The French Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress
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Rory looked over her head, tensed visibly and then looked back, taking her shoulders as if she were a child. ‘He’s just arrived. Now, I can’t impress upon you how important this man is. Apart from his role in the Six Nations, he’s the CEO of one of the biggest banks in the world. I’ll introduce you and then you can go, OK? No doubt he’s got bigger fish to fry tonight than meeting you, anyway.’
Rory grabbed her hand again, and before Alana could say anything, he was leading her over to where a man stood with his black-suited back to them, surrounded by obviously fawning people and a couple of scantily dressed women. And suddenly Alana’s legs turned to jelly. Even before they reached him she felt her heart start to pound in recognition. It got about a million times worse when Rory hissed in her ear, ‘His name is L'ev^eque. Pascal L'ev^eque.’
‘I believe I saw you covering the match earlier, no?’ He said this innocently with that deeply sexy voice, as if they’d never met.
For the second time that day Alana looked up into those eyes. Those eyes that she hadn’t been able to get out of her head. Her mouth turned dry, her hands clammy. Her reaction was alarming; she’d sworn off all men, and had no time for frivolous flirtations, and she couldn’t understand why this man was having such an extreme effect on her. Other men flirted with her and asked her out, and she dismissed them with barely a ripple of acknowledgement or reaction. But this was different. And she’d known it from the moment she had met him, which was why she’d all but run.
Silence lengthened, and Rory nudged her discreetly but painfully. Automatically Alana held out a hand. She spoke on autopilot. ‘Yes. Yes, you did.’
Pascal L'ev^eque then took her hand in his much larger one, but instead of shaking it he bent his head, his eyes never leaving hers. Alana saw what he was going to do as if in slow motion, but still the feel of his mouth on the back of her cool hand sent shockwaves through her entire body. Immediately she tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her go. He straightened slowly. She felt his index finger uncurl to caress the point under the wrist where her pulse beat fast, and then he let her hand go. The gesture was fleeting but utterly earth-shattering.
He broke their eye contact, leaving Alana feeling curiously deflated, and with a brief, succinct question Rory left, muttering something about getting drinks. The rest of the crowd the man had been talking to melted away too. He turned back, fixing on her with that intense gaze again.
‘You’ve had time to change, I see. Tell me, is this still classed as work?’
Alana bristled. Hot, burning irritation was rising. ‘Of course I changed—it’s a party. And, yes, this is still work.’
His eyes swept down, taking in what she knew to be a perfectly suitable albeit very unexciting dress. It was a black shift, high-necked and under a matching jacket. Unrevealing.
‘You’ve changed, too,’ she pointed out, feeling ridiculously self-conscious. But, whereas she felt sure she merged into the background, he was managing to stand out in a crowd of identically dressed men in a traditional black tuxedo, white shirt and black bow tie.
His eyes met hers again. ‘Don’t you want to take off your coat? It’s warm in here.’
Warm!
She could feel a trickle of sweat roll down between her breasts as if his words had just turned the room into a sauna. ‘No, I’m fine.’ But all at once the jacket which had felt positively lightweight now felt like a bear skin. To be confronted with him up close and personal was overwhelming. Her eyes wanted to look their fill of his broad, lean body, wanted to rest and dwell and see if he filled out his suit as well as she suspected he did. Who was she kidding? As well as she knew he did. She didn’t have to look to feel the latent power of his taut body envelop her in waves.
Before she knew what she was doing, she felt her hand come up in a telling gesture to smooth her hair behind her ear. It was a nervous habit. His eyes narrowed and followed her movement, and Alana flushed. Damn. She did not want to look like she was in any way aware of him.
A smile quirked his mouth. ‘Your hair is perfectly…tidy.’
Was he laughing at her? And then she remembered what Rory had said. She glared up at him. Her hand dropped. ‘Is it true that you requested me for this interview?’
He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘It’s tiresome, but every now and then I have to give in to press demands. So, yes, I requested you…in the hope that, perhaps with you asking the questions, it would prove a more diverting experience than I’m used to.’
His eyes were hot and sensual. Everything professional in her reacted to his dismissive and high-handed manner. She smiled sweetly, and something treacherous ignited in her belly when she saw a flare of something in his eyes. She ignored her body’s response. ‘Mr L'ev^eque. If you think that just because I’m a woman I’m going to confine my questions to what your favourite colour might be, then you’re sadly mistaken.’ At that moment she made a mental note to stay up all night if she had to, to research this man.
His eyes narrowed and cooled, and she shivered slightly.
‘And if you think that because you’re a woman I would dismiss your ability on that basis alone, then you are much mistaken. Any interest I have in you as far as the interview goes is purely professional. I’ve had your work investigated, and you impressed me.’
Alana was completely taken aback, and immediately felt like apologising. But, looking up at him now, she felt that cool wind still washing over her. She could almost believe that she had imagined his hot look of just moments ago. That she had imagined everything leading up to this point. She had an uncanny prescience of what it would be like to be this man’s enemy.
‘Well, I’m… That is, I hadn’t thought that—’
He cut off her inarticulate attempt to apologise. ‘Like I said, my interest in you is purely professional…as far as the interview goes. However…’ He stopped and moved closer. The air around them changed in a heartbeat. Became charged.
Alana sucked in a breath. His eyes were hot again, making her feel very disorientated.
‘I can’t promise that my interest doesn’t extend beyond the professional.’
As with earlier in the stadium, Alana felt as though the huge, packed ballroom had just shrunk around them. Adrenaline pumped through her along with the desire to flee.