Charming You (Thirsty Hearts Book 1) (26 page)

"
T
aryn knows
how to plan a celebration. That's for sure," Nick noted.

"It's her gift," Micky answered. She tipped her head against the high-backed booth, twirling the stem of a champagne glass in her fingers. The low, red lights of the bar played on her shining brown curls. He'd never seen her so relaxed. The end of the project did wonders for her mood.

"You look happy," he commented.

"I am ecstatic," she said, grinning.

A small group of the event organizers including Taryn and Micky, their boss Ben, and a handful of others clustered around a group of reserved tables at the high-rise hotel bar down the street from the Palais des Congrès. The minute Nick stepped off the elevator, he encountered a sweeping view of the city and stylish Europeans downing cocktails. Happy hour might be an American concept, but the international crowd adopted it well.

Every time Nick considered how far he'd come in his life, he squeezed his eyes shut, half expecting that when he reopened them, he'd be back in the small east Dallas house where he grew up. Instead, he popped his eyes open this time and Paris stretching down to the Eiffel Tower, which now sparkled every hour on the hour.

"Are you getting sleepy? It's well past bedtime in Dallas." Micky watched him with concern.

"No. I'm wide awake. Sometimes I can't believe where I am. I do a double take."

"I know. It's unbelievable." She rubbed his knee and squeezed it, sending shockwaves up his thigh. "Have I told you how glad I am that your here? When I saw you in the lobby, I thought I was dreaming. It's nice to have someone to share all this with."

Nick hoped the crimson bar light would hide his blush. He thought of why he was supposed to be in Paris and the information his boss expected him to get. None of that mattered to him anymore. However he got here, Nick knew this is where he belonged. Still, guilt nagged at him.

"You have Taryn," he pointed out.

"That's not the same thing. Besides, she has Jeff. If it weren't for you, I'd be the weirdest third wheel ever on their romantic Parisian getaway. Being with you is the perfect cover for my singleness."

"Like a beard." Nick laughed, thinking of what the role he almost played in Vivienne's life. Micky narrowed her amber eyes.

"Kind of. Not exactly. I'm fairly certain that I'm straight," she advised.

"I may ask for proof of that later," Nick joked. Micky laughed.

"Hmm. We'll have to see about that. I owe you a more private thank you. For now, sorry, but I need to squeeze out and go to the restroom." Micky scooted out of their booth.

"Sure. Do you want anything? I may order some appetizers."

"Sounds good. Surprise me. I do think I'm ready to switch to something besides the company champagne. A martini?"

"Slightly dirty. I'm on it."

He flagged down a waiter and ordered some small plates and a couple of drinks. He noticed Taryn and Jeff dancing to the jazz that filtered through the noise of the crowd. There was no dance floor—just a spot in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, thirty four floors above the city, where they could sway to the music.
That's what a fiancée should look like
, Nick thought. Utterly in love.

A few minutes later, Micky came back around the corner, only to be waylaid by one of her co-workers. The sharp-dressed man reached out as she passed his table and touched Micky's arm. As she turned, Nick could see tension seeping back into her shoulders. Who was this guy? Nick didn't want to cause a scene. Even though the cocktails might lead you to believe otherwise, she was still on the job. However, the guy had a drunken veil over his eyes and a nasty smirk.

Nick thought that smile begged to be wiped off his face. He stood up and walked over to the other table.

"Our food should be here in a minute, Micky." Nick draped his arm over her shoulders and flicked his gaze over the other man. "I haven't met you yet."

"No, we haven't met. I'm Tony Harcourt. I've worked with Micky for a few years now. We've had some good times." Nick gritted his teeth, and the guy laughed. "Not like that. Not me anyway. She used to date my friend, Eric. He misses her a bunch—let me tell you. Take her back in a heartbeat now that he's divorced."

Nick watched Micky's face fall. Eric had to be the asshole she dated before. He'd been married. Micky didn't have to tell him. Nick knew that Micky couldn't have known her boyfriend had a wife. It did explain why she was so suspicious of him when they met and how angry she got when she'd thought he was engaged. Nick looked at the other people seated at the table. They were deep in another conversation, and with the noise of the bar, they likely didn't hear what the guy said.

"I didn't know that that he had a wife, though, did I, Tony? Someone introduced him to me as single. Who was that?" Micky tapped her chin in faux contemplation. "Oh, yeah, that was you. So, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut."

Tony smirked again. "He still talks about you all the time, you know. But I guess he's been replaced. Lucky you. I've heard some very interesting stories."

Micky shot the guy daggers, but said nothing. Nick pasted a smile on his face and took a step toward Tony.

"Unless you want to be telling a very interesting story about picking yourself up off a barroom floor in Paris, I'd keep your voice down and change the topic. Micky's personal life is none of your concern. Do you like sexual harassment suits? Micky didn't get a chance to mention that I'm an attorney did she?"

Micky grabbed Nick by the elbow. "I'm sure Tony realizes that he's overstepped. Maybe you should take a breather, Tony. Get a glass of water or some coffee."

"Fine. Look. You know I didn't mean anything. I'm just joking around with you," Tony said, meekly.

Joking? The guy was an ass. He almost said as much, but Micky pulled him away. They got back to their table, and she collapsed into the booth. The stricken look on her face angered him. How dare this guy bring up some sad chapter in her personal life at a work function and in front of her new boyfriend. Nick's brain halted at the thought of it, but that's what he was becoming. Her boyfriend. He sat down next to her and put his arm back around her shoulders.

"That guy needs to learn his drink limits. He's got a big mouth," Nick said, gently rubbing her shoulder.

"I…This is so embarrassing. I met Eric through Tony when he was visiting from Chicago. I didn't know he was married. I swear. Not until I got this horrible phone call from his wife. I broke up with him right away. I am not that kind of woman. I would never do anything like that. Although I guess I did." The words poured out of her in fits.

"I know you're not that kind of person. I get it. Look at me, Micky." She turned her teary eyes on him. "Nothing that idiot says makes even the slightest bit of difference to me."

"We were planning a trip to Europe when I found out. I had rented a villa in Italy and everything. Now he's on the verge of ruining another trip for me."

"What's ruined? Nothing. We've all had relationships fall apart. Hell, I almost married my mistake," he said. The corners of Micky's mouth turned up into a sheepish smile.

"That would have been difficult for me to do since he already had a wife."

"One thing Tony said was totally right." Nick stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I am a lucky guy. Beautiful woman. Beautiful city. And it appears we're about to have beautiful food and a couple of very pricey drinks."

Nick gave her a peck on the cheek and leaned back to take in the view. The waiter arrived, and Micky picked up her drink.

"Let's toast," she said. Nick grabbed his scotch.

"What do you want to toast?"

"New beginnings," she said, lifting her glass.

"To new beginnings."

Nick clinked her glass in full support of moving on and focusing on the future.

T
he couples went
their separate ways after the work farewell. Taryn and Jeff wanted a walk along the river. Micky couldn't get enough of seeing the Eiffel Tower lit up at night, so she and Nick walked toward it.

The weather had turned cold and damp into the evening. Micky huddled with Nick, crossing the Champs-Elysées to another broad avenue leading up to Trocadero—the broad expanse of museums arranged facing the tower across the river. Micky enjoyed stretching her legs after the long day and unpleasant dinner. As posh as the restaurant had been, she decided her favorite Paris was outside with the bustling people and changing air.

Crossing the street behind Trocadero, the Eiffel Tower came into view between the buildings. Even before the lights danced every hour, the glow of the iron structure sent twinkling lights through the moist night air and beckoned to romantic souls.

"Can you believe that when they first put up the tower, everyone hated it? They thought it was an eyesore," Micky said.

"Give it enough time, and people can grow accustomed to anything, can't we?" Nick asked.

Micky thought about his question. Anything? She didn't think so.

"Beauty," she said. "You can discover beauty where you didn't expect it, maybe. But there has to be beauty there to be found."

Nick squeezed her closer to him. Warmth emanated off him, keeping her cozy in his arms. The cool mist grew heavy until a light rain began to fall. Micky didn't mind. She stared, smiling at the tower in the distance.

"Let's cross the river and see it from up close," Nick suggested.

The rain picked up. Micky pulled her scarf over her head, re-wrapping it around her neck. Nick grabbed her hand, and they dashed until they stood directly underneath it. Micky looked up. Her back pressed against Nick's chest and tiny drops of rain fell on her face, but she loved it. Then, at ten o'clock, the show started.

Patterns of light flashed around them. Micky heard the gasps of tourists taking pictures, but the noise of the crowd faded out. Nick seized on her craning her neck backward and dropped a kiss on her forehead. Micky twisted around to face him and took his face between her hands.

His unshaven cheeks grated softly against her fingertips. The diamonds of light flickered in his green eyes. She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger in an invitation for his kiss. Nick answered her by brushing his mouth against hers, then taking her bottom lip between his teeth. The nip sent swirls of pleasure to her core. The dancing light popped around them like fireworks when their tongues met. Micky snaked her arms inside his coat and around his waist. The play of muscles in his low back shifted under her hands. She slipped them lower and cupped the hard fullness of his rear. His arousal sprang to life against her belly.

Micky lost her breath and pulled away panting. "Let's go back to the hotel."

"I'll get us a taxi. Walking will take way too long." His wide smile offset the sensual focus in his eyes.

E
ven the cab
ride seemed to take forever. Every bounce and turn of the car threw their bodies together. Each point of contact heightened their anticipation. Once at the hotel, they raced to the elevator, hand in hand.

Finally, she followed Nick into her room and closed the door behind her. Micky almost couldn't think of what to do next. She wanted to tear off his clothes, to tear off her own, and to touch him everywhere all at once with her hands, her mouth, and every part of her body. The sensation of want overwhelmed her. "I owe you a big thank you."

"You do," Nick agreed, dropping his overcoat on a chair and peeled off his sweater and shirt in one swoop. He walked toward her, unbuckling his pants. He stepped out of them and yanked them up to remove his wallet and a foil packet. Micky's mouth went dry. He'd taken two items off her to-do list. Now she needed to work on losing her own clothes.

"How do you want me to thank you?" Micky began to strip. Off went her coat and wrap dress. She stood there in her bra, panties, and knee-high, heeled boots. She bent over to unzip the boots and pull them off. Nick stopped her with a gruff request.

"First," he said. "Leave the boots on."

Micky obeyed, removing her bra and sliding her lace boyshorts down over the length of black leather. She kept her eyes on him as he stood with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxer briefs and continued his answer to her with halting breath. "Talk to me."

Having sex was easy for Micky when she wanted it. Talking about it? Her skin flushed hot and pink all over at the thought. Why say what you want when you could show it? But that's not what Nick wanted, and she needed to give him exactly what he wanted.

She opened her lips to speak, and nothing came out. What was she supposed to say? She bought herself some time by closing the distance between them and pushing him against the bed. Nick gave no resistance when she toppled him onto his back. He placed the condom on his chest and lay back. Power surged through her body at the sight of him stretched out below her. For once, she towered over him. Micky locked eyes with him. Her cheeks felt as hot as the rest of her. She could tell him the truth.

"I want to ride you," she said in a strength of voice that surprised her. "But you have to lose the briefs and put that on."

Micky bent over and plucked the condom off his chest. Her breasts swayed as she grabbed the waist of his underwear and yanked them down. Nick lifted his hips off the bed to help her, which had the effect of presenting his freed erection to her like an offering. She tore the foil packet open and slid the thin sheath of protection over his cock. Then, Micky climbed onto the bed and straddled him, bracing herself with her hands propped on the heels of her boots. She arched her back to save contact for when she was ready.

"When it comes to show and tell, I'd much rather show than tell." Then, she leaned forward and bit him gently on the neck, but kept her hips lifted. "I'd much rather sink all the way down, and let you slide into me." Then, Micky thrust her hips forward just enough to have his thick erection graze the slickness between her legs. "But you want to talk. So, we'll talk." Micky sat up straight, hovering over him. "Remember the first night we met?"

"Yes," Nick exhaled.

"You were so buttoned up in that dark suit and expensive Hermes tie. I wanted to grab you by that tie, and do this." Micky descended on him and tasted his lips. His mouth opened and their tongues wrapped together, stroking deeply into one another's mouths. Micky pulled back and sucked on his bottom lip until he moaned, then met his gaze.

"You know what else I wanted? When you were showing me how to hook up our batteries, all I wanted was for you to bend me over the hood of my car. I wanted you pull up my skirt, shove your fingers right here." Micky fluttered her fingertips down her stomach to the separation between her legs, plunging her fingers into her own dark curls. "Then I wanted you to fuck me. I wanted to feel you pressing into me from behind, pumping into me."

Micky didn't get to finish. Nick's hands took stronger hold of her hips, pulling her down and toward him. Micky knew what he wanted now, and it wasn't talk. She took his cock in her hand and guided him home.

From the angle above him, Micky could feel his entire length. She didn't move. She held her breath and gripped him hard, loving the sweet pressure of him deep insider her. Nick's breath came in short gasps. She held him captive between her legs. He strained up to meet her and caressed her breasts. Rough fingertips tweaked her nipples, connecting a web of sensation between the peaked tips and her pulsing squeeze of his cock. When the urge for friction built to a fever pitch, she slid up slowly and then pushed herself back, nearly out of control. She rode him like she'd said she would. Nick continued to roll her nipples between his fingers. She matched his rhythm with her own fingers between her legs.

The combination unlocked a flurry of heat that radiated from every point of connection between their bodies. She bucked now on top of him. He swore. Micky opened her eyes to see the sheen of sweat covering his hard body. Everything in him was taut…then he exploded. The jerk of his body triggered her own orgasm.

Micky collapsed. Her hair fanned out over his chest and shoulders. Nick ran a hand down her spine and over her hip, then her leather-encased calf, which she had folded underneath her on the outside of his thighs. Micky put her chin on his chest and gazed at him through curtain of espresso waves.

"You really like the boots?" She chuckled.

"I love the boots. Among other things."

"Other things like what?" Micky flipped her hair back and placed her hands on either side of his head. She couldn't read the expression in the stark green eyes staring back at her—wide and searching.

"Right now, I love everything about you." Micky barely had time to let his words sink in before he grabbed her around the waist and said, "Roll over. It's my turn to thank you."

Her stomach clenched, and thinking no longer mattered.