Mikayla [Orchidea: Love on the Bayou 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (10 page)

“Really? What is there to be concerned over? If you can franchise, then you should do just that.”

“There’s more to it really. I have good people working for me now, but if I expand too quickly I’ll lose my ability to have that personal touch Aubert’s provides to their customers. Buying a home is a big deal. I want my customers to know that I’m right there with them to help the process run smoothly. A lot of realtors aren’t like that. Once the customer says they want to buy or give an offer, other people handle the work and that client is just a number.”

“That’s important, you’re right. Perhaps if you provide a specific training manual that all employees must abide by and follow, then you could ensure that Aubert’s remains that family-oriented business you’re so fond of maintaining?”

She smiled at him, and her cheeks turned a shade of pink.

“How do you do it? How do you run so many businesses and remain so confidant?” she asked him.

He smiled then took another sip of champagne as another crewman appeared with two crystal glasses of fresh shrimp and a tray of raw oysters for them to share.

Mikayla said thank you, and Pierre smiled. She was very polite and aware of everyone she encountered, but he wanted her focus to remain on him. It was an odd sensation, to instantly need her in such a way.

He reached for a shrimp, dunked it lightly in the sauce, then leaned closer to Mikayla.

“Shrimp?” he asked in a low whisper as he stared at her lips. How badly he wanted to kiss her, to taste her and explore every inch of her body. He imagined slowly sliding the straps off her dress and pressing the yellow material down so he could view her breasts. She was perfect in every way.

Shyly, she leaned closer to his fingers and the shrimp as she held his gaze. When she bit into the shrimp, he winked at her then tried to control his desires. He reached for another shrimp and tasted it himself.

“Very good, but you taste better,” he stated before he leaned closer to her, placed his fingers under her chin, and tilted her closer to his lips before he kissed her.

He peeked one eye open to check to see if her eyes remained closed. Someone told him once that every meaningful kiss was done with eyes closed, and it was one of the many ways he tested a woman’s commitment to him. Mikayla’s were closed.

It was Mikayla who began to pull away first, and he was disappointed, but not nearly as disappointed as he would surely be at the end of the evening when she would insist on going home instead of staying the night in his bed.

“Just as I thought. Delicious,” he stated then nodded toward the plates for them to take another sample.

“Do you always go to such measures to impress your dates?” Mikayla asked as she took another sip of champagne and watched him over the rim.

“Are you asking me if I’ve had other women on this yacht and have shared deep, passionate kisses over shrimp?” he teased, hoping that perhaps Mikayla was feeling a bit jealous. Although she didn’t need to. She had his complete attention.

“Of course not. I would hope that this wasn’t a game of sorts for you, Pierre. I was impressed with you the moment you responded back to Shelly Merchot and called me your agent, even though we had just technically met.”

She was precious, absolutely precious.

He held her gaze.

“Does my wealth and success bother you?”

She fidgeted with her hands and looked away from him, toward the water. Something was on her mind. She would have to learn to express herself and share her thoughts more freely.

“Tell me what you are thinking right now. Surely you aren’t turned off by my wealth and this yacht we’re on.”

She turned to him and held his gaze.

“I don’t care for boats actually, and I’m sure a good-looking man like you can get any woman he wants to come on this boat, to follow your beck and call, and to give you the answers and the responses you want. I’m not like that, Pierre.” She stood up and placed her napkin on the table. She began to move away, but he grabbed her before she could escape.

“Don’t go. Tell me what I said to offend you.”

She stared at him a moment and held his gaze. He could feel her shaking in his arms, but she didn’t appear frightened.

“What is it that you want in this relationship between us and your brothers?”

He hadn’t expected that question at the moment. He could tell she needed answers. She was running from her feelings and from the desire she was feeling for more than one man simultaneously.

“It is the kind of relationship my adoptive parents had. There was always love, attention, and commitment. It was like nothing I ever could have imagined, but it felt right. I had nothing, and I probably would have died on the streets with nothing and no one to care. But Rosette, Miguel, William, and Lawrence took a chance and adopted me. Miguel was in the CIA like Michael. He found me during a job he was on. I was caught in the line of fire. I was eleven and hiding out near the shipyards in abandoned storage crates. A stray bullet hit me, and Miguel found me and saved me from getting killed. He placed himself in danger that day, and well, the rest is history. Their ménage relationship showed me what love was really all about. I have three fathers and one mother, and I love them equally.”

* * * *

Mikayla was shocked to say the least. She had been kind of jealous of other women he wined and dined on his expensive yacht. She didn’t want to be another woman he fucked. She could have that kind of relationship anywhere. For some reason, Pierre seemed more distant than the others. It was him and Douglas who made her feel uneasy about the relationship, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Where were your parents?” she asked, not sure how to respond to his story. She was so worried about getting hurt she had been accusatory to him when everything was going nicely. God, she could be such an idiot.

“I don’t have any parents.” He responded abruptly then looked away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the evening. I’m not really good at this.”

He turned back toward her and held her gaze as he looked down at her. He was tall, and his green eyes bored into hers but revealed nothing of his emotions. It was kind of eerie in a way, because she always sought out information from people’s eyes and the way they responded to her.

He stepped closer, wrapped a solid arm around her waist, and pulled her against him. She laid her hands against his chest and looked up at him, wondering what he intended to do, and hoped that he would kiss her. She could get lost in his embrace and the demanding, controlling personality he had. She needed him to lead her through this and push her if necessary.

He cupped her head and hair with his hand and pulled her closer to his face.

“You get under my skin, Mikayla.”

She wondered what that meant and whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, but before she could retort, he pressed his mouth over hers and kissed her until he had his fill. He licked along the seam of her lips, pressed his tongue into her mouth, and ravaged her. His hands explored her body, and she tried to reciprocate his actions but his hold around her waist was firm and restricted any movement on her part.

The kiss grew hotter, and he moved the hand from her waist slightly to press an open palm to her right ass cheek. She was instantly on fire. She wanted him, and could only imagine by his taste and standards what the master suite below deck might look like

His thigh pressed between her legs, and she felt the light breeze caress under her dress, but it did nothing to stifle the fire he started. She moaned into his mouth and tilted her head further back for him to gain better access to her. He did just that. His lips left hers, parted as she gasped for air, while his mouth tasted, licked, and sucked along her neck and collarbone. She grabbed ahold of his hair and head, pressing him harder against her body. Her breasts tingled, and her nipples yearned to feel his hot, wet mouth against them. She felt the tightening sensation in her core, and then Pierre pressed the straps of her dress away from her shoulders.

The bodice of her dress folded slightly but enough for him to see she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“So soft and beautiful. Will you let me have one small taste, Mikayla?” He asked her permission, but all she could do was press his head lower toward the gap in her bodice.

His large hand cupped her breasts over the material, but he used his thick thumb to gently caress the sensitive skin right above the yellow fabric.

His eyes remained transfixed on the cleavage of her breasts as he pushed the material slightly down and low enough to pull one breast from confinement. The cool night air hit her skin just as Pierre’s hot tongue licked across her skin. He pulled her tighter to him and ravaged her breast, tasting, licking, and pulling on her nipple, making her squirm in his embrace. The feel of the water rocking the yacht ever so slightly added to the rhythm of her heartbeat and the feel of his mouth upon her.

“Oh God, Pierre,” she whispered, being sure to be quiet. She didn’t want the crew to hear her or see her. Instantly she thought about Isaac. Would he be so nearby that he could see her exposed like this? She stiffened, and Pierre licked along her nipple then kissed her breast as he slid the material back up and over her breast. He followed the line of her shoulder to her neck then to her mouth, kissing her one final time before he pulled her into a snug embrace.

She felt her body begin to calm down, and she took the opportunity to feel his strong arms around her and breathe in his scent. The rough material of his blazer rubbed under her chin and cheek. He smelled masculine, and her feminine instincts were fully aware. It came to her in a flash of enlightenment that nothing else seemed to matter as he held her. He was worth the risk. She just hoped she had the courage to take the leap of faith.

It was early Sunday morning when Mikayla awoke at the sound of her cell phone ringing. She reached for it as she cleared her throat and glanced at the clock. It was seven in the morning.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Aubert. My name is Vincent Lukon, I’m sorry to be calling at such an early hour on a Sunday, but I came across this property for sale along the Decantur Street. It’s an old French-style, two-story building. There are forest-green shutters and some flower boxes on the windows. Anyway, I was talking to the owner, and she said that she just signed on with you as the realtor agent. I don’t have an agent, but I definitely want to look at this house today. I have business plans for it, and it’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. Would you be interested in meeting me sometime this morning?” the gentleman asked. Her head was a bit groggy from her late night out on the yacht with Pierre. She stifled a yawn and thought about it a moment. Her date with Antoine wasn’t until lunchtime.

“I suppose I could try to set something up with the homeowner. I have a prior commitment at noontime.”

“Oh please, if you would be so kind as to set this up for me, I am certain it will be worth your while. I can even buy you breakfast,” he offered, and she smiled. She wondered who this guy was.

“Okay, Mr. Lukon. Let me write down your number and check with the homeowner about a convenient time to meet.”

“Okay. Great. I met her last night, so she knows that I wanted to come by first thing this morning. I am certain she’ll answer immediately.”

“No problem. I will call you back.”

Mikayla hung up the phone, and she felt a little uneasy about the call. Who was this guy? Another friend of the Fromms? She wondered as she stretched then got up out of bed. She looked toward the bottom of the bed as she walked toward the bathroom, and there sat Pierre’s blazer from last night. She remembered him giving it to her toward the end of the evening because she was getting cold. The kiss that followed him placing the blazer over her shoulders did an even better job warming her up. She smiled, brushing her fingertips along the jacket as she passed. She felt really good this morning. Last night had been incredible with Pierre just as the night before had been with Michael.

She brushed her teeth and then made the call to the homeowner on Decantur Street. As Mr. Lukon had stated, Mrs. Mertile was up for the visit and had anticipated Mikayla’s call.

Mikayla hung up then hurried to take a shower, dress, and meet Mr. Lukon at the agency. She would text Antoine from the car later to perhaps meet him in town instead of having him pick her up at home. She picked out a strapless, handkerchief dress in navy blue with stripes and floral pattern and a pair of beige, stitched wedges to match. She would place a sweater over her shoulders for meeting the client and then remove it when she met with Antoine. She hoped that he would like it. His style seemed to be between Michael’s and Pierre’s. Whenever she saw him, she guessed he would be wearing a pair of dress slacks and a button-down shirt. He had good taste in clothing. They all seemed to.

* * * *

Mikayla called Antoine before she headed out. She left him a message stating that she might have to meet him at her business for their date. A few minutes later Pierre called her.

“Hey, gorgeous. I missed you,” Pierre stated through the Bluetooth as Mikayla continued to drive toward her office.

“Hey, how are you? I just called Antoine,” she replied.

“I know. He’s taking a shower and asked me to call you back. He heard your message. Who’s this early-rising client of yours?”