it?’
‘Last full moon,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Liar.’ He called her on it. ‘You’re blushing more than a gaggle of schoolgirls. You can hardly look at me. You’re no vixen. Although it has to be said you have potential.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘And you’re offering to give me a bit more practice?’
‘Of course I am,’ he said simply. ‘It had been a while for me too.’
She snorted. That she simply didn’t believe.
His grin flashed. ‘Truth. I’ve been busy at work and I haven’t had any midnight callers. But you’ve really whet my appetite.’
Had she? It wasn’t only his appetite piqued.
‘I know it was an unconventional way of meeting, but we’re good together.’
For a moment Ellie let fantasy rule—imagined being with him again for another round or thirty of spectacular sex. Fantasy morphed—from this they’d develop some wonderful relationship that would rival the highest-grossing Hollywood chick flick’s happiest of endings... And, yeah, there was the problem. In the past she’d given too much where it wasn’t wanted. She’d been crushed before; she wouldn’t be daft enough to set herself up for a similar sort of heartache. She knew herself, before long she’d want the full fantasy. But a guy like this wasn’t the sort to do happy ever after. She’d seen his unveiled edge—unashamed, reckless—a complete playboy. Someone who could go along with an anonymous one-night stand with such relaxed, outrageous humour? Too, too casual. And while she could live with a casual—frankly marvellous—mistake in her life, it had to be one-off. Her non-plan with Nathan had been for just the once. This definitely had to be just the once. Naked Guy here was just too fit for her to keep up with.
‘It can’t happen.’ Her final decision.
‘Not because of Nathan.’ Statement not question.
‘No. Because of me.’ She’d get burned by Mr Naked & Too Hot to Handle. He was too much more everything than any other man she’d met—more gorgeous, more good-humoured, not only blessed by nature but more talented in bed than any guy had the right to be. She’d fall so hard, in a heartbeat.
He hadn’t taken his eyes from hers, as if trying to read her thoughts. Looking right back at him, into those molten-chocolate eyes, Ellie felt her thoughts begin to splinter dangerously. One thought became dominant. Not a thought—an urge. Steam rose, blinkering her vision—all she wanted was to plant a kiss on those perfectly curved lips.
She breathed, blinked, stepped back. Not going to happen. She moved quickly, opening the door and stepping out of the insanity.
‘Wait.’ He stepped after her, apparently not caring that she was in the middle of the hall in a sheer slip and he had only a facecloth failing to protect his modesty. ‘I don’t know your name. Mine’s—’
‘Don’t.’ She held up her hand. ‘Let’s just pretend the whole thing was a dream.’
‘But—’
‘Bye!’ She clutched her breasts so she could sprint down the hallway to the stairs.
‘You’re going to leave me like this?’
She turned at his holler, saw him standing outrageously proud, bolder than anyone she’d met in her life. He had a fascinating lack of care, and an ability to find amusement in anything—that made him all the more intriguing. But she forced another step back from temptation. ‘I’m sure you’ll figure something out.’
Yeah, it’d be no time ’til he tempted another woman into his bed. And Ellie would be all envy.
CHAPTER THREE
‘ELLIE, where have you been?’ Nathan pointedly looked at his watch when Ellie finally made it down to the breakfast table an hour and a shower later. There was no sign of his girl guest—or any other guests either.
She squared her shoulders, refusing to feel even a hint of regret about last night. Maybe she should feel worse, but the gorgeous Naked Guy had completely diffused any threat of angst with his humour and relaxed attitude. And Nathan here had been scoring someone else. At least he never had to know about her crazy intention last night. She really had got the better end of the deal.
‘I’ve been waiting ages for you.’ Nathan’s tone turned more to the ‘smooth’ one he used so often.
And she really didn’t think so. ‘I didn’t know we were in such a rush to get going,’ she answered ultra matter-of-factly.
‘We’re not leaving.’ Nathan surprised her. ‘He’s here.’
‘Who?’
‘The owner. He’s turned up unexpectedly.’
‘The French guy?’ Son of the folly man? Given the old dude hadn’t lived to see the chateau finished, she guessed the son to be in his late forties or fifties.
Nathan nodded vehemently. ‘We have to do whatever it takes to convince him this is the place.’
Ellie didn’t want to stay here a moment longer than necessary, not when she had that other guest to avoid. Besides, securing permission to film onsite wasn’t usually a problem. Business owners were thrilled to get the exposure. Plus they were well compensated. Although this place was in a class of its own. The elite of the elite retreated here where every luxury was on tap—and the key was its privacy. ‘What’s your plan?’
Nathan was frowning at her outfit. ‘I thought you might toy with the man or something?’
‘Pardon?’ Ellie asked, certain she’d heard wrong.
‘You know, charm him.’ He was still frowning at her outfit. ‘Flirt him round your finger.’
Ellie blinked as the real Nathan was revealed. Yeah, now the smooth had been removed—she realised that was what he did. Oozed charm to get what he wanted. All those compliments and the coy flirting he’d done with her? What had he really been after? Clearly not sex. She’d known the industry she worked in was all about the illusion—but this was killing the dream too much for her. ‘We might work for film-makers, but the casting couch doesn’t happen when it comes to locations.’
Lying back in bed—still recovering from his interrupted sleep—Ruben was glad for the open window and the way words spoken in the courtyard were carried up to his ears. The conversation going on down there was supremely interesting.
‘He’s French, isn’t he? Frenchmen love an elegant woman. Not sure they like jeans.’
‘Actually denim was originally created in France,’ Ellie—Ruben liked her name—snapped back at the Nathan prat.
‘Well, don’t you have anything sexier? What about a skirt or something?’
‘I don’t think skin is going to get us far. He’s probably married.’
Ruben bit back a chuckle at that suggestion.
‘Can’t
