Heirs Book Two: American Lady by Elleby Harper Page A

pulled out of the station for Nice. Electric lights began to
flicker on in the houses and tall condominiums.
    She relaxed in the buttersoft leather seat.
Maixent put a tape on and classical guitar music filled the car.
She watched his tanned hands lightly controlling the steering wheel
as he swerved the car around bends in the road at high speed. He
had strong hands with wide palms and surprisingly long fingers. The
backs of his hands were covered in soft golden down.
    “A new road has been built higher up the
mountain that’s straighter, but it doesn’t have the views that the
Old Road has. What I also like about the Old Road is that it winds
its way through the tiny villages that dot the mountain.” As they
drove Maixent continued with a brief commentary on each village.
But she was hardly listening.
    The whole evening seemed to be unrolling in
front of her eyes like a slow motion film. She had an incredible
sense not of déjà vu, but rather that whatever she did or felt, she
would not be able to alter the course of events unfolding this
evening. Not that she wanted to. Through half-shut eyes she
memorized the lines of Maixent’s hands, feeling a lurch of desire
at the thought of those hands caressing her body.
    Maixent zipped the Audi into a parking space
in front of a dollhouse-sized inn and restaurant perched on an
outcropping of rock. His ever faithful bodyguard Bruno parked
neatly beside it. Bruno escorted them inside.
    “We’ll give Bruno a few minutes to secure
the place and then he’ll leave us alone. Tonight is just for you
and me.” Under the intensity of Maixent’s cerulean gaze Charley
felt her nipples harden. Thank God the bugle beads on the dress
disguised their twin points poking through the thin fabric!
    After a curt nod from Bruno, the maître d’
led them to an outside balcony which became their own private
domain. Around the edge of the balcony was a thick black iron
railing, because the rocks dropped away to the alpine lake beneath
them. She could hear the sound of water lapping. The faintest tang
of seaweed mixed with the heady scent of the thick jasmine bushes
climbing around the iron railings enveloped them.
    As the maître d’ lit the candle on the table
and handed them menus, the sun finally sank, leaving them in silent
twilight. Charley looked down at the menu in her hand but she
couldn’t focus. She closed it.
    “You order for me,” she said, her voice
sounding low and heated to her own ears.
    Maixent didn’t even open his menu. “Seafood
is their specialty.”
    The breeze blew dark tendrils of hair lazily
across her cheek. Maixent reached out to slip the strands behind
her ear. When the waiter brought out their shrimps, scallops and
mushrooms swimming in crayfish sauce they were gazing starstruck at
each other. From inside they could hear a violin playing softly
each time the waiter opened the French doors to serve them.
    Charley paid hardly any attention to her
Napoleon of smoked salmon and Boursin cheese sprinkled with dill
and capers or the crabmeat gâteau with crayfish dressing that
completed the meal. Nothing seemed as satisfying as having Maixent
in front of her to feast her eyes on. He’d barely touched her and
yet she’d never felt so overcome with lust, her insides throbbing
in heated expectation.
    She could feel him watching her coral mouth
and gold shadowed eyes, deeper black than the night. Although she
hardly touched her food she drank several glasses of Moët.
    “It’s so beautiful here. So still and calm.”
In a pitch black sky the stars twinkled indistinguishably from the
lights shining from the cottages dotted along the alps. It didn’t
matter. “Can we stay here forever?” she sighed. She had so many
stars in her eyes already.
    “Maybe not forever. But at least for
tonight.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth, just
grazing her knuckles with his teeth.
    She caught her breath, dizzy with longing
and Moët.
    “What do you think, Miss