The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition Read Free Page A

movement and humming under her breath.
    “Are you enjoying the reception?” he asked.
    “Yes, I am. Ava’s so sweet. Thank you for inviting me to join you this week.”
    “You’re welcome. I believe I owe you something.”
    “What do you owe me, Tristan?”
    There was a dreamy quality to her voice. From the first it had been obvious to him that she was attracted to him. But she was careful to keep that attraction to herself and had put a barrier between them. Put him into a box, so it seemed. But tonight…tonight, with the trio playing romantic music and the wine flowing freely, none of that mattered.
    “Dance with me, ma douce? ”
    She smiled up at him. “I’d love to.”
    He had never seen that exact look in her eyes before. “You seem different.”
    “Maybe that’s because we’re not in the office.”
    “No, we are not. What difference does that make to you, Sheri?”
    “It makes all the difference in the world, Tristan.”
    She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned up on tiptoe, brushing her lips against his neck. “This is so nice.”
    Tristan knew he should pull away and let her go but instead he leaned down, put his hand under her chin and tipped her head up toward his. His lips found hers easily and she sighed into his mouth as their lips met.

    The wedding that she’d been nervous about participating in had taken on a certain dreamlike state. The champagne was good. Very good. There really was a difference between that stuff she bought in the grocery store and fine French champagne.
    The music was chic and sexy and, as Sheri leaned closer to Tristan, she realized that he was, too. His cologne was one of a kind and smelled delicious. She’d never get enough of it. Even at work the scent lingered in his office when he was away.
    She knew it was partly the alcohol she’d drunk that gave the evening the magical quality that it was taking on as she danced with Tristan, but just this once she felt as if she was woman enough for him.
    The right kind of woman for Tristan Sabina, international playboy, her boss and the sexiest man she’d ever danced with.
    “What are you thinking?” he asked, his French accent nearly as appealing as the strong line of his jaw.
    “About you.”
    “Really?”
    “Um…yes. What are you thinking?”
    “That maybe I should pull you closer,” he said, suiting action to words.
    She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She knew this was another part of the wonderful dreamland she’d been in for the last week. Being on Mykonos was like being in a fantasy world.
    Tristan and his friends were wealthy in every sense of the word and, when she was with them, she was living a life that was far removed from everything she’d ever known.
    “Okay?”
    “Yes,” she said, her words a sigh. “Though I thought we’d decided that…um, we’d just have a professional relationship.”
    “Did we? I think we can both be forgiven for making the most of this moment, on a night like tonight.”
    She looked up at him, trying to judge if he was sincere, and she saw something in his eyes. Something she’d never seen in them before.
    Lust.
    Everything feminine in her clenched at that expression. Here was what she’d dreamed of. And how sad was it that she wanted to accept whatever he had to offer?
    “For just this night?” she asked, to make sure she understood what he was offering.
    “That’s all I have in me,” he said, but in his eyes she saw the hint of something more.
    Some kind of emotion that intimated that he did feel more, but why did she care? Being in Tristan’s arms was enough for her. This moment dancing together was better than she’d ever imagined it could be. She kept breathing deeply, trying to imprint the scent of him in her soul. She ran her hands down his shoulders and back, feeling the strength of his body under her touch.
    If she were braver she’d press her body closer to his so she’d have the imprint of him against her