The Curvy Waitress and the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) Read Free Page B

gave frustrated glances when I told them, but they forced smiles onto their faces and shook our hands. The meeting had lasted less than an hour.
    “Tell the count we’ll await his instructions,” one man told me.
    I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
    “The count,” he said. And he nodded towards Erard.
    We stepped out into the corridor, Erard pulling the doors shut behind us with a flourish. “You’re a count? ” I asked. “Like Count Dracula?”
    “Yes. And also no.”
    I waited.
    “I am a count. I will not bite your neck.” He stared at me. “At least, not very hard.”
    My insides went liquid. We just stared at each other for a second.
    “Do you have a castle?” I asked. “With…turrets?”
    “No,” he said sagely. “I do have a chateau, and it has balconies.”
    This is not happening. This is so not happening to me. “Are you royalty?” I suddenly remembered how he’d smiled when I’d called him Mr. Vannier. “Should I have been calling you something?” I squeaked in horror.
    “Calling me something?”
    “Like…” My mind went blank. “’Your Countness.’”
    He looked as if he was trying not to laugh. “I believe technically it’s My Lord. But you don’t need to say that. ”
    I closed my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I didn’t want to make you nervous.” And from the look in his eyes, he was telling the truth. Which meant I couldn’t get angry at him, damn him.
    The elevator arrived and once again I was in a metal box with someone who was practically a stranger. And who was a count. And who was rich. And who seemed, against all logic, to want me.
    He was standing no closer than he had on the way up, but I could feel the heat rolling off his body, the strength of his presence like a physical touch. I stared at the vertical line where the metal doors met. I can’t look at him. I can’t meet his eyes. I was scared of what might happen if I dared to turn and look up at those gleaming blue-gray pools. Scared of what he might do and scared of what I might do. He certainly didn’t have any problem looking at me . I could feel his gaze burning down into me.
    Just keep staring straight ahead, I thought. And then what? What would happen when the doors opened? Would we say our goodbyes and I’d go back to the diner?
    I didn’t want that. I didn’t know what I did want, but I didn’t want that.
    “They seemed a little annoyed,” I told him, just to break the silence.
    “I’m not surprised,” he said mildly. “We were meant to be in there all day.”
    That made me spin around and stare at him. Too late, I realized my mistake. I was pinned there in his gaze, unable to move.
    He shrugged. “It was a boring meeting,” he said. “And I’d much rather be alone with you.”
    My mouth moved, but no sound came out. After a few seconds, I managed, “Why?”
    He frowned. “You really have no idea, do you?”
    I looked down at myself. “I know I’m not…I’m not what men want.”
    “Not what men want?” he echoed. “Not what men want?” He took a step towards me, which put us all of a few inches apart. “Holly,” he said firmly, his accent stroking my brain, “your body is exquisite. The shape of you makes me go crazy inside. I want to rip off that uniform and push you up against the wall.”
    It was very difficult to breathe. The world had obviously spun off its axis and this was the end of days, because a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad was lusting after me. Next there’d be aliens and space monkeys.
    “Probably not a good idea,” I said in a voice higher than I’d known I was capable of. “I think these elevators have cameras.”
    “Good,” he said. “The security men will get a good show.”
    And suddenly he was leaning down, his lips parted and—
    My eyes bulged. I’m being kissed! I was so shocked that my eyes stayed open, my hands limply down by my sides. His lips were on mine, moving slowly, tasting me, and a jolt of