Three Rich Men: House of Midnight Fantasies / Forced to the Altar / The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress. Michelle Celmer
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was thoroughly modern, from the solid oak desk lit by a lone lamp to the computer sitting on a counter in the corner. Several binders were stacked neatly in an in-box and a silver canister housed various pens. Everything in its place and not at all what Selene had expected. But at least the room was sufficiently cool. In fact, it was cooler than most of the house, thanks to that modern convenience known as a window unit. Might have been nice if someone had bothered to install them everywhere.
When she heard the door close behind her, Selene fought the urge to spin around and display some serious panic. For all intents and purposes, she was trapped. He could do with her what he wanted and she doubted Ella would hear a single cry of distress.
Still, she wasn’t getting any strange vibes or sense of looming disaster. When she faced him, she did get the full effect of Adrien’s slight smile. The first she’d witnessed so far. “What do you want to show me?”
He slid his hands into his pockets again and looked much more relaxed than she felt. “A journal.”
Selene had learned nothing was of more value in recreating the past than personal writings. “Where is it?” she asked, her tone revealing her enthusiasm over the discovery.
Adrien crossed the room to his right, opened a door and flipped on a light. “Up here.”
Selene moved closer to see a dimly lit, narrow staircase and made a mental note to have someone replace all the low-wattage bulbs in the house as soon as possible. She took a mental step back when she realized she would have to accompany her employer into a remote area. “It looks like you might find a bat or two up there.” She’d said it with humor to mask her wariness.
He hinted at another smile. “No bats, but maybe a few spiders.”
“Lovely.”
He studied her for a moment. “Are you afraid of spiders, Selene?”
Insects had never been her best friends, but she wasn’t exactly arachnophobic. “No. As long as they keep their distance.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
A very good question, one that Selene needed to seriously ponder. “Any reason why I should be?”
“Not at all.”
He sounded convincing to Selene, but could she really believe him? She could usually rely on her instincts, though, and they were telling her he had no plans to injure her. As far as any other plans went—questionable plans—she supposed she would have to take her chances and keep a firm grip on self-control.
She made a sweeping gesture toward the staircase. “After you.”
He took the first step and when she hung back, he shifted slightly and offered his hand. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”
Selene wasn’t all that concerned with falling. Years of ballet lessons had cured her of any serious clumsiness. But she was concerned about touching him again. Concerned that she might experience another blow to her senses. Yet instead of insisting on managing without his help, she reached out and accepted his offered hand. This time, the contact sent a rush of heat coursing through her body, as if she were being warmed from the inside out. The sensation was overwhelming and as they started to ascend the stairs, it only grew more intense. He glanced back at her now and then with eyes as blue as the ceiling in the rotunda. By the time they reached the top, Selene was both winded and very, very warm, even when he released his grasp on her.
The landing opened into another room, this one smaller with a narrow shelf housing volumes of aged books. In the corner sat a mahogany pedestal desk, and a lone straight-backed chair covered in red satin. The area was dusty, the ceiling draped with a few cobwebs, but other than that, it didn’t look at all menacing. At least where bats and bugs were concerned.
“At one time this was the gargonniere,” Adrien said as he remained at her side. “The original bachelor’s quarters, probably used by a previous owner.”
But obviously not used by Adrien, Selene thought. “Your grandfather?”
He forked a hand through his hair. “No. Giles wasn’t one to stay in the same place for very long. He had a solid case of wanderlust. I inherited that from him.”
She sent him a smile. “You’re inclined to travel, I take it.”
“Not in a while.” He strolled to the bookshelves then faced her again. “I’ve been all over the world. Europe. Africa. Central America. Mostly off the beaten path. Spain is one of my favorite spots.”
She walked to the desk and leaned against it. “Don’t tell me. You’ve run with the bulls in Pamplona.”
“Actually, no. I would be more inclined to root for the bulls since I believe that animals sometimes have more merit than humans.”
A point in his favor, Selene decided. “So you’re a thrill seeker as long as it doesn’t involve cruelty to animals.”
“At one time, yes.”
He looked and sounded regretful, and that only served to spur Selene’s interest. “I’ve been to Europe several times,” she said to break the brief span of uncomfortable silence. “Mostly London. The usual tourist spots.”
He rested one elbow on the edge of the shelf. “Ever done any cliff diving in Mexico?”
She laughed. “I’m not fond of heights.”
“Ever stood on a deserted beach, naked, and watched the sun come up?”
Only in her wildest dreams. “I’m afraid not.”
“You should experience it at some point in time.”
Little did he know, he’d taken her there through his recollections, images that were too strong to bar from her mind. She experienced the salty breeze blowing over her bare skin and the sun on her face, smelled the scents of the sea, felt his palms forming to her waist, curving over her abdomen and lower ….
Forcing herself out of his fantasy, she turned her attention to the shelves to avoid his steady gaze. “I’ve often wondered what it would have been like to live years ago, when times were less complex and modern conveniences were nonexistent.”
“I’ve been in places where you had to rely solely on nature,” he said. “It’s a rush.”
Selene decided his deep, steady voice was a rush. “I’m too old and set in my ways to rough it too much.”
He inclined his head and narrowed his eyes to assess her. “You’re what, maybe late twenties?”
“Thirty-two. And you?”
“Thirty-five. How old were you when you married?”
Obviously he knew much more about her than she knew about him. “Twenty-four. I’ve been divorced for a year.”
He paced the room’s perimeter, glancing at her now and then, as if he were some wild, agitated creature of the night assessing his quarry. “Seven years, just in time for that proverbial itch.”
“You could definitely say that.”
He stopped and leaned back against the shelves a few feet away from her. “Did that itch include both of you?”
As much as she wanted to know Adrien better, she was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. Drudging up her past with Richard always made her ill at ease. “Maybe you could show me the journal now.”
“If that’s what you want.”
He headed straight for her with slow, stalking steps and Selene’s gaze immediately tracked to his mouth, the softness of his lips that contrasted with the rigid set of his jaw, the slight cleft in his chin. All too late she realized he’d noticed her interest when he showed some semblance of another smile. Knowing. Sensual.
When he reached the desk, Selene stifled a catch of breath even though he passed by her. She regarded