Mistress for Hire (3 page)

Chapter 3

“Yes, Mademoiselle Sommers. I am quite demanding.”

Was that a flash of cunning in the girl’s eyes before she looked down at her thick, ugly shoes? She was an excellent actress. It had been very clever of her to show up at Tante Emmaline’s first. She had him believing she had no idea where her sister had taken off to.

Even her clothes created the perfect costume of neediness with her tattered skirt and frayed sweater. But her frumpy clothes couldn’t hide the voluptuous body underneath. Where her sister had been very much the epitome of French sleekness, this young woman resembled a creampuff with her thick blond hair and generous curves. Watching her bottom slide over the corner of his desk as her skirt inched upward had intrigued him entirely too much.

She studied him from behind black-rimmed glasses, which only emphasized her sexy, big green eyes. A petite, upturned nose centered smooth, rounded cheeks which he imagined would be quite soft under his hands. Her perfume of vanilla and exotic spices still lingered next to his desk.

Gérard stood and moved to the tall windows overlooking the churning waters of the Seine. The wind tossed the bare branches outside Gérard’s window. The year had come and gone and he had missed it all, the tiny buds of promise in the spring, the hot sun baking the path along Quai St-Michel to dust in the summer. A year he could barely remember because of work, social obligations, and Jessica’s nonsense.

He looked over his shoulder, once again caught by Nikki Sommers’ loveliness. The shimmer of gold in her hair, combined with her pale skin, gave her an angelic quality which probably masked the devil underneath. He admired her brashness in standing her ground. And she had certainly passed his test with Mr. Sanborn.

But she had yet to say anything about the change he’d made to the employment contract. He suspected she hadn’t noticed. He had a surprising desire to find out how she would react. He frowned at his own impetuousness. There was no room for lust in his life. It threatened his entire being, having built his empire in rational, methodical steps. No mere girl was going to muck things up. He would strike the clause after she signed it.

“The contract meets with your approval?” His tone came out a bit gruff and made her jump, but he didn’t care. The sooner she signed, the sooner he could find out what she was truly up to.

“Yes.” She scratched her name at the bottom of the page.

“Good. Louisa will get you settled,” he said, holding out his hand for his pen. She dropped it and immediately fell on her knees as the pen rolled under his desk. Her cheeks colored a beautiful rosy pink as she handed the pen to him. He took her hand in his and helped her up. She swayed against him, her breasts brushing his chest. He set her upright as she pushed her glasses up her nose. “Are you all right, Mademoiselle Sommers?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and it’s not even lunch time.” She smiled at him, but he could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

Hardening his heart, he waved her out of his office. “Have Louisa get you some coffee and something to eat.” She left the room and he admired the slight sway of her hips as she went through the door. With a snort of disgust at his thoughts, he picked up the contract and filed it in his desk.

Nikki didn’t know how she got through the morning. Even after a snack of coffee and crackers, her hands trembled as she took notes from Beauvais’s secretary, Louisa, her body tensing every time Beauvais’s door opened. She saw very little of her boss, as Louisa covered for her, letting her get familiar with office procedures and client files. Finally, lunch time arrived and Louisa handed her a company credit card.

“What’s this?”

“For lunch. Take everyone’s order and get it from the café on the corner.”

Nikki had to smile. Not exactly the lunch she imagined Beauvais had promised her, but eminently more comfortable. She fingered the credit card, wondering what Beauvais would say if she charged a ticket to Aruba.

“You wouldn’t get very far,” a deep voice intoned behind her.

Nikki jumped guiltily.
Damn. Again with the mind reading.
She smiled. “Is there anything special I can get you?”

“I’m sure you’ll find something I like.” Thick dark lashes made his eyes incredibly sexy and once again Nikki thought of his qualifications for movie star.
Aruba. Hot, sweaty skin
. Her cheeks blazed. Beauvais left her standing there watching him under her lashes like some lovesick girl. Louisa gave her a poke on the shoulder, interrupting her reverie. She shot up and grabbed a notepad to take lunch orders.

“Don’t even think of it. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Of course not. I’m here for the job, not the man.”

“Then stop gaping and start working.” Louisa softened her words with a smile and waved her out the door.

Louisa only shrugged when Nikki questioned her about confusion at the deli. She’d tried to pay by credit card and the clerk told her he billed the company monthly. “Ask him.” She pointed to Beauvais’s closed door with her chin.

Gérard looked up over his dark-rimmed reading glasses as Nikki entered his office with her bundles.

“White bean soup,” she announced as she put the cardboard container and plastic spoon on his desk. “
Saucisson avec cornichons
, sausage and pickles on a baguette, and a salad.”

“Merci,”
he said simply, taking off his glasses and setting them aside.

Would he not smile? For some silly unknown reason, she longed to hear him laugh again. “And the
piece de resistance, le gâteau
.” With a flourish, Nikki placed the last item, a chunk of lemon cake in a clear plastic container, next to the rest of Beauvais’s lunch.

“For me, or was it you who could not resist?” This time he did smile, a slight mocking curve, which Nikki found quite irritating.

“Oh, and this.” Nikki took the charge card and receipt out of her pocket and placed it carefully on his desk. “There seems to have been some confusion over the billing.” She waited for him to explain, but he merely put the card in his top drawer.

He took out a stainless steel spoon and handed Nikki the plastic one. “Please dispose of this properly. We have a reputation to uphold. That will be all, Mademoiselle Sommers.”

She had been dismissed.

Nikki was starting to think Jessica’s descriptions of the man’s arrogance had been accurate. She found Louisa sitting at her desk with another secretary and they both waved her over to join them. “What do I do with this?” She held up the offending spoon.

Louisa laughed and opened a small drawer in her credenza. Inside was a graveyard of plastic utensils. “Someday, we’ll find a use for them.” She handed Nikki a set of stainless utensils, the same pattern as Gérard’s.

The three women had soup and salad and shared a plain baguette. The crusty bread filled Nikki’s mouth with pleasure as she listened to the latest office gossip, not knowing any of the participants. Her mind wandered, going over the turn of events since this morning. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake compromising about getting a bakery job, but this way she could save some money and not have to literally live on crumbs. And surely, once she got to know Beauvais better, she wouldn’t be jumping out of her skin every time he came near her.

Beauvais said she would be living at his house. Would her room be a garret where she could look over the rooftops of Paris and dream on the stars? It would be better if he had a decent kitchen and she could do some cooking. Perhaps she could make him dinner tonight and impress him so thoroughly he would make her his personal chef.

Nikki jumped when Louisa nudged her arm. “You do realize you’re the first female assistant Monsieur Beauvais has ever hired?”

Apparently, the gossip had made its way around the office. Nikki shrugged her shoulders, not sure what Louisa meant to insinuate. “I can do just as good a job as any man,” she boasted. Louisa and the other woman giggled. Nikki blushed.

“I’m sure you can do much better.” The two women broke out into peals of laughter and the other secretary scampered away as Beauvais exited his office.

“Mademoiselle Sommers, please bring in the Sanford file and make sure it has the new contracts in it.”

Louisa gave her a wink as she handed her the file. They had already printed out the new material and attached sticky arrows where signatures were required. Beauvais stood at the door as she walked in.

“I see you’re making friends.”

Before Nikki could answer, a colleague rushed in behind her, one eye twitching behind thick glasses. Nikki pushed up her own glasses in sympathy with his distress.

“We’ve got a problem at the Quercy farm. Canton says there’s a mob protesting at the gate. Says they’re claiming big business is taking over and ruining the local farms.” The man tugged at his tie as if he couldn’t breathe.

Beauvais sat down at his desk, his raising eyebrow the only visible sign of concern. “Calm down, Pierre. Monsieur Canton is still in place as the farm manager. He should be the one to handle it. Why has he made it your problem?”

“Remember how angry Canton was last month when the sale when through? Maybe he’s sabotaging us.”

Beauvais motioned Nikki forward and took the file from her, his hand grazing against hers. Her whole body warmed, but she kept her eyes focused on the papers. He didn’t sign right away, so she stood next to him as he sat back, twirling his pen again. “Monsieur Canton was concerned about his job—which he still has. The man is not a liar. I know when I meet a liar.” His gaze landed on Nikki for a second before he looked at Pierre. Nikki bit her lip. What did that look mean? He looked like a cat playing with a mouse. Or a lion with a lamb. She took a deep breath and tried to follow the rest of the rapid-fire conversation.

“The whole farm could shut down if the protesters get to the workers. We’re at the end of harvest. We could lose the whole crop.” Pierre’s eye-twitch moved to his cheek.

“That won’t happen, even if we have to go down and harvest it ourselves. I’m sure Canton understands the necessary diplomacy needed, which is why he called you rather than dealing with it. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy. After all, these are his neighbors. Is Madame Latrell anywhere in the group? I suspect she’s behind this. She says she’s afraid the whole area will fall to big business, when in reality we couldn’t meet her high price. Maybe this is her way of forcing a sweeter deal for herself.”

Harried, Pierre pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You will next time. Fax Canton a statement for the press outlining all the benefits the farm now has under our umbrella. There’s always going to be a fight if a corporation owns the farm rather than a single owner. And find out when the next town event is scheduled. We need to make an appearance.”

Pierre scuttled out at Beauvais’s dismissal. Beauvais signed the papers before him while he used the intercom to ask Louisa for Madame Latrell’s phone number. The man was a well-oiled machine, Nikki thought admiringly. He handled one problem after another without a ruffle, unlike her previous boss who believed the louder he yelled the higher everyone would jump.

Nikki did jump when Beauvais’s hand covered hers as she gathered up the signed papers. “I meant what I said about liars, Nikki. I can always tell.”

His breath brushed against her ear in an intimate caress. It took all of her bravado to keep from yanking away from him. Sexual awareness raced through her body, sending her senses into high alert. She turned her head, their mouths mere inches apart. “Then you know I’ve lied about nothing.” She looked right into his eyes. “Do
you
have something you want to tell
me
?” Her teasing bravado faltered when Gérard scowled at the open door then back at her.

He stood up and stepped away from her. “Of course not,” he said brusquely. “See what’s keeping Louisa with that number.”

Nikki scooped up the papers, then fingered her glasses with the hand Beauvais had released. “Yes, sir, Mister Beauvais,” she said automatically in English.

Beauvais responded in kind. “Call me Gérard.” He smiled, all traces of animosity gone.

Nikki took a deep breath to get herself under control. She sailed out of the room without a backward glance, thankful he had sheathed his lion claws. Clearly, he didn’t trust her. So why had he hired her? She thought back to the credit card incident. The man was obviously testing her, but why?

Chapter 4

Gifts of flowers and elaborately wrapped boxes were delivered to the office later in the afternoon. Beauvais rejected them all and they were distributed among the staff. An elaborate pastry box piqued Nikki’s curiosity.

“A client’s thanks for a deal well done,” Louisa said. “Take some. He’ll never eat it.”

“Why not?” Nikki’s mouth watered at the sight of the miniature pear tarts, the slivered flesh formed into perfect fans.

“He’s a man of discriminating tastes.” Louisa opened her desk drawer and pulled out a knife, cutting the pastry into four neat squares. She popped one of the morsels into her mouth, chewing with relish. “Not bad.”

Nikki tried a piece. Delicious, but everything she’d eaten in Paris had been divine. She itched to learn their secrets. “Is that how you French stay so slim, by only eating one bite? I don’t understand how a city full of fabulous pastries can have so many thin, good-looking people.”

“We walk a lot.” Then Louisa winked at her. “And the sex helps, too.”

Nikki’s cheeks heated for the millionth time. Would she ever outgrow this horrible propensity for blushing? She’d never become a true Parisian with that flaw.

As the sky dimmed into early evening, her trepidation increased. Staff drifted out of the building, waving to Louisa and Nikki through the glass door. At six o’clock, Louisa said her goodbyes and headed out, too. Nikki fidgeted with one of the brightly colored paperclips on her desk, wondering what mysteries the night held. All the innuendo over the contract must have been her imagination.

“Ready?” He towered over her, coat on, briefcase in hand.

She mangled the paperclip. “Perhaps we should talk about what is expected of me.”

“We’ll talk later. Hurry up. We have dinner reservations and several items to attend to before then.” He walked briskly to the door and held it open. “Come on. The car’s downstairs.”

Her stomach rumbled and she covered her belly with her hand. Hunger did foolish things to people. She grabbed her cape and backpack. She’d talk to him after dinner.

A huge, black SUV hybrid idled at the curb. A man in a black suit opened the door for her and Nikki scrambled in. The car had been customized with a tinted window between the driver and passengers, a mini-bar, a television, and a row of seats removed for lots of legroom. Obviously for the large owner who sat next to her. Their legs didn’t touch, but if they took a sharp turn too fast, it wouldn’t take much to be squashed up against him. Nikki suddenly felt over-warm and pushed the button of her window to crack it open. He turned to her abruptly.

“You never said where you’re staying. We have a meeting in forty-five minutes. We’ll pick up your evening clothes on the way.”

The only clothes she had were those in her backpack. She had to delay him until she came up with a story. She didn’t need his pity over her being homeless. The man beside her sighed, correctly interpreting her silence.

“Marco, stop by Gallery Lafayette.”

Nikki frowned. She didn’t need to be obligated to him for any more than he had already done. Within blocks, the car pulled smoothly next to the curb and Marco jumped out to open the door. They were surrounded by luxury shops, each one looking more expensive than the last. Beauvais motioned her to follow him and he led her into a shoe store. Several sales clerks hustled over to Beauvais, ignoring Nikki. The men’s shoes were in back, but Beauvais stayed near the counter, accepting a glass of champagne and nodding to Nikki to take one, too. She certainly didn’t need wine on an empty stomach, but hey, when in Paris
  . . .
The clerk merely sniffed as Nikki took the proffered glass with a smile of thanks.

“Monsieur Beauvais, how good to see you again,” one clerk purred. The sales staff chatted, while Nikki tried to casually maneuver among the displays, her incredulity increasing with each shoe she picked up. The high heels looked like they would snap and the flats looked more like sculptures than shoes. There were no price tags. She could probably buy a washing machine back in Georgia for the cost of one pair of shoes. Nikki fingered the toe of a black leather boot as soft as fresh dough.

“Your size, mademoiselle?” A clerk stood at her elbow and Nikki let her hand trail off the boot.

“Oh no, just looking. Thank you.”

The woman didn’t move. Beauvais padded up next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. He whispered in her ear.

“Mademoiselle Sommers, I can’t stand to look at your ugly shoes for another moment. Please decide. We have other things to do.” He stepped back with a smile, but heat flamed over Nikki’s face and up to her ears as everyone looked down at her scuffed leather kitchen clogs.

Nikki gulped the rest of her wine and handed the clerk her empty glass, who in turn handed her another full one. She took a sip. Maybe she would wait him out. He clasped his hands behind his back, clearly willing to wait longer than she would.

Nikki gritted her teeth and gave him a frosty smile. “I haven’t received a paycheck yet.”

“Think of it as a signing bonus.”

Did he expect her to sleep with him if he bought her expensive clothes? Or maybe he was tarting her up to sell her into white slavery? Bet’cha good ol’ boy Beauvais would look pretty amazing in a sheik’s outfit, with yards of black fabric swirling over his shoulders as she groveled at his feet. She pushed her glasses up with a huff. What was wrong with her? The man had money and clearly wanted her to look more professional. What kind of profession, though?

“Fine. I’ll try on the boots.” She took a swallow of champagne and sat down primly, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than fanciful imaginings about Beauvais.

The man in question sprawled across from her on a low couch, watching with interest as Nikki tried on several pairs of boots. He didn’t offer his opinion and she admired his restraint.

Nikki settled on the original pair she had picked out. Looking in the mirror, she admired how the boots made her outfit look almost stylish. She hated to admit she needed a total makeover to keep up with the rest of the office staff.

Beauvais stood, clearly ready to go which was good as Nikki felt woozy from the champagne. Better apply her lipstick now while she had a mirror, instead of bouncing around in the car. As she slid it over her bottom lip, Beauvais appeared behind her.

“That is unnecessary.”

“Maybe for you.” Didn’t the man know anything about what a woman needed to feel good? She had to give him half credit for the boots, but that seemed to be entirely because he didn’t like the way her clogs looked. Nikki was used to Goodwill, not Gucci. She sat back down as the clerk picked up her discarded choices.

“She’ll wear them now.” Beauvais tossed her shoes in the trash. With a strangled cry, Nikki leapt off her chair and snatched them out.

“You can’t just throw these out. They’re my—” She stopped before she said
lucky shoes
. As a gift from Mimi, they had great sentimental value. “Most comfortable shoes,” she blurted out.

The most sophisticated man she’d ever encountered rolled his eyes, but he relented, and a clerk scurried to put them in a bag for her. He held out a hand to help her off her knees. Twice in one day she’d been in this position. Last time, she’d been more embarrassed than anything. This time, she took his hand warily, not trusting her fantasies to stay under control if she touched him. His warm hand engulfed hers, the touch of skin on skin more electrifying than anything her puny imagination had conjured. She snatched her hand back, only to wobble on her new heels and smack her hand against his chest.

Big mistake.

His hand slipped around her waist to hold her steady. The woodsy tang of his cologne made her want to bury her nose under his tie like a forest creature burrowing into a warm nest.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.

“De rien,”
he said. Nikki could feel the rumble of his voice against her ear.
It’s nothing?

Oh, it most certainly was
something
. She just didn’t know what yet.

Watching Nikki put on lipstick made Gérard want to moan. Seeing her slick it on over lush, full lips, the slight scent of vanilla wafting from her, those green eyes meeting his innocently in the mirror, had him fisting his hands against his sides to maintain control. All day he’d watched her scurrying around the office, smiling up at deliverymen, bending over to place packages on the coffee table in his office. He even envied the papers she clutched to her breasts when she talked to him. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t concentrate for more than minutes at a time.

While Marco ushered Nikki into the waiting car, Gérard sent a text message canceling his dinner conference with possible vendors. He didn’t need her meeting anyone until he discovered her agenda. Settling into the seat, he studied the woman next to him as she fiddled with the hem of her outdated cape. It was about time he grilled her on why she was really in Paris.

“Your former boss gave you a glowing reference. He said your sudden departure surprised him.” Gérard didn’t quote the whole message the man had emailed him. Indiscreetly, her boss had mentioned Mademoiselle Sommers had given up her entire life—job, house, car—to travel with her lover. Apparently a man he did not hold in high regard. Gérard found himself not liking the man, either.

“Mimi, my grandmother, left me a bit of money and it seemed the right time in my life to do some traveling.”

“But you stopped in Paris?”

“I’ve always dreamed of living here.” She worried her bottom lip delightfully and Gérard bit his tongue to stifle the urge to lean over and taste her delectable mouth.

“It’s dangerous to travel alone.”

“I didn’t. I mean, I am now. I left . . . the others in Amsterdam.” She stumbled over her words and Gérard waited for her to spill her secrets. But Mademoiselle Sommers merely turned her face to the window as her fingers picked at the hem of her cape.

Others, being her former lover, or her sister, or perhaps both? Maybe they were all in cahoots to swindle him. Gérard’s intuition told him Nikki was innocent, in more ways than one, but he’d been fooled too recently to trust his gut this time. He hated that he was questioning his instincts.

The passing lights lit her face, her lips curved up with pleasure as she studied the buildings around them. “The city is so beautiful. So full of history.”

“And where is home?”

“You caught me. I don’t have one.” She glanced over at him. “It used to be a little town in Georgia. Just big enough, Mimi used to say. Enough people so there would be something interesting going on. But it never seemed interesting enough to me. Not like Paris.”

“So you create your own interest,
non
?”

She merely smiled in response.

He suspected Nikki might have been bored, but no one around her could be. That, she certainly had in common with her sister. They both dragged people into their little fantasy worlds. Didn’t she know the grueling life of a pastry chef? The long hours, the physical grind, the constant criticism, and above all the attitude that it was not real cooking. She’d stood up to his criticism at Madame’s patisserie, but that was nothing compared to what would happen to her in a professional capacity. And he ought to know. The tougher he was on a chef, the better the public liked it. He shook his head. Clearly, she had no idea who he was.

Gérard leaned over, his shoulder touching Nikki’s as he pointed out the window. “There’s one of my favorite places,
Musée Jacquemart
. A small museum built by a couple with a passion for art and each other. The façade is unassuming, but the backside is beautiful.”

Nikki stifled a giggle. “You could say that about a lot of women, too.”

Gérard smiled down at Nikki. Her champagne-induced giddiness presented an advantage, but he found himself unexpectedly reluctant to exploit it. “You,
chérie
, will never have that problem.”

She shook her head, her smile gone. “Please don’t flatter me, Monsieur Beauvais. It is totally unnecessary in our situation.”

“I have found that flattery can make certain situations much more enjoyable. If one is to be civilized. Do you believe man to be ultimately civilized or savage?”

Nikki bit her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth, only to release it wet and inviting. Gérard’s hand curled against the leather seat, restraining himself once again.

“Civilized, of course,
Monsieur
Beauvais.”

Wrong answer, thought Gérard. Wrong, wrong answer.