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

insides. Then, just to mess with her defences, he rose and pulled out a chair for her.
    She sat down, that car kiss still tingling through her nerve sockets. Somehow she would have to take a stand. Lay her position on the line before events rocketed out of control. Before she did.
    He resumed his chair, his long lanky posture so relaxed and unbothered by anything he’d done to her in that limo it was a damned disgrace.
    She steeled herself not to be affected, weakened or seduced.
    ‘It’s very good of you to bring me here, Luc. Very generous, but …’ His brows twitched up. ‘I—I—I think I should make it clear to you that anything of a-a sexual nature that may have happened between us in Sydney was a one-off. We agreed then it was a mistake, and … Well, so much has happened, and … As far as I’m concerned the whole thing should be wiped from our minds.’
    He nodded along with her words as she spoke, though she noticed a certain tension infuse his gorgeous limbs. Then he lifted one quizzical brow. ‘Ah. You think I should forget about meeting you at Emilie’s?’
    ‘I do. We should both forget it.’
    ‘So then …’ His black lashes flicked tauntingly downwards. A silky note entered his voice. ‘You wish me to forget Emilie’s garden?’
    She eyed him carefully. What in particular might he be remembering about the garden? The last thing she needed to be reminded of was how easily she’d succumbed to that dark stroll into the shrubbery. ‘I’m—surprised you even remember the garden.’
    His eyes gleamed in reminiscence. ‘Are you? But it was so pleasant,
d’accord
? In the dark, with all the fragrances and the moonlight.’ His long fingers toyed idly with his spoon. The same fingers that had recently toyed with parts of her.‘You must remember the moonlight.’ Her nerve jumped. ‘The harbour lights.’
    ‘Where are we going with this?’ Although she knew where he was headed with it, all right.
    He leaned forward, a lazy smile playing on his sexy mouth. ‘I think you know where. Where else but to the boathouse? You’re not expecting me to forget the
boathouse, chérie, n’est-ce pas
?’
    ‘Well, I’ve forgotten it. As far as I’m concerned, nothing about it was very memorable.’
    He threw back his head and laughed. He looked so handsome, with amusement illuminating his face and the light dancing in his eyes, a wave of hot and bitter frustration swept her. He had no right to be so attractive and to mock her.
He
was the one who’d found the magic moments shameful and made her feel like a disgrace to womanhood.
    Luckily the waiter arrived just then, or she might have snatched up the coffee pot and whacked Luc over the head with it.
    Controlling her annoyance, she turned her full attention to the menu, consulting earnestly with the waiter, feeling Luc’s lazy glance scorch her face, throat and hands.
    Everything enshrined on the list sounded delicious, but in the end she confined herself to ordering a spoonful of gentle, soothing yoghurt, along with some strawberries claimed to have been washed in morning dew. To follow she requested the buttery scrambled eggs, waiving both the caviar garnish and the champagne to wash them down.
    Well, she had to show some respect for her stomach. It felt fine now, but who knew when it might rear up again in revolt?
    While she enjoyed her yoghurt, Luc reflected on the effect their encounter had left on him. He still thought of it. No wonder he’d followed her home like a madman.
Nom de Dieu
, he was only flesh and blood. Would he ever forget holding her inhis arms in that dark, sea-salty place? Her throaty little cries as he buried himself in her moist heat?
    As he watched her soft lips close over a strawberry his blood stirred unbearably.
    His underclothes tightened and he had to exert careful control over his voice. ‘How—long do you plan to stay?’
    ‘A couple of days. Tomorrow I thought I might visit the
Musée D’Orsay
. I fly home the day