Free Dark Chocolate Murder by Anisa Claire West Page B

day had started so disappointingly.  But by closing time, sales had far exceeded her expectations.
    Content with her grand opening success, Belinda shifted her thoughts to tomorrow’s date with Pierre.  She needed to get a queen’s amount of sleep tonight in order to be refreshed for him.  As she settled onto her mountain of blankets on the carpet, she completely forgot about the lack of possessions around her.  No bed? No sofa? No problem.  She had accomplished a pivotal goal, one that just a few months ago had seemed thoroughly impossible.  That knowledge sent her into the most peaceful sleep she had enjoyed in years.
     
    *****
    On Sunday morning, Belinda was scrambling around her apartment choosing an outfit for her rendez-vous with Pierre.  The shoes would be an easy choice.  There was no way she was going to suffer in high heels again.  Those high heels had screamed ‘high maintenance’ just as the open-toed sandals she wore today whispered ‘breezy.’  After trying on nearly a dozen outfits, Belinda finally decided on her uniform of snug denims and curve-hugging cotton tee-shirt.
    Pierre was prompt, and Belinda was ready when he arrived.  But this time she did not wait for him outside on the curb.  Instead, she made him climb the stairs and come for her.  When he knocked on the door, she waited a few beats before answering, catching her breath as she did so.
    As the door swung open, Pierre surprised her by immediately encircling her in a breath-stealing embrace and kissing her demandingly on the lips.  Eagerly, she parted her lips and melted against his body, feeling a rousing stiffness press against her hips.  Unabashedly rubbing herself against that stiffness, Belinda deliberately enflamed Pierre as he mingled their tongues and squeezed her bottom between his fingers.
    Abruptly, he pulled back and groaned, “Good sequel?”
    “Yes, but we need more sequels,” Belinda said breathlessly.
    He chuckled low in his throat, “Believe me, there will be many more.”
    Inside Pierre’s car, he cracked the sunroof open, welcoming inside a lush spring breeze.  Belinda stared dreamily out the window, thinking how mush more relaxing it was to ride as Pierre’s passenger rather than Jean-Jacques and Crystal’s prisoner.  She hadn’t spoken to the couple since before she met Pierre, and she silently reminded herself to call them and again to write to Lenore.
    When they sailed over the border into France, Belinda remarked, “I can’t believe how close these two countries are.”
    “Yes, only eight miles separates France and Monaco.  Italy is an easy drive too.  I’ll have to take you there some weekend.” Pierre smiled, placing a possessive hand on Belinda’s thigh.
    She lay her hand on top of his and did not stop him when he intimately rubbed her thigh.  The chemistry between them was irrepressible, and Belinda did not think they would be able to make it through the day without being fully physical.  The kisses and caresses were sublime but just a prelude to a much more gratifying union.  She shuddered as the wind whipped her hair, thinking how long it had been since she had been intimate with a man.  The real prospect that it could be happening later that day sent shock waves of excitement through her.
    “I can’t remember the last time I was so distracted while driving.  You’re dangerous, Belinda.  A real femme fatale .” Pierre reluctantly moved his hand from her thigh to the steering wheel.
    “M aybe I am a little dangerous,” she said spontaneously, grabbing his hand and placing it higher on her thigh.
    “I love your combination of shyness and ag gression.  I never know which I’m going to see next.” Pierre slid his hand inside her thigh.
    The suggestive banter came to a halt when Pierre pulled up alongside a large home framed with flowering bushes and a water garden.  Belinda assumed this was his house and that he was about to give her the grand tour, but instead he