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Blaise rose from his seat on the coffee table and strode out of the room. His firm ass encased in jeans drew Raine’s gaze. Every part of him was good looking. And…familiar? Where had she seen him before? The elevator? But she didn’t remember his face from the elevator…
A moment later, he returned with a glass of water. “Here you are, Lorraine.”
She winced. “Call me Raine. Everyone does. I hate the name Lorraine.”
“Pourquoi? It is beautiful. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful? Sitting here with clammy skin, her walnut hair in disarray around her stained blouse? No, he didn’t think she was beautiful. He was just using the French charm she’d heard so much about.
“It’s an old lady’s name. I hate it.” She took a long sip of the water he handed her. Ah, nectar. “How do you know my name anyway?”
“I look at your passport.”
She stiffened. “You went through my purse?”
“You fainted on me. I had to take care of you. Know who you are.”
Raine took another sip of water. “Just exactly what happened? What do you mean I fainted on you?”
“In the elevator.” He sat on the coffee table again, facing her. “When the doors opened, you fall backward. Onto me.”
“Oh, God,” Raine said again. Her cheeks warmed with what she knew was a deep crimson. He was the hard thing she had fallen onto? She shook her head, and blurry images appeared in her memory. Of him holding her. Telling her he’d take care of her. She sighed and stared at him.
Every muscle group was visible through his tight sky blue T-shirt. Kind of a feminine color, but on him, it worked. She must have been in complete panic not to notice him in the elevator.
“What happened to you? Are you malade? Ill?”
“Yes.” She let out a soft scoff. Totally embarrassing, but what the heck? She had already fainted on the guy. “Ill. In the head. I’m afraid of heights.”
“Oh. Is that all?” Blaise chuckled.
“What is that supposed to mean?” And why do you sound so damn sexy when you laugh at my expense? “It’s called acrophobia, and it’s a very serious condition.”
“Why did you go up the tower if you are afraid?”
“I was trying to conquer my fear. Obviously, I wasn’t successful.”
He smiled. Damn, he was gorgeous.
“How did you come to France? By boat?”
“Of course not. I flew.”
He laughed again. “But you are afraid of heights?”
“It’s not the same thing.” Raine rolled her eyes. She had grown tired of explaining this idiosyncrasy over the years. “In a plane, I’m enclosed. And I always get an aisle seat so I don’t have to look out the window.”
“Of course.” He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “You are mignonne. Cute.”
Cute? Forty-three year old women weren’t cute. She opened her mouth to say so, but then closed it. Why advertise her age? Of course, he had seen her passport. He already knew her age.
Raine took a deep breath. Blaise couldn’t be a day over thirty, and he thought she was cute? Beautiful even? Just the French charm, she reminded herself. He was the cute one. Strike that. The incredibly gorgeous ‘oh my God, I’m considering becoming a cougar’ one. She imagined those full lips covering hers, tasting her, as she tunneled her fingers through his mass of waves.
A rush of heat scalded her body, settling between her legs. It had been too long since she’d had sex. Since her divorce five years ago, boyfriends had been scarce. She had purposefully concentrated on her writing career, deciding that love was more trouble than it was worth. As for sex? Well, she and her vibrator—along with a few discreetly purchased porn DVDs—had become best friends.
Raine’s heart lurched and her mouth dropped open as she let out a soft gasp.
Porn. That’s where she had seen Blaise.
