‘What will you choose?’ Lycos asked as he stood beside her.
‘So hard to decide,’ she murmured. ‘But I think thetarte des pommes.’
‘For me,’ he mused, ‘I can’t resist a slice of theGâteau St Honoré.’
He relayed their choices and ordered coffee too. His French was fluent, she had come to realise during the course of the day, but it was distinctly accented. As was his English, in a way that, she had to acknowledge, added to the frisson that she kept experiencing in his company. It had not abated during the day. Just the opposite in fact.
What’s happening to me? Why am I being like this? Reacting like this?
The question was foolish. She knew perfectly well why. Had known since that moment she had first seen him as he’d got out of his monster car. Still in his tuxedo, raffish with his rough jaw, tie loose, gazing around him in the early morning light, surveying his latest possession. Come to take it from her.
Because whatever his malign purpose, his impact on her had been, and was still now, like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. Powerful, pulse-quickening, making her aware of his masculinity in a way that was both disturbing and something else entirely, for exactly the same reason. Ben, her long-ago fellow music student, had been blond and hazel-eyed, dreamy and sensitive. Nothing like the lean, lethal Lycos Dimistrios. With his sable hair, his night-dark eyes, the lithe, muscled body she had seen ploughing effortlessly through the azure pool water and wading out in a shower of diamonds. Drawing her rivetted gaze and making her catch her breath.
Her gaze returned to him again, now, as they sat themselves down at a little marble-topped table under a shading awning on the wide pavement, awaiting their coffee and cakes. Thepâtisseriewas an upmarket one, directly edging the gardens that bordered the town’s old ramparts, affording a vista out over the valley below, which was drenched in late afternoon sunshine. She let her gaze rest on him, indulging in the opportunity, as he surveyed the view.
His eyes returned to her. In the shade of the awning, he’d removed his dark glasses and his eyes met hers full on, knowing she’d been looking at him. She felt herself colour and saw his mouth quirk.
‘A female who blushes. Can it be?’ he murmured. There was a teasing note in his voice. Something more than teasing.
She swallowed. ‘It’s…it’s just the heat,’ she said.
‘Indeed, even in the shade,’ he murmured again. His eyes held hers still, washing over her. Heat rose in her cheeks again.
To her relief, the server was coming out, setting down what they had ordered. Arielle stirred hercafé au lait, willing her colour to subside. Lycos started on hisgâteauand she likewise with hertarte.
‘So, have you enjoyed today?’ Lycos glanced at her.
She looked across at him. ‘I thought today was for your benefit,’ she said.
‘For us both,’ he said. ‘And I have indeed enjoyed it. I’ve never been a tourist before, seeing a place just for the pleasure of it.’ His tone was musing again.
She looked confused. ‘But you’ve come from the Côte d’Azur. People only go there for pleasure!’
‘I wasn’t there for pleasure. At least, not for the pleasure of the place. I spend time there, but I don’t sightsee. So today has been a novelty. A very pleasant one.’ He took another forkful of hisgâteau.‘This is very good,’ he said. ‘How about if I buy a whole one for us? For dessert tonight. Since we haven’t picked any strawberries, or raspberries either.’
‘If you like,’ Arielle said. ‘It’s your call. I’m just the tour guide.’
His eyes held hers, an expression in them that threatened to make her flush again.
‘You’re more than that, Arielle.’
His voice was soft and his accent seemed more pronounced. Husky.
She looked away, breathless suddenly. She heard him give a low laugh—a laugh that made her all the more breathless, that threatened to flush the colour back into her cheeks and the heat into her veins. Then he called the server over as she finished serving another customer nearby. Arielle heard him request an entireGâteau St Honoréto take away with them. It gave hertime to gather her composure again. As much of it as she could. In her head she heard his words.
‘You’re more than that, Arielle.’
The frisson that she had felt throughout the day came again and she knew why.
Her eyes returned to him, feeling again that sense of breathless bemusement and that flush of betraying heat. Whatever it was about him, this man who had come out of nowhere to take her home from her, she was drawn to him for reasons she could not deny.
Nor do I want to.
The truth held in her head. Impossible to dismiss.
Whatever was happening, whatever was going to happen, that truth held. She did not know why this man, who spelt only disaster to her, could affect her as he did. Only that he did.
Thoughts flickered through her mind. Difficult ones. Ones she must face.
