French Resolution (Dances With Gazillionaires Book 2)

by Nora Snowdon

  Helen opened the door and smiled at the tall thin man shouldering two gray bags, presumably filled with photographic equipment. When she saw the man standing a few feet behind him, her face froze.

  “Miss Dunhill. I am Michel Dupuis with Le Trompet. I will be taking the photographs. Robert will be along later for the interview as his flight was delayed. And this is Monsieur Christoff. He is one of the platinum donors for the affair.”

  Antoine glided up to Helen, bowed, and kissed her hand. “Enchanté, Mademoiselle Dunhill.”

  “Oh, uh… Pleased to meet you.” Why Antoine was pretending not to know her? And why was she going along with him?

  “May we come in, Miss Dunhill?”

  “Oh, sure.” She moved aside to let them enter. “And please, call me Helen.”

  “If you two will make acquaintance, I shall set up my equipment. I will not be long.”

  Helen turned to Antoine and whispered, “What’re you doing here?”

  “I received a call from George Wilkins saying I was required for a photo shoot and so here I am.” His non-committal shrug contradicted the intensity in his eyes.

  She didn’t dare respond with the sudden dryness in her mouth and instead glanced at the photographer to break Antoine’s mesmerizing gaze.

  “Helen, could you stand over here for me?” Michel positioned her by the window and fiddled with his light meter. “You are so pale. I shall have to ensure we do not wash you out next to Monsieur Christoff. I will take a few solo shots of you looking out the window—no, do not actually look out, or we will just see the back of your head.”

  “That’s my best side.”

  “No. You put your head like so. Then it appears you are looking out and we still see your exquisite profile. A nice smile… no, not that much. Be pleased, yet pensive. Ah beautiful. One more… Bon. Now, Monsieur Christoff? May I get the two of you on the sofa, here? You must sit a little closer. I wish a tight shot, without a lot of background. That is good if you put your arm around Helen.”

  Antoine’s gentle caress on her shoulder made her jump. Her breasts immediately tightened and she crossed her arms wishing she’d worn a more concealing material. With any luck, the photographer would assume she was cold. She glared at Antoine. He lifted his hand to rub the nape of her neck.

  “You seem a little tense, Helen,” he observed with a smile.

  “I’m fine.” She focused on the photographer. Take the darn pictures and get out. Ignoring her racing heart, she resolved not to show any further reaction to Antoine’s touch.

  “Your heads a little closer and smile as if I’ve just told you a naughty joke. Ah good. One more and… look to my hand, one more smile. And good. Just one moment and I’ll be on my way.”

  Helen tapped her foot as the man meticulously packed his photography equipment into his padded bags. The last latch clicked shut and she walked Michel and Antoine to the door. After shaking hands with the photographer, she was not quick enough to avoid Antoine as he raised her hand to his lips. Momentarily stunned by the electricity elicited from this contact, she reacted too slowly when Antoine casually ushered Michel out of her room. He closed the door and turned to face her.

  She backed away from him, apprehensive. She knew her Kryptonite. “You have to leave, too.”

  “Mais oui.” He patted his pocket. “I seem to have lost my key. Perhaps when we were sitting down?”

  “I’ll get it.” Helen strode to the couch and pulled up the cushions where he’d sat. “No, there doesn’t seem to be anything here.”

  She jumped when his hand touched the small of her back.

  “Don’t!” She whirled to face him, but she was way too close. She looked up to see his lips descending toward hers. “No. You can’t” Helen pushed against his chest. She was surprised when instead of kissing her, he gathered her to his body in a warm embrace.

  “Ma petite. I would never force you. And you know how much I want you. You must also know I would never have said anything rude about you.” His hands stroked her back.

  It felt so good in his arms, hearing his voice rumbling in his chest. She stopped struggling against him.

  He kissed her hair. “Yes, I came to the Bahamas hoping to buy your shares. I had no idea who you were or what you looked like. Everything changed after I met you. A man cannot pretend a passion like we share. You must feel it too. I cannot let you throw it away.” He tilted her face up to his. “I want you, Helen. Tell me you want me.”

  Helen reluctantly peered into his eyes and was lost. Could he be telling the truth? He looked so sincere.

  She would regret it later. It could only lead to pain. Remember the blonde woman in all the newspaper articles.

  She leaned her body against him and pulled his head down to hers. The sparks were instantaneous. The outside world disappeared as she gave in to her lust, needing to touch and be touched. Everywhere. After an eternity she broke the kiss to catch her breath.

  “Mon amour, I have missed you.” Antoine picked her up and deposited her on the king-sized bed. He lay down beside her and ran his hand over the length of her body untying the knot of her wrap dress. She was lost in his demanding kiss, needing to taste him and sensing his urgency as well.

  He brought his hand up between her thighs and teased her through the soft silk of her panties. Then, when she cried out for more, his hand moved up to caress her breast. Shifting the thin cotton aside, he leaned over capturing her sensitive nipple with his mouth. She groaned as he left her breast to kiss her neck and then nibble on her ear. Her body was a quivering mass of nerve endings.

  “Antoine,” she gasped. His warm breath in her ear sent shivers down her back.

  “Say it,” his husky voice demanded. His hand skimmed her torso in a feathery caress. “Tell me you want me.”

  “I want you.” She’d never felt so lost in a singular hunger. His hand slid underneath her panties and she tilted her hips to encourage him. His fingers pulsed on the center of her desire causing her to moan.

  “Please,” she whimpered as his fingers stopped.

  “Will you promise to talk with me after?”

  Helen glanced at him in surprise. “Yes. But right now, I need you, inside me.”

  Antoine stood up and removed his clothes. He took a condom out of his pocket and placed it beside him as he got back on the bed. His hand moved between her legs again and she stopped him.

  “No. Make love to me now,” she demanded.

  He put on the condom, slid off her panties, and entered her. Helen sighed as he filled her, stretching her to mold around him. She looped her arms over his shoulders and then ran her hand down his muscular back, as he retreated and then pushed back inside her. The tension built, the friction, the anticipation. More, faster, harder. She screamed his name, lost in the glorious sensation.

  *

  Antoine held Helen steady as her body quivered and convulsed around him. He rolled them over so she was on top. Her hair felt different. He stroked the curly strands. The rest of her body felt so familiar and so perfect. She melted over him like a warm, sensual, blanket. Her breathing returned to normal. She kissed his chest and his groin jumped in response.

  “Oh! You’re still…” She stared at him in surprise.

  “Ready to go?” Antoine suggested with a smile.

  He lifted his hand to her breasts and circled her nipples with pads of his thumbs. Her breasts seemed to want more, so he stretched up to lick one with his tongue, then taking it into his mouth and sucking. She arched toward him. He shifted to her other breast and molded it with his mouth.

  Her soft whimper spurred him on, his hips moving on their own accord. Then she pushed him back and began riding him in earnest. He was worried that he wouldn’t last long enough, when her thighs clenched around him and she cried out. His own body released in a heart-stopping climax. He thrust into her with abandon, needing to possess her.

  After, he pulled her down onto his chest again and luxuriated in the soft texture of her ski
n under his fingertips.

  “Ma petite, stay with me,” he whispered in her ear. She was silent for longer than he liked. Had she even heard him over the wild beating of his heart?

  “Yes.”

  The single word answer made his heart jump with joy. He hugged her close then drew back and eyed her with caution. “If I use the washroom, will you still be friendly when I return?”

  She rolled off of him and kissed his shoulder. “I’ll still be lying in this bed, waiting for you.”

  “I will be right back.” Antoine didn’t waste any time in the washroom, quickly disposing of the condom and washing up. He came back into the room and was relieved to see her, as promised, still in bed. “Ah, ma petite. You have made me a happy man.”

  “I’m feeling pretty good, myself,” she admitted, curling up to him as he climbed back into the bed.

  “But I do have to ask you, why does your hair feel strange?”

  She touched her hair. “Oops, it’s just the salt water. I went swimming this morning and then didn’t want to shower until after I went to the gym or whatever. Otherwise, I could end up having several showers a day.”

  “Ah, you do not wish to get pruney.”

  She laughed. “Well no. I don’t want to waste water.”

  “You worry about a lot of things.”

  “Yup. And what I need to worry about now is what I’m going to wear on Saturday night.”

  “A sexy gown cut down to here.” Antoine traced a line from her neck to her belly button. “And cut up to here.” He slid his hand from her knee to her thigh bone. “And then you will wear me on this arm—” he kissed her arm, “—to fight off all the men begging to have their way with you.”

  “Well, I’ll call my friend Taylor to see if she has a gown like that I can borrow.” Helen sat up and grabbed her phone book from the bedside table. She dialed a number.

  “Who is this tailor?”

  “Jordana’s little sister.” She signaled to Antoine that the phone was ringing. “Hello, is Taylor there please? … It is? Wow, you sound so mature. Hi. This is Helen Dunhill… Yeah… I’m fine. Thanks. I have a strange question for you. How tall are you now? … Oh darn. No, I was hoping you were still short and I could borrow some clothes… Yeah, I know. Thanks anyway. And if you ever shrink and need to borrow clothes… Okay, I’ll call ya later. Hi to Jordana and your dad.” Helen hung up the phone and grimaced. “Damn, I guess I have to go shopping.”

  “And this does not make you happy? You are an unusual woman.”

  “No. You’re used to beautiful, long-legged, model types who look gorgeous in everything. I don’t buy long gowns, because they make me look even shorter.”

  “You are looking in the wrong stores. I will take you shopping this afternoon.”

  “You’re kidding?” She lay back down in the bed and glanced at him. “I can’t wear anything too low cut, you know, or I’ll fall out of it, or something.”

  “We will find the perfect gown for you. Trust me. I found this dress for you, n’est-ce pas?” Antoine pointed to the wrap dress now crumpled beneath her. “We shower together, to not waste water, and then we go shopping.”

  “Okay, but if it’s too painful shopping, then we’ll just quit. Agreed?”

  “Whatever you say, ma petite.”

  *

  Two hours later, cruising the main shopping drag in Miami, Helen realized how crazy life around someone like Antoine could be. Flying to Miami on a private jet just to shop? And now he was hauling her from one fancy store to the next making her try on a dress or two. He seemed to have something very specific in mind. Suddenly he stopped and pulled her into a strange little boutique.

  “That dress there.” He pointed to a shimmery, long, blue, dress at the back of the window. “Do you have a size that will fit my friend?”

  The saleslady scrutinized Helen and nodded. “It should do.” She climbed into the window display and removed the dress.

  Antoine took the dress and passed it to Helen. “Try this on.” He nudged her toward the dressing room and then turned back to the saleslady. “Anything else that would suit for a formal affair?”

  “This one?”

  “Non. Black is too common.”

  “What about this one?”

  Helen strained to hear their discussion as she entered the fitting room and threw on the blue dress. Unfortunately, the gown was too long and drooped at the waist. Other than that, it was beautiful. She walked out to see what else they’d found.

  “That is exquisite.” His eyes raked her approvingly. “Yes, we will take it.”

  “Antoine, it doesn’t fit! And I’d be tripping all over the hemline.”

  The saleslady descended upon her with a mouthful of pins. “Three inches up on the hem?”

  Antoine nodded.

  “We’ll take it in here. A small tuck here, to emphasize your behind.” Helen jumped as the woman seemed to be to be sticking pins everywhere. “Now,” the saleslady addressed Antoine. “Do you have the appropriate jewelry, or should I keep the flash on the décolletage?”

  “I have a silver shawl,” Helen offered.

  “Lose the bauble. It will flow nicer without.” Antoine walked around Helen surveying the dress from all angles and smiling. “Yes, ma petite. This dress is perfect on you. And you are perfect in it.” He kissed her nose and then handed her another dress. “Take that one off with care and try this one.”

  Helen let herself be pushed back into the dressing room. The second dress was forest green and burgundy, and fit her like a glove from the low, sweetheart neckline to the hemline, a flamenco style ruffle starting at her knees in the front and swooping down to her heels at the back. She loved the outrageous style even knowing she couldn’t carry it off.

  “I don’t think this one will work.”

  “Ma petite. You are beautiful.” Antoine spun to face the saleslady. “We will take that as well. When can we pick them up?”

  “Wait, Antoine—” Holy crap! He wasn’t planning on buying the gowns, was he? She hadn’t even considered that problem. But she certainly couldn’t use, or probably even afford both dresses. Her credit card would only stretch so far.

  “Relax, Helen. The dresses will be perfect. You go get dressed.” He pushed her toward the change room.

  “But…” They were both ignoring her now. In the tiny cubicle, she peeled off the gown as fast as possible. Damn, she shouldn’t have come shopping with Antoine. She didn’t want to fight with him over paying for the dresses. Hell, the private plane trip to Miami would’ve cost more than the dresses combined. The main thing now was to be gracious yet firm. She would buy the blue gown. Much as she loved the flamenco one, it was not practical. She brought the dress out of the change room and joined Antoine at the counter.

  “D’accord.” Antoine took the dress from her and placed it on the counter. “We will have some lunch and be back in an hour.” Antoine turned and propelled Helen toward the door.

  Oh damn. Now what? “But I need to pay first.”

  “It is covered.” He walked out the door and held it open for her.

  “This is too much.” Helen stopped just outside the shop to face him. “I can’t have you buying me clothes.” Had he thought because she’d said her father had, that she expected it?

  “This is for a special occasion. And it is a gift I give you as an apology for the pain I caused you.” He cut off her further protests with a kiss. “Please indulge me with this.”

  Helen glanced at the people walking by on the sidewalk around them. She couldn’t win this battle without causing a scene. “Thank you. I really wouldn’t have—”

  “I know.” He smiled and directed her to the left. “Let us find some lunch.”

  “How did you know she even did alterations?” she asked as soon as they were walking.

  “My sister made me take her to that boutique last time she visited me in Nassau.”

  “You have a sister?” She hadn’t thought about Antoine’s family
. “Is she older or younger?”

  “Many years younger and very pushy.” Antoine laughed. “Angeline is my half-sister. She is married to a master vintner in Champagne, and the entire world revolves around her and my two nieces. You would like them.” Then he added, “In small doses.”

  “Any other brothers or sisters?”

  “Non. My father had two wives, each had one child, and then decided that was too much. We were both sent off to be schooled elsewhere and only became acquainted at our father’s funeral. Ah, this is a good place.”

  The hostess met them at the door and showed them to a small booth. “A cocktail to start?”

  “Just water for me, please.” Helen changed her mind when the woman started listing off the plethora of different bottled waters available. “No, on second thought, a regular coffee?”

  “I will have a Pellegrino, please.” Antoine flipped open the menu. “I would avoid cheese and chocolate, as I believe George has scheduled a fondue for tonight’s dinner.”

  “Did you get the itinerary, too?”

  “Yes. I am involved in this memorial gala.” He hesitated, and then continued. “I am, in actualité, the new owner of Dunhill Holdings.”

  She nodded. “Which is how you knew I had shares in the company.”

  “Yes. But your father had already lost the company before I made a move on it.”

  She felt him studying her reaction. “Did your purchase have anything to do with his death?”

  “No! Helen, you must believe me. I gave him a fair price and he was already planning his comeback with another company. You may ask Camille. She was pushing the new venture. I had my doubts about it. They both were excited.”

  “So, you set up this memorial benefit for my father?”

  “Yes. The request came across my desk and I remembered you had spoken about it. Your proposal was a good idea for the new Dunhill Holdings, as much as the old. And I needed to see you again. Are you angry with me?”

  “Yes. No… I don’t know. This is all too confusing.”