Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress: Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress. Barbara Dunlop

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Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress: Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress - Barbara Dunlop


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to the other breast, repeating the motion.

      Her eyes were scrunched tight. Her hips arched, her body matching his motion. He wished he could rip off the dress and see her naked. But there was no time for that.

      His speed increased of its own accord, and her keening cries made his brain buzz with need. There was nothing left but a roar of desire and a primal need to take them both to the clouds and over the edge and straight into eternal paradise.

      He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the tremors shook both of their bodies and heat drenched their skin.

      Charlotte lay in the tangled sheets of Alec’s big bed. Her cheek rested on his chest, and his breathing was even and strong. A breeze flowed through the open, third-floor window, billowing sheer curtains and revealing the garden lights below.

      “I guess we should probably keep this a secret,” she ventured.

      “You think?” He trailed his fingertips lightly down her bare arm. “Or should we let Kiefer in with the camera?”

      “Or we could hold a press conference right here in the bed like John and Yoko?”

      “I can guarantee you the front page.”

      She turned her head, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Seriously.”

      He gazed into her eyes. “Seriously. It’s our secret.”

      She nodded.

      “What about Jack?”

      Charlotte frowned, not understanding.

      “Are you going to tell Jack?”

      “No.” Her brother had never been privy to her love life before. “Are you going to tell Raine?”

      Alec shrugged. “Your call.”

      “She’s suspicious, you know.”

      “Really?”

      “After you yelled at me this afternoon, she asked if you’d made a pass at me. She thought you were mad because I’d turned you down.”

      “She’s not far off the mark,” he said.

      “I told her we’d kissed.” Charlotte settled more comfortably against Alec’s chest, toying with the edge of the white sheet.

      “Are you going to tell her…” His voice trailed off.

      Charlotte didn’t exactly know what to call it, either. A one-night stand? A fling?

      But one thing she did know, she wasn’t going to get all needy on him and start demanding to know what this meant and where it was going. She’d gone into it with her eyes wide open. She knew what and who Alec was, but she’d hopped into his bed anyway.

      “It’s better if she doesn’t know,” Charlotte admitted. “But I don’t want to lie to her. My grandfather—” She stopped.

      She wasn’t going to start borrowing trouble here. Her grandfather didn’t need to find out. Nobody needed to find out. Unless Alec was a complete cad, and she certainly didn’t think he was, this interlude would remain locked in her heart forever.

      “How long have you worked for the ambassador?” Alec asked, obviously prepared to move on.

      She followed his lead. “Since I was a teenager. I started off helping in the office. Then, after college, I worked full-time. And when his executive assistant quit to get married, I stepped in temporarily.”

      “When was that?”

      “Three years ago. Right before I met you the first time.”

      “Ahh.” He nodded. “Rome. You should have taken my key that night.”

      “Right. And I’d have made the front page, scandalized my family and been fired from my job.”

      Alec paused. “That’s altogether a worst-case scenario, isn’t it?”

      “It’s a likely-case scenario. You nearly ruined my life.”

      “Good that we waited, then.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, gathering her close. “Honestly—right now, I’m very, very glad we waited.”

      Charlotte didn’t know what to say to that. He made it sound as if they’d done it deliberately, as if they’d had some kind of connection, as if they’d been thinking about each other over the past three years. Had he thought about her after Rome? Did he even remember her in the long line of women he flirted with?

      She gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t going to make more of this than there was.

      “Is Kiefer still worried about rumors of you and Isabella?” she asked, moving on.

      “We seem to have an ally in Ridley Sinclair.”

      “We do?” Charlotte hadn’t even met the man yet.

      “I hear he generally has an affair with his costar.”

      Interesting. “And he’s staying in the same villa as Isabella?”

      Alec nodded. “That he is.”

      “You think they’ll have an affair?”

      “Rumor has it they already are,” said Alec. “Though that rumor may have been started by Kiefer.”

      Charlotte laughed. “I think I’m starting to like Kiefer.”

      “You be careful of Kiefer.” There was a serious note in Alec’s tone that caused Charlotte to twist to look him in the eyes again.

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean Kiefer has a way with women.”

      “And you don’t?” She glanced down at her naked body, the twisted sheets, the comforter that had been kicked off the bed an hour ago. If she needed to be careful of anybody here, it was Alec.

      “I hear your father’s due tomorrow.” Alec changed the subject. She didn’t blame him. What more was there to say?

      “I heard that Lars has a few more days of secondunit work,” said Charlotte. “But they want to start rehearsals for the major scenes.”

      “Will it bother you?”

      “The major scenes?” Charlotte expected it to become even more chaotic at the château. But they’d known this was coming.

      “Seeing your father. Is it worse than seeing Jack?”

      “It’s nowhere near the same,” said Charlotte, burrowing farther beneath the sheet to combat a growing chill from the open window.

      Alec reached to the floor and retrieved the comforter, spreading it over both of them.

      “Thanks.” She sighed as their body heat formed a warm cocoon.

      “Your father?” Alec prompted.

      “It’s funny,” she admitted. “I think I always knew David was a terrible father. Even when my mom was alive, he was never around. When she died, I honestly thought it would be Jack who took care of me.”

      “How old was Jack?”

      “Nine. But he seemed very worldly wise. He used to pour me juice, make me sandwiches and read me bedtime stories.” She smiled wistfully at the memory.

      “And then he abandoned you.”

      “No, he didn’t.” She knew none of it had been Jack’s fault. “But for years, I expected him to come and get me. I don’t know what I thought, that he’d turn eleven, get a paper route and we’d live happily ever after. Pretty absurd, huh?”

      Alec straightened the comforter around her. “You were a little girl.”

      “Who took a very long time to wake up to reality.”

      “Do you think


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