The Temptress (15 page)

‘Do you think we’ve met before?’ I replied,
evading the use of a lie.

‘Honestly, I’m really not sure,’ he responded
as he gazed at me. There was a long uncomfortable pause and I had to fight the
urge not to fidget under his scrutiny. ‘There’s something about you, something incredibly
familiar, yet not at the same time. I feel like I recognise you, like I know
you, yet I don’t.’

‘Maybe we met in a former life,’ I offered, as
I quickly grabbed my champagne and forced myself to sip, not to knock it back,
or knowing my chivalrous Frenchman, he’d be ordering a bottle and finding he
didn’t have a card to pay for it.

‘A former life,’ he sighed. ‘Yes maybe this is
it. Enough of me, Isabelle. What of you?’

‘What of me?’ I enquired.

‘You’re a beautiful young woman, you should not
be alone at a bar talking to me.’

‘And you’re a good looking married man, who
should not be alone at a bar full stop, let alone talking to me. Why are you
here in London, is this your home now?’ I asked. I needed the conversation on
him, I didn’t want to lie any more than I had to and to be honest, I just
wanted to hear him talk. It may not be the crude, hot, sexy and dirty things
he’d once whispered in my ear, but his voice was like treacle, French treacle
if such a thing existed. I just wanted to smother myself in it, to soak up the
potent pheromones he was emitting without him even realising it. I wanted to
understand what had made him change so much. To have been so sexually
aggressive, raw and passionate, to becoming this man. He still exuded
confidence, masculinity and raw sex appeal, but his fire was missing. It was
like someone had extinguished his very core.

‘I am a businessman, I live in Paris, but come
to London every Monday to see clients.’

‘Clients?’ I enquired. So if he only saw
clients on a Monday, why did he spend an entire weekend here too? Either he was
that desperate to not spend time with his wife, or he really was having an
affair. A thought that hurt me more than it should have done.

‘I am an investment manager, I play with
people’s portfolios and make them grow, earning both of us a very healthy
profit. I’m very good at what I do.’

‘Then maybe I should book an appointment with
you,’ I replied, thinking of my nest egg that I’d been building up.

‘Maybe you should. Why don’t you meet me here
next Monday, at seven-thirty?’

‘Strictly business?’ I teased.

‘It can’t all be business, there should be some
pleasure in spending time in your company.’

‘So you’re asking me on a date?’ I was so
confused, part of me wanted him to, I needed that affirmation that he felt
something for me, part of me didn’t want him to. I wanted him to prove to his
wife that he
was
the honest man she’d implied he was.

‘A date? Non, not a date I’m afraid,’ he
replied with a shake of his head and another sip of his drink.

‘Because you’re married,’ I nodded, liking that
he obviously did have a sense of decency. That said a lot about a man’s
character. For a sexual being like Luc, to stay faithful to a wife like that?
I’d truly underestimated him in Paris. And whatever regrets I thought I’d had
up until this moment, they were nothing compared to the ones I was having now. I’d
told myself for years that he was just a one night stand, but he wasn’t, he was
so much more. He could have been so much more and it was my fault that he
wasn’t. I faked a smile as he looked back up at me, while the biggest wave of
regret and hurt was ravaging my insides.

‘In part, because I’m married, I took a vow to
be faithful and I aim to honour that vow. But the main reason is simple. It’s because
my heart belongs to another, Miss Isabelle and sadly not my wife. Whilst I may
often wish it were not the case, point of fact is that it is. Please will you
excuse me, I won’t be long and I’d like for you to stay, so we can talk some
more. You have made a usually dull Monday evening far more entertaining.’ He
stood up, his long fingers, fingers that had been inside me, fingers that had
brought me to violent orgasms again and again, doing up his jacket button. ‘I’ll
be back in a moment.’

‘I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’ I
looked up at him, at the sad look on his face, hoping it wasn’t reflected on
mine. I just wanted to grasp his messy dark hair and pull him down to me, to
let my lips taste the warmth of that cognac on his, to feel the heat of his
breath as he kissed me the way that he’d kissed me all that time ago. I’d never
felt such longing. He frowned as he looked down at me and I gulped as he reached
up and held my chin, then slowly and lightly brushed his thumb across my lower
lip. O my God. Such a delicate touch that meant nothing to him, but so much to
me.

‘You have not made me uncomfortable, you just
remind me so much of someone I knew once, it saddens me that I will never see
her again.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ I whispered, my chest
heaving as he just stood there, holding my chin as his eyes glazed over. Could
he be talking about me? Surely not. ‘If you miss her this much, then you could
find her.’

‘Trust me, I have tried. But as my investigator
advised, how does a man find a woman in another country when he knows nothing
but her first name? How could I explain how her lips and skin tasted, how her
hands felt on my body, how our passion and desire for each other was perfectly
matched? How could I convey that I’d only recognise her perfectly formed naked
body, her heated cries in the throes of unimaginable passion, calling out my
name in a high pitched tone, or the brightest fire, like molten lava, in her
eyes as she came? Non, this is not a description that would lead me back to
her,’ he sighed, dropped his hand and strode away. I reached for the bar with
my right hand, my fingers curling tightly around the granite as I struggled to
breathe. He was talking about
me
. I was the woman he’d never forgotten,
the woman with the amber eyes like molten lava. I was the woman that he’d been
broken hearted over when he agreed to marry Mrs. Le Grand.
Would you want to
fall in love with a man who barely registered your very existence? Who was
fixated on the past, on the memory of a love that never was?
his wife had
asked me. Luc had never got over our one night together, just as I hadn’t. I
reached up and quickly wiped the tears that threatened to flow over my lashes
and down my cheeks.

‘Please tell me you’re done?’ I pleaded to the
two men still listening to my conversation. ‘I can’t do this anymore, I need to
go.
Now
.’

‘You can’t go,’ Henry shot back. ‘You have to
put his card back in his pocket, he’s in the men’s room washing his hands,
he’ll be back in a moment. Mike’s just wrapping up. The cameras and microphones
are in place and working. A few more minutes Lulu and it’s over.’

‘I don’t know if I can last a few more
minutes,’ I replied, my stomach twisting nervous knots, raw emotion taking hold
of me. ‘You have
no idea
what you’re asking of me.’

‘I think I do,’ he said quietly. ‘I see it
clearly now. But you started this, you have to finish it. Mike’s already nearly
knocked over the same vase in the suite three times, he’s too damn clumsy to
replace the card without being noticed.’

‘I’m not a bloody field agent,’ he muttered.
‘I’m a highly skilled mechanic, car thief and getaway driver, who can take a
stolen car and turn it around with a new custom paint job and number plates
faster than you two could drink a cup of hot coffee. I’m not cut out for this
covert crap.’

‘I so didn’t need to know that,’ I sighed, as I
pinched the top of my nose. This is why I didn’t want to know too much about
how my employees got things done.

‘Well given we’re getting to hear some of your
very personal history, I felt it only appropriate to reciprocate,’ Mike
replied. ‘Your turn Henry, tell her something personal too, take her mind off
this snail.’

‘If you’re referring to the fact that he’s
French, I think you mean frog, but the more appropriate and frankly less
slanderous term, would be Frenchman,’ I replied, grateful for at least
something to take my mind off how nervous and upset I was feeling.

‘I’ve just confessed to auto crime, I’m hardly
worried about discrimination against the bloody French to my boss. I’m in the
lift.’

‘He’s on his way out,’ came Henry’s voice. ‘You
seriously had sex with him? I mean so not gay here, but for him even I might
turn. Was it the hair? He has great hair, though his body’s …
phew
. You
can tell he definitely works out. I bet he looks amazing naked.’

‘Not helping, Henry,’ I sighed, knocking back a
large mouthful of my champagne. This was torture. The man I wanted so badly
felt the same about me. He was here, about to be inches away from me again and
I couldn’t do anything about it. Sitting here as Isabelle I had a feeling, much
as he was drawn to me, he wouldn’t offer to take me up to his suite. As Lulu,
he probably would, but there’d be no faking it, no ending with me disappearing
at the last possible moment. Once I kissed him I’d never be able to quit and I
knew he’d never let me leave until he’d fucked me again. But then if I did
that, the recording that Mrs. Le Grand required, the shots needed to break his
“affair” to the press, could contain my face. Hazardous to my business, as well
as to my personal life, did I want my son to grow up knowing his mother slept
with a married man? Equally if I was pictured and it came out Mrs. Le Grand had
paid me to seduce him, her attempts to come off as the wounded wife would fail
too. Damn it, this was so screwed up. Throw in the fact that he’d want to know
why I was disguised and had said nothing, or that I now knew that my target was
Luc, a man whom I had such a connection to, I couldn’t do it to him. Not him.

‘Are you ok? You look a little pale,’ came his
deep voice, as he put his hand on my shoulder.

‘Probably too much champagne.’

‘You’re not a big drinker?’

‘Not anymore, no,’ I replied with a shake of my
head, trying to avoid eye contact. Since I discovered I was pregnant and had
Tristan, my drinking days were pretty much over. I needed to be a responsible
parent. Other than the odd night out, or wedding reception, like the one coming
up this weekend, at which I had a feeling I was going to need lots of alcohol
to numb the nightmare of tonight.

‘I’m very sorry for earlier, when I touched
you, it was inappropriate. I don’t make a habit of talking to women in bars,
let alone touching their lips,’ Luc advised, as he took his seat opposite me
again. I kept my eyes off his face, focussing on his hands instead, remembering
them caressing my body, holding me to him in the breaks between the sheet
clawing sex.

‘You’re an unhappily married man. I’d be
insulted if you hadn’t tried to touch me,’ I responded.

‘You’re the first woman I’ve touched in such a
way in a very long time,’ he sighed, as he reached for his cognac and drained
it.

‘Then what’s so special about me?’ I replied,
forcing myself to look up at him.

‘I told you that you remind me of someone. The
resemblance is uncanny.’

‘Does that line work on all of the ladies?’ I
asked, attempting a smile, while inside I was dying. I wanted to tell him who I
was, to see how he reacted. I wanted him to clutch me to his chest, to kiss me,
to whisper those dirty things in my ear again, to drag me up to his suite and
fuck me six ways till Sunday.

‘I don’t use lines anymore. I told you that I’m
married, I’m not the kind of man that would want to cheat, no matter how
unhappy I was, but this woman …’ he closed his eyes for a moment as he sighed.
‘For this woman, I would break every vow I ever made. You may think me foolish,
to feel so strongly for a woman that I had a one night stand with, many years
ago, but she has never left my mind or my heart. You may also think that this
is a ploy, to make you feel sorry for me, to pity me enough to let me take you
to my suite for the night, but I shall prove that I’m not lying.’ He reached
for his wallet inside his jacket, as I choked back the tears of hurt that I
wanted to shed over his confession of his feelings for me. Feelings I
reciprocated.

‘Shit Lulu, this is getting personal. I’m so
sorry. One more minute, Mike’s about to enter the bar,’ came Henry’s voice.
‘Mike put the card in your right jacket pocket. Go and shake his hand to
apologise so Lulu can retrieve it, then get the car and be at the front
entrance waiting for her.’

‘Here,’ Luc advised, as he slid a worn photograph
across the smooth surface of the bar towards me. ‘This is why I asked you to
join me, why I touched you. Tell me that she is not the spitting image of you,
that with different hair colouring and eyes, you could not be her.’ I reached
out, my hand trembling as I angled the photograph he’d taken of me, lying in
his bed. He’d been straddling my waist as he took a picture of me, just after
he’d made me come with his mouth the first time, while telling me how beautiful
I was.

‘Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to come and
apologise again for being so clumsy earlier, knocking into your wife and
spilling her champagne,’ came Mike’s voice next to me.

‘Thank you for taking the time to apologise and
for the drinks,’ Luc graciously accepted without correcting him. Six years on,
six
years
and he still carried a photo of me in his wallet. I wanted to cry, I
wanted to rip off my wig, reveal myself, throw my arms around his neck and tell
him I’d never forgotten him either.

‘LULU, the card,’ snapped Henry, rousing me
from my daze. I reacted instantly, my hand slipping into Mike’s pocket to
retrieve it, just before he turned and walked away. I needed to leave and fast.
The emotion of the moment I’d just experienced was replaced with one of sudden dread.
A nagging voice in the back of my mind was telling me that it was no
coincidence that of all the women in the world Mrs. Le Grand could have come
to, she chose me, the woman whose picture her husband carried in his wallet six
years after a one night stand. I heard a choking sob leave my lips and my free
hand flew up to my mouth to cover it, as I lost control and tears started to
roll down my face.