She had just seen off her mother, Arthur and Lisa, whose own parents had come too. Jane had been delighted to see Lisa’s dad, looking so well after his scare. Her friend had promised to visit soon, and her mother was planning on coming when the baby was born.
Standing alone in the doorway of the function room, she felt awkward with all these unknown people. Some of them were friends of Xavier’s and seemed perfectly nice; others were business acquaintances.
Suddenly he materialised at her side, slipping an arm around her waist, and for once she sank gratefully into him, glad of the support.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he murmured into her ear.
‘Yes, please.’ She couldn’t disguise the relief in her voice.
He brought her up to the penthouse suite. The staff had left out a bottle of champagne and there were rose petals all over the bed.
What a waste …
She turned to face Xavier as he closed and locked the door. He came towards her, pulling off his bow tie and opening his shirt. She could see his eyes darkening and saw the intention in them. It reached out and caressed her across the room, and she could feel every part of herself respond. It was too much. Her feelings were too raw. She backed away.
‘Xavier … please. I’m tired … I want to go to sleep.’
He kept coming. ‘So do I. With you.’
‘No!’ She hadn’t meant for her voice to come out so strident. ‘Just … I need a little space, and I am exhausted.’
She had been exhausted earlier, but now an excess of energy was causing her body to hum, making a lie of her words. Since seeing him again an ache had settled into every cell, an ache that she knew only he could assuage. He stopped in his tracks and she wanted to throw caution to the wind, throw herself at him with an animalistic instinct … rip off his clothes, have him take her right where they were. The strength of her reaction shook her.
‘I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now. I’ll go back downstairs for a while. You take the bed … I’ll sleep on the couch.’
‘Xavier, there’s no need—’
‘Save it, Jane. If you think we can share that bed tonight without anything happening then you’re lying to yourself.’
The door closed ominously quietly behind him.
Jane began to get ready for bed, feeling even more miserable. As if she had somehow cut off her nose to spite her face. Her body still hadn’t cooled down since that electrifying look.
She sped through her toilet in record time, and was soon under the sheets, breathing harshly and feeling very silly. After waiting as long as she could, she finally gave in to her exhaustion and slept, not hearing her bedroom door open or Xavier come in and spend long moments looking at her.
The next day on Xavier’s private jet, as they flew to Paris, she tried to control her conflicting emotions. She studied him covertly from under her lashes, and twisted the slim white-gold band on her finger as he looked through some paperwork in the seat across the aisle from her. He looked totally at ease, with not a care in the world. Unlike her. She looked out of her window and tried to force herself to relax.
What seemed like only moments later she felt someone shaking her gently. It was Xavier. His face was very close to hers. She could see the darker flecks of green in his eyes. It brought back a vivid image of his pupils dilating as his head descended to hers before he took her mouth with his. She hunched back in the seat to escape the potent memory.
He frowned at her movement. ‘What … what is it?’ she asked, her voice strained.
‘We’re here … in Paris.’
She looked out of the window. Sure enough they were on the Tarmac; she could see a waiting limo just at the bottom of the steps. None of the usual Customs or red tape for Xavier and his wife.
Once in the limo, it wasn’t long before they were in the thick of traffic in the city. Jane looked out with undisguised awe.
‘Have you never been here before?’ Xavier asked incredulously.
She shook her head. ‘Never had time … or the money. When I left school I worked straight away through college. I wanted to start paying Mum back for all the years that she’d worked her fingers to the bone.’
‘If I didn’t already know you I’d say that was a line …’
Jane looked at him, shaking her head. ‘So cynical … how can you bear it?’
‘Not everyone sees the world through rose-tinted glasses.’
‘Well, mine are rapidly turning more opaque.’
She could feel his sharp look of enquiry, but didn’t elaborate.
She picked out the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame … and before long she could see that they were going over an ornate bridge on to what looked like an island in the middle of the river.
‘Wow …’ she breathed.
‘This is the Île St-Louis—one of a few islands on the Seine … it’s mainly residential.’
I’ll say, Jane thought to herself. Chic, immaculately made-up women walked their beautifully coiffed dogs. And she had thought that image of Paris was such a cliché!
They drew to a smooth halt outside one of the buildings and were effusively greeted by the doorman. Jane was fast becoming accustomed again to the bowing and scraping people did in Xavier’s vicinity. In the lift she wasn’t surprised to see that they went all the way to the top floor. Nothing but the best.
The doors opened straight into a hall with one door, which Xavier opened.
‘This is where I come and stay when in Paris on business or for stopovers on long haul journeys—have a look around.’
Jane tore her eyes away from his and did as he asked. It was the quintessential bachelor pad. The age of the building meant that the shell and windows were still of a certain period, but the whole of the inside had been remodelled. The colours were dark, and it was full of sharp corners, with abstract art on the walls, state-of-the-art sound and TV systems. The kitchen was worse, all gleaming steel and not a hint of homeliness in sight. She hated it.
He stood back, arms folded, and watched her face with amusement. She couldn’t hide a thing. He felt a sharp, uncustomary burst of pleasure, remembering her refreshing honesty, and became aware of just how much he had missed it …
‘You hate it, don’t you?’
‘I’m sorry …’ She blushed. ‘It’s just so cold and characterless.’
And he became aware of how he’d missed her blushes.
‘I suppose I’d be offended if I’d actually had a hand in the decoration, but thankfully for my ego I didn’t. I allowed a friend who was trying to build up his interior design portfolio the run of the place. I’m here so infrequently that it doesn’t really bother me.’
He thought of the women that he had brought here. He couldn’t remember one who hadn’t oohed and ahed delightedly over every room. Either they had all loved it or, more realistically, said what they thought he wanted to hear. Now he could see it through Jane’s eyes he hated it too, and vowed to rip it all out and do it up again.
Her heart hammered when he suddenly took her hand. He led her to a bedroom, where he faced her again.
‘What … what are you doing?’ she asked desperately,