and sensational photographs struck too close to home.
“Jean-Jacques sent men to convince him that would not be wise,” Elise confided. “The poor boy was in a cast for weeks afterward.”
The offhand comment doused the enjoyment Sarah had taken in Elise’s company up to that point. Madame Girault’s concept of love suddenly seemed more tawdry than amusing. Deliberately, Sarah changed the subject.
“I wonder how the negotiations are going? Dev said he thought they were close to a deal.”
Clearly disinterested, Elise shrugged and snapped her fingers to summon their waiter.
* * *
Halfway across Paris, Dev had to force himself to focus on the columns of figures in the newly restructured agreement. It didn’t help that his seat at the conference table offered a panoramic view of the pedestrians-only esplanade and iconic Grande Arche that dominated Paris’s financial district. Workers by the hundreds were seated on the steps below the Grande Arche, their faces lifted to the sun while they enjoyed their lunch break.
One couple appeared to be enjoying more than the sun. Dev watched them share a touch, a laugh, a kiss. Abruptly, he pushed away from the table.
“Sorry,” he said to the dozen or so startled faces that turned in his direction. “I need to make a call.”
Jean-Jacques Girault scooted his chair away from the table, as well. “Let’s all take a break. We’ll reconvene in thirty minutes, yes? There’ll be a catered lunch waiting when we return.”
Dev barely waited for Girault to finish his little speech. The urge to talk to Sarah, to hear her voice, drove him through the maze of outer offices and into the elevator. A short while later he’d joined the throng on the steps below the Grande Arche.
It took him a moment to acknowledge the unfamiliar sensation that knifed through him as he dialed Sarah’s number. It wasn’t just the lust that had damned near choked him last night. It was that amorphous, indefinable feeling immortalized in so many sappy songs. Grimacing, he admitted the inescapable truth. He was in love, or close enough to it to make no difference.
Sarah answered on the second ring. “Hello, Dev. This must be mental telepathy. I was just talking about you.”
“You were, huh?”
“How are the negotiations going?”
“They’re going.”
The sound of her voice did something stupid to his insides. To his head, too. With barely a second thought, he abandoned Girault and company to the team of sharks he’d flown in last night.
“We’ve been crunching numbers all morning. I’m thinking of letting my people handle the afternoon session. What do you have planned?”
“Nothing special.”
“How about I meet you back at the hotel and we’ll do nothing special together?”
He didn’t intend to say what came next. Didn’t have any control over the words. They just happened.
“Or maybe,” he said, his voice going husky, “we can work on our next time.”
A long silence followed his suggestion. When it stretched for several seconds, Dev kicked himself for his lack of finesse. Then she came back with a low, breathless response that damned near stopped his heart.
“I’ll catch a cab and meet you at the hotel.”
* * *
Sarah snapped her phone shut and sent Madame Girault a glance that was only a shade apologetic. “That was Dev. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
Elise looked startled for a moment. But only a moment. Then her face folded into envious lines.
“Go,” she ordered with a wave of one hand. “Paris is the city of love, after all. And I think yours, ma petite, is one that deserves a lock on the Archbishop’s Bridge.”
Sarah wanted to believe that was what sent her rushing out of the restaurant. Despite the lock seller’s philosophical musings, despite hearing the details of Elise’s sordid little affair, she wanted desperately to believe that what she felt for Dev could stand the test of time.
That hope took a temporary hit when she caught up with the dark-haired, dark-eyed Henri on the pavement outside of the restaurant. He’d just hailed a cab, but generously offered it to her instead.
Or not so generously. His offer to escort her to her hotel and fill her afternoon hours with unparalleled delight left an unpleasant taste in Sarah’s mouth. Unconsciously, she channeled Grandmama.
“I think not, monsieur.”
The haughty reply sent him back a pace. The blank surprise on his face allowed Sarah more than enough time to slide into the cab and tell the driver her destination. Then she slammed the door and forgot Henri, forgot Elise, forgot everything but the instant hunger Dev’s call had sparked in her.
She wrestled with that hunger all the way back to the hotel. Her cool, rational, practical-by-necessity self kept asserting that her arrangement with Dev Hunter was just that, an arrangement. A negotiated contract that would soon conclude. If she made love with him, as she desperately wanted to do, she’d simply be satisfying a short-term physical need while possibly setting herself up for long-term regrets.
The other side of her, the side she usually kept so sternly repressed, echoed Gina at her giddiest. Why not grab a little pleasure? Taste delight here, now, and let tomorrow take care of itself?
As was happening all too frequently with Dev, giddy and greedy vanquished cool and rational. By the time Sarah burst out of the elevator and headed down the hall toward her room, heat coursed through her, hot and urgent. The sight of Dev leaning against the wall beside the door to her room sent her body temperature soaring up another ten degrees.
“What took you so long?” he demanded.
Snatching the key card from her hand, he shoved it into the lock. Two seconds after the door opened, he had her against the entryway wall.
“I hope you had a good lunch. We won’t be coming up for food or drink anytime soon.”
The bruising kiss spiked every one of Sarah’s senses. She tasted him, drank in his scent, felt his hips slam hers against the wall.
He kicked the door shut. Or did she? She didn’t know, didn’t care. Dev’s hands were all over her at that point. Unbuttoning her blouse. Hiking up her skirt. Shoving down her bikini briefs.
Panting, greedy, wanting him so much she ached with it, she struggled out of her blouse. Kicked her shoes off and the panties free of her ankles. Hooked one leg around his thighs.
“Sarah.” It was a groan and a plea. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.”
Mere moments later she was naked and stretched out on the king-size bed. Her avid gaze devoured Dev as he stood beside the bed and shed his clothing.
She’d seen portions of him last night. Enough to confirm that he ranked much higher than number three
