FOUR
WOLFE SCOWLED AS he marched across the circular driveway of the château towards the outer cottage, the quartz driveway crunching loudly beneath his boots in the morning air. It was still early, the sky etched in palest blue with a ribbon of orange rimming the horizon.
Why the hell had he invited her to dinner? And would she take it to mean tonight?
He wasn’t even meant to be in town tonight. He had a huge meeting first thing tomorrow morning in Hamburg. He didn’t have time to wine and dine a woman. So he’d tell her. Apologise. Explain that he’d forgotten about the business meeting.
He winced inwardly. She’d no doubt think it was an excuse…but what else could he do?
An image of waking up beside her caused him to clench his jaw. After years of practice his body had clicked on just before dawn, and he’d come instantly awake to find a warm, sexy woman curled into his side, with her head cushioned on his numb shoulder and her hand curled over his heart, the soft skin of her upper back silky smooth beneath his rough hands.
No.
There was no way he could have dinner with her—tonight or any other night. The sex had been great—more than great—but he rarely visited Paris, and even if he did he’d have very little time to see her again. And the last thing he needed was another ear-bashing from a woman who wanted more than he could give.
Would Ava be like that? Start accusing him of using her even though they’d both agreed on short-term? He didn’t know. And then he almost missed a step as he realised that he and Ava hadn’t agreed on anything Last night. They’d been too busy ripping each other’s clothes off.
Wolfe grinned. Blew out a short breath. Last night had been something else. She had been something else. Hot beneath all that regal perfection. He knew if Gilles found out he’d slept with her he’d hop into him, but…His smile turned to a frown. Had Gilles ever held her so intimately? Come to think of it, had he ever held a woman so intimately after sex? Didn’t he sleep on his stomach as a general rule?
No.
Entering into an affair with his friend’s ex-fiancée wasn’t going to work for either of them. Better to nip it in the bud now. Tell her it had been wonderful—more wonderful than he’d had in…What did that matter? It had been great. She had been great. But they were adults whose lives were vastly different.
Hell.
He stopped with his hand on the cottage doorknob.
He had to take her out to dinner. He might not have been one hundred percent truthful when he’d told her he had been thinking about asking her last night, but he wasn’t a complete bastard. The least he could do after the night they’d shared was take her out for a meal.
So, okay, they’d go out. He’d choose a nice little out-of-the-way restaurant, make her feel special, take her home, maybe finish the night off with more sex—not that that was a dealbreaker—then he’d leave and his world would be right again.
Nice and simple. Job done.
He turned the knob and greeted his men as he entered the cottage, not at all sure whether he should be bothered by the unusual level of excitement he felt at the thought of seeing her again.
Ava woke alone and realised immediately from the heat in the room that it was late. Then memory kicked in, facilitated by the lingering scent of Wolfe on the other pillow and the fact that she was naked.
She didn’t know what had possessed her to sleep with him last night, but she knew she had definitely not been thinking with her head screwed on straight. No way would she have done all those things if it had been. No way would she have given herself so completely to a man she hardly knew if…A wicked thrill raced through her as images of Wolfe’s magnificent body filtered through her mind and she frowned. She wasn’t into cavemen, no matter how charismatic, and she had never been one to drool over a gorgeous face and body.
Before, a little voice chirped annoyingly.
Ever, Ava countered decisively.
She pushed her hair back from her face and smoothed out some of the knots caused by Wolfe’s warm fingers. Her core pulsed with remembered pleasure and she groaned at her body’s willingness to relive every erotic moment. Yes, there was definitely something to be said about all the dips and bulges of warm, sold muscle, and the man certainly knew his way around the female body. But so he should. According to Anne, he had enough experience for ten men. And she didn’t have time in her life for someone like that. She was over shallow hook-ups where the male wanted sex and the female wanted a relationship.
Last night had been…Last night had been sensational, yes. But it was an aberration. One of those things out of the box that you couldn’t quite explain but you knew you probably shouldn’t have done. Too much champagne, too much anxiety about being at the wedding, too much overpowering testosterone in the form of one blond, godlike male.
Jumping out of bed to distract herself, Ava winced as long-unused muscles registered all that godlike male possession. He was just so big. So strong. When he’d manacled her hands and held her prisoner…Ava shivered and rejected her body’s instant softening. But he’d just played with her and then he’d left. His actions spoke more loudly than his words ever could.
That old insecurity she’d thought long gone raised its knobbly head like a sleepy dragon and yawned. But she wouldn’t go there. She’d dealt with that childish feeling when she’d moved to Paris, and it was no longer relevant to who she was now.
Maybe this whole business—her father’s phone call combined with her emotional response to the wedding—had affected her more than she’d allowed herself to consider, made her act out of character.
Another one of Anne’s comments snuck into her consciousness. ‘Women drop like lemmings around him,’ she’d said at lunch. ‘But he lives a fast-paced life. According to Gilles, the man is never in the same city for longer than a few days at a time. It’s like he’s combing the globe for some holy grail.’
More like variety in his bed, Ava thought with a burst of asperity. And good luck to him. She hoped he enjoyed himself.
He did invite you to dinner, that devil’s voice reminded her.
Yes, out of some sort of guilt, she told herself. He’d sensed her uneasiness after the sex and had made the invitation on the spur of the moment. It had been a nice gesture but his voice had lacked conviction. And his actions this morning only backed that up.
No.
She wouldn’t be having dinner with Wolfe. He didn’t really want to take her out and it would only be prolonging the inevitable. Also, she could think of nothing worse than forcing someone to do something they didn’t want to do. That was her father’s modus operandi, not hers.
Okay.
Shower. Get dressed. Hire a car. Drive back to Paris. She had a meeting with a new artist she was sure was going to be a pain in the backside but who had the potential of van Gogh and she couldn’t be late.
She didn’t have time to dwell on a man who had taken as much pleasure as she had without any promises for the future.
When
