The Marriage Deal(22)

       
           



       

'Singular?' Michel queried mockingly.

'Plural. Definitely plural,' she applauded as she sampled a sip of wine with a sigh of appreciation.

Filet mignon, delectable salad greens, a crusty baguette, and an excellent red wine, with a selection of fresh fruit.

Sandrine ate with pleasurable enjoyment, finishing every morsel on her  plate, and she watched Michel cross to the stereo and insert a CD. Then  he moved towards her and drew her up from the chair.

'What are you doing?' she queried with a faint laugh as he led her to the centre of the room and pulled her close.

The music was slow, the lyrics poignant, vocalized in the husky tones of a popular male singer.

Mmm, this was good, so good, she silently breathed as he cradled her  body against his own. His hands stroked a sensuous pattern down her  spine, then he cupped her bottom as she lifted her arms and linked her  hands together at his nape.

The warmth of his body seemed to penetrate her own, and she melted into him as they drifted as one to the seductive tempo.

His lips settled at her temple, then slid down to the edge of her mouth,  and she angled her head, inviting his possession in a kiss that was  slow and so incredibly sweet she never wanted it to cease.

Sandrine gave a soundless gasp as he swept an arm beneath her knees and  lifted her into his arms, then held on tight as he carried her through  to the bedroom.

'Move, darling. Just a little closer now. Smile.'

If the photographer said smile one more time, she'd scream!

It was the end of what had been a very long day. Newspaper interviews  and photographs from nine until eleven this morning, followed by a  fashion shoot for the Australian edition of a top fashion magazine. Then  an appearance at a high-profile charity luncheon held at the Sheraton  Mirage, with a brief turn on the catwalk.

There had been photographs at Movieworld. One of the prime television  channels was videotaping coverage for a spot on the evening news.

Tonight was the gala black-tie event to publicise the movie. Dignitaries  would be present, and the city's wealthy socialites would have paid  handsomely to mix and mingle with the producer, director and actors.

It was all a planned marketing strategy to provide maximum impact in the  publicity stakes. Gregor and Cait had given interviews in their hotel,  and advertising trailers would run on television and in the cinemas.

Sandrine didn't have star status in the film, but as a home-grown talent  in acting and modelling, she gained attention. As Michel Lanier's wife,  she was guaranteed media coverage.

'Pretend, darling,' Cait murmured with a mocking edge. 'You're supposed to be an actress, so act.'

'As you do, darling?' she responded sweetly.

'She really is a barrel of laughs,' Gregor muttered to Sandrine sotto voce. 'Desperate, dateless and deadly.'

'I can have any man I want,' Cait ventured disdainfully.

'No,' he denied smoothly. 'Most, darling. But not all.'

'Go get stuffed.'

'I don't participate in anatomically impossible feats.'

'You could always try.'

'We'll move it over there,' the photographer called, indicating the  marina and one luxury cruiser in particular, whose owner had generously  lent it for publicity purposes.

How much longer before she could escape? Surely they didn't require her much longer?

'Okay, Sandrine, you can go. Cait, Gregor, I want a few inside shots.'

Thank heavens. She'd almost kill for a long, icy cold drink with just a dash of alcohol to soothe the day's rough edges.

'Lucky you,' Cait voiced cynically. 'You're off the hook.'

For now. She stepped off the cruiser and quickly cleared the marina. The  adjoining luxury condominiums of the Palazzo Versace were spectacular  in design, resembling a precious jewel set in a sparkling sapphire-blue  sea.

Their hotel was reached via an overhead footbridge from the shopping complex, and Sandrine went directly to their suite.

Michel was seated at the small desk, his shirt sleeves turned back,  studying the screen on his laptop as she entered. He glanced at her,  then raised an eyebrow as she moved straight to the bar fridge,  extracted a bottle of sparkling fruit spritzer and rummaged through the  assortment of miniature bottles in the minibar.

'That bad?' he queried as he rose to his feet and crossed to her side.

'Oh, yes.' She broke the seal on the gin, added a splash, then filled  the glass with spritzer and took a long sip. 'And tonight will be  worse.' She felt his hands on her shoulders and sighed as he skilfully  worked the tense muscles there. 'Remind me we're flying out of here  tomorrow.'                       
       
           



       

She heard his husky chuckle and leaned back against him. He felt so good  she just wanted to close her eyes, absorb his strength and have the  immediate world go away.

'Two days in Sydney,' he drawled, and brushed his lips to her temple. 'Then we fly home.'

Home had a nice ring to it. She pictured their New York apartment  overlooking Central Park and sighed again, feeling some of the tension  subside.

'I have a few things to tie up there, which will take a week, maybe longer, then we'll spend some time in Paris.'

'I think I love you,' Sandrine said fervently.

'Only think, chérie?'

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. 'I was being facetious.'

'So one would hope.'

She turned slowly to face him, saw the gleam of humour evident in those  dark eyes and aimed a loosely clenched fist at his chest. The next  instant she cried out as he removed the glass from her fingers and  hoisted her over one shoulder.

'What are you doing?'

He walked towards the adjoining en suite, released her down onto the  tiled floor, then began removing her clothes, followed by his own.

'Michel?'

'Taking a shower.'

She glimpsed the slumberous passion evident and shook her head. 'We don't have time for this.'

He reached into the glassed shower cubicle and turned on the water,  adjusted the temperature dial, then stepped inside and drew her with  him. 'Yes, we do.'

The water beat down on her head, and she heard his husky chuckle as she  cursed him. Then she stilled as he caught up the soap and ran it over  her slim curves.

He was very thorough. Too thorough, Sandrine decided as heat flared  through her body at his intimate touch, and she moaned out loud as his  mouth closed over hers in an erotic tasting that almost sent her over  the edge.

When he raised his head, she looked at him in dazed disbelief as he handed her the soap and encouraged her to return the favour.

She did, with such sensuous, lingering skill he lifted her high against  him and plunged deep inside, again and again while she clung to him.

Afterwards he caught up the plastic bottle of shampoo and washed her  hair, then rinsed it before shutting the water and reaching for both  towels.

Dry, he pulled her close and kissed her with unabated passion, then put her firmly at arm's length.

Sandrine looked at him with musing suspicion. 'You planned that.' It was a statement, not a query.

'Guilty.'

She pulled the hair dryer from its wall attachment and switched it on. 'We'll be late.'

'No, we won't.'

Five minutes didn't count, Sandrine acknowledged less than an hour later as they entered the large downstairs foyer.

Michel looked striking in full evening dress, and she felt confident in  encrusted ivory silk organza with a scooped neckline. Elegant evening  pumps in matching ivory completed the outfit, and she'd swept her hair  high in a smooth French pleat.

The function-room doors were open and guests were beginning to enter.  The Gold Coast's social glitterati were evident in force, Sandrine  perceived, noting the elegant gowns, expensive jewellery, exquisitely  made-up and coiffed women present. Without exception, the men were in  full evening dress and bow tie.

Sandrine sighted Stephanie, who returned her smile and joined them within seconds.

'I've seated you with Cait Lynden, Gregor Anders, the charity's  chairwoman and her husband, and myself. The mayor and his wife are at  Tony's table immediately adjoining yours. There'll be two tables seating  the studio heads and various representatives from the marketing team.'

Sandrine saw Stephanie stiffen slightly and soon determined the reason as Raoul joined them.

'The photographer was happy with everything today,' Stephanie continued,  ignoring Raoul after offering him a fleeting polite smile. 'There will,  of course, be more taken tonight. However, we'll try to contain it so  it doesn't become too intrusive. Now, if you'll excuse me?'

'You appear to have a disturbing effect on that young woman,' Michel observed to his brother.

'I'll settle for disturb rather than disinterest,' Raoul drawled in  response, and Sandrine wrinkled her nose at her husband, then turned to  Raoul.

'Like that, is it?' she teased. 'She doesn't want to talk to me and she avoids my calls.'

'I imagine you've arranged a few meetings with marketing?' she posed  musingly, and glimpsed the gleam of humour evident in his expression.  'In Michel's absence, in the name of business, of course.'

His smile held a certain wry amusement. 'Of course.'