.