French Resolution (Dances With Gazillionaires Book 2) Read online

  “Your father must be pleased to see you.”

  “Well.” Helen shook her head, a little embarrassed. “Dad had to leave for business before I got here, but he might return before I go home again.”

  “I am sorry.” The empathy in his eyes expressed more than mere sympathy for her missing her father, as if he understood their lifetime of disconnection.

  “It’s okay. He’s busy. And at least I’ve got a great place to stay.” Although her father’s absence did screw her plans to ask him about holding the fundraiser at his mansion. Shoot, I forgot to mail the proposal to dad’s office. Tomorrow.

  “True.” He leaned back into his chair and Helen had to search back their conversation thread to see what he was agreeing to.

  Luckily, they were distracted by the server as he set out an artfully displayed platter of mango and coconut encrusted prawns, mini lobster croquettes, and ginger scallops for appetizers.

  Antoine shot her another devastating smile as he offered her first dibs on the food. How the heck did he make every facial expression and motion feel like foreplay? She bit into a prawn trying to ignore his intense focus. God, it was difficult to eat in front of him. Much like playing tennis with him, she found she had to concentrate on not dropping her food onto her lap out of sheer nervousness.

  “Is your mother in New York?”

  “Yes. She’s a hippie, as eager to save the world as my father is to buy and sell it.”

  “And you are situated in the middle between them?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Helen took the last bite of the prawn and chewed carefully before swallowing. “Your father must be proud of you.”

  He tilted his head. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, I mean, you seem to be successful.”

  “He died before my company was established.” He raised his hand to stall her condolences. “We were not companionable. You are close to your father, now?”

  “We reconciled in my teens, but he still doesn’t know me.” She shrugged. “When he sees me, he likes to buy me things, mostly clothes so I won’t embarrass him. Then he can put me out of his mind until the next visit.”

  “You let him buy you?” His tone was matter of fact, but she felt the hint of condemnation.

  “It makes him feel better. I donate many of the items to a charity in New York. That way his money benefits others. This year though, I’m hoping he’ll let me host a charity fund raiser at his mansion. There’s so much untapped money in Nassau that could be feeding the homeless, and it’d be good for his reputation. He’s been receiving such bad press the last few years.” Helen blushed. She shouldn’t be telling a relative stranger about her dad’s business. Then again, she’d also kissed this relative stranger. “I’m rambling.”

  She sipped her champagne as her mind raced ahead. Obviously from the kiss earlier he was attracted to her, but probably only as a one-night stand. Could she do it and not feel cheap? Would she feel better if she held him off for a few days? And would he wait or just move on to Jordana? Ack. A childish rivalry was no excuse for jumping into bed with a stranger. His sensuous mouth and enticing eyes however… Helen took another sip and focused on what he was saying.

  “What is the class you said you were taking?” Antoine’s rich, deep voice sent a thrill to the pit of her stomach.

  “Business Writing. One and a half more years and I’ll have my bachelor in Business Admin.” She shook her head. “My four-year BA has only taken me six years to complete.”

  “Why so long?”

  “NYU is expensive. Plus, I’ve been doing the internship at Feed the Children.”

  “But your father—?”

  “—wanted me to go to secretarial school,” she interrupted quickly. “He who pays the piper, calls the tunes. So, my degree takes me a little longer.”

  He opened his mouth as if to respond then stopped when the wait staff placed conch salads in front of them. The salad had an interesting vinaigrette dressing, but didn’t measure up to Bettina’s. Helen suppressed a smile. Some things were better left to Bahamian cooks.

  Helen’s heart pounded as she asked the question that had been hovering at the back of her mind all day. “Have you ever been married?”

  His eyebrows raised in surprise and she blushed. Wow. That was smooth, Helen.

  “No. I have not had the time for marriage.” He smiled. “And you?”

  “No. Me neither.”

  The entrée arrived and she dove into it to cover her embarrassment. It was a filet mignon with a tangy marinade and a few decorative vegetables. A fabulous crème brûlée followed which she swiftly demolished before noticing that he’d barely touched his. Contemplating her empty dish, she wondered if he thought she was a pig. Jordana never finished any food when she ate in public.

  “That was delicious. Thank you.”

  “Thank you for joining me. Would you care for a coffee or liqueur to finish?”

  “Not for me, but if you’d like some?” Helen sipped the last of her champagne. The waiter had frequently refilled her glass and, now that she thought of it, Antoine had hardly drunk any. Which was good, because he had to drive, but was bad because, well, if he did make a move on her, she didn’t want to do something stupid because she’d had too much to drink.

  He signed for the bill. And she remembered to wait for him to pull out her chair. She managed to stand easily on her heels so she couldn’t be that drunk. A slight stumble at the door and Antoine’s arm was once more around her waist. She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t planned that misstep.

  As his sporty car rumbled to life, Antoine turned to her. “May I take you to my place for a night cap? The night is still so young.”

  “That’d be lovely.” Helen’s voice caught and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. It’d been such a divine evening; she didn’t want it to end. She glanced out the window, her mind circling the many possible outcomes to the date. Was she going to have sex with a relative stranger? She’d never been this tempted before, but how would she feel afterward when he dumped her and moved on? Or if he was a lousy lover and wanted to see her again? Not likely, but possible.

  After passing through the guard hut into the gated community, they pulled up to a remarkably banal square house in the Langford Quays, with the requisite ornate bars on the windows—not at all what she expected given his flashy taste in car and clothes.

  “We are here. My friend loans me his place when I am in town.” He shrugged and she wondered if her disappointment in the house had shown on her face. “It is more aesthetically pleasing inside. Because he does not live here year round he tries not to attract attention with the exterior.” Antoine unlocked the multiple locks and then disengaged the alarm system. “Ma petite.”

  Sure enough, once they were past the nondescript doorway, the foyer opened into a large living room decorated in cool blues and fresh whites. She walked closer to look at the paintings. “This is amazing. I love the artwork. Hey, is this a Cissely?”

  “Yes. You have a good eye.”

  “Not really. I just love the impressionists. I saw a great exhibition at the Met a few years ago. The paintings were incredible.”

  “Ah, then you must visit La Musée D’Orsé in Paris. Their collection is superb. But meanwhile, I shall get you some champagne.”

  “Thank you. Uh, may I use the washroom?”

  “Through that hall and first door on your left.”

  *

  Antoine’s mind raced as he poured the champagne, dimmed the lights and put some soft jazz on the stereo. He wanted Helen badly. He had not tasted his dinner he was so preoccupied with his pressing desire. When was the last time a woman had so enthralled him? Not only was she beautiful, she was also refreshingly honest. He hadn’t realized how much most women played to his ego until he noticed that Helen did not. But what she did not fake with moues and batted eyelashes came across loud and clear in her body language. He stiffened more, recalling her luscious body pressed up against him during their kiss
.

  Antoine tried to calm his ardor by recalling the last AGM he had attended and the dull speeches by various members of the board. He was down to the Directeur de Finance and his interminable PowerPoint display, when his thoughts were interrupted by a soft hand on his shoulder.

  “I believe someone was offering champagne?” Helen said with a smile.

  “But of course, ma petite.” He passed her the glass, and then lifted her hair off her shoulder. His fingers grazed her neck, resulting in an almost imperceptible shiver. She stood still, her wide eyes staring up at him as if unsure as to what to do next. He cupped the back of her head and bent to kiss her lips. It felt incredibly right exploring her soft, pliant mouth. He hadn’t expected resistance, but he was surprised at how swiftly she opened up to him, pulling him into her intoxicating sweetness. Her arm wrapped around his shoulder and she deserted his mouth to nip the side of his neck.

  Who is seducing whom? He slipped his hand beneath the thin bodice of her dress. Her body reacted with a visible jolt as he massaged her nipple to a hard peak. He kissed slowly down her neck, admiring how her back arched to give him better access. He trailed his lips to her now bared breast and felt, once again, like he was in control.

  She made a valiant effort not to spill her champagne as his lips tugged at her nipple. He travelled across to bare and taste the other breast. Her rising discomfort was palpable as she tried to think of what to do with the glass. He smothered his grin. All is fair in love and war.

  Antoine slid one hand up under her skirt and stroked between her legs. She shifted her weight and he paused to see if she would object. He took her low moan and her nails digging into his shoulder as encouragement and removed her silk panties, dropping them to the floor. He murmured in her ear, “Ma petite. Tu es incroyable.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Helen had never experienced such a maelstrom of sensations. Antoine’s warm breath in her ear sent delightful quivers down her back, but the naked hunger in his eyes was disconcerting. He was a player who for some reason had chosen her for this night, yet his heated stare felt so much more personal, as if she were the only person he could desire. It would be dangerous to fool herself into hoping for any sort of lasting relationship.

  This was physical, nothing more. Think Cosmo sex tips instead of Harlequin Romance, she reminded herself. Leaning forward, she unbuttoned his shirt and flicked the tip of her tongue over the hollow above his collarbone. The salty taste of his skin threaded through the subtle scent of vanilla. He pulled her closer and she teetered on her heels before grabbing onto his shoulder.

  His roving hands possessed her, one rendering her breasts tender with desire as his fingers brushed the tips and then lightly tugged and tweaked. Meanwhile, his other hand stroked her moistened core creating an insatiable craving. She gasped as his fingers entered her, pulsing within, pushing her toward that critical point of no return.

  A cold splash of champagne splattered over her hand and down her arm but it could not stem the tide of her passion. Her body exploded into a thousand bright lights. Her knees buckled and she clutched onto Antoine as jolts of electricity raced through her. She buried her face in the safety of his chest, waiting for her body to finally still.

  “My God…” Her voice was raspy from trying to catch her breath. Then she realized. “Oh no, I spilled champagne on your friend’s floor! I’m so sorry.”

  Antoine chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “That is not a problème, ma petite.” He removed the offending glass from her hand and deposited it on a small end table.

  His eyes, dark with desire, caressed her partially undressed body. She felt vulnerable looking at him still clothed. She reached up and undid two more buttons of his silk shirt, kissing the skin beneath. He stopped her hands before she got to the next one and moved her back a step. She widened her eyes in a silent question.

  “You have had your pleasure,” he growled. “Now it is my pleasure.”

  “But that’s what…” She felt suddenly out of her depth again.

  “My first pleasure is to see this magnifique body of yours, sans les vêtements.” Antoine turned her around and unzipped her dress. His warm caress followed the cool silk as it slid down her body. Her bra swiftly followed.

  She eyed the resulting blue and beige puddle on the ground. Wow. If she thought she felt vulnerable before… She’d never stood naked in just her heels in front of a man before. Was he disappointed that she hadn’t waxed down there? What was the norm in France? It was a little late, but she sucked in her gut. And was he going to make love to her in the living room as well? The questions rattled non-stop in her head as she waited for his next move.

  “Ah. Ça, c’est parfait,” he whispered. He slowly circled Helen, scrutinizing her from all angles. She resisted the urge to cover herself. The feathery touch of his hands across her back and skimming her breasts seemed to revel in her curves. Kneeling before her, he cupped her breasts and reverently kissed each one. Then he scooped her up and stood in a single motion, capturing her lips in a breathless kiss as he carried her down the hallway.

  “For myself, I prefer the comfort of a nice bed,” he said, grinning. He deposited her on a humungous bed and then swiftly removed his clothes. Helen stared at his stunning physique. His arms and chest were muscular, without looking like the results of steroids or excessive gym visits. Her eyes slid down his taut abdomen, past his impressive erection—she would’ve lingered there longer, but didn’t want to appear unsophisticated—and down to the strong, tanned legs she’d admired on the tennis court. Her eyes met his as he climbed onto the bed beside her.

  Resting his weight on one elbow, he leaned over to kiss her. A gentle kiss that soon transformed into a mind-numbing promise of experiences to follow.

  “Am I allowed to touch you now?” she asked him cheekily when he paused to take a breath.

  “That would bring me much pleasure,” he assured her.

  Helen raised her hand to luxuriate in the curly swirls of his chest hairs then slowly caressed down his torso. She wanted to memorize the enticing sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips. He seemed not to mind. With a wicked grin she pushed him onto his back.

  “Now you are under my control,” she told him. Before he could protest, she straddled his waist and leaned over to kiss him. Her temerity amazed her. But she wanted to experience all she could, assuming she’d only have Antoine for one night. She trailed her fingernails down his chest, followed by her lips and tongue. She licked his nipple and his erection lurched against her belly in response. His need for her was exhilarating.

  She slid down his body, pressing her breasts against his stomach. She paused to glance up at him gaging his reactions before licking the wet tip of his shaft. Then she circled the crest with her tongue. His neck muscles twitched, the only movement in his tightly controlled face.

  Apparently Cosmo was right.

  As she darted her tongue at the base and licked and teased her way up the ridge, Antoine’s breathing became more erratic and his hands clutched the bed linens. She used her fingertips to increase the sensations. He let out a strangled moan. Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her up to face him.

  “Mon Dieu, Helen. Ça suffit!”

  Mortification paralyzed her. “I’m sorry. I thought that was supposed to feel good.”

  He stared at her and then chuckled. “Ah, oui. It does feel very good. But I would like to last a little longer.”

  “Oh.”

  “Un moment.” Antoine reached into the bedside table and brought out a condom. He ripped it open and slid it on. Then he repositioned her above him and eased her onto him, filling her inch by inch. She wriggled her knees wider to draw him in deeper.

  With his hands holding her waist, his hips rose against hers. She gasped. He was almost too big for her. Then as he lowered himself, he dipped one hand between her legs, his magical fingers bringing her ever closer to the edge. He rose into her again, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the glorious sen
sation building inside her.

  Her mind shut down to everything except the rhythmic pounding within her, driving her on faster. He met her, thrust for thrust. Her back arched, her thighs clenching to draw him in closer. Her breath stopped until she could barely whisper, “Please, now.”

  A guttural sound erupted from his chest and he plunged savagely into her. She pushed down onto him, harder, faster. Her entire being focused on her ravenous need for release. An odd, strangled scream was wrenched from her throat as a shattering orgasm consumed her. Shudders rippled through her core as he imbedded himself deep inside her.

  He pulled her down into his embrace and she lay exhausted, listening to his racing heartbeat and trying to catch her own breath. What the hell just happened? Sex with Antoine had been like an out of body experience… or being possessed.

  After a few moments he shifted from beneath her. Standing beside the bed he lifted a curl and brushed it away from her face.

  “Please, do not move.” He kissed her nose then padded off to the bathroom.

  Stunned, she watched him walk away. Who knew sex could be that electrifying? With her ex-boyfriend it had been pleasant, like an extension of cuddling. Now she knew that, with an experienced partner, it was an intoxicating drug. Had Antoine spoiled her palate for all other men? Could she go back to the safe, comfortable boys she used to date?

  And yet, this was just a fling. Even though he appeared to enjoy being with her, someone like him could never be satisfied with an unsophisticated dolt like her. Would he try to let her down gently, or just do the, “I’ll call you sometime,” routine?

  *

  Antoine stared at his reflection in the washroom mirror. He half-expected to see someone else’s eyes looking back. He had never lost himself so thoroughly in a woman before. Was he getting soft? He’d always maintained his control during sex and yet somehow Helen had gotten beneath his layer of civility and he’d pounded away at her like some inexperienced teenager. Her enthusiasm and spontaneity had spurred him on to an animalistic state.