Free Mistress for Hire by Letty James Page A

up as he fingered a lock of hair lying against her breast. Her breath hitched as her hair curled around his finger. “Jealous?”
    She held her ground and lied. “No.” She’d always been jealous of her sister, the cosmopolitan rebel who captured the international spotlight. To think of Monsieur Formidable and Jessica together made her stomach churn, even though it shouldn’t matter. “You and I have a professional relationship only.”
    “Correct.” He had the audacity to wink at her as if they shared some secret. “We have a contract.”
    He let the curl trail from his fingers as if he would say more, but didn’t. His gaze lingered on her lips and Nikki’s whole body tingled. Yes . She willed Gérard to step closer. He turned away just as she stepped forward. What was she thinking? They both banged into the coffee table, making the tea service rattle and the cat run from the room. Gérard’s hand went to the back of his neck as he shook his head.
    “Do you always cause such a commotion, Mademoiselle Sommers?”
    Nikki tried to cover her embarrassment with a flirty remark. “Only when I need to, Monsieur Beauvais.”
    She got a real grin in response. “Fair warning next time, okay?”
    Nikki nodded.
    Gérard motioned toward the bed. “I took the liberty of obtaining you some new clothes as yours seemed sadly over worn. As my assistant, it’s your responsibility to look the part. Perhaps you will now think of me as a, what do you call it, drag queen?” His smile turned wicked and entirely too self-satisfied.
    “Look, about last night—”
    “I must go,” he interrupted her. “I’m late already. Marco will drive you to work. I normally walk to the office. Alone.” He gave her a quick nod and stepped toward the door. Nikki blocked his way and Gérard’s eyebrow raised in question.
    “Let me make dinner tonight. For the whole staff.”
    “It will not be necessary. That is Jean-Luc’s job.” He moved past her.
    “Perhaps a dessert?”
    “You will be much too busy, Mademoiselle .” Then he was gone.
    Nikki stomped over to the bed. Infuriating man. So why did she want to hyperventilate when he was near? And why did he keep touching her? Augh. Even now, as she remembered the headiness of his kiss, heat rippled through her, making her long to touch his mouth again. To feel his fingers exploring her bare knees. She flung her arms wide, trying to physically push the images away, and stopped short when she saw what lay on the bed.
    Surely, this man wanted something besides her presence in the office. On the bed was arranged a white linen blouse with a brocade vest done in black, burgundy, and gold. A short black wool skirt paired with black tights, which would look wonderful with her new boots. And next to this outfit lay undergarments the likes of which Nikki had never owned. Cream silk with lace inserts, hand embroidered with delicate traces of pink and gold. And in her size. She slipped them on—of course, they fit perfectly. Everything the man did was perfect. Unlike herself. She shook her head trying to shake her own insecurities.
    Nikki showered, dressed, and headed downstairs, looking forward to checking out Gérard’s kitchen. Had she sold her soul for money? Living on the wrong side of the tracks had certainly made her long for an easier life. And the salary Beauvais had quoted the day before was substantial enough for her to put a good chunk away each week to finance her Le Cordon Bleu dream. She reminded herself she was merely postponing her dream, not abandoning it altogether.
    Nikki found the kitchen beyond the swinging doors at the end of the hall and stopped short in the presence of magnificence. Like the man, Beauvais’s kitchen was perfect—glass-fronted cabinets, a professional-grade stove, two banks of ovens, granite countertops, and not one, but two, stainless steel islands. No, it wouldn’t be clothes that put her over the edge, it would be appliances.
    “Bonjour,