Mistress for Hire

by Letty James

  Nikki leaned her elbows on the counter and he got a delicious glimpse of cleavage. She’d tasted like vanilla and spice. Merde. He wanted more.

  “Didn’t you literally grow up in a bakery? How can you not cook? How can you judge chefs if you’re not one yourself?”

  “So many questions, ma petite gateaux. So you have discovered my real secret, oui?”

  She frowned and he found it adorable. He resisted the urge to kiss the frown away.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were on television? Now everyone will think I have some diabolical plan to use you to further my career.”

  “Don’t you? Stick with me, baby, and you’ll learn a thing or two.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “That is a very bad Groucho Marx impersonation.” She took a swig of her milk and he watched her.

  “Where are your glasses?” She had beautiful eyes. He wanted them to watch him pleasuring her.

  “They’re upstairs in my room. I don’t need them all the time, just for distance. You’re avoiding my questions.” She fiddled with her earlobe as if unsure she should be so direct, but her gaze boldly met his.

  “I thought you’d know everything about me. What with Emmaline and Mimi emailing so often.” He slid the grilled sandwich onto the plate in front of her.

  “Mimi never mentioned anything about you. She just kept telling me I should go work for Madame Guiscard. We both thought it would be a done deal. I didn’t expect to be turned away.” She waited until he had picked up his sandwich before she took a bite.

  “Ever since my Uncle Victor died, Emmaline has been very cautious.”

  “Wouldn’t you help her if she got in trouble?”

  “Of course.” He frowned at her. What kind of man did she think he was? “She’s family. Wouldn’t you help your family?”

  “Absolutely. I stayed with Mimi while she was sick instead of going to college. It seemed more important.” Nikki ate her sandwich with gusto, the juices from the roasted pepper dribbling down her arm.

  He couldn’t let himself be distracted from his goal. “Jessica didn’t help?”

  Nikki sighed, sucking on her arm before she wiped it with a paper towel. “Jessica’s never been the most reliable person. She did look out for me as a kid when we were young. And she was like a second mother to me, after Mimi, of course. But she’s gone her own way for the past five years—found other causes. I guess she figures I can take care of myself now. Although, I have you to thank for rescuing me this time.”

  “That’s me—the knight in shining armor.” He gave her a wry grin. If she only knew, she’d probably run screaming from the room. Or take a knife to him. That seemed more her style.

  Nikki shifted on the stool, giving him another of those looks as she had in the pantry, trying to decipher if he was lying or not. “I don’t want to talk about her. Tell me about you. How can you judge people’s food when you don’t cook? How can you criticize me for wanting a life making pastry, when you yourself enjoy it so much? And tell me how you can kiss me, then act like nothing happened.” She twisted the paper towel between her hands.

  He stood and opened a high cabinet, took out the Green Spot whiskey, and splashed some into two highball glasses. He handed her one. “To your health.” With a clink and a salute, he tossed it down, noting with satisfaction as Nikki threw hers back. She gasped at the burn and he smiled. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you?” He poured another glass and waved the bottle toward her in a silent question. She nodded. He sat down and sipped his second measure.

  “One, a person can know flavors without having cooked them. Two, the bakery lifestyle is perfect for Madame Guiscard. How do you know it will be perfect for you?” He held up one finger to stop the argument sputtering out of her mouth. “And three, once we go up those stairs, things change. Are you ready?”

  Nikki gripped the paper towel so hard she ripped it. The arrogant SOB. “After two days, you think you know me.”

  Gérard stalked over to her side of the island and leaned against the counter, his body seemingly in repose, but more like a lion on alert. She took a slow sip of whiskey. To keep her hands busy or for courage, she wasn’t sure.

  “I know you’re smart. It goes without saying that you’re beautiful.” His finger stroked the top of her hand, circling her knuckles.

  Nikki’s toes curled against the rung of the stool.

  “You would get bored after six months at the bakery. All of the jobs you’ve had before this one kept you interested for only a while, then you left. For bigger and better things. Could you learn pastry? Yes. Could you run a bakery? Absolutely. But you’d hate it. It’s repetitious, back-breaking work. You like adventure.” He ran his finger over her wrist. “Excitement. Taking risks.” He picked up her hand and kissed her palm. Meeting her gaze, he nipped the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb, making her shiver. He released her and stepped back—she tried to hide her disappointment.

  “I want to make love to your properly. Not in the pantry. Not on the kitchen floor.” He extended his hand on the counter, palm up. “Will you come upstairs with me?” Her nostrils flared, smelling the slight scent of apricots. Her peaked breasts rubbed against her tee shirt, throbbing for his touch. She wanted to fling him against the counter and tear off all her clothes. And his. This job was necessary. He was her boss. And he could probably break her heart in two like a day-old breadstick. She didn’t have any future with him. Girls from Loray, Georgia didn’t have any business sleeping with French billionaires. But he was giving her the choice, not dictating.

  She placed her hand in his.

  Gérard led her upstairs, not carrying her, as she’d expected and half hoped. If she were carried, she couldn’t change her mind. His room was at the top of the stairs—the opposite end of the hall from hers. Her feet sank into the plush oriental carpet as she crossed the threshold. Like her room, it was a suite, with a sitting area, whose wide windows overlooked the garden. A multitude of closed doors which she imagined led to closets and a bathroom. Dominating the space was a huge canopy bed with gold-fringed bed hangings. It made her feel overwhelmed and she was glad when he sat down on a large, red velvet wingback chair. With its gold swirls and brass tacks, it looked like a throne. Nikki had only a moment to appreciate the softly-lit reading nook, stacked with gardening books, before Gérard pulled her down onto his lap.

  She’d never made love in a chair before, not being as adventurous as he might think.

  He smiled as he turned her so she straddled him. Running his hands through her hair, he splayed it over her shoulders, the thick waves falling past her breasts. “Lady Godiva,” he murmured.

  “The chocolate?”

  He laughed, tugging her down until she lay snuggled in his arms. “No silly goose, the seductress. Like Lady Godiva’s husband, I find I would do anything to see you naked.”

  “Anything?” She teased, but he stiffened underneath her and she wondered how many women would use this opportunity to make demands. Or how many had? He was probably a constant target for gold diggers. But where she was sitting now, how could any woman think beyond the warmth and strength of his embrace? She sat up to see a frown marring his sexy mouth. “You first,” was all she could think to say.

  His face completely changed with his sudden laugh. Full and rich, it sounded like wood smoke and whiskey. His gaze met hers as he shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it behind her. His biceps bulged under the thin cotton of his tee shirt and she had a sudden urge to rip the material right down the middle. She grasped the arms of the chair instead, her fingers digging into the soft fabric.

  “You next,” he demanded. Her robe felt as heavy as lead as she fumbled with the tie. Impatiently, he pushed her hands aside and swiftly undid the knot, then pushed the robe from her shoulders. The heat of his hands seared her skin.

  They eyed each
other, his gaze smoldering. Even fully dressed, she could feel his growing hardness underneath her bottom and her insides clenched with anticipation. A game of strip poker without the cards. And she’d thought she wasn’t a betting woman.

  “Your turn,” Nikki whispered. Gérard twisted and tugged off his undershirt to reveal a massive sculpted chest, dark hair swirling over its contours. “Oh, my.” She shivered.

  “Are you cold?” He caressed her arms, cupping her shoulders, then trailed his fingers down her back, making her stretch and arch against the firm pressure.

  “Not at all.” Never had she been so warm. And wet. And ready. Yet, he prolonged the game, pointing with his chin for her to remove her top.

  She grasped the edge of her shirt and lifted it slowly off, wondering where this wanton woman had come from, but reveling in her actions all the same. His quick intake of breath gave her the power of confidence. She flung the garment aside and sat still, letting him look his fill as her breasts peaked in yearning.

  His gaze rose to hers and his eyes were blazing with desire. He throbbed beneath her.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  For once, she was tongue tied, awed by the sensations coursing through her body with just one look from him. “Thank you,” she stammered, wanting to comment on his own magnificence, but he crushed her to him, capturing her mouth with his, plunging in his tongue to mimic what he would do to the rest of his body. Nikki took him in, moaning, her nails scraping his shoulders.

  She let her head fall back as he kissed his way over her jaw to nibble at her earlobe, his breath hot against her ear. She cupped his face, delighting in the feel of his evening bristle against her palms. Slight lines crossed his forehead and deep grooves etched the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He was very much a man. Not a boy, as she now realized Tim was. She kissed his twisted nose and he smiled deeper, shallow dimples appearing on his cheeks.

  His hands, the hands she constantly admired, clasped her breasts and she moaned again as his thumbs grazed their tender tips. “Ah, Nikki. I knew it would be like this. You are so luscious.”

  She could only groan in reply as his fingers plucked, then caressed her nipples before dancing away to trail down her sides. She kissed his full bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth, then smoothing out the contours with her tongue. A deep sigh rolled through him. Like a cat, she rubbed her face against his.

  “You like?” His voice rumbled in her ear.

  “I like,” she whispered back.

  Dragging his chin along each of her arms, he nipped at her shoulders and both times she let out a squeal. He growled and buried his face in her cleavage, lifting his head to drag his tongue over her breasts, followed by his scratchy chin. She felt as if she would die from delight.

  “Such beautiful skin.” His fingers swirled over her shoulders and down her arms. “Like smooth cream, waiting to be licked. All over.”

  Blushing hot from his bold words, she wiggled against him and he groaned.

  “Enough of this.” Gérard picked her up off his lap and gracefully rolled onto his feet.

  She hugged his neck. “I thought we were going to stay here?” Her voice rose in a question.

  “No, my little creampuff. A bed is more preferable for certain activities. Especially at my age.”

  “Oh yes, you’re ancient.”

  He dropped her on the bed in retaliation and she bounced delightedly. She watched as he shed the rest of his clothes. With sculpted abs and bulging thighs, he looked like a modern Saxon warrior in his boxer briefs. She wanted to peel off his underwear like the skin off a grape. But he didn’t give her the chance as he stripped out of them and stood before her in all his beautiful, naked, enormous, full-erect glory. She imagined a cudgel in his hand and a shield in the other. Men would run at the sight of him. Every woman would want him. And she had him.

  His knee hit the bed, denting the mattress and she scooted away to give him room. He stopped.

  “Are you sure?” His look seared her.

  “Yes.” She’d never been surer of anything in her life.

  He rolled onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, divesting her of her pajama bottoms as if they were mere tissue paper. Capturing her wrists, he trapped them against her sides as he tortured her with his hot mouth, his wet tongue, and his bristle-covered chin. Drawing whorls over her tender flesh, he brought her to the edge again and again.

  Oh. My. God. Nikki closed her eyes and groaned. Never, never had she imagined such attention from a man. Before, sex had been so basic, so colorless. This was the fizzing heady delight of champagne compared to flat soda. She wiggled under his administrations, wanting to touch him. Finally, he released her hands as he delved between her legs.

  Gérard licked her with long, lingering, probing strokes. When he sucked her sensitive bud into his mouth, she couldn’t hold in a scream of delight.

  “Yes, Nikki. Yes. Let me hear you.”

  She moaned at the realization that he wanted the noise. He enjoyed the noise. She could be herself. She could be loud. His fingers joined his tongue, working their magic and she rose higher and higher, winding tighter and tighter. Getting closer.

  “Yes, my little creampuff. Let it all go.”

  Her breasts thrust up, her back arched, her hands plunged into his thick hair as she gave in to the release, screaming his name . . .

  Gérard held her, letting the shudders turn to mere waves. He kissed his way up her body, and she could feel his erection still hard and thick against her thigh. For a moment, he rested his body on top of hers and the mass of him made her feel delicate, more feminine. He rolled off and she felt bereft for a moment, until she realized he was reaching for a square foil package. She watched him sheath himself, not able to resist reaching out and grasping him. He jerked in her hand and he chuckled.

  “Come, ma petite,” he murmured, his voice husky with need. She had to smile at the wordplay. He grasped her waist and raised her to straddle him, his erection nudging between her thighs as she settled on top of him.

  She gasped, sure she would come again, just thinking of him inside her. But thoughts did no justice to sensation as he slowly eased inside, stretching her, filling her. “This is what the world comes to, Nikki. Pure sensation.” Their mouths met and she tasted whiskey, sweat, and herself.

  “Look at me, Nikki,” he commanded. His gaze met hers, his eyes practically black. Mesmerized, she fell into those twin pools, spiraling down into their depths as he withdrew, then filled her again. She clung to him with each thrust. He watched her and she watched him and they arched and clawed and thrust, until they fell together into the dark pool and she had to close her eyes to save herself. How could the first time between them be so powerful? She kept her eyes closed as once again he briefly snuggled on top of her, his breath tickling her ear, his weight pushing her into the mattress.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” She shook her head, wrapping her arms around the width of him, feeling as if she were melting into the sheets.

  “Mon Dieu,” he sighed in her ear. “What are you doing to me, Mademoiselle Sommers?”

  She giggled. She’d known from the first moment she’d seen him he was capable of great passion.

  He rolled over, tucking her into the crook of his arm. They lay quietly for several minutes. Gérard caressed her hair as it lay across his stomach. She could hear the racing of his heart beneath her ear. Her own beat a similar tattoo. What they had shared thrilled her and scared her. What was she thinking to follow him up to his room? They were in different leagues completely. Gérard traded on empires, wheeling and dealing with his celebrity colleagues. He might claim the world came down to pure sensation, but she doubted he truly believed it. Look how stingy he was with simple macarons, depriving himself of their pleasures.

  She bit her lip
, chapped from his beard stubble. It was probably a simple romp in the hay to him. Another woman conquered. One of many, she was sure, in his celebrity chain. She couldn’t make too much of this. A rebound romance, she told herself. Except, this wasn’t a romance at all. It was merely a convenience to him.

  Chapter 10

  Gérard felt Nikki’s sigh like a butterfly wing against his skin.

  “Ca va?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the citrus fragrance of her shampoo. The sprawl of her body over his felt much too comfortable. She scared the hell out of him. Here was a woman he was supposed to be seducing to learn her secrets and all he could think about was spending more time with her, making love to her over and over. She intoxicated him and he lost control. Her beauty, her wit, and her damned sexy moans entranced him. Innocence surrounded her. She wasn’t a virgin, but her playfulness touched something in him he didn’t want to think about.

  He frowned and shifted, his mind locking down against romantic ideals. Everybody wanted something. He just didn’t know what she wanted yet.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She wiggled away and propped herself up on her elbow, clutching the sheet to her beautiful bosom. “We just ate. You can’t possibly be hungry. I thought all men slept after sex.”

  Gérard rolled over facing her. “I find I’m hungry for you.” His body throbbing against her soft skin told her as surely as his words.