Mistress for Hire (7 page)

“
Oui, Madame.
I am here to thank you and take you up on your generous offer to work in the shop in my spare time.”

The older woman smoothed her hand along her meticulous upswept hair. “How will you have time? Gérard, he keeps his assistants very busy. You want pastries, you come see me.”

“But,
Madame
. I want more than an office job. Just like Jessica does.” Somehow, she had to get Madame to admit she knew more than she had said the previous day.

Madame
Guiscard patted Nikki’s arm. “Every woman wants more. And you should have it. Work and a family. It’s possible. You simply have to have the right man. Now let me get you some of Gérard’s favorite
macarons
.”

Nikki stubbornly persisted. “Did Jessica leave town because of Gérard?”

Concentrating on assembling the bakery box, Madame didn’t look up. “What do I know of these things?” Her dark gaze met Nikki’s. “Your sister, she loves the world more than one man.” She thrust the box into Nikki’s hand. “Go. You’ll be late for work.”

Nikki peeked in to find Gérard’s office empty. She left the pastry box on his desk and debated leaving a note. Finally, she picked up a piece of his monogrammed note paper and sat down to search for a pen. The leather of his chair still felt warm from his body heat, tempting her to curl up in his chair to await his return. She ran her hand over the scuffed arms.

The slight creak of the springs made her smile as she wondered if the imperfection irritated Gérard. A potted white orchid bloomed on the windowsill, its purple throat a beautiful spot of bright color in the muted tones of the office. In the distance, she could see the magnificent spires of Notre Dame. What a glorious city. She had to pinch herself that she was truly, finally, here.

“Planning on taking over the company,
Mademoiselle
Sommers?”

Nikki jumped. Gérard loomed across the desk from her seeming to be ten feet tall. She leaped up and shoved the pastry box toward him. “I was going to write you a note, but here you are.” She tried to give him a charming smile, which faltered under his frown. “
Madame
Guiscard sent you
macarons
as a thank you. For hiring me.” She tore open the box and thrust it at him. “Here.”

“I limit myself to one a month.”

“But you enjoy them so much.” She didn’t remind him she had been standing in the bakery yesterday and witnessed his ecstasy.

“I enjoy them because I don’t overindulge.”

She couldn’t let it go—wanted to hear him again. And perhaps it would soften him up a bit for answering her questions. She shook the box. “That’s no way to live.”

“You told me yesterday that I
did
know how to live. I believe it was after a few glasses of wine.”

“Don’t believe everything I say. Nothing compares to a good pastry.” She pulled out a lemon cream filled
macaron
. “Open up.”

“Oh, I’m sure some things do.” But he obligingly opened his mouth, letting her feed him. His lips closed on her fingers in a wet kiss as his storm-blue eyes met hers. Images of thundering rain washing over their intertwined bodies flickered through her imagination like streaks of lightening.

Her heart banged in her chest. She slowly pulled her fingers from his mouth as his gaze tormented her. Surely, her glasses would fog soon from the heat rising from her face. Gérard closed his eyes. A low, guttural groan made Nikki’s insides quiver as she watched his savoring passion. He swallowed, blinked, and returned to his dour self.

“Have another.” She tipped the box toward him.

“One is enough,” he said, although he picked up the pink-tinted raspberry
macaron
. He held it to her mouth, grazing her lips with the stiff meringue. She opened and he gently placed it on her tongue, his thumb lingering on her bottom lip. He let her know what he wanted without a single word. She closed her eyes, blocking out his look of desire. The meringue crunched against the roof of her mouth while the tart sweetness of the raspberry crème melted against her tongue. A deep sigh of satisfaction escaped her. She opened her eyes to find Gérard still watching. Pushing up her glasses, she stepped away on shaking legs.

“I better get back to work.” Her voice came out breathy and soft like some love-sick girl.

She left him staring out the window, keeping his broad back to her. As she closed the door, she realized she’d asked him nothing about Jessica.

Chapter 8

Work kept her busy all morning. Louisa, having discovered Nikki was bi-lingual, gave her some documents to translate for Mr. Sanford. After sharing lunch at a sidewalk café, Louisa gave Nikki several packages to deliver. “You can walk to all of these. It will help you learn the neighborhood. Take your time.”

Nikki’s mind rolled over her half-formed plans as she walked the pristine streets near Gérard’s office. Dressed in her new clothes, she noticed admiring looks from other pedestrians and couldn’t help comparing them to the previous day. How quickly pastry changed her life, but not in the way she had planned. The air in the office between her and Gérard simmered like a stock pot, but it would be foolish to act on the attraction. She blamed the Parisian air—the attitude of romance, which influenced everything from metro advertisements to the flirty headwaiter at lunchtime. Nikki looked up as she stopped at an intersection. The Eiffel Tower stood proud in the distance, reminding her to stand her ground for why she’d come to Paris—to learn pastry, not to indulge in romance unless it pertained to flour and butter. Except
Madame
Guiscard hadn’t taken her seriously this morning. Nikki needed to push. And she needed to keep her libido under control.
Mon Dieu, Monsieur Formidable
made her quiver like unmolded aspic.

When she got back to the office, a note from Gérard lay on her desk. “Marco will take you home when you’re done. G.” The pen strokes slashed boldly across the monogrammed paper. The tension in her shoulders eased, knowing she wouldn’t be running into him for the rest of the day, but she had to admit to a twinge of disappointment.
Get a grip
—
you need to concentrate on other things
.

“Did you have a good walk?” Louisa stood by her desk, a pile of papers in her hands, a sly smile on her face.

“Yes. Thank you for the extra time. It’s a beautiful city.”

“We’re very fond of it. I’m glad you enjoyed it, because Gérard left these for you.” She dropped a stack of papers on Nikki’s desk. Each page bled with red-inked notations made by the increasingly anxious Mr. Sanford. At the bottom, scrawled in Gérard’s handwriting, were the words “finalize and prepare for signature.” It would take hours. Louisa smirked and Nikki was beginning to think her new friend had ulterior motives.

“I can’t complain. I did ask for the job, after all.”

“Umm.” The other woman tapped one impeccably manicured nail against the wooden desk. “Did you bring him these?” She showed Nikki the empty pastry box.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

Louisa shook the box, the wax paper rattling inside. “He ate them. All of them. He never eats them.”

Nikki faked ignorance. Louisa didn’t need to know the intimate details. And what had Gérard done with the other two? Interesting.

“I believe he’s very fond of those particular cookies.”

“But he never eats more than one. He’s a very disciplined man.” Louisa stuffed the box in the trash.

The memory of Gérard’s enjoyment over the simple almond cookie made Nikki turn away so Louisa would not see her blush. “
Madame
Guiscard makes an amazing
macaron
. Maybe he shared them with someone.”

Louisa’s earrings jangled as her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. Nikki ducked her head again, pretending to be engrossed in her paperwork, but the words on the page were a blur. How could she have made such a leading remark?

Louisa didn’t move. “He’s never had a female assistant.”

“So you said. What did Jessica Nichols do?” If Gérard wouldn’t tell her anything, maybe Louisa would.

“Jessica? She ran the foundation. Big troubles over that. Why?” Louisa’s tone was nonchalant, but Nikki had to tread lightly. If Jessica was in trouble, which wouldn’t be the first time, Nikki needed to be careful. And mentioning she was Jessica’s sister would only stir up more curiosity.

Nikki shrugged. “No reason. Monsieur Beauvais had mentioned her.”

Louisa waved her hand in dismissal. “Whatever she did, don’t do it. Here for a month, then poof, gone. Ran off with some man she was living with. But you, you’re living with Gérard.” The woman’s concentration returned to Nikki.

Nikki looked up into Louisa’s expectant face. Clearly gossip moved as swiftly in this elite Paris business office as it did on the factory floor of Gorman’s Fine Foods. It was time to put a stop to this fishing expedition. “As is expected of
Monsieur
Beauvais’ assistant. It’s a big house. I imagine we could go days without seeing each other.” She shifted her attention back to her stack of papers. Who had Jessica been living with?

“Days or hours?” Louisa slid a folded newspaper in front of Nikki.

All thoughts of Jessica fled Nikki’s mind as she saw the picture in the paper. It showed Nikki gazing up adoringly at Gérard as she hung on his arm. “
Food TV’s toughest critic steps out to Bistro Citron with Nikki Sommers from the United States. It is rumored Beauvais is creating a reality show based on his foray into the American organic food market. Will Beauvais reveal his secrets to the whole world or just the lovely Nikki?”

Nikki wished she could control the blush that bloomed under Louisa’s scrutiny. “We had dinner. And discussed business.” She tossed the paper aside with a tight smile as if it were of no consequence, the whole time her mind raced over the information. He hadn’t told her he was on TV, much less a food critic. That’s probably why he’d turned down her invitation to cook for him. He didn’t think she would be any good.
Just wait, Monsieur Formidable, I’ll show you
.

“Just dinner? And you went to his house, spent the night and nothing happened?” The other woman picked up the paper and studied the picture as if it would move before her eyes.

“I’m only his assistant.” Nikki looked down and turned a page of the Sanborn files, although she had no idea what had been on it. She didn’t dare look up and let Louisa see
liar
written all over her face. She pushed her glasses up to her forehead and rubbed her eyes, feigning disinterest in the conversation. She would love to have poured out her heart to Louisa and gotten her advice, but who knew what Louisa’s motives were. Maybe Gérard had instructed Louisa to interrogate Nikki to see if she could keep her mouth shut. There was probably a nondisclosure clause in the contract she’d signed. Why hadn’t she read the whole thing? Mimi had always accused her of being too impulsive. When would she learn?

“Are you all right?”

Nikki jumped at Louisa’s touch on her shoulder and realized she’d been staring down at her desk. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Don’t stay too late.” With a wave, Louisa left. As soon as the office door closed, Nikki jumped out of her seat and raced to Louisa’s trash can to pull out the offending newspaper. She noted Gérard’s smile and his arms practically around her as he guided her into the restaurant. The blurb explained everyone’s fawning attitude toward Gérard. She read it again and again. Was it rumor about the reality show? And why hadn’t she heard anything about it? And why hadn’t she figured out his celebrity status last night when the photographers had been there? Questions had evaporated under the cloud of his charm. Nikki plopped back in her chair feeling incredibly stupid. Surely, this would affect future jobs. And would she be taken seriously in the pastry world or would everyone think she was trading in on her relationship with Gérard? Which she certainly could if she stayed with him for a year.

This would teach her to start asking questions before she made decisions. She tore the article out of the paper and stuffed it in her backpack. To confront Gérard with later, she told herself. It had nothing to do with wanting to look at the picture again.

Gérard tossed his phone onto the car seat. He watched the incessant, gray winter rain and wished he was at home having dinner in front of the fire with Nikki—a dinner she’d offered to cook him. He was curious about her cooking abilities, but his mind turned to other activities. Running his hand over his face, he tried to shake the image of her wrapped in nothing but a robe, with her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders.
Mon Dieu
, what was wrong with him? He’d deliberately left her alone at the office to see if she would poke around in his files. Security had rigged a web-cam so he could monitor his office from home or from his phone. And now, instead of channeling James Bond, he felt like a villain spying on her.

In an hour and a half of checking between meetings, there’d been nothing. He was starting to feel like an idiot. Still, he punched the app on his phone one last time. Nikki stood at his desk, her hair in a loose topknot, her sleeves pushed up as if she had been actually working. She plunked down the large file he’d left for her and blew some wayward strands of hair out of her eyes. Her dark-framed glasses rested on her head, and her top blouse buttons were undone, creating the delightful image of the naughty librarian. Gérard shifted in his seat. His finger hovered over the close button. She sat down, resting her arms and chest against the stack of papers. His hand tightened on the phone. She looked right at him, a slight smile making her look worn out, but happy. Then she leaned back in his chair and stretched, her back arching, thrusting her breasts out to strain against the fabric of her blouse.

He swallowed.

Nikki got up, turned her back, and he groaned aloud as she stretched again, bending over to present him with her delectable backside. He grit his teeth and exited the warm car into the cold November air.

“I’ll walk from here,” he told Marco.

Still watching the small screen, he saw Nikki stand in front of his window as he’d done so many times before, looking across the Seine at the lights of Notre Dame. She sleepily rubbed her eyes.

He felt a pang of remorse. No one would dare spy on him like this. Here he was, stalking an innocent girl merely because her sister had wronged him.

Gérard looked up and pushed through the crowd at the street corner, the sting of guilt making him angry. This was business. He had a perfect right to know what she was up to.

He glanced back down at the small screen and stopped. Someone bumped into him with a curse, but he ignored it as he studied the small, still figure in profile. The kiss last night had nearly brought him to his knees. Soft and full, Nikki’s lips were intoxicating. His finger stroked the screen as if he could touch her. And for a moment, he thought he had as she turned to face him, releasing her hair and shaking it out. Gérard smiled when Nikki dropped her glasses and cursed. She put them back on with a sigh and left his office. No rummaging through files. No hacking into his computer. He switched off the webcam app and called Marco. “Please pick up
Mademoiselle
Sommers at the office and take her home. I’ll get a taxi.”

He walked the short block to his dinner meeting, wishing he could cancel this engagement as easily as he’d cancelled last night’s. It seemed an apology was in order to
Mademoiselle
Sommers, although he would never tell her. He had doubted her, harbored distrust, and she had proven herself once again as she had with Sanford. And despite what he’d put in the contract, he’d keep his hands off her. After all, he didn’t want to lose such a hard-working assistant.

Nikki’s eyes popped open, her breathing loud in the dark. It took her a few seconds to realize she wasn’t in the bakery kissing Gérard, flattening baguettes against her back as he dipped her over the counter. She had so clearly felt the warmth of his mouth, the pressure of his arms. She’d heard the crackle of the bread against her back. And just as she’d put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, she’d awakened. Not a good idea to be dreaming about the boss man. It was bad enough she was mesmerized by him, watching him underneath her lashes at work, giving a good stare when no one was around.

Rolling over, she buried her face in the pillows, remembering the strength of his arms under her when he’d carried her upstairs. She groaned and spread her arms wide. Would Gérard steal the soft sheets? Did he sleep naked? She imagined his glossy brown hair would appear even darker on the pristine white pillow . . .

Augh!
Nikki flung off the covers and slid out of the high bed, landing with a thump on the floor. She would not think about Gérard. She needed to focus on something else.

The digital clock on the nightstand read one o’clock. Moonlight spilled across the carpet. She could hear the grandfather clock ticking at the end of the hallway. Her tummy rumbled.

“Nobody stirring, not even a mouse,” she whispered. She still felt odd roaming around in a house that wasn’t hers. She picked up her cell phone and checked for messages. Nothing. She’d come back to the townhouse to find her wish for a new cell phone, complete with her old number, had come true. Nikki waved her hand to conjure up Gérard offering her a sandwich. And perhaps a glass of champagne. And maybe he would be half-dressed. She giggled.
If only life were that easy.
Her stomach growled again, settling her internal debate.

She shrugged on the bathrobe she assumed was now hers, over the lovely pajamas she’d found on the bed earlier. Cute, little, pink velour sleep shorts with a white tee shirt printed with pink and red hearts. Whoever did the clothes buying was doing a bang up job. She didn’t want to think about who was actually choosing her outfits. Gérard didn’t seem the type. She smacked her hand against her head.
Stop thinking about him!
Tying the robe tight over her pajamas, she tip-toed down the stairs to the kitchen. She sighed as she flicked on the kitchen lights. What a beautiful room.

“Restless,
Mademoiselle
?” A deep voice rumbled behind her.

Nikki jumped, accidentally smacking Gérard on the arm. “Don’t do that!” Her pulse raced to see her fantasy materializing next to her.

“Then stop sneaking around,” he said, his tone teasing. His lips pressed together as if he were trying not to laugh. He still wore his work clothes, absent his jacket and tie. His shirt hung open and loose from his waistband as if he’d been interrupted while undressing. Never had she imagined a cotton undershirt could be so sexy.

She gulped, pressing one hand against her pounding heart. His gaze flicked to her hand, then back to her eyes. He smiled as if he could see every one of her thoughts about him. The air sizzled, drawing them closer even as they stood still. Nikki bit her lip and watched Gérard’s gaze shift to her mouth, his eyes darkening as her lip slid free.