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Authors: Chantelle Shaw
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sale of the island, keep their conversation strictly to business and leave as soon as they had finished dinner.
Instead she heard herself say huskily, ‘All right. I guess it would be nice to enjoy dinner without tension and probably indigestion.’
Her stomach had felt as if it was tied in knots since she had left her flat, but Dimitri’s smile—or maybe it was the champagne—had induced a relaxed, warm feeling inside her. What harm could come from spending a pleasant evening in the charming surroundings of La Marianne?
The answer was directly in front of her, his dark head bent so close to hers that she could feel the soft whisper of his breath on her cheek. Her instincts warned her that Dimitri posed a serious threat to her peace of mind. But she was no longer an innocent nineteen-year-old. She was twenty-six, a self-confident career woman, and she would never make the mistake of falling for a man just because he had the dark, devastating looks of a fallen angel and a glint in his eyes that promised heaven.
‘Good.’ Dimitri sat back and noted that the hunted look in Louise’s eyes had faded. For a moment, when the subject of her damned mother had come up, he had been consumed with the usual bitterness he felt towards Tina. But when he’d noticed Louise’s expression he had controlled his anger and regretted that he had upset her. That had certainly not been his intention when he had invited her to dinner. He wasn’t actually sure why he had arranged to meet her.It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision—which for a man who never did anything on impulse was highly unsettling, he thought wryly.
He glanced at the extensive menu written in French and decided he needed a translator. ‘Would you mind helping me choose what to eat? I can speak French reasonably well, but I’m not so good at understanding the written word.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Louise’s heart did a little skip at his rueful smile, that made him seem more human somehow. Perhaps he wasn’t as arrogant as she had first thought. She studied the menu. ‘You had better not have
moules à la crème
or
coquilles Saint-Jacques
. I assume you’re still allergic to shellfish?’
‘I am, but I’m impressed that you remembered.’
She flushed and silently cursed herself for letting slip that she hadn’t forgotten anything about him during the past seven years. ‘It’s surprising how many random facts linger in our brains,’ she murmured. ‘I read a food critic’s report which recommended La Marianne’s speciality—roasted beef fillet served with horseradish sauce,’ she added, quickly changing the subject.
‘That sounds good. I’ll come closer so that you can talk me through the other main courses.’
Before she could object Dimitri had moved his chair around the table and sat down beside her, so close that his thigh pressed against hers. She stared at the menu and tried to banish the thought that if she turned her head her lips would be mere centimetres from his.
The spicy scent of his aftershave tantalised her senses and intensified her awareness of his raw masculinity. The bare skin of her arm felt acutely sensitive when she brushed against the sleeve of his jacket and, glancing down, she was mortified to see that her nipples had hardened and were jutting provocatively beneath her silk dress.
She hurriedly began to explain the menu options, but her voice emerged as that embarrassing husky whisper again, and she quickly gulped down more champagne. It was a relief when the waiter came over to take their order and Dimitri moved to back to his side of the table.
‘How long have you lived in Paris?’ he asked as he refilled her glass.
‘Four years. But it has always seemed like home. My grandmother used to live close to Sacré-Coeur, and when I was a child I spent many school holidays with her.’
Dimitri looked puzzled. ‘Was she your father’s mother?’
‘No, my
grand-mère
, Céline, married my grandfather, Charles
Instead she heard herself say huskily, ‘All right. I guess it would be nice to enjoy dinner without tension and probably indigestion.’
Her stomach had felt as if it was tied in knots since she had left her flat, but Dimitri’s smile—or maybe it was the champagne—had induced a relaxed, warm feeling inside her. What harm could come from spending a pleasant evening in the charming surroundings of La Marianne?
The answer was directly in front of her, his dark head bent so close to hers that she could feel the soft whisper of his breath on her cheek. Her instincts warned her that Dimitri posed a serious threat to her peace of mind. But she was no longer an innocent nineteen-year-old. She was twenty-six, a self-confident career woman, and she would never make the mistake of falling for a man just because he had the dark, devastating looks of a fallen angel and a glint in his eyes that promised heaven.
‘Good.’ Dimitri sat back and noted that the hunted look in Louise’s eyes had faded. For a moment, when the subject of her damned mother had come up, he had been consumed with the usual bitterness he felt towards Tina. But when he’d noticed Louise’s expression he had controlled his anger and regretted that he had upset her. That had certainly not been his intention when he had invited her to dinner. He wasn’t actually sure why he had arranged to meet her.It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision—which for a man who never did anything on impulse was highly unsettling, he thought wryly.
He glanced at the extensive menu written in French and decided he needed a translator. ‘Would you mind helping me choose what to eat? I can speak French reasonably well, but I’m not so good at understanding the written word.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Louise’s heart did a little skip at his rueful smile, that made him seem more human somehow. Perhaps he wasn’t as arrogant as she had first thought. She studied the menu. ‘You had better not have
moules à la crème
or
coquilles Saint-Jacques
. I assume you’re still allergic to shellfish?’
‘I am, but I’m impressed that you remembered.’
She flushed and silently cursed herself for letting slip that she hadn’t forgotten anything about him during the past seven years. ‘It’s surprising how many random facts linger in our brains,’ she murmured. ‘I read a food critic’s report which recommended La Marianne’s speciality—roasted beef fillet served with horseradish sauce,’ she added, quickly changing the subject.
‘That sounds good. I’ll come closer so that you can talk me through the other main courses.’
Before she could object Dimitri had moved his chair around the table and sat down beside her, so close that his thigh pressed against hers. She stared at the menu and tried to banish the thought that if she turned her head her lips would be mere centimetres from his.
The spicy scent of his aftershave tantalised her senses and intensified her awareness of his raw masculinity. The bare skin of her arm felt acutely sensitive when she brushed against the sleeve of his jacket and, glancing down, she was mortified to see that her nipples had hardened and were jutting provocatively beneath her silk dress.
She hurriedly began to explain the menu options, but her voice emerged as that embarrassing husky whisper again, and she quickly gulped down more champagne. It was a relief when the waiter came over to take their order and Dimitri moved to back to his side of the table.
‘How long have you lived in Paris?’ he asked as he refilled her glass.
‘Four years. But it has always seemed like home. My grandmother used to live close to Sacré-Coeur, and when I was a child I spent many school holidays with her.’
Dimitri looked puzzled. ‘Was she your father’s mother?’
‘No, my
grand-mère
, Céline, married my grandfather, Charles
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