Paris Heat

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. Yeah, right! Getting laid by a nameless stranger on the basis of a couple of hours' acquaintance on an overnight flight wouldn't qualify as adult behavior, no matter how hard she tried to rationalize what had happened.

She thought back to the events of the past night as she ran her hands down over her belly and continued to stare at herself in the full-length mirror. Her lips appeared to be a little bee-stung, her half-closed eyes had that dreamy, satisfied look usually attributed to the heroines in romance novels, and she felt a little sore in all the right places.

By anyone's standards, it had been a really insane thing for her to do-he could have been a rapist, a pervert or a serial sex offender. She should have pushed him off, asked the flight attendant for a seat change, and reported him to the airport police when they landed. But she hadn't, partly because she'd been having too good a time and partly because she'd done more to encourage than deter his advances. She could have told him to back off, but she hadn't and she didn't intend to spend one single second on regrets.

Okay, so what if chances were better than good she'd never see him again? She'd live. She'd manage to have a good time on the memories alone because, even if nothing else happened between now and the time came for her to return home, except maybe the odd suggestive leer or intense look, it would still be a trip to remember and treasure.

Recalling Jenny's warning about pickpockets, instead of using her regular purse, Trish slid her passport, a credit card, a few euros, a lipstick and a couple of tissues into a smaller one that she could wear bandolier-style next to her skin under a loose sweater or jacket. She took off her hoodie and slipped the long strap over her head, arranging the purse so it rested snugly against her skin and just above her waistline.

After putting the hoodie back on and conducting a short search for the apartment key, she found it on the table in the entrance hall where she assumed Sir G must have dropped it before they'd jumped one another like a pair of randy rabbits. Picking up the key, she made for the door.

Rabbits! She smiled at the parallel. Actually, she'd been lucky. The man's only crime, if it even qualified as one, had been that of being an opportunist.

And so what if he had? She'd taken advantage of the opportunity as well, and anyway her chances of seeing him again were less than slim. But this was Paris, it was springtime, and Frenchmen had the reputation of being great lovers, and that meant it was all good as far as Trish was concerned. It was a simple case of him being a match to her tank of gas, or however it worked in the case of instant attraction. And there had been a ton of combustible chemistry between the two of them from the word go, which she doubted either of them could have extinguished…supposing either of them had wanted to try. Anyway, she was quite sure stopping the progress of nature had been the last thing on either of their minds.

On her way out, Trish remembered to lock the door behind her, and as she started down the first flight of narrow stairs, she heard the sounds of someone coming up. Expecting to meet one of her new, albeit temporary neighbors, she hesitated at the first landing, then stared in surprise when she realized who was it was.

'What happened to your meeting?'

He paused his upward journey and smiled-the same million-dollar smile that had captured Trish's attention in the first place-the smile that turned her knees to water and made her lick her lips in anticipation. 'I couldn't get you out of my thoughts. And, since it's too beautiful a day to spend inside with a bunch of dry, fussy old businessmen, I gave them my report and told them I'd catch them later, as you North American say.'

She noticed he'd exchanged his business suit for black jeans and a black polo-an outfit that made him look even more delicious than before. 'I see.'

'I thought I'd come back a little earlier than I originally planned. I hope you don't mind.'

'No. It's just…umm…I…' Trish felt hot, embarrassed for not trusting him, and a whole lot of other things she prayed did not show on her face.

'You were on your way somewhere?'

'Nowhere in particular. I just thought I'd have a coffee and explore the neighborhood.'

He hurried up the last few steps and, placing his hands on her shoulders, kissed her first on one cheek and then the other, and finally very gently on the lips. 'I promised I would come back.'

'So you did. But people are always making promises.'

'And you thought I'd made one I did not intend to keep?'

'To be honest, the thought did cross my mind. After all, you don't know my name, and I don't know yours. You didn't give me your phone number or say where you worked either. You just brought me here and then umm… er…'

'Made love to you and vanished?'

'Exactly. Not a lot for a girl to build her hopes on. I think you'll agree with me on that.'

'Really?' He looked a tad confused. 'I didn't introduce myself?'

'No.' She smiled. 'But that's okay neither did I.'

He took a step back and held out his hand. 'In that case, my sincere apologies for the omission. Guy Rochambault of R amp;H Holdings at your service. And you are?'

She accepted the handshake. 'Trish Stacey, tourist and former business studies student.'

Taking both her hands in his, he pulled her in close. 'I can't believe you were planning to run out on me.'

'I wasn't planning anything of the kind. I thought I'd been had, so I was going out to drown my sorrows in a cup of coffee.'

A frown wrinkled his otherwise perfect brow. 'What do you mean by had?'

'You know…fooled, tricked. The innocent victim of a hit and run.'

He slipped his arms around her and began to caress her butt. 'You make me sound like a…what do the English call a man who does something like that?'

Trish shrugged. 'No idea.'

'I think perhaps it begins with a c.'

'As in cad?'

'That's it. You thought I was one of those?'

'No. I just thought you were a flirt and left it at that.'

'And now what do you think?'

She smiled and gave him a brief kiss on the lips. 'I think I need that cup of coffee before I say anything I might regret.'

He pulled her in hard against the juncture of his thighs, and she felt his arousal pressing against her belly. 'Wouldn't you rather go back upstairs and make love?'

'Anyone ever tell you you're insatiable?'

'But insatiable is good, no?'

She pulled free of his embrace and hurried down the next flight of stairs. 'I don't know,' she called over her shoulder. 'I've never tried it.'

Guy caught up her with in the lobby. 'Coffee and then we go back upstairs?'

'No. First coffee and then a walk, otherwise I'll have no appetite for lunch. And you did promise me lunch. Right?'

'So I did. Where would you like to go?'

'Le Cafe de la Paix. According to my guide book, they have great food.'

'Not the best in all of Paris,' Guy argued as they left the building and started along the sidewalk. 'But for a restaurant that's a big favorite with the tourists, I understand they rarely disappoint. However, it's quite some distance from here, so we'll need to take the car.'

Trish glanced up and down both sides of the boulevard, but the limousine was nowhere in sight. 'I don't see Georges. What did you do with him? '

'Georges and the limo belong to the company. And, since this is not company business, I prefer to drive myself. That's my car's over there.' He pointed to a low-slung black sports car parked on the opposite side of the street.

A remark once made by a friend about a man's car being an extension of his libido slipped through Trish's mind, but she merely smiled and kept the thought to herself. If she'd tried to imagine the kind of car Guy drove, then that would have been it in every last shiny detail.