Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair: Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair

Five

If only every day could end with coffee and a handsome man, the Eiffel Tower silhouetted in the distance.

Bella tightened the gold scarf draped over her head, but she’d ditched the large sunglasses since the sun was setting. Besides, they were indoors, tucked away in a corner of a small Parisian café. The scent of espresso wound through the restaurant, the soft chatter of native speakers soothed her with its melodious cadences.

So far Sam had done a brilliant job at evading the press, arranging a limo and extra security at one side entrance while spiriting her away to a private car out another. The plan had gone off without a hitch, but then he was full of surprises today.

Sam had told her he intended to take her shopping. He hadn’t mentioned they would be flying to Paris in his personal jet.

They’d left her dog at the hotel. Sam had reassured her that his assistant—Parrington—would take care of Muffin’s walks, food and water. Muffin would be happier playing, after all, rather than being carted around in her carrier all day.

He was right. Besides, juggling the little crate and her packages could be tough. She’d bought so much, they’d already left a load in their chauffeured car. She hadn’t had time to do any Christmas shopping with the hectic prerelease publicity schedule for Honor. She’d certainly fixed that problem now.

Somewhere around the fourth store, her anger at Sam for interfering had diminished to mere irritation. She didn’t totally trust him. After all, what man actually wanted to go shopping? Yet he hadn’t made even one move on her since they’d left the hotel. She would simply keep a wary eye on him.

A guitarist in the corner crooned “The First Noel” in French while Bella sipped her black coffee contentedly, eyeing the rest of her dessert and wondering if she dared pack on more calories. The answer? Definitely. The poire au chocolat—a Bosc pear, cooked in wine, dipped in chocolate, served with whipped cream—was irresistible.

She speared another bite, as the couple at the next table left, speaking in French at the speed of light. “I’m never going to fit into my dress for the movie premiere if I let you keep feeding me like this.”

He cocked a brow. “You look fabulous and you know it. Quit fishing for compliments.”

“Ouch.” Her irritation sparked higher. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Of course, most people had no way of knowing how hard an actress had to fight to stay competitive in an absurdly weight-conscious business. Bella had never been one of those stars accused of being anorexic, after all, she liked her food. But to remain in an industry where she was photographed constantly, she had to be extremely disciplined. One day, when she’d had enough of Hollywood, she planned to celebrate with a ten-day doughnut spree. All doughnuts. All the time.

He toasted her with his coffee, the bone china absurdly delicate in his large hand. “I’m a no B.S. kind of guy.”

“I guess there’s honor in that.” She forced down miffed feelings and savored another bite, her eyes closing in ecstasy. “I love food, but it’s true what they say about the camera adding pounds. I work out a lot. I decided early on I would not spend my life living on rice cakes and cocaine.”

“Admirable.” He seemed surprised, darn him. “Did your personal trainer come along?”

She snorted and quickly dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Don’t have one. Sure I consult with trainers on how to target problem areas, but honestly, I have such a large entourage following me around with a camera documenting everything I do, I prefer to exercise alone. Well, except for Muffin of course. Muffin needs lots of exercise too or she misbehaves. So when I walk on the treadmill, she runs circles around me. I enjoy bike rides and she trots alongside. If she gives out, I have a carrier attached to the back of the seat…”

She paused mid-ramble and stared across the table at Sam who was watching her intensely. The sunset through the window cast shadows on his leanly handsome face. Had he truly been listening or was he a B.S. artist after all? Because she truly didn’t have a clue why he’d signed on for a shopping trip today. Most men would have avoided this like the plague.

Bella ducked closer to him, careful to keep her voice low so the waiter angling past wouldn’t overhear. “Why are we doing this? What do you hope to gain?”

“I enjoyed last night,” he said simply. “I don’t see why it has to be a one-time deal.”

She’d been wondering, half expecting this all day, but hadn’t wanted to face the inevitable discussion. Spending time with him had been more fun—laid back and easy—than she’d expected.

Now that was coming to an end. “Weren’t you listening to me when I poured my heart out to you over supper? My life is a mess. I’m not in any shape for a relationship.”

She wasn’t in any shape to withstand more hurt.

“I never said I wanted a relationship.” He set his coffee back on the small café table and leaned on his elbow, closer, intent. “No offense meant, but I am most definitely not looking to marry you.”

She leaned back, her cheeks puffing out a sigh that played with the flickering candle in the middle of their table. “Wow, no need to soft soap it.”

“You’re the one who asked for reassurance.”

She was mad at herself even more than at him. She resented the pull of attraction even as she seemed unable to back away. “I didn’t ask for anything except a change of clothes to get back to my room. You don’t seem to understand.” She struggled for the right words. “I am hurting, really hurting. Despite how it seemed last night, I’m not the casual-sex sort. What we did was…an anomaly.”

“Stupid me.” He grinned. “I thought we ate strawberries off each others’ bodies.”

She slapped her napkin on the table. “Quit trying to make me laugh.”

“Why? You just said again how much you’re hurting. Is it so wrong of me to want to make you smile?”

“As long as I still have my clothes on.” Was that possible around him? Even with her defenses on full-scale alert, she couldn’t help but notice the ripple of muscle under his shirt as he’d carried her packages.

Or how the appealing scruff of his five-o’clock shadow along his jaw gave him an edgier, sexy appeal. She itched to test the texture beneath her fingertips.

Against her better judgment, her fingers began crawling across the table. The very small table. Another couple of inches and she would throw caution to the wind—Snap, snap.

The unmistakable click of cameras sounded behind her. Damn it. Her stomach clenched in frustration—and disappointment.

Sam’s face hardened. “Head down.”

So far the photographer had yet to get in front of her. Sam pitched cash on the table and looped his arm around Bella’s shoulders. She ducked into the strength of his protective embrace. Luckily, they’d already stored all their shopping bags in the car, so they were unencumbered to make a break for it.

He raced straight toward the restaurant’s kitchen door, hurrying her alongside while shielding her face. They pushed through the double swinging doors, steam blasting through carrying the scent of frying meats. Pots clanged loudly as voices shouted instructions back and forth. A humidity-limp plaid Christmas bow hung over the clock marking six o’clock.

Sam pointed across the crowded kitchen, past the cooking island down the middle. “The back exit is that way.”

“Our coats?” The winter temperatures felt all the colder to her after a lifetime in sunny California.

“Already taken care of.” He rushed her past a chef in a tall white hat, the industrial stove sizzling with sliced vegetables.

An attendant stood by the back door, their coats draped over his arms. Sam had obviously made contingency plans for evading the press. She had to admire his thoroughness.

“Merci.” Sam shrugged into his black coat while their accomplice helped Bella with her longer one of white wool.

He shuttled her out into the empty back lot, the crisp air echoing with cathedral bells chiming “Silent Night.” The lot was very empty other than their waiting transportation, thank goodness.

Sam’s arm around her shoulders, he sprinted toward the Mercedes parked nearby, exhaust chugging into the early evening. “Hurry up, Cinderella, before this sucker changes into a pumpkin.”

The chauffer swept open the door. Bella slid in as Sam launched into the other side. Her heart pounded from the exertion as much as the threat. She knew too well how quickly a frenzy of reporters could cause an accident by jumping all over a car. Once their car pulled out onto the main road, two motorcycles roared away from the curb.

The press had found them.

Their driver raced through the streets of Paris at a breakneck speed, motorcycles speeding closer behind. Her pulse thudding in her ears, Bella double-checked her seat belt. Sam pulled out his cell phone, issuing instructions for the crew on his plane to be ready for takeoff. Otherwise, silence hovered heavily in the vehicle as she checked anxiously over her shoulder.

Mere minutes later, they pulled into the small private airport, through a security gate. Sam’s silver private jet waited, the crew prepped and ready outside.

She leaped from the vehicle. A few yards away, the paparazzi on motorcycles screeched to a halt behind the fence. They wouldn’t get any farther, but their cameras had mighty powerful lenses.

“Hurry!” He ushered her up the airplane steps. “That security guard isn’t going to hold up much longer.”

Two men wearing vests with reflective tape unloaded her packages from the trunk at lightning speed while she raced up the metal stairs.

Inside, she unlooped her scarf and sunk into the leather seat. Gasping for air, she couldn’t recall feeling this breathless in a long time. She should have been frustrated, angry even.

Yet for some reason it had felt more like an adventure with Sam at her side.

Because she’d never doubted he would take care of the situation? “I can’t believe you managed to elude them all day.”

Sam sidestepped the media center dominating most of the space. He secured his seat belt near the wine refrigerator at an old-fashioned bar. Sparkling cut-crystal glasses hung upside down above a black, granite prep area. “It helps that you speak fluent French when shopping or ordering meals.”

“As do you.”

His fluency in the language shouldn’t have surprised her since he worked here, but it did make her wonder what other surprises he had in store.

“People see what they expect to see. We appeared to be two locals finishing up last-minute Christmas shopping.”

Still, Sam had a knack for ditching the press beyond anything she’d seen before. And given the high-profile Hollywood sorts who made up her regular circle, she’d seen some mighty adept press dodgers.

The airplane engines roared louder, the craft easing forward, faster, until the nose lifted off. With a smooth swoop they were airborne. The neat pile of her shopping bags barely moved from where they rested in a corner.

And it was quite a hefty pile.

She’d checked off everyone on her growing list of family members. Buying for her grandmother had been particularly difficult—and sad. What did you get for a person who wasn’t expected to live much longer?

She hoped she’d chosen well.

God, what was she even thinking wasting her grandmother’s final precious days apart? Or worse yet, what if her grandmother died before Bella could say goodbye?

The holiday cheer she’d found with Sam seeped away. Even the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower were fading in the distance. Her escape was truly over. Time to face reality—and Beverly Hills—again.

She needed to tell Sam that while their day shopping together had been special, come morning, she would be leaving for California.

Sam could see Bella mentally pulling away from him as clearly as if she’d risen from her seat and hopped out of the plane.

He wasn’t sure what had changed, but most certainly he’d lost some ground. He needed to get her talking again so he could find the right opening. No great hardship, actually. Spending time with her today—even out of bed—had been surprisingly entertaining.

She hadn’t shopped like a diva with the world at her feet. There hadn’t been any special requests for private showings or traipsing up the aisles with complimentary champagne in hand. Bella spent most of her time admiring the different style crèches, delighting in everything from delicate crystal figurines to rustic wood carvings. She’d slid a huge donation into a charitable collection plate when she thought he wasn’t looking, then turned around and purchased a miniature père Noël bell on a ribbon to drape around her neck—his own personal Christmas elf.

The tinkling of that small bell had charmed and seduced him all day long.

She was a total turn-on even totally clothed.

Bella shifted in her seat, her green silk blouse inching open to flash him a hint of creamy skin. “Thanks for helping me with my shopping,” she said, jump-starting the conversation for him. “This worked out perfectly since I really do have to get back home tomorrow.”

Damn. Time was shorter than he’d anticipated, but lucky for him, he already had business dealings lined up in California, the most recent in Los Angeles. He could combine work and pleasure quite easily.

He just needed the right opening to suggest a visit to her side of the Atlantic. “And where exactly is home for you?”

“At the family estate on Loma Vista Drive in Beverly Hills. I stay in the guesthouse.” Her brow puckered. “Where do you actually live?”

A promising move that she asked more about him. Sam stretched his legs in front of him as the plane droned through the dark sky. “Most of the family is located in southern Florida, but Garrison hotels have been expanding of late. I’ve taken on more traveling responsibilities as many of my family members are marrying and settling down. I oversee most new projects in the works.”

“But where do you live?” she asked again as she propped her chin on her hand.

“In my hotels.” Everything was provided for him. Why bother keeping a condo or home that would leave him losing valuable work hours commuting?

“The epitome of a rootless bachelor.”

“That would be me. A no-commitment guy. No worries about me leading you on.” The truth should put her at ease.

Studying him, Bella twisted a lock of hair then stopped abruptly as if realizing how damn sexy she looked with that simple gesture. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“What idea would that be?”

“The sex was amazing, no question.” She chewed her bottom lip for a blood surging second that threatened to send him reaching for her again. “But I’m not interested in any kind of relationship, even a nostrings fling.”

“Who said I am?”

“Then what are we doing here?” She gestured between them.

“I’m making restitution for the inconvenience caused by my hotel’s security lapse. My business is everything to me.” Now to start easing into his plan for more time to win her over. “In fact, I have a new hotel opening in the U.S. I would have been heading back to the States soon to check on the progress anyway.”

“You take your commitment to your guests above and beyond.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Where is the new hotel?”

“Los Angeles, actually.” True enough. The hotel was almost ready to open as the latest in Garrison Grande Incorporated’s successful expansion plan.

Her brows pinched together. “Yeah, right. You just happen to have a hotel in the town where I live,” she said suspiciously. “Where in Los Angeles?”

He recited the address, a piece of prime property he’d busted his ass negotiating for.

Her eyes went wide. “You really do have a hotel there?”

“Bella, it’s not like I could or would lie about this. It’s easy enough to check out.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” The defensiveness eased from her shoulders and she relaxed back in the white leather seat. “I’m just not sure what to think of you yet. You’ve been so nice, but then you went behind my back to call Charlotte, albeit with seemingly good intentions.”

She shoved her hand through her wind-tumbled red hair. “I just don’t know what to think these days. I’m probably being prickly and a little paranoid. I’m nervous about going back and facing everyone again at the premiere of Honor. It’s difficult enough dealing with Grandmere’s cancer. I’ll also have to face my parents and pretend I’m okay with everything.” She exhaled long, her cheeks puffing. “Then of course Ridley will be there.”

Ridley the Rat? Jealousy kicked around inside his gut. Sam stroked his jaw. “I imagine seeing him at the premiere will be tough.”

She pressed her hands to her forehead. “I don’t even want to think about it. Which makes me mad at him all over again. The premiere of Honor on Christmas day should be one of the best days of my life and he’s wrecking it. He’ll show up with his new bimbo girlfriend and I’ll be there with my dog.”

He leaned toward her. “Use me.”

Her hands fell to her lap. “What?”

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He’d been looking for an opening and she’d just handed him the ideal opportunity. “Take me as your date to the premiere. Use me to show that loser ex-boyfriend of yours that you aren’t shedding any tears over him. At the risk of sounding as if I have an overinflated ego, magazines seem to think I’m a fairly eligible bachelor.”

“So I’ve seen.” She toyed with the thin velvet ribbon around her neck, nudging the small bell just above the top button on her blouse. A hell of a distraction for his eyes. “But use you? Wouldn’t that be shallow of me?”

“Not if we’re both in agreement.”

“What do you gain from this?”

Bella back in his bed?

But a smart man would lead with another argument and no one had ever called him a fool. “For starters, I get to take a breather from appearing on all those damn ‘most eligible bachelor’ lists. Every time they publish one, a fresh flock of matchmaking mamas shows up at one of my hotels. It’s insulting to me and to their daughters. Not to mention a real pain in the ass.”

“Okay, I can understand that.” She nodded slowly. “I have to leave tomorrow.”

“Not a problem.” He only slept for a few hours anyway. He could wrap up business and be ready by sunup. He’d been planning a trip later next week after Christmas anyhow. “Any other questions?”

“Yeah,” she said empathically, “a big one. Why me?”

“Because I can be honest with you about this and know you’re not going to run to the press.”

She smiled grudgingly. “You have me there.”

“You agree?” That easily. Hot damn. Peeling her clothes off her after that premiere would make for a night to remember. He would pleasure her so thoroughly he would wipe Ridley Sinclair from her memory forever.

“We’re not sleeping together again.”

“Seems like you’re cutting your nose off to spite your face with that one.” He held up a hand to stop her protest. He knew to quit when he was ahead, and he’d definitely taken a huge step ahead in getting her to agree to let him hang out with her over the holidays. “But, hell, who am I to judge? No sex. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning. Agreed?”

She hesitated only a moment, frowning briefly before her face cleared. “I have the feeling I’m going to regret this…but…yes. We’ll go to the Christmasday premiere together.”

Six

As Bella sat on Sam’s plane the next morning on her way back to the States, she couldn’t believe she’d actually said yes to his outrageous proposition.

Petting Muffin in her lap, Bella stared out the window at the Atlantic Ocean peeking below while the plane zipped in and out of clouds. Footsteps echoed as Sam walked to the front of the plane, toward the kitchenette for a snack, his long legs eating up the space in only a few strides.

She knew one thing for sure. Sam was a damn good businessman. He’d presented the case well for sticking together awhile longer, knowing right where she was most vulnerable. Her pride stung at the thought of facing Ridley alone.

Yet Sam had agreed to her no sex stipulation.

Her gaze dipped to his fine tush showcased in casual blue pants. In a weak moment she wondered what he would look like filling out a pair of well-washed jeans?

She shook off the too-enticing fantasy. She’d meant what she’d said about no sex, especially not now when she was so confused and, well, weak when it came to his appeal. She wasn’t one for flings, in fact didn’t have much of a dating past other than Ridley because of her drive to break out in her career.

Had Sam been lying about keeping his distance, or was he really genuine about seeing benefits in helping her out? Maybe he was just one of those gallant guys who couldn’t resist a woman in distress.

After the way his mother had been treated, Bella could understand how he would have developed that tendency. Maybe he didn’t really have a hidden agenda. Perhaps he genuinely had business to accomplish and figured he would be a good guy along the way.

Her initial idea for facing Ridley at the premiere had been to borrow one of her brothers for the evening. But how lame was that? Sam would make for a powerful piece of eye candy to distract gossip-hungry people from wondering why she and Ridley were no longer an item.

She could ruminate about this all morning, but regardless, her escape to France was officially over. She couldn’t hide from her family’s drama anymore. Thanks to Sam, she wouldn’t be facing everyone alone.

Bella sagged back in her seat, sliding the shade closed over the small oval airplane window. She scrubbed her fists along her gritty eyes. She hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning all night as she worried if she’d made the right choice in coming back to the States with Sam. A yawn stretched her face.

The bed behind the privacy door was inviting, but she feared sending the wrong message. Hell, she feared her own willpower weakening if she crawled onto a mattress with Sam anywhere near. She was better off making use of the additional sleeper chairs out here.

Was she cutting off her nose to spite her face, as he’d said?

No, damn it. She wasn’t in any position for a new relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to him or to her.

Caffeine, yeah, that was the ticket. She just needed more caffeine to jolt her awake and get her brain working again.