The Temptress

by C. J. Fallowfield

  ‘Sorry, Lulu. Nothing.’

  ‘Damn it,’ I sighed. It seemed I was going to have to find someone of Ian’s calibre to work directly for me, or have him ensure that if an intern was assigned to me, he was fully versed in the requirements of a background check for me. This was unacceptable. ‘I’ll go into the bar first, give me a few minutes before you follow, so it’s not obvious we’re together. Order a drink, non-alcoholic and sit facing the bar to watch for my signal. Clear?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ Mike nodded. He hung back as I walked around to the main entrance, smiling at the doorman who quickly allowed me entry through one of the glass doors to the side of the slowly moving revolving one. I flexed my neck as I headed across the grand marble lobby, making my way towards the bar entrance and blew out a gentle calming breath. I could do this, I’d been born to do this. It had just been a while. I entered the bar and sure enough, just as she said, a man was sitting in the far left corner, talking to the barman. All I could see was the back of him, but where I’d expected that she’d exaggerated his appeal and had envisioned someone along the lines of the creepy Raul’s build, Mr. Le Grand was tall and muscular, dressed in a navy pinstriped suit with brown Oxfords. He had the shape of a seriously well-toned athlete. I was surprised and intrigued. I took a seat not too far behind him, facing his back so I could observe for a while. When the waiter came over I ordered a glass of champagne and put my modern art book on the table, ready to use as a conversational tool, if required. I watched as he was served with a cognac, then appeared to reach for his wallet from his inner jacket pocket. Damn it, that made it harder to access, physical contact would be required. He slipped the barman his room card and tucked his wallet back in his jacket. I flicked a glance over at the bar entrance to see Mike walk in. He took a seat in the far corner, where he could observe myself and Mr. Le Grand, then picked up the drinks menu. I drew my attention back to the bar, where that room card key went was crucial.

  ‘Your champagne, madam,’ advised a young barmen, as he lifted it off his full silver tray and gently placed it in front of me, with a small bowl of stuffed olives. I smiled and handed him a note.

  ‘Keep the change,’ I advised.

  ‘Thank you,’ he beamed.

  ‘Why do you get to drink champagne and I have to stick to soft drinks?’ came Mike’s low voice in my ear.

  ‘Because I’m the boss and you’re driving,’ I replied quietly, with a smile as I took a sip. The head barman returned with Mr. Le Grand’s card and my eyes followed it to his right jacket pocket. It seemed he planned on getting it out again later, which made life an awful lot easier. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I observed him, there was something about the way he held himself that was affecting me, not to mention those elegant long fingers attached to an overtly masculine hand that I’d seen tucking that card away. His hair was very dark, almost black and I’d spotted the cuffs of a white shirt under that immaculately tailored suit, with a pair of silver cufflinks, as he’d reached for his cognac. I couldn’t get over how impressive his body was from the back, I could well be back in Paris, looking in my makeup mirror, at the back of my very own hot Frenchman. Even if he turned around and had a face like a slapped arse, he was still so not what I’d expected after meeting his wife. I looked over to catch Mike’s eye and rubbed the back of my neck, giving him the signal that I was going in. I stood up and smoothed my dress down. Just as I was about to pick up my champagne and make my way to the bar there was an almighty commotion behind me, the clattering of metal on the marble floor and the sound of breaking glass. I looked around to see the young barman had dropped his tray of drinks, I gave him a sympathetic smile as he crouched down, red faced, trying to pick up the worst of the mess. When I looked back around, my heart leapt into my mouth, my stomach doing nervous somersaults. Mr. Le Grand had looked around too, but instead of looking at the clumsy barman, he was looking right at me, with a puzzled look on his face, almost a look of recognition. I however, was certain who I was looking at, as my eyes roved over Lucas Le Grand’s stunningly handsome face. A face I saw in my dreams every night. A face I knew only too well. Lucas Le Grand was none other than Luc, my Parisian fling that had ruined my sex life and changed my life forever. O crap!

  We stood staring at each other for a moment, as I tried to gather my scattered wits off the floor. Six years hadn’t been unkind to him, if anything he looked even more handsome and toned, more manly and broad. Those beautiful chocolate eyes of his seemed sad though, his shoulders were in the kind of pose of a man who felt as if he had the weight of the world on them. Had he recognised me? Was that why he was looking at me strangely like that? He straightened up a little as his eyes ran down my body, mine doing the same to his, as I forced myself to remember to breathe. Time hadn’t been a healer, all I could feel was my body reacting instantaneously to him again, the swell of my nipples, the sudden ache blossoming between my thighs, the feeling of my mouth going dry and my heart beating loudly in my chest. One look, one damn look and I was right back in Paris. I was kneeling on his bed, restrained with chains, his large cock filling me as we fucked like savages and I screamed myself hoarse. His eyes moved back up to my face and I immediately saw the change in them, it may not have been the unmistakable flaming need I’d seen in them the first time we’d locked eyes all those years ago, but he’d definitely reacted favourably to my presence. All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe, there was a crushing weight on my chest and my hands had started to tremble. My desire for him was undeniable, six long years and it hadn’t faded at all. I quickly grabbed my bag, turned and had to force myself not to run for the exit. I faked striding calmly, until I was out of the bar, out of sight, then ran to the safety of the toilets. It was déjà vu all over again.

  ‘What just happened?’ came Mike’s voice.

  ‘I just a need a minute,’ I uttered, as my mind tried to process what the hell had just happened.

  ‘Lulu, are you ok?’ came Henry’s voice.

  ‘I just need a minute, please,’ I replied, as I leaned against the wall and covered my face with my hands. Both of them spoke at once, it was too much, my body was on fire, my mind was racing, my heart was beating so fast it felt like it might explode. I’d always imagined if I ever went back to Paris again, that we’d have some freak accidental meeting, that sparks would fly and we’d spend another perfect night together. It had been the most amazing fantasy, because I knew it would never happen, but he was here. Right here. I could have walked over and touched him. I’d just never expected it, I was in complete shock. ‘I need a god damn minute,’ I bit, as the voices in my ear piece continued questioning me at the same time. I breathed out as they went quiet and tried to get my head around what I was going to do. I had two million pounds riding on this, but it was him. Even if he didn’t recognise me, with my brown eyes and my blonde hair, it was him. Could I really stand there and flirt with him? What if he realised it was me? My lack of resolve to resist Luc was already well and truly documented.

  ‘Lulu, you need to talk to me, tell me what the hell’s going on, I can’t help if I’m in the dark,’ came Henry’s firm voice.

  ‘We need to abort,’ I replied. ‘I know the mark, we have history.’

  ‘History?’ he queried.

  ‘Personal history.’

  ‘In what way?’ he asked.

  ‘Do I have to spell it out?’

  ‘O,’ came his and Mike’s voice at the same time.

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Did he recognise you?’ Henry asked.

  ‘I … I’m not sure,’ I replied in all honesty. ‘It’s been a few years, it was one night, and I’m not exactly looking like me.’

  ‘Then I think you should proceed, if it becomes apparent that he has recognised you, we can always abandon and strategize in the morning.’

  ‘I agree,’ muttered Mike. ‘He’s still at the bar. He keeps looking around at the entrance though, as if he’s waiting for you to return. Either he’s
realised he knows you, or he’d like to get to know you. Either way it’s the perfect opportunity to do the job. You can get close. He knocked back his first drink and ordered another, his key is back in his right jacket pocket.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re asking of me,’ I exclaimed, as I started to pace the cloakroom floor. ‘You couldn’t possibly understand how difficult I’d find this.’

  ‘So explain it, obviously not the ins and outs or that would be a bit … inappropriate for a boss to tell her employees, though I’m sure we’re both ears if you’d like to,’ offered Henry, Mike letting out a chuckle.

  ‘No,’ I retorted. ‘We had a very passionate fling some years back and I’m … I can’t believe that I’m having to share something very personal with you two, but I’m … I’m not sure I’ve got over him.’

  ‘Wow,’ whistled Henry. ‘He must have been good.’

  ‘Seriously? Years and you still think about him? After one night together?’ exclaimed Mike.

  ‘Yes, it’s ridiculous I know, but there you are. That’s why I think we need to abort, I’m not going to have my head in the right place.’ I grimaced as they both chuckled.

  ‘Having your head in the right place sure would resolve this fast,’ Henry laughed.

  ‘Will you stop it! This is serious. I’m being paid a lot of money here for a result,’ I lamented.

  ‘So do your job, if anything it should be easier, you already know he’ll respond favourably to you, you can get this done in one night and if you never want to see him again you don’t have to. All you have to do is get the card, keep him occupied while Mike sets up the room, then put it back. I can capture stills off the camera that’s trained on the bar, you’ll have a recording of him flirting with you so we have evidence of intent, which is a great start. If he’s actually having an affair we’ve got him if he uses his room. If he’s not and we need more on him, we send in Frankie to close the case, she’s the closest in looks and body type to you.’

  ‘I’m just not sure,’ I sighed, clutching my hands tightly together to stop them from trembling. All those memories had been released on seeing his face again, six years’ worth of arousal was hitting my body at once. Just like that I wanted him again, I needed him again. He’d said that we were destined to mate when we first met, I’d assumed a one night stand would satisfy both of us, sate that inexplicable attraction we’d had. But it hadn’t satisfied me. I was craving more with him. I’d always craved more with him. Each of those four guys I’d slept with since him had been benchmarked against Luc and had come up severely lacking.

  ‘Lulu, seriously, if he recognises you, you could say you were on your way to a fancy dress party and it was cancelled at the last minute. Say what a small world it is that you bumped into him here, giving you an opening to do your job. You’re The Temptress, you think on your feet, you weave a magic spell around the men you’re sent in to snare, you can do this. Think of the money,’ Henry urged. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’d agreed to this for Tristan, to make sure our future was secure, that hadn’t changed. Just because it was Luc, didn’t mean that had to change. If I worked for MI5 I doubted I’d have the choice to back out, the mission was all that mattered.

  ‘Please think of the money, I have a bet riding on you winning,’ advised Mike.

  ‘Me too,’ agreed Henry.

  ‘That makes three of us,’ I sighed, with a resigned chuckle. ‘If something goes wrong, you’d better be ready to get me the hell out of there, Mike,’ I warned as I straightened up, prepared to go back in and finish this.

  ‘You got it boss. He’s got it bad, turned away another woman while you’ve been in there, then picked up your champagne and book from the table to put next to him on the bar. He’s still looking around waiting for you to come back. You’re in.’

  ‘Great,’ I replied, as I opened the door, butterflies roving in my stomach. I knew I had to do it, if I walked away and let Frankie try, I’d always wonder if he’d realised it was me. If that chemistry was just one sided. I wanted to know what he’d done in the last six years, how he’d ended up with an awful wife like that, why he hadn’t left her. The Luc I knew would never be in a sexless relationship. He was the very definition of sex. Part of me hoped that he had realised it was me, that I’d got to him as badly as he had to me, that he still wanted me too. He was my biggest regret in life. I’d always berated myself for sneaking out of his room that morning and not leaving my number. I’d often wondered how different things might have been if I’d waited for him to wake up that day. ‘Anything you two hear tonight is strictly confidential, got it?’

  ‘Got it,’ they both replied. I sighed heavily, then shook myself down, tucking my clutch up under my arm and walked back into the bar, heading straight back to my table, as I would have done had I not been aware that my drink had been moved. I feigned a look of surprise, then glanced up at the bar, in an instant Luc was off his seat and at my side. Had he always been that tall? He cut such an imposing figure in his suit with that broad chest. I stifled a groan as his irresistible scent assaulted my nostrils again, that heady mix of spice and masculinity.

  ‘Mademoiselle, I feared for the safety of your unattended book and drink, I moved them to the bar for safe keeping.’ His voice had only matured and deepened in the passing years, the sound of it sent shockwaves through my body, converging between my thighs. God damn it, one sentence in his sexy accent and my knickers were already wet.

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ I smiled, sliding effortlessly into an Essex accent, to try and throw him off my scent. ‘Mr …?’

  ‘Luc, just Luc,’ he replied, as he reached for my hand. I stifled a gasp as his fingers wrapped around it, raising it to his full soft lips as he lay a gentle kiss on my knuckles. A kiss I felt on my lips, both sets, as crackles of sexual energy permeated my skin. ‘Enchanté, Mrs …?’ he asked, his eyes studying mine intently. Could it really be that he didn’t recognise me? Part of me was disappointed, part of me wanted him to have that instant reaction to me, for him to feel that need for me that he had all those years ago. The other part of me was relieved that my disguise had saved me.

  ‘Miss Granger,’ I replied. ‘Isabelle Granger, but please call me Isabelle. A pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘I notice that you are drinking alone,’ he observed, with a puzzled look on his face.

  ‘I am, a party was cancelled at the last minute, I was already dressed up, so I decided to come and have a few drinks with a good book.’

  ‘I too am all alone,’ he replied and I held back a frown at the hint of sadness I heard in his voice. ‘Would you care to join me at the bar? I’d be happy to buy you more champagne in exchange for some company.’

  ‘As long as I’m not imposing,’ I replied with a forced smile. Good God, this couldn’t be more polite and different from our first conversation if we tried. Did he really feel nothing for me anymore? Or had his marital years with that bitch beaten the desire out of him? He came to me with a broken heart, she’d told me. I wonder who’d had the capacity to shatter the man who’d admitted he craved sex like a drug. I was immediately hit with a surge of jealousy to think of him falling for someone, at the thought of his hands and mouth on another woman’s skin. I blinked a few times as I tried to breathe calmly, I had a job to do. I followed him to the bar and as he adjusted the stool for me, instinctively my hand slipped into his jacket pocket and pulled out his card without him noticing.

  ‘Nicely done, Lulu, not lost your edge,’ chuckled Henry, who was obviously observing on the cameras.

  ‘What edge?’ asked Mike, as I reached for my clutch with my right hand, lowered it and secured his room key to the back of it with my thumb, keeping it out of sight.

  ‘Get with the program, she just swiped his card, she has it in her right hand, behind her clutch bag. Approach the bar, stand next to her to order a drink. You can accidently give her a gentle knock, forcing her to turn to look at you. Her body will block his view of her passing
the card over to you.’

  I smiled as Luc offered me his hand to help me up onto my stool, focussing all of my energy on not reacting to his touch, the feel of his skin on mine sending shockwaves through my body. He was so close I could almost lean forwards and kiss him. My eyes lingered on his lips for a moment, wondering if they still tasted as good. I watched him step back and bring his stool a little closer, before he sat down, sideways to the bar to face me. I twisted around and put my clutch on the bar, covering his card and picked up my champagne before turning back to face him. He had his cognac in his right hand, his left elbow on the granite bar, his long index finger caressing his sensuous lips. I blinked to snap myself out of an inappropriate stare at that face, that face that I saw every single day, that beautiful face that haunted me. I dropped my eyes to see his thighs were parted and I took a quick gulp of champagne to quell my urge to groan, as I saw he was hard and it was every bit as impressive as I’d remembered.

  ‘So, Isabelle,’ he purred in that delicious accent. ‘I see that you are a fan of modern art?’

  ‘I am,’ I nodded.

  ‘Quite a coincidence, moi aussi. I am too.’

  ‘Really?’ I smiled, pleased the research we had been given was at least valid, even if they’d fucked up with that damn photo. If I’d seen it was Luc, I’d have aborted immediately. ‘The old masters may have been skilled, but they really don’t do it for me.’

  ‘And what, pray tell, does it for you?’ he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. I smiled as Henry’s voice told me that Mike was behind me at the bar.