His wrist jerked as she passed, and Stryke swung to see what had happened. Oh, shit. Uh... He followed as she walked, unknowing, until she did realize and turned to bump chests with him.
Sorry, he said. My cuff link is hooked on your dress. You passed so close. He twisted his wrist, but could feel the resistance. Uh, parlez vous Anglais?
Interesting way of picking up a girl, she said in a cultured voice that belonged in a jewelry box aside all that was precious. And on the box? A sign labeled Dont Touch. Oui, I can manage English when I must. Can you get it unhooked?
Give me a minute. Your dress is all lace and so delicate. I dont want to tear it.
Please do not, monsieur. Its one of my favorites.
Hed snagged her right over the ass, and he worked the back of his hand against her derriere, feeling guilty for the stolen touch, yet at the same time, loving the freebie. The diamond cuff link Vail had loaned him was worth a pretty penny, he felt sure. One of the clasps holding a stone had dug its clutches into the thin black lace.
He straightened, standing beside her with his hand behind her and fingers curled so he didnt blatantly cup her ass. Causing a scene was the last thing he wanted to do, so hed act casual. Mercy. She smelled good. It was all he could do not to tilt his head against hers to sniff her hair.
My names Stryke Saint-Pierre, by the way.
Blyss Sauveterre, she offered. And oh, yes, she was. What sort of pre nom is Stryke?
The one my parents gave me. Uh, Im from the US.
That is obvious from your accent, she said with not even a smile.
Nope. He wasnt going to win her over this way. Damn. Way to spoil things. Worst pickup ever. Now to extricate himself without humiliating her more than himself.
Uh, could we move over near that column where theres more light?
He nodded toward a marble column at the edge of the gathering. Not a lot of people milling on that side of the gallery. Theyd be granted some privacy to perform this delicate operation.
If itll deliver me of your groping hand, then oui.
She started toward the column and he followed, but it was easiest to let his fingers gently curl about her behind. Yeah, it wasnt cool, but what about this situation was cool?
Once at the column he pulled her around to the other side, where they found privacy and better light.
Excuse me for what Im going to do, he said.
Her lips pursed. Her bright green eyes were the most valuable jewels in the room tonight. And those pink lips. They looked moist and so wanting of a kiss. No chance of kissing them after this embarrassing debacle. Not as if hed a chance with this delicious bit in the first place.
Stryke bent behind her to work at the tangle. She slid a hand down her hip, uncomfortable, he guessed. And impatient. God, she smelled amazing. All flowers covered in sugar and fluttering over him until he was buried in sweetness.
So this is how American men meet women? she asked over her shoulder. Snag them like a poisson?
Poisson? What was that? Poison? Hell, he didnt know. Not generally. I like to take a less aggressive tact when Im interested in a woman. Though certainly he was on the hunt. Wrong breed, though. This one hed have to toss back. Ah! Poisson meant fish. I suspect Im not your type anyway.
What, or rather, who do you guess is my type, Monsieur Stryke?
When she said his name like that Stryke wished they were the only two in the gallery, and that he had the courage to kiss her and steal away more of her elegant French words.
Your type... He stood and kept their close proximity by running his hand over her hip, and said, ...is rich.
She quirked a perfectly arched brow. The eyeliner circling her beautiful bright eyes had been drawn out at the corners in a catty tease. As he had with the marble statues, Stryke reminded himself not to touch. This wasnt the venue or crowd that appreciated his kind of sensual curiosity. Hed have to save the smoothing of his fingers over her skin for the bedroom. Which was never going to happen.
So you do not qualify? she asked. Rich?
I do well enough.
In truth, he could probably beat most of the people here tonight in a show of financial statements, but he didnt like to brag. He was most comfortable living below his means. And if a woman judged a man by his checkbook? He wasnt interested.
She tapped his free wrist where the diamond cuff link glinted. I suspect you do.
He wasnt about to correct her assumption. Why create another mark against him?
Ive been in Paris two days, he offered. I have to say youve made the trip worthwhile.
How is that?
Leaning closer, just managing the skim of his coat front against her back, he spoke near her ear when a curl of her hair tickled his cheek.
Youve pulled me out of my world and into a fantasy. Not often that happens to a guy. Would it be crass to ask if youve a boyfriend?
It would.
He nodded. Yeah, he wasnt going to score interest from this glamour girl.
She tilted her gaze at him and he couldnt determine if she was disgusted or maybe intrigued. Have you managed to detach yourself?
He displayed the cuff link hed freed from her dress minutes earlier. But since shed been engaged in talking, hed not informed her of her freedom too quickly. And the stolen moments of standing in her air? Priceless.
She clasped the cuff link. And then he remembered it wasnt his. He shouldnt just hand it over like that.
Blyss, he repeated, not addressing her, more feeling the taste of her on his tongue.
She dipped her lashes before looking directly at him and dragging the diamond cuff link across her kiss-me-now lips. Oui?
Oh, man, those lips said things he wanted to be true. He breathed her name again. It was so appropriate. Every pore on his body inhaled her perfume and imagined her sugar-flower taste as her silken skin glided against his body.
Before he could claim the cuff link, she strode off. Long legs moved her swiftly, high heels clicking the marble floor. The hand behind her back toggled the diamond cuff link, allowing it to catch the light teasingly. She didnt reenter the crowd, but instead veered toward the curved marble wall where he had earlier seen the waiters coming and going.
Before walking through an open doorway, she cast a look over her shoulder at him. The cuff link was in her mouth, glinting between those luscious lips.
Strykes jaw dropped open. He didnt need an interpreter to guess what she was saying.
Come claim it. If you dare.
Chapter 2
Stryke Saint-Pierre was one gorgeous man. And polite. While he could have copped a feel when theyd been tangled out on the museum floor, he had remained the consummate gentleman. Too bad for her. Blyss wanted to feel his deft fingers smooth over her derriere. She wanted to lose herself in the rugged smell of him, the roughness of him.
And she wanted to feel that now.
And she wanted to feel that now.
She strode down the dimly lit hallway toward the back office. It was her office, but she shared it with Lorcan, her assistant, and used it principally for paperwork, business calls and the occasional make-out session with a sexy man. It was what she did. She saw an attractive man. She wanted him. She won him. The winning part gave her immense satisfaction. And sometimes a sparkler for her finger or ear. She was choosy, most certainly, and discreet. And never greedy.
Tonight the win was born of necessity.
You live in Paris? she called back.
Staying for a week or so, then heading back home to Minnesota.
Perfect. Hed be gone and out of her hair as soon as she had accomplished her task.
Minnesota? Blyss vaguely imagined a tundra with blowing winds and snow andnot of interest to her.
As she unlocked and opened the door and strode into the office, she surreptitiously glanced over a shoulder to catch the strut of the mans long, confident strides. Following at a distance. Smart man. Well, she did have something of his that he wanted back. The cuff link was too small to sell for any worthwhile amount, so she would give it back.
But first, to enact part two of tonights plan.
Stryke closed the door behind him.
Lock it, Blyss cooed. She stood across the room and turned, back against the wall, one leg bent and a black patent leather shoe heeling the wall.
The mans long fingers flicked the steel door lock. Something about those sexy, strong fingers. She needed to feel them on her body. And she would. And the mans name was Stryke. So bold and macho. Everything about him screamed alphayet to think that term gave her a shudder.
She eyed the small drawer at the corner of her desk. Inside was the key to securing her future. She must concentrate on the task at hand. Not on his virile attraction or her increasing need to surrender to that virility.
Where are you staying? she asked, because it was important.
On that little island behind the big church.
The man was quaintly rustic. But that smile of his was dangerous. It said to her, I like to have fun, and if youre lucky, you can go along for the ride. Blyss couldnt remember when last shed had fun with abandon. Had she ever?
Île Saint-Louis? she guessed, keeping her growing desire for his touch under control by pressing her palms against the wall behind her.
Thats the one. My grandfather owns one of the buildings and my entire family is staying there. Were in town for my aunts wedding. The apartment Im staying in is right above a candy shop. In the mornings I wake up to the smell of chocolate.
Oh, I know that one. About center of the island.
Yeah, exact center, Id guess. Its a neat little neighborhood. I havent done much exploring since arriving, but I hope to walk the city tomorrow. So...
His eyes followed the lines of her body, up the slit that exposed her leg, which was darkened by a sheer black stocking. A red bow teased at the top of the stocking. All carefully planned, of course. Blyss thrived on male attention. It fed a part of her soul. If not her bank account.
He strode toward her and she smiled and placed the cuff link between her lips. He wanted her. She wanted him. Too bad this was to be a business engagement.
Quickly, she said around the cuff link. I cant be away from the event for too long.
Is that so? He stepped before her and plucked the cuff link from her mouth. They matched in height, but that was only because of her heels. She tapped his long blade of a nose, gliding her finger down it and to his lips, which were firm and, over the upper, topped with stubble. His tongue lashed her finger and she pushed it into his mouth for him to suck. You want me?
He pressed closer so she could feel the fabric of his suit brush against the lacy dress, yet he didnt push his body against hers. Teasing? Or not so daring as she had hoped?
You are like those diamonds displayed out in the gallery, he said. Pretty to look at, yet a man could never dream to possess them.
Good boy. So you know youll not be walking out of here tonight with me on your arm.
I get your game. A quickie with a stranger?
Quickie is a vulgar term. I prefer an amorous liaison.
I like the sound of your French words, glamour girl. Then I guess Id better get to it. Quickly, he whispered against her ear.
The brush of his mouth along her jaw made her sigh and tilt her head back, wanting him to paint his warm breath along her skin and to, for one moment, feed her the warmth she sought.
Strykes hands glided up her thighs. One stopped at the ribbon that topped her stocking. The tickle of his finger shimmered a delicious hum through her mons and core.
Mustnt tug, she admonished. Placing her hand over his, she again claimed the cuff link.
Let me guess. You dont like to be mussed.
She slid her hands down to his fly and unzipped him.
No mussing, it is, he groaned tightly.
He was hard and ready. Just the way she wanted him. But before they began, she lifted his wrist and stuck the cuff link through the buttonhole. Ill let you keep this trinket.
And gliding her hands inside his coat, she slid them up his back between the crisp dress shirt and the silk coat lining. So many pockets lining the interior. Excellent. And then back around to unbutton his trousers and push them down.
Take me, she insisted, defiantly holding his wondrous gaze. She did love it when they seemed shocked, the treat of a stolen liaison so unexpected to them. Fast and hard.
His swallow was audible. But he didnt balk. Pushing up her dress, he lifted her against the wall at the same time. She wrapped her legs about his hips. His erection fit like a hot steel rod against her mons.
Youre soft and you smell great, and youre so hot, he babbled as he found his way inside her.
Blyss gasped as his thickness entered her in a smooth glide. She hadnt required lubrication because shed been turned on since hed gotten caught on her dress. Mmm, he felt like hot, hard steel. Every in-and-out motion teased at her apex, and she thought she might even climax, even though simple thrusting generally didnt do it for her.
She glided her fingers through his hair, seeking to grip hanks but it was so short, like uncut velvet. And then she did something she never did with her hookups. She didnt even think about it. Her head simply tilted and her mouth sought his. He tasted like champagne. His moan echoed inside her, stirring up her own moan. His powerful biceps flexed under her hands. His hips slammed her against the wall.
Gripping him at the back of his neck, she kissed him deeply, wanting to get lost in him, to find... No. Mustnt be a fool.
Stryke gasped harshly, yet quickly muffled the noise by pressing his mouth against her neck, his teeth pressing gently into her skin. Shoot, I didnt use a condom...
I am on the pill, she whispered. No worries.
Whew. And as his body shook against hers, she reveled in his quick yet furious orgasm that shuddered his body against hers. Until she remembered...
The desk drawer beside her slid open with ease. She palmed the item shed placed inside earlier and then slid her hand inside his suit coat. He was lost in the orgasm, oblivious to her actions.