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Authors: Letty James
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“Nobody’s ever safe, Nikki. With anyone.” His voice was a deadly whisper.
“I feel safe with you. I did. It’s not a big deal.” Nikki pulled her head back.
Gérard straightened, running his hand through his hair. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know.” She could feel her whole body blushing. She waved a hand toward her toes and he gave her a puzzled look.
“My feet. Any feet. You know? You and feet?” Nikki stumbled over her explanation.
She could see realization finally dawn in his eyes and then he laughed. A big laugh that filled the room and felt like a bear hug, except now he was laughing at her and her face flamed in mortification.
“I’ve never heard that before.” He wiped his hand over his mouth, barely able to stifle his grin.
She sat up, indignant, struggling to straighten her robe. “How was I to know? Men don’t go around fondling feet unless they have an agenda.”
He shook his head, not bothering to hide his grin this time. “I think I like this new secret. Perhaps I shall buy you more shoes. Good night, ma petite gateaux . We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
With a nod, Gérard left her room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Nikki flopped back on the chaise. What the hell? One minute he looked like he wanted to eat her up, the next he looked like he could kill her. She shivered and drew her robe tight around her. Perhaps she ought to sleep in the park. A burst of rain against the windows made her think otherwise. Would dealing with this man be worth the salary? She jumped up and paced, trying to think about the options, the questions, the mystery of Gérard Beauvais. No answers came as she circled the room. Lying down on the bed, she felt dead tired, but her brain wouldn’t stop. The bed felt too intimate, reminding her of her assumptions when she’d entered this room. Assumptions of making love. Assumptions of freedom—letting the wine, the man, the City carry her away to forget all her troubles with Tim and her nonexistent life.
“Assume makes an ass out of you and me.” She quoted Mimi out loud. It didn’t make her feel any better. She rolled out of bed and went to the window seat. Perhaps some fresh air would help. She pushed up the window and gulped the cold air rushing in. Rain dripped from the trees and she could hear it running down the gutter somewhere on the side of the house. Odd shapes rose in topiaries below and she could make out patterns created with evergreen hedges. A light shone from a large greenhouse at the back of the stone wall surrounding the garden. Gérard was moving around inside. She squinted but couldn’t see any details. What was the man doing out there?
Chapter 7
A pounding headache greeted Nikki when she awoke. Squinting against the lamp light coming from the bedside table, she surveyed the room from the top of layers of fluffy down, memories of the previous evening coming to her in a rush. She groaned and slid her head under the pillow. A faint mewing sounded outside her bedroom door. Groggily, she sat up and an ivory cotton blanket slid to the floor. Who had covered her up?
She staggered toward the door and opened it a crack to let Joan Jett inside. In the hallway, stood Monsieur Formidable himself. She better watch it or she’d be calling him that to his face. She suspected he wouldn’t take it in the spirit intended. Surely, he’d come to fire her.
“I’ll be dressed in fifteen minutes,” she blurted out.
He ignored her announcement and shouldered his way into her room. “I’ve brought you breakfast.” He nodded to the tray holding a silver coffeepot and a china cup decorated with roses, resembling something Mimi had painted, along with two croissants and a pot of dark jam.
“What? No potatoes and eggs?” She bit her tongue. Why couldn’t she keep quiet?
His mouth quirked up, then straightened again, all business. “I’m surprised you remember.”
In excruciating detail . “It was a memorable
“Nobody’s ever safe, Nikki. With anyone.” His voice was a deadly whisper.
“I feel safe with you. I did. It’s not a big deal.” Nikki pulled her head back.
Gérard straightened, running his hand through his hair. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know.” She could feel her whole body blushing. She waved a hand toward her toes and he gave her a puzzled look.
“My feet. Any feet. You know? You and feet?” Nikki stumbled over her explanation.
She could see realization finally dawn in his eyes and then he laughed. A big laugh that filled the room and felt like a bear hug, except now he was laughing at her and her face flamed in mortification.
“I’ve never heard that before.” He wiped his hand over his mouth, barely able to stifle his grin.
She sat up, indignant, struggling to straighten her robe. “How was I to know? Men don’t go around fondling feet unless they have an agenda.”
He shook his head, not bothering to hide his grin this time. “I think I like this new secret. Perhaps I shall buy you more shoes. Good night, ma petite gateaux . We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
With a nod, Gérard left her room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Nikki flopped back on the chaise. What the hell? One minute he looked like he wanted to eat her up, the next he looked like he could kill her. She shivered and drew her robe tight around her. Perhaps she ought to sleep in the park. A burst of rain against the windows made her think otherwise. Would dealing with this man be worth the salary? She jumped up and paced, trying to think about the options, the questions, the mystery of Gérard Beauvais. No answers came as she circled the room. Lying down on the bed, she felt dead tired, but her brain wouldn’t stop. The bed felt too intimate, reminding her of her assumptions when she’d entered this room. Assumptions of making love. Assumptions of freedom—letting the wine, the man, the City carry her away to forget all her troubles with Tim and her nonexistent life.
“Assume makes an ass out of you and me.” She quoted Mimi out loud. It didn’t make her feel any better. She rolled out of bed and went to the window seat. Perhaps some fresh air would help. She pushed up the window and gulped the cold air rushing in. Rain dripped from the trees and she could hear it running down the gutter somewhere on the side of the house. Odd shapes rose in topiaries below and she could make out patterns created with evergreen hedges. A light shone from a large greenhouse at the back of the stone wall surrounding the garden. Gérard was moving around inside. She squinted but couldn’t see any details. What was the man doing out there?
Chapter 7
A pounding headache greeted Nikki when she awoke. Squinting against the lamp light coming from the bedside table, she surveyed the room from the top of layers of fluffy down, memories of the previous evening coming to her in a rush. She groaned and slid her head under the pillow. A faint mewing sounded outside her bedroom door. Groggily, she sat up and an ivory cotton blanket slid to the floor. Who had covered her up?
She staggered toward the door and opened it a crack to let Joan Jett inside. In the hallway, stood Monsieur Formidable himself. She better watch it or she’d be calling him that to his face. She suspected he wouldn’t take it in the spirit intended. Surely, he’d come to fire her.
“I’ll be dressed in fifteen minutes,” she blurted out.
He ignored her announcement and shouldered his way into her room. “I’ve brought you breakfast.” He nodded to the tray holding a silver coffeepot and a china cup decorated with roses, resembling something Mimi had painted, along with two croissants and a pot of dark jam.
“What? No potatoes and eggs?” She bit her tongue. Why couldn’t she keep quiet?
His mouth quirked up, then straightened again, all business. “I’m surprised you remember.”
In excruciating detail . “It was a memorable
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