Free Carnal in Cannes by Jianne Carlo Page B

bathroom.”
    “I know, Monsieur. I understand what I must do.”
    “Damn it, Martine.” His gaze trapped hers. He rolled over and cupped her jaw.
    “You call me that once more, and I swear I"ll tan your backside. Do you need help?”
    He angled his chin at the bathroom.
    “Non,” she yelped. “Sacre bleu, Mother Supérieure would roast me in the fires of hell for that.”
    Harry drew back, brows knitting together, and he scrutinized her from head to toe. Gradually the tight creases bracketing his brown eyes slackened. “Why don"t you meet me on deck when you"re ready?”
    He left her then, his mouth flattened, and shot her a glare over his shoulder as he walked bare assed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
    Predawn bustle wafted to the Glory’s decks as Martine joined Harry at the stern.
    Harry grinned, white teeth flashing, and then said, “We"ll be docking in about two minutes.”
    Only then did Martine register the fact that he was fully clothed and that he must have changed elsewhere. “I called a cab, and you should sit until it arrives.”

“I am fine, Mon—” At his ferocious scowl she corrected her words. “I"m fine, Harry.”
    Her brain barely registered the yacht"s docking in Cannes or the arrival of the taxi.
    “Will we not draw attention?” She gestured to the black automobile.
    “I"m done jumping to Delora"s tune.”
    What did that mean? “You are dissolving the contract?”
    “No.”
    Her breathing stopped. “I do not understand, Harry. I have done what I was supposed to.”
    They"d been sitting side by side in the back of the vehicle for three long minutes, and not once had he glanced her way. Gathering her courage, she touched his forearm. “Harry?”
    “Not to worry, Martine. You"ll get your money, and I"ll get Delora out of my life once and for all.”
    For all his angry words, they didn"t brave the main entrance of the hotel but went through the servant"s entrance they"d used earlier. In silence they climbed the stairs and entered the suite.
    Harry escorted her through the bathroom and past her bedroom to his. She dressed quickly in the Ralph Lauren nightdress she"d purchased for tonight as she heard him speaking to his plan-B friend.

    42
    Jianne Carlo

    She left the lamp on the bedside table lit and crawled under the sumptuous covers of the magnificent king-size bed, her heart booming like the voodoo banga drums of her youth. Such a puzzle this man, her husband. He"d been angry but hadn"t struck her. He had been patient with her even when she"d spilled the champagne. If she"d spilled a morsel of food, a drop of juice, Jean-Claude"s wife had made her kneel outside in the rain, her hands up on either side of her head, her palms weighted with the heaviest boulders. How many hours had she spent like that, aching from the strain, cringing as the passing children spit at her?
    Enough, Martine. You have married a man who doesn’t seem to be cruel. Be grateful. And there are the million euros . She smiled and pictured all the chocolat she would buy for her grand-mère.
    Harry came into the room so silently his body weight was her first realization that he had lain down on the bed. He rolled over to her side and spooned her body, his arm around her waist tugging her bottom tight against his groin. She flinched when she encountered his arousal.
    “Didn"t mean to be short in the cab, Martine.” His lips brushed her nape, and a warm slice of air curled over her collarbone.
    “And the contract?” Her pulse skipped, raced, then dipped to nonexistent.
    “Don"t worry,” he muttered. “I have your back. Go to sleep.”

    Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

    43

    Chapter Five

    “Open up, Harrison. The shit"s hit the fricking fan.”
    Harry shot out of bed, his GLOCK G26 in his hand, before the pounding on the door stopped.
    He muttered a curse, pulled the bedside table drawer open, cocked the gun"s safety back into place, and glanced over his shoulder. Damn it, Martine had