Free The Night That Started It All by Anna Cleary Page A

with him? Did the guy think one little encounter had affected her that deeply?
    ‘And what do you suppose it to be?’ She smiled in mocking disbelief. ‘The one I need to conceal?’
    His dark gaze was mercilessly direct. ‘
Bien sûr
, you came to see me.’
    She gasped. Before she could deny it he curled his fingers under her chin and took her mouth in a fierce, highly sexual kiss. After the initial paralysed instant, her body sprang into tingling life. An erotic charge electrified her blood, her nerve fibres, her tender intimate tissues, as if this and this alone were her
raison d’être
.
    Who said she couldn’t communicate adequately in French? It was clear now all she’d ever needed was the inspiration. LucValentin’s hand merely had to caress her kneecap and slide up under her skirt and she burst into flame.
    All right, she was bad. Bad in every way, but he felt
so good
. The delicious sinful pleasure of him thrilled through her and inflamed her every wanton molecule.
    Sadly, just when she was ready to crawl onto his lap and express her appreciation more fulsomely for them both, he broke away. Drawing back, he studied her, his dark eyes beneath their thick black brows smouldering and amused.
    ‘Good. Some colour in your cheeks.’
    She felt herself flush. She supposed those cool, insolent words were intended to convey his macho self-possession. But to the sensitive ears of the guilt-ridden woman, the slightly thickened texture of his voice was a welcome giveaway. Luc Valentin was affected by her. Strongly affected.
    ‘That was hardly appropriate,’ she said breathlessly, patting down her suit and adjusting her hat. ‘
Now
. Of
all times
. Aren’t you ashamed?’
    ‘No. I would say—triumphant.’
    Too shocked for words, she stared speechlessly at him, and he laughed and kissed her
again
. She was struggling for more words to express her discomfort at this bold exploitation of her weakened state, when the limo noticeably slowed.
    Paris in all its glory had been flowing by—cafés, bridges, palaces, La Seine—and she’d barely had a chance to take in a thing. Now here they were at the city’s throbbing heart. Even as she looked they drew up before a palace with ivory awnings over its several entrances.
    ‘Where is this? Where are you taking me?’ Straining, she narrowed her eyes to read the inscription on the nearest.
    ‘To breakfast.’
    A single word, emblazoned in a flowing script, adorned the graceful awning.
    Ritz
.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    T HE Ritz was the perfect antidote to an ordeal. The beauty, the food, the luscious notes of a string ensemble wafting on the air … Even the silk-festooned windows in their own lavish way declared the hotel’s sincere desire to swaddle the emotionally gouged woman in loving and soul-restoring luxury.
    There was a placard in the reception area announcing that the hotel was soon to close its doors for a major renovation and refurbishment. Shari prayed fervently they wouldn’t change a thing.
    The bathroom alone was an oasis of tranquillity, though she nearly freaked when she saw herself in the mirrors. Her face was blotchy, the tip of her nose red from all the bawling, and her mascara reminiscent of a bad Hallowe’en hangover. She looked a fright. How could Luc have wanted to kiss her?
    She repaired the damage with the emergency kit at the bottom of her bag. Then, refreshed and reconstituted, she floated to join him in the restaurant. After all the emotion, she’d arrived on a tremulous smiley plateau where everything looked hazily beautiful. Especially the dark-eyed man drinking coffee and texting someone on his mobile.
    Kill
that thought. After all she’d gone through over him, was she to just fall into his arms? Was it always to be the same old thing? Shari Lacey, unable to resist a handsome Frenchman? Another one she knew little about and would be insane to trust?
    He glanced up as she approached and his eyes shimmered,inciting an excited clench in her