Road to Destiny (Scorpio Stinger MC Book 5) (23 page)

Miss Clarke,

Welcome to Paris. Hope you had a good flight.

I look forward to working with you over the next eight months.

Enjoy your stay.

Chat soon.

It was signed: Maxwell Grant, CEO of Grant Industries.

Hmm, my new boss sure has the magic touch
.

The chocolates looked expensive, too. I decided to save them for later tonight when I was alone in my bed, reading my book.

A deep sigh escaped my lips. At last I was in Paris. I’d promised to call my mother to let her know that I arrived safely, so I sat on the edge of the bed and dialed her number.

“Beccy, I'm so glad to hear your voice. Was your flight OK? And how is Paris?” She rattled on without breathing.

My mother sounded her usual self, concern lurking behind her bubbly tone.

“I’m fine, Mom. The flight was...awesome. I don’t think I can go back to flying cattle class after this amazing experience. I'll have to be really great in my new job so I can keep it up.” I tried to sound cheerful.

“And how is the hotel? Have you met your new boss yet?” Questions kept coming at me.

I rolled my eyes. “No. Mom, I told you before, my boss lives in New York. I only get to meet him face to face in a few weeks, after the conference and workshops. He’s a busy man, he’s not going to fly out to Paris to meet a new consultant he just employed.” If only she would listen when I explained things to her.

“Remember, you can come home any time when it feels wrong. I understand why you had to do it, but I’ll miss you so much.” 

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Besides this is the job opportunity of a lifetime. How could I refuse? And it came at exactly the right time.” My throat tightened and I found it difficult to speak. There was an uneasy silence for a few seconds—or was it just a bad line?

“Running away isn’t going to solve your problems. You can try to guard yourself from getting hurt any further, but you can never escape your past, no matter where you live.” Her voice wasn’t as perky anymore, she sounded tired.

“I’m not running away. Why are even having this conversation?
Again.
I’m doing what’s best for me. So don’t judge. Just this once, please trust that I know what I’m doing,” I huffed, closing my eyes. I didn’t belong in my old world anymore. I needed a fresh start: new challenges, new experiences. Definitely a new beginning.

“But why go so far away? You have never been away this long.” There was an accusatory note in her voice, even if she was trying to hide it.

“Because...if I am finally going to get Julian out of my system, I can’t be anywhere near him. Not in the same company, not in the same city. Hell, not even in the same country.”

“Rebecca.”

She only called me by my full name when she was exasperated or when I was in trouble.

“Listen Mom, I have to go now. I’m meeting someone for lunch and I don’t want to be late. Just wanted to let you know I’m safe. I’ll call again soon.”

“Lunch with a...
stranger
? Be careful, Rebecca. Promise?” she begged. Mom would always be concerned for my safety, even though I was an adult and left home more than a decade ago.

“I promise. Love you, Mom.” I quickly hung up before she could interrogate me further although I knew she only had my best interests at heart. Right now, I had to get myself into the shower if I wanted to be ready when Alain picked me up.

The soft fluffy towel caressed my skin as I dried myself. I opened the drawer containing my new underwear and shot Chloe a thank you under my breath for forcing me to splash out on these beauties, in spite of my verbal resistance. Hmm. Something feminine and summery.
Who knew what state of dress—or rather, undress—I would find myself?
I picked out a white lacy matching bra and panty set.

I kept my makeup and jewelry light and to a minimum, a flash of mascara and a lick of lip-gloss would do just fine. Anyway, with my cheeks permanently flushed lately, I didn’t need any help there.

From the clothing I packed, I chose a flowing skirt, matching silk camisole, and light gossamer blouse that complemented the green of my eyes. I tied my messy curly hair up loosely so that it wasn’t in my face. Slipping into flat shoes, which were practical for an afternoon of sightseeing in Paris, I checked my reflection in the mirror. Finally, I threw a cardigan over my shoulders, just in case, ever the practical woman.

I sighed.
I am what I am
,
nothing I can do to change that now
.

I
ate with gusto; French food was famous for a reason. Alain cocked his head, his one eyebrow lifted as he gazed at me—I couldn’t place his expression.
Was it amusement?

“Another thing, it seems, that I really like about you,” he chuckled, as he leaned over slightly to wipe the sauce from my chin.
There was more than one thing he liked about me?

He saw the question on my face. “French women don’t eat much,” he explained, “it’s such a waste of time, spending hours in the kitchen cooking and then they just pick at it. I would love to cook for you at my chateau and watch you enjoy every morsel.”

It was a very tempting invitation indeed.

In a lower voice he continued, “Watching you eat with such joy is very sensual, mademoiselle Clarke, it really turns me on.”

What?

How could my eating have that kind of effect on him? He really was easy to please. My previous boyfriends had always frowned at my appetite, worried that I may add a few pounds to my already full and buxom frame.

He leaned over and brushed his lips over mine, his tongue rimming my lips as he went. “I could just eat
you
now,” he whispered at the corner of my mouth. I spluttered, fully comprehending his innuendo. I quickly took a gulp of wine to hide my embarrassment. People in the restaurant were staring at us, smiling openly.

“Alain. Not here in public.” I could have saved my breath. He threw his head back and a really deep guttural laugh escaped his lips, creasing the corners of his eyes.

“Oh Mademoiselle, it is not possible, to
not
touch you. You are really going to enjoy our sightseeing this afternoon, I am going to delight you in ways you have never experienced before.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand that last comment, so I returned my focus back to my delicious food, feeling an awkward warmth spread up from my chest to my cheeks.
For goodness sake, I really had to stop this blushing thing.
My cheeks were permanently flushed lately.

As if he read my thoughts, Alain gently brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. How could the simple act of eating—in a public place—be so damn erotic? He had me all hot and flustered and we hadn’t even begun sightseeing yet. A swarm of butterflies were doing a jig in my stomach, my appetite for food suddenly gone.

After paying the bill, Alain took hold of my hand and lead me outside. “Dessert will be served in there.” He indicated by tilting his head toward the limo.

Once we settled inside the limo, Alain poured cognac from the small bar into a crystal glass. He swirled the amber liquid around, taking a deep sniff, his nostrils flaring slightly. My French self-appointed tour guide looked so hot, my eyes devoured him. Gazing into my eyes, he took a sip from the glass as I held my breath. Then he leaned over and gently parted my lips with his tongue, squirting the warm liquid into my mouth. My senses went into overdrive. It was the most sensual way I had ever tasted this ambrosia. I swallowed the fiery liquid eagerly. It warmed me all the way to my belly as it slipped down my throat. My eyelids grew heavy and fluttered closed.

He kissed my neck, his breath warm on my skin. I moaned softly as his weight pushed me further into the very comfortable leather seat. His erection throbbed against me, causing an equal throbbing ache between my legs. I was completely lost to this man’s lips. I wanted him badly; my sex pulsed wildly, increasing the dampness between my legs, eager for what was to come.

Just as suddenly, Alain pulled away.
No
.
Don’t stop now.

The driver pulled over and my eyes flew open.  We had arrived at the Eiffel Tower. “Our first stop this afternoon.” Gaston smiled.

“We will continue this up there,” Alain promised, his voice low and husky.

We didn’t stand in the long queues with the rest of the crowd. Instead we were whisked into an elevator immediately with only a handful of people. I was excited and eager to drink in the sights of Paris from the top of the Eiffel tower.

Alain stood behind me. His arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me to him, his erection pushing into my back.
Oh, hello big boy.

His nose was in my hair, inhaling slowly, as if he was breathing me in. He planted a kiss at the nape of my neck as his hand slipped inside my blouse and cupped my breast.
Oh my God.
My body stiffened and my mouth went dry.

“Just relax and enjoy,” he whispered into my hair. Slowly his thumb and forefinger caressed my nipple till it pebbled. The hand around my stomach slipped lower and came to rest just at the apex of my thighs, his palm pressing softly into me. I closed my eyes tightly as I bit into my lower lip. Both my hands were gripping the railing in front of me, my knuckles white as I tried to suppress a moan.

“Open your eyes, ma cherie,” he whispered, “and always remember how you first saw Paris from the top of the Eiffel tower.”

As if I could ever forget this.

White buildings sprawled below us into the distance. It was breathtaking. I drew a deep breath at the sheer beauty of it. Alain chuckled at my reaction. “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispered.

The doors opened and he tugged me toward the landing. I needn’t have worried; the other couples were so engrossed in the sights of Paris, that they were hardly aware of us. Or maybe they were just too polite to let on they saw him caressing me so intimately.

Holding my hand tightly he proudly led me onto the platform, pointing out the Sacre Coeur in the distance. “That’s our next stop this afternoon.” He sure had it all planned out. I squinted my eyes so I could see farther, trying to burn this moment into my memory.

Just then, Alain handed me a small parcel, beautifully wrapped. “I think you will need this now,” he smiled, clearly very pleased with himself.
What could it be?
My fingers trembled as I untied the bow and ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a small digital camera.

“You can’t come up here and not record this moment for eternity.” He grinned, his eyes gleaming intensely as he scanned my face.

My throat closed, making it nearly impossible to speak. “Oh, Alain, it's very thoughtful of you, but I can’t accept such an expensive gift.”

“Well I can’t return it, it is not possible,” he said, as he pointed to a small engraving on the side.

Rebecca, Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away. Love Alain.

“
You
take my breath away,” he said softly.

I did what any normal person would do under the circumstances; I reached up on my toes and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

“That’s all the thanks I get? I expected more.”

I giggled at him as I turned the camera on, like a little girl with a new toy, and I snapped a picture of him, arms crossed and frowning at me in mock anger. But then he burst out laughing and flashed me the hottest smile I had ever seen on a man’s face. My fingers nearly froze, but luckily I managed to press the button and capture his smile for posterity.

A woman who’d been watching us being silly, offered to take a picture. “You must be on your honeymoon,” she blurted.

Alain pulled me possessively toward him, kissing my cheek. I grinned like a goof who just won the lottery jackpot. The woman had been clicking away, when she stopped abruptly, staring at Alain. A light of recognition flashed across her face. “Aren’t you Alain du... ?” she started.

But before she could say more, Alain interrupted. “Oh no, you are mistaking me for someone else,” he said, taking the camera from her as if dismissing her. How could there be another man roaming this planet that looked anything as hot and sexy as Alain?
Impossible.
And what were the chances he would have the same first name as
my
Alain? I made a mental note to ask him later. He wasn’t the only one who had a good memory.

With the camera now in his possession, Alain took pictures of me in all sorts of silly poses. I giggled and laughed like a carefree teenager, his obvious pleasure helping me overcome my shyness at being the subject of the photos. I’d much rather be the one behind the lens.

“Stop doing that,” he said suddenly. My head jerked up.
What was I doing wrong?

“Every time you lick your lips, it drives me crazy. You don’t know what that does to me,” he groaned, shaking his head. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I want to take you right here, right now.”

Take me?
Did it mean what I thought it meant?

“My...my lips are dry,” I stuttered as I bit into my lower lip, digging in my bag for my lip gloss.

“No, ma cherie, that makes it worse.” He smiled as I applied the lip gloss. “Now I have to kiss that off your lips.”
I just couldn’t win.

“You are impossible.” He pulled me into his arms; I sensed the hunger in him as he crushed my breasts into his chest and kissed me passionately, completely taking my breath away. I threw caution to the wind. My hands were in his hair, pulling him to me and I kissed him back, with equal fervor.

“Very bold, Mademoiselle.” He smiled down at me, his eyes dark with lust.

But then, he suddenly let me go, grabbed my hand and pulled me back toward the elevator. This time I stood close to the door, right beside the operator, who I immediately engaged in conversation so we didn’t have a repetition of the last elevator ride.

Alain rolled his eyes at me, pouting. I grinned at him sweetly and he just shook his head.