The Night That Started It All Read online

  The screen caught his eye again and he saw it wasn’t a ball, not really. It was a woman’s anatomy. Or one part of it, greatly enlarged.

  He summoned the most persuasive smile he was capable of at that moment. ‘Nom de Dieu, Shari, I’m not implying that we should just—carry on regardless. But you must agree, something like this requires careful—reflection. And time. Time to make a reasoned decision.’

  ‘Oh?’ She glanced up. ‘I thought you’d already decided.’

  He spread his hands. ‘Zut alors, we’ve both decided, n’est-ce pas? Remember what we said in the gardens? We agreed, yes? And we are—aren’t we?—on the same page with this?’

  There was something in her eyes then that made his heart lose the beat, then speed up like a fury.

  He hastened to add, ‘W-well, as far as one can decide at first instinct. We need first to examine all the medical issues. I’m thinking here of your health.’

  She lifted her shoulders. ‘My health’s fine. Anyway, they have the best possible health care in Australia. There’s nothing here that I can’t have there.’

  He said sharply, ‘You won’t have me there.’

  His change of tone made her blink. He noticed her stiffen and hold herself so rigidly, anyone would have thought she’d been expecting a blow.

  His heart thudded. What did she think? He was like Rémy? After last night? Breathing harshly, he swung away from her towards the door. ‘D’accord, you want to leave. Très bon. You must do as you wish. What time is your flight?’

  ‘Noon. I need to be there by ten-thirty.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up an hour before.’

  ‘Oh, look. No need to put yourself out. I can take a taxi.’

  ‘Shari. Of course I will drive you there.’ Shocked, wounded, he stared at her, struggling to interpret the meaning of all this—rejection. Didn’t women say they wanted guys to support them in this sort of emergency?

  She looked so fragile. One of those small, blonde, fragile women one saw at every market. No, he thought at once. Correction. One of those small, blonde, fragile pregnant women.

  He hesitated for fear of scaring her again. But he couldn’t just accept this—dismissal. He needed to remind her of who he was. How they’d been.

  He strode back and pulled her up out of the chair, crushed her to him and kissed her. Not a mere milk-and-water kiss like the earlier one in the downstairs lobby, either. This was one of the true ones. Fierce, like his inexpressible heart, and passionate, his hands on her breasts, her gorgeous bottom, the curves that had given him such exquisite pleasure and even now were making him so hard he could have her here and now on this desk.

  And he was vindicated. After a stunned second she melted against him and joined him in the torrent of fire, clinging to him with all the fervour and passion he felt himself.

  Blessed victory in his hands at last, he broke the kiss. ‘Let’s go to your room,’ he said thickly. ‘You don’t want to be alone tonight.’

  He could see his desire reflected in her eyes, but she dropped her lashes and turned her face away. ‘No, look. It’s probably best if I am alone.’

  ‘Chérie.’ Dieu, his voice was a groan. What was she doing to him? ‘I can’t—I can’t imagine how you will sleep thinking of all these things. You need me to hold you. How else am I to persuade you not to fly away tomorrow?’

  She made a grimace. ‘That’s just the trouble. No. No, honestly.’ Evading his hands she backed away, opening a good two metre distance between them. ‘I won’t be able to think straight if you’re here. I owe it to—to myself, to have this night alone. Please, Luc. You have to understand. I know Australia. I’ll feel more comfortable there, whatever I have to go through. So please … for my sake and for— Well, for my sake.’

  She virtually shoved him through the door. The failed guy, eliminated. The partner in crime, repudiated. The unwanted mate, condemned to a night of sheer and utter hell.

  She smiled ruefully, but he saw that in fact she was as inflexible as steel. ‘Goodnight.’

  Something—everything about her seemed different, although maybe it was himself, seeing her through different eyes.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHARI had ordered tea and toast to wake up with, and was relieved the early bite made some difference to how she felt. It couldn’t have been very beneficial to have been operating on near empty for so much of yesterday. No wonder she’d collapsed at chez Laraine and created all that drama.

  When she was packed and organised, she rang for her suitcase to be taken down, then waited in the breakfast room where she could watch the street, her trench folded on the banquette beside her. It was still far too early to expect Luc.

  From where she sat she could see the waiter across at the Café Palais Royale arranging chairs under his red awning, while next door the patron was sweeping his section of pavement.

  Even with her nerves stretched taut as bowstrings she could enjoy the scene, though it was a pleasure tinged with regret. If only she’d had more time to soak up the beauty.

  Half her mind was already set on home. Neil had emailed her through the night to announce the safe arrival of the twins. In her rocky state those first photos had been almost too confronting. She supposed drearily if she didn’t miscarry it would be comforting to have him and Emilie close at hand to advise her. It wasn’t as if she’d be completely alone.

  There was a constant ebb and flow of taxis in the square outside, and she had a cowardly impulse to run out and hail one. It wouldn’t be fair, but it might spare her some grief. After last night she suspected Luc wasn’t altogether satisfied with the prospect of her slipping from his grasp.

  Although, maybe now he’d had time to think, he would accept her escape as an easy solution for himself as well. Whatever choice she made, he could go on with his life undisturbed.

  She was just considering a tactful way to point this out to him when he walked in, ninety minutes ahead of the appointed time. Her heart lurched. The instant she saw his face she knew this would be no easy departure. It flashed through her mind he must have had an inkling he needed to be quick.

  He stood gazing silently down at her, then bent to brush her cheeks with his lips.

  He was unshaven, deep lines around his mouth and eyes suggesting he’d experienced a rugged night.

  ‘May I?’

  ‘Of course.’ She flushed, ashamed he’d felt he had to ask.

  He swung around to signal the waiter. ‘Café, s’il vous plaît.’ Then he turned back to her. Scanned her face. She could sense him assessing her mood. ‘Shari …’

  She braced herself, her heart knocking in her chest.

  His dark eyes were arresting in their gravity. ‘I can’t let you go like this.’

  Her nerve plunged. ‘But—’

  He took her hands and it was as if an electric charge pulsated through her. ‘Now I’ve had time to think, I can guess why you want to run away. I believe I didn’t listen to you well enough. Somehow I—didn’t hear what you were wanting. C’est vrai?’

  She looked warily at him. ‘Well…. you seem—seemed—very certain of the way to go.’

  ‘I’m not certain of anything.’ The words were as raw as if they’d been wrenched from his soul.

  ‘But yesterday you were so keen to—abort at once.’

  He flushed deeply. ‘Yesterday … Alors, I will admit, I felt the need to act.’ He opened his hands in appeal. ‘Try to understand. My first reaction was to think that for you this is a terrible blow. You are a free, lovely woman—how could I have done this to you? I wanted to deal with it. Spare you as much anxiety as possible.’

  He sounded so sincere, she had to believe him.

  ‘I see.’ She sat back against the banquette, surveying him. ‘I guess I thought you were horrified. Well, naturally, who wouldn’t be? Your worst nightmare realised. Me a—a virtual stranger, at the same time embarrassingly connected to your family, and …’

  ‘Mais non. How can any of that matter? But
I can’t deny I do feel—responsible.’

  ‘I know. I do know that.’

  Though, to be honest, she hadn’t really given his feelings much consideration. She’d assumed he’d made up his mind at once to rid himself of the problem asap. It hadn’t really occurred to her he might actually feel perturbed about having potentially changed her life irrevocably.

  If she could believe that, it would be a bit of a revelation.

  She glanced covertly at him. Apart from Neil, who was a human being, the salt of the earth and the kindliest pushover in the world, the men she’d known hadn’t shown much concern for the woman or the child. Obviously they all hadn’t been as selfish as Rémy—he’d been in a class of his own—but take her father, for instance. He was no Sir Lancelot. He’d run out on his family and on the child support.

  Unless he was angling for an Oscar, Luc seemed genuinely distressed. His eyes held a sort of endearing shell-shocked confusion. She slid her hand into his and curled it around his fingers. ‘Look, it wasn’t just you who made it happen, was it? It was also me. Every step of the way. I wanted to be with you that night. I wanted to experience—you.’

  A flame lit his eyes and smouldered there so fiercely she felt scorched. ‘And I you.’

  His glance was so flagrantly sexual at that moment she almost expected him to leap across the table and grab her in full view of the early-morning breakfasters of the Brasserie du Louvre. And, crazed as she was, she’d have let him.

  Thoroughly inappropriate.

  ‘And I was the one who produced the faulty you-know-what.’

  He winced. ‘Don’t remind me.’

  The waiter set down a coffee pot and cups. Luc slipped the guy a note, then poured the milky coffee.

  ‘So.’ He straightened his shoulders and captured her gaze, his eyes serious and compelling. ‘I think we must tell each other the truth. What are you thinking, really?’

  Aha. Here it came again. The moment of truth.

  There were some details too dangerous to share with a man whose first instinct was to pull the chain. Tiny developing eyelids and heartbeats were not likely to sway a guy who was a big player on the Bourse, as Neil had informed her when he was trying to convince her of Luc’s importance as a hardhitting businessman.

  She tiptoed as cautiously as a lark upon a leaf.

  ‘Well, er … like you … at first I was so panicked all I could think of were ways of escape. But now …’ She strove to keep her face cool and expressionless. She’d learned from Rémy that betraying her schmaltzy interior was a mistake. Squeeze her and she’d squish, and hadn’t he just loved to watch that happen? ‘The more I—consider, the more I realise I’m not ready to do anything—irrevocable. There’s time to decide. A few more weeks, I believe.’

  He nodded, slowly and gravely. ‘Oui. I too would like a few more weeks.’

  ‘Really?’ She felt a stab of surprise. Why? What was in it for him? Was he having some sort of brainstorm? She tried to read his eyes. ‘After all, it is a huge decision.’

  He nodded. ‘Vraiment it is huge. So huge we should make it together. Agreed?’

  A warning gong tolled deep within her. Togetherness was all very well if they wanted the same thing. But if they didn’t …

  He watched her face. She could feel the clock ticking for her answer.

  ‘Well …’ She reached for her cup. Her hand shook a little and she withdrew it, though not before he’d noticed, to her chagrin. ‘Certainly we need a clear picture of where each other stands.’

  His eyes glinted, then he frowned down at his coffee. When he looked up he spoke quietly, his tone measured. ‘I’m hoping you will agree to stay in France while we consider.’

  ‘What, here?’ She cast an involuntary look around. ‘Oh, no, no. Sorry, I’m not able to manage that. Anyway, I’d prefer to be at home coping with this than in a hotel in a strange country.’

  ‘You misunderstand.’ A flush darkened his bristly cheek. ‘Not here, chérie. With me. In my apartment.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The apartment, no less.

  A sunbeam dangled itself enticingly in the direction of her heart, with hope dancing up and down it in sparkly stars.

  She rejected the treacherous thing outright. She’d been sucked in by that sunbeam before. Big time. Stars, spangles, the works. This time the risks were far too great. It wasn’t just her dreams she had to worry about being flushed down the toilet.

  ‘And you won’t be coping alone,’ he added, smiling. But she sensed determination behind those eyes. And in the set of his handsome jaw she read assurance. Authority. The man asserting his rights. ‘You will have me,’ he declared softly.

  ‘Of course.’ She beamed him a smile, though her insides were twanging with warnings of caution. ‘And I appreciate the offer, I truly do, but I’m probably better to be independent and in charge of my own space, you know?’ A wry twitch of his lips only added more momentum to her misgivings. ‘I told you. I learned the hard way I’m not cut out for togetherness and the domestic life.’

  Maybe he had the misguided belief he was an equal partner in this enterprise, but it wasn’t all happening to him, was it? He wasn’t incubating little developing networks of nerves and synapses. Arms. Legs.

  ‘Anyway,’ she added hastily, ‘I haven’t brought enough clothes with me for a longer stay, and … I have a book contract I have to fulfil. I need to work. I really do.’

  ‘You can work at my place.’ He spread his hands, smiling, insistent. ‘Why can’t you? And don’t worry a thing about your clothes. I’ll take care of all that for you. I’m good with clothes.’

  This was no recommendation. Rémy had been good with clothes. Good at telling her when she’d got it wrong.

  He made a rueful gesture. ‘Don’t look so mistrustful.’ He took her hand and held it between both of his, his dark gaze grave. ‘Shari … Please understand. I’m not Rémy. Listen to me. I promise—on my honour I would never do anything to cause you harm.’

  His eyes shone with a light that threatened to pierce her total serenity.

  With her wobbly heart trembling in its niche all of a sudden, she felt a severe need to loosen her scarf. ‘Well, quel relief.’ She moistened her lips. ‘That’s … very nice.’

  Glancing at her watch, she saw there was still plenty of time, but she wouldn’t have minded bolting for the airport right at that very instant. She made to gather her trench. ‘Actually, Luc, I don’t want to be rude and rush things, but …’

  He leaned forward, holding her captive in his dark gaze. ‘You’re not listening to me, Shari. I’m begging you to stay. I want to support you.’

  ‘Oh, heavens.’ Her pulse raced faster than Black Caviar at the Melbourne Cup. Was this the guy in the romance, or was she reading too much into a few words again? ‘Why would you want to do that? I can support myself. And I’ve got Neil. I told you—I’m probably not meant for togetherness.’

  ‘You know why.’ His eyes glowed with a serious intensity. ‘I want you. I don’t want you to disappear to the other side of the world and lose you.’

  Oh. Oh, God and the whole set of heavenly virgins. He looked so gorgeous, with his dark eyes so intent and sincere …

  Like the crazy fool it was, her susceptible heart drank the words in like honey. It faltered in its resolve. Admit it. She was thrilled. All those romantic novels she’d brainwashed herself with from an early age wouldn’t be suppressed. In less than an instant she was floating into the realm of candlelit dinners, cuddles by firelight, strolls hand in hand along the banks of the Seine, night after night after glorious night of bliss …

  With her lashes fluttering out of control, she said breathlessly, trying not to fixate on his sexy mouth, ‘But—you see … I have to be certain. I can’t risk …’ Like the fool she was, tears chose that moment to swim into her eyes. ‘You must understand, I won’t be hustled into anything.’

  ‘I do understand. I understand exactly.’ He kissed her hand and held it to his
chest. ‘Feel this? I promise on my heart I won’t hustle you into anything you don’t enjoy to do.’

  She could feel the big muscle pumping under her palm, communicating disgracefully with her clitoris. She was so burningly conscious of the vibrant flesh and sinew beneath his shirt she had to yank her hand back before she did something scandalous.

  The temptation to throw herself into his arms and kiss him rapturously down onto the banquette was extreme. But she held back, her bloodstream a torrent of yearning while her last resistance dithered. She’d never so much needed to be rational.

  Honestly, maybe she’d be foolish to leave now. Why close off all her options? If he’d truly had a change of heart, this could be for the best, couldn’t it? Maybe he would fall in love with her and she’d be the love of his life. Maybe they’d have several children. Two girls and two boys. They’d all go to the Sorbonne and become philosophers, artists and doctors with Médecins Sans Frontières.

  ‘I see. Well. Well, then …’ She made herself sound businesslike. Let him know she was in charge of her life and her uterus. ‘Perhaps I could consider a—a brief trial. Only a trial, mind. No promises. How about say … a weekend?’

  After all, what could he make her do against her will in a weekend?

  ‘A week at least,’ he insisted, dark eyes gleaming. ‘I will use some vacation time and we can take this chance to—know each other.’ That gleam grew so unmistakably sensual she thought she could guess what sort of knowledge he had in mind.

  While she knew she mustn’t allow herself to be seduced into a maelstrom of mindless passion, her highly susceptible pheromones all thrilled in anticipation.

  She said, a little breathlessly, ‘But—we need to be practical about this. Are you sure you have enough room? Once I get started on my work, I do tend to spread out a little.’

  He threw his head back and laughed, his eyes alight with amusement. ‘Don’t worry. I can accommodate you no matter how far you spread.’

  Well, that was heartening. So was the kiss he locked her in as soon as they were in the car. Well, at any rate it started out as fiery, but then he cooled it to a more tender, controlled sort of kiss, which was all the more arousing because she was so aware of his restraint. By the end she was bursting out of her bra, and aflame between her thighs.