Claimed by the Millionaire: The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition

Four

Tristan carried her back into the villa. Sheri didn’t get a chance to look at the place though, as he carried her straight to the bedroom.

He put her on her feet next to the bed.

As she stood naked in front of him, he traced the strawberry birthmark on her right hip. She felt so vulnerable, standing with him looking at her. He’d refastened his pants and his shirt hung open, but he was still essentially dressed and she was naked.

She crossed her arms over herself, one across her breasts, the other over her lower body.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice deeper than normal, his French accent more pronounced.

“I’m not…”

“Not what?”

“I look better with clothes on,” she said at last.

He shook his head. “Not those baggy frocks you wear in the office.”

“You don’t like the way I look at work?”

He traced his finger over the edge where her right arm covered her breasts. His finger dipped beneath her arm to caress the upper curves of her breast. “I like the way you look. It is those frumpy clothes you wear that I don’t like.”

“Frumpy?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not good with fashion,” she said, not sure why she was telling him this. In the darkened bedroom, with her body still tingling from the incredible orgasms he’d helped her achieve, she felt oddly relaxed. If only she was wearing something. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Yes, definitely.”

He shrugged out of it, and she reached for it before he could toss it aside. She put her arms in the sleeves, but he held the two sides open. “I like you naked.”

“I feel too exposed.”

“Why?”

She felt more vulnerable now than she had just a second before. She just shrugged.

He didn’t say anything else, just bent to trace her birthmark with his tongue. Could he want her again so soon?

She couldn’t think as he stood back up and lifted her onto the bed. He slipped off his pants and underwear, then bent down to capture the tip of her breast in his mouth. He sucked her deep, his teeth lightly scraping against her sensitive flesh. His other hand played at her other breast arousing her, making her arch against him in need. Yes, he could.

She reached between them and took his erection in her hand, bringing him closer to her, spreading her legs so that she was totally open to him. “I need you now.”

He lifted his head. The tips of her breasts were damp from his mouth and very tight. He rubbed his chest over them as he slid deep into her body.

She moved her hands down his back, cupping his butt as he thrust deeper into her. Their eyes met. Staring deep into his eyes made her feel as if their souls were meeting. She felt her body start to tighten around him, catching her by surprise. She climaxed before him. He gripped her hips, holding her down and thrusting into her two more times before he came with a loud groan of her name.

He held her afterward, disposing of the condom but then pulling her into his arms and tucking her up against his side.

She wrapped her arm around him and listened to the solid beating of his heart. She fought to remember that this was just for one night. Men leave, she reminded herself firmly. But, lying in his arms, she felt as if this could last forever. She burrowed closer to him, holding him tightly to her.

She wished she could say that she understood him better now than she ever had before. But she had the feeling that she’d simply revealed her own weaknesses. Showed how little she felt she was worth.

“Are you sleeping?” he asked.

She felt the vibration of his words in his chest and under her ear. She shifted in his embrace, tipping her head so she could see the underside of his jaw.

“No. Too much to think about.” This had been the most exciting day of her life. She felt as though, if she went to sleep, she might wake up and find none of it had happened. He traced his fingertips over her body, starting at her forehead and moving slowly down. She felt him linger on the birthmark, tracing over it again and again.

He tipped her head up so that their gazes met. “Thank you for coming to Mykonos this week.”

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed it.”

“Was the vacation what you thought it would be?”

She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking down at his dark features and tracing her finger over his brows. “I can safely say it wasn’t at all what I expected it to be.”

“Better?”

“Yes.” She paused. “Thank you for wearing a condom,” she said. “I’m not on the pill.”

“No problem.”

It bothered her that he’d had condoms on him. That spoke volumes about the differences in their attitudes toward sex and sex partners.

“I don’t think either of us wanted to deal with an unexpected pregnancy.”

“You’re right.” His words were a stark reminder to her that this was a one-night stand. No matter that he hadn’t said anything; she could read between the lines. Though his attitude toward pregnancy was one she shared. When she was eighteen, she’d vowed she’d never have children. She’d been too young to make that kind of decision, but the emotions behind it had been real.

Sheri still slept in his arms. Tristan glanced at his watch. They were flying back to the States later this afternoon. Because he wanted to linger, he pushed himself out of bed. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tightly to him so that he knew she’d stay right by his side. And he’d only ever wanted to stay in bed with Cecile.

“Tristan?”

“Right here,” he said. He sat on the side of the bed with his back to her, because if he saw her in his bed one more time he’d make love to her again. And he needed to start building a distance between them again. Last night was fine, but this morning he needed to get her dressed and out of his villa.

“Is it morning already?” she asked, leaning up to kiss his shoulder blade.

He shifted away from her on the bed, putting some distance between them.

“Yes.”

In the silence that followed, he sensed her confusion.

Her stomach growled, breaking the tension, and he laughed. “Hungry?” He dared a glance at her.

She buried her red face under the sheet. “Yes. I was too nervous to eat last night.”

“Why nervous?”

“Ava wanted her wedding to be perfect and I didn’t want to screw it up. And Augustina is gorgeous, as is Ava’s maid of honor, Laurette. I was the only weak link in the wedding party.”

“You were gorgeous, too,” he said glancing over his shoulder at her again.

She was this morning, too, with her thick hair hanging around her shoulders. She didn’t have a speck of makeup on, but the beauty that he’d somehow never noticed because of her ugly clothes now shone through.

She shook her head. “I’m not, but thank you for saying that.”

She wrapped the sheet around her torso and leaned up, embracing him from behind. She kissed the junction where his neck and shoulder met. “Thank you for last night.”

To hell with restraint. He pulled her around on his lap. Felt her hips brush his morning erection. He kissed her forehead. “Thank you, Sheri.”

She hugged him. Just put her arms around him and held him close. And he knew that no matter what happened he didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to believe that he could find a way to make sure she didn’t regret being with him.

“Have you thought about doing anything else at the magazine?”

She pushed away from him, sitting on the bed next to him. “I can’t work for you anymore?”

He got to his feet and found his pants, pulling them on quickly. “Of course you can continue to work for me. But I wondered if you’d ever considered an editorial job, or sales?”

“Tristan?”

“Hmm,” he said without turning to face her.

“Look at me please.”

He turned, hands on his hips. “Yes?”

“I don’t expect anything from you after this. This was just two people who hooked up at a wedding reception.”

He doubted she was aware of how transparent her face was, or how she’d flinched when she said hooked up. He scrubbed his hands over his face. The morning sunlight seeped in under the wooden blinds that covered the windows, painting the room in cheery colors. But instead of seeing the promise of a new day, all he felt were last night’s regrets.

He knew better than to take Sheri to his bed. She wasn’t like the women he usually dated. “We were friends before this.”

“We were acquaintances,” she amended. “And we’ll go back to being them again. Don’t worry about me. I might not be as used to this situation as you, but I can handle it.”

He had no doubt that Sheri could handle anything that came her way. She was strong like that. “Very well. Would you like to take a shower while I see about breakfast?”

“You can cook?” she said, with the cheeky grin he’d come to know so well.

He flushed at the way she said it. “No, but my housekeeper can.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Whatever you like,” he said. Mrs. Thonnopulus was very skilled in the kitchen and he had no doubt she’d be able to fix anything that Sheri asked for.

“Raisin Bran and some coffee would be great.”

He nodded. “We’ll have breakfast on the balcony. I’ll use the guest bathroom down the hall.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I can use that one.” Then she turned bright red and looked around his room. “I’m going to need something to wear.”

“I’ll bring in some clothes for you. You wear a size six in the States?”

“Yes, I do. But…whose clothes are they?”

“My sister’s.” Thanks to Blanche, he had grown up in a household where discussions had routinely centered on fashion. He knew equivalent sizes. “Go and shower. I’ll leave the clothes on the bed.”

She nodded and tugged the top sheet completely free from the bed, wrapping it around her. She looked small standing there, and vulnerable.

He turned away before he did something else he’d regret, or said something he knew he couldn’t possibly mean, because he never dated a woman for more than a week. He usually only took them to his bed for a night or two and then moved on.

Sheri was no different.

He wondered exactly how many times he was going to have to say that before he started believing it.

Sheri stood on the threshold between the living room and the balcony. Looking out, she saw the place where she’d made love with Tristan for the very first time. Her body was sensitive this morning, remembering the feel of him against her—inside her.

She shook her head, trying to force the images of Tristan making love to her from her head. She wished she could forget him easily. Get the distance she knew she’d need before they were both back in the office on Monday morning.

Yet, at the same time, she didn’t want the feeling of having his body inside hers to fade.

Tristan stood by the railing. He was on his cell phone, and he gestured for her to sit at the wrought iron table that was set for breakfast for both of them. He wore a pair of black dress pants and a short-sleeved, casual shirt. He looked suave, debonair, and she felt… Well, even in the sophisticated clothing he’d provided for her, she still felt a bit frumpy.

There was a plate of croissants with jam and butter, the cereal she’d requested but in European packaging with a different name than she was used to in the States, and a small French press coffeepot.

She fiddled with her hair, tucking it behind her ear, waiting for him to look back at her. And when he did, she wished he hadn’t. There was too much knowledge in his eyes. It was clear that he knew she wasn’t herself this morning.

Tristan put his hand over the phone. “I have to finish this call and I’ll join you in a moment.”

“No problem. I can take care of myself.”

He gave her that steely-eyed look of his, but she ignored him as she seated herself.

“I’ll be right back. Wait for me to eat?”

“If you’d like me to,” she said, but inside a panic was starting. She wanted to forget about breakfast and get away as fast as she could. She also wanted to linger. Wanted him to be sitting here waiting for her. Maybe kiss her when she’d come out instead of being on the phone.

But that was just more of the fantasy she’d always wanted, and this was reality. One-night stands weren’t the beginning of a romance. They were temporary.

Temporary.

Maybe if she said the word enough times she’d start to realize that her reality wasn’t with Tristan.

Too bad she remembered the way he’d held her last night even when they were sleeping. There was some kind of closeness between them that she didn’t want to let go.

“I would.”

She nodded as he walked away. Watch him, she told herself. Watch him walk away and know that he’s not the kind of man who’ll stay. Temporary, she reminded herself again.

But dammit, she wanted him to be. Last night she realized that she’d been trapped in a box of her own making, that she’d let the men in her life dictate how she moved through life.

Last night she’d stepped outside of that box.

Instead of feeling unworthy of a man’s attention, she’d felt as if she deserved to be with Tristan. She wasn’t kidding herself that he might be the man for her. Their lives were too different. But he had changed her, and as she poured a cup of black coffee she realized she didn’t want to go back to being the woman she’d been before.

It was time she started living.

She took another sip of her coffee and felt that nervous anticipation that came from waiting. It reminded her so clearly of the times she’d sat in front of Aunt Millie’s house, waiting for her dad to show up. And he never did.

God, she was pitiful. She pushed to her feet and walked away from the table, taking her coffee mug with her. She went to the railing and looked down at the street. It was crowded this morning with cars and people. Strange for a Sunday.

A man glanced up at the balcony and took a photo. She shook her head, knowing he was capturing the architecture of Mykonos and not her. She stepped back from the railing so that he could get a better picture.

“Come inside,” Tristan said, and something in his tone put her on edge.

“What? Why?”

“We have to talk.”

Man, she hoped he wasn’t going to fire her. If he did, she could find another job as an executive assistant somewhere else in the city, but starting over was always hard.

“Let’s talk here,” she said.

“No. Come inside now.”

“Why are you—”

“Sheri, inside now.”

“Tristan, you can’t speak to me like that. I’m not your pet or slave.”

“I don’t think of you that way. Things have happened. Come inside and I will explain.”

“Is it Christos and Ava? Are they okay?”

“Yes, they are fine,” he said, reaching for her elbow and drawing her into the living room. He closed the door behind her and then clicked a button on the remote in his hand. The blinds slid slowly down, covering the windows.

“If this is how you always behave the morning after, I finally understand why women only stay with you for a short while.”

“Sheri, this is serious.”

“I was being serious,” she said, knowing that she had to find a way back to being his humorous assistant.

“You are being cheeky and another time I’d appreciate that, but not right now.”

He was starting to scare her. “Tristan, I can… Listen, it won’t be weird at work. I’m not going to be all clingy or anything.”

“I know you won’t be.”

“You’re going to fire me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a narrow look.

“I can handle it, honestly. I just need to know what I’m facing.”

“You’re not facing anything,” he said, tossing her a newspaper. A Greek tabloid. “We’ll face this together.”

She saw the photo of herself naked in Tristan’s arms as they were kissing on the balcony.

Five

Sheri had never wanted to be famous. Unlike other kids who dreamed of celebrity, she’d preferred her natural anonymity, so as she stared down at the newspaper in front of her, skimming the headline written in a language she couldn’t read, she saw only her picture.

Her face got hot as she blushed harder than she ever had before. She was going to die. That was it. There was no way she was going to live through this.

It was bad enough that she’d made the highly questionable decision to sleep with her boss. But now the entire world would know… Hell, Lucille would know, and she wasn’t going to let Sheri forget about this.

“Oh, my God.”

“I don’t think praying will help,” Tristan said in a quiet voice.

“What do you recommend?” she asked, desperately wishing she could go back in time.

He put a hand on her shoulder. It was big and warm and as he squeezed so slightly, she felt a little better. Not much, mind you, with her face and the ecstasy she’d felt in his arms clearly on display for the world to see.

Tristan’s expression wasn’t visible, as his face was buried in her hair. Her hands shook as she looked at the picture.

“I don’t look like myself,” she said, tracing a finger over her face. Her eyes were half-closed and she was clutching at Tristan as he kissed her. Thank goodness his broad shoulders covered her naked chest fairly well.

He reached around her to take the paper. “You look like a woman in the arms of her lover.”

“Yeah, ya think?” Sheri said, unable to help herself. She wished she could get good and mad. But this wasn’t Tristan’s fault. It was only that fact that was helping her keep it together. That and the strong belief that if she let go of her control she was going to crumple to the floor and never get up.

“Cheeky is cute, Sheri. Sarcastic is not,” he said, his accent very strong and pronounced.

She hated when he did that arrogant thing. Actually it was attractive at times, but right now, while she was grappling with the shock of seeing her scandalous picture in a major newspaper, it wasn’t.

“Sleeping with you was fun while it was our little secret,” she said, mirroring his tone. “Having the entire tabloid-reading world know about it is not.”

“Sheri—”

She cut him off and turned away, walking farther into the elegantly appointed living room. She stood underneath a painting, a large oil by someone famous, she was sure, but she didn’t know art. Her aunt Millie’s taste had run more to prints of the Brooklyn Bridge than real art.

“Sorry, was that too sarcastic? I’m not used to dealing with the paparazzi the way you are.”

“You’re right,” he said. “This is my mess. I will take care of this.”

“How, exactly?” she asked.

“Leave it to me.”

“Do they know my name?” She pivoted to face him. The morning sunlight streamed through the glass doors behind him, keeping his face in shadow.

Tristan lifted the paper and read the article.

“You haven’t read it yet?” she asked.

“Not all of it.”

“What does the headline say?”

“‘Snagged. Elusive bachelor found in love nest.’”

“Oh, my God.”

“If you’re going to pray, you should at least ask for something.”

“Tristan, I’m going to ask for lightning to strike you.”

“Not a wise course of action,” he said.

“You don’t think so?” she asked, trying to keep the panic she felt rising inside her from her voice.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her into his body. “I don’t. You need me, Sheri Donnelly, and I’m going to get you out of this mess.”

This close to him, it was hard to keep the distance she’d been struggling to maintain since she came down for breakfast.