The Marriage Deal(13)

'Let's walk,' she suggested on impulse. Hastings Street ran parallel to  the foreshore, and it wasn't late. A number of tourists were enjoying  the evening air, walking, drinking coffee at pavement tables adjoining  numerous cafés and restaurants.

Michel caught her hand loosely in his, and she didn't pull free.

Did they look like lovers? Somehow she didn't think so. Their body language wasn't right.

He traced an idle pattern across the delicate veins at her wrist and  felt the sudden surge in her pulse as it leapt to a faster beat.

When she attempted to tug her hand free, he forestalled the action by  lifting her hand to his lips and kissing each finger in turn, aware of  the slight tremor that shook her slender frame.

Sandrine lifted her head and met his steady gaze. 'Are you trying to seduce me?'

'Am I succeeding?'

Only too well.

'Resorting to the neutrality of silence, mignonne?' She offered him a stunning smile. 'Of course.'

'On the grounds that anything verbal might give me a swelled head?'

'Something like that.'

They strolled along one side of the street, pausing every now and then  when something in a shop window caught their attention, then they  crossed over and wandered back to their hotel.

It was after eleven when she preceded him into their suite, and she  automatically stepped out of her shoes, then reached for the waistband  of her evening trousers.

Only to discover he'd already beaten her to it. She stood perfectly  still as he slid the garment down past her thighs and she didn't move  when he slipped the camisole over her head.

It was difficult to retain much dignity clad only in lacy black briefs,  and she retreated into the en suite as Michel began divesting his  clothes.

The lack of a nightgown caused her a moment's consternation, then she  plucked a towel free and wound it sarongwise round her slim form. She  might have little option but to sleep nude, but she was darned if she'd  walk naked into the bedroom!

Misplaced modesty, she decided ruefully as she met the dark, gleaming  gaze of the man settled comfortably against a nest of pillows. The  expanse of sun-kissed olive skin covering honed muscle and sinew was  impossible to ignore, so she didn't even try.

His faintly quirked brow didn't help any, nor did his slow, teasing  smile as she slid between the sheets before discarding the towel.

'It's a little late to play shy, chérie.'

'Perhaps I don't feel comfortable parading nude.'

'Do you?'

A slight frown creased her forehead. 'Do I-what?'

'Feel uncomfortable with me,' Michel pursued patiently as he rolled towards her and supported his head with a propped elbow.

He was too close, and much too dangerous. She became conscious of her  breathing and monitoring every breath she took. The beat of her heart  seemed loud in her chest, and she was willing to swear the pulse at the  base of her throat was visible and far too fast.

'I feel uncomfortable with me when I'm around you,' Sandrine admitted  with husky honesty, and her eyes widened as he lifted a hand and stroked  a fore-finger lightly down the length of her nose.

'And that's bad?' He pressed the pad of his thumb against her lower lip, then slowly traced its curve.

Heat suffused her body and pooled between the apex of her thighs.  Sensation flared deep within, and her fingers clenched in an effort to  control the aching need that made her want to reach for him.

'You're doing this deliberately, aren't you?' Sandrine queried in a slightly strangled voice.

'What am I doing, mignonne?'

'Seducing me.'

His head lowered and his lips brushed against her own. 'Mmm,' he teased,  his breath warm as it mingled with her own. 'Want me to stop?'

She nearly said yes. Then his mouth was on hers, gentle at first, then the pressure increased as he took her deep.

Unbidden, her arms lifted as she linked hands at his nape, and she held  on during the sensual storm that followed, giving, taking, in a manner  that left her weak-willed and malleable. His.                       
       
           



       

It was a long time before they lay spent, and curled in each other's  arms they drifted easily into a blissful sleep from which they stirred  in the early dawn hours to shower, then make exquisitely slow love until  the waiter delivered their breakfast.

'What to you want to do with the day?' Michel queried as he drank the last of his orange juice, then poured strong black coffee.

Sandrine spooned muesli and fruit, added milk into a bowl, then looked  enviously at the plate of bacon, eggs and fried tomato. She was  famished. And filled with a languid warmth that owed everything to  sensual and sexual satiation.

'Maleny, Montville, the Glasshouse Mountains.'

'I was afraid you would suggest that.'

'Why?' she asked, feigning innocence. 'What else did you have in mind?'

'We could stay here, order a late lunch, then drive back to the Coast.'

The thought of spending several more hours in bed with him would weaken  her defences, and they couldn't afford to be weakened further! 'It's a  new day,' she proffered solemnly. 'Let's make good use of it.'

'My intention precisely.'

'Let's not go for overkill. We scratched an itch, and it was great.'  Better than great. There weren't the words to even begin a satisfactory  description for what they'd shared.

His gaze sharpened. 'That's all it was for you? Scratching an itch?'

Sandrine lifted her cup, sipped the dark, sweet brew, then replaced it  on the saucer. 'You want to conduct an analysis, Michel? Should I  determine a points system and rate you accordingly?'

He wanted to drag her to her feet, sweep her back into the bedroom and change that tepid warmth into blazing heat.

She'd been with him every inch of the way, through the night and in the  morning. He was prepared to stake his life on it. He'd felt the tremors  shake her body, the sweet tug of her muscles as she took and held him in  a fit so snug he grew hard at the very thought of it.

She was slipping into self-protection mode in the clear light of day. He could cope with that as long as he had the nights.

'I don't recall your confiding too many comparisons,' he drawled. 'And  as we never did indulge in the Was-it-as-good-for-you-as-it-was-for-me?  scenario, I see no reason to begin now.'

'Confidence is a fine thing.'

'Knowledge,' Michel corrected with a tinge of mockery. 'Of you.'

Oh, yes, he had that, she admitted wryly. He knew precisely which  buttons to push, and where and when. It gave him an unfair advantage.

They finished breakfast in silence, then showered and dressed before checking out of the resort and collecting the car.

It was a beautiful day, the sky a clear azure with only a few wispy  clouds in sight. Warm sunshine promised high summer temperatures as they  left Noosa and headed towards the mountains.

Soon there were roadside stalls selling a variety of fruit and  vegetables, and as they ascended, the ground undulated with acre upon  acre in a patchwork of green pasture. It was a visual vista Sandrine  found relaxing.

Not so relaxing were the events of last night. It was all too easy to  reflect on the heaven of being in Michel's arms, savouring his taste,  his touch, exulting in the sheer sensation of two lovers in perfect  accord.

Even now, her body ached in places, and all it took was one glance, a  vivid memory, and the heat began to simmer deep inside, flaring acutely  until Michel became her total focus. Intense sexual chemistry, and  ruinous to her peace of mind.

It brought a lump to her throat for a few long seconds and made swallowing difficult.

Dear heaven, think of something else! There, in the paddocks, were  cattle, and overhead a helicopter swung east. On a rescue mission,  perhaps?

The car braked suddenly and an arm shot out in front of her, providing a  barrier as she was flung forward against her seat belt simultaneously  with Michel's muffled oath.

'What on earth?' Sandrine queried in startled surprise as the car came  to a screeching halt, only to see the answer for herself as a small dog  streaked from the road into the opposite paddock.

'Idiot animal. It could have been killed,' Michel muttered angrily as he  directed her an encompassing glance. 'Okay?' She nodded wordlessly, and  his gaze sharpened. 'Sure?'

He caught hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger and turned her head towards him, subjecting her to a sweeping appraisal.

'Yes.' It would never do for him to guess her shaken composure was due to him, and not the near accident.

She lifted a hand to her throat to hide the fast-beating pulse thudding  in the hollow there, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief when he  released her and turned his attention back to the road.                       
       
           



       

It was almost midday when they reached Montville, and Sandrine was  captivated by the quaint buildings, the cafés and tearooms, the  abundance of craft shops.

Together they browsed in a few of the shops, and she selected a few  gifts for her step-siblings, then they enjoyed a delicious lunch in a  café overlooking the valley before heading back to the Gold Coast.