“Well?” Wes asked, eyes alight with anticipation.
“I think”—she paused and licked chocolate off one of her fingers—“that if this is how the French always eat breakfast, I’m never going home.” She was teasing as she found another finger covered in chocolate and she started to move it toward her mouth.
Wes caught her wrist with one of his hands, keeping her from moving, and then he dipped his head, sucking her index finger into his mouth. Callie’s lips parted in silent inhalation. A sharp stab of arousal shot through her still-sluggish body. His tongue stroked her finger and then he nipped the pad before releasing it. Callie stared at him, shock, excitement, and confusion rippling through her in dizzying waves. How could he turn her on her head and make her feel so hot and alive? She didn’t want to feel like that, not after Fenn, but Wes was forcing her to experience it despite her every intention to not feel that way ever again.
He wound a lock of her hair around one of his fingers and played with it, a dark, intent look in his eyes that made her nervous.
“I know you feel it, Callie.”
Attraction. He didn’t have to say the word. She turned her face away, knowing a blush betrayed her as always.
“I’ll wait, but soon you’ll have to embrace it or you’ll drive us both crazy.” He stepped back. “Now,” he said calmly, like the Wes she knew, a man in control. “Finish your breakfast. We have some errands to run before tonight.” He began to prepare another mug of coffee and motioned for her to sit at the table.
Callie tried not to think about him and the attraction she felt. It wasn’t something she was ready to deal with, so she kept her focus on his last sentence.
“What’s happening tonight?”
“We’re meeting a friend and client of mine at a restaurant on the Champs-Élysées and then we’re going to the Louvre for a quick inspection of a painting after-hours.” The way he said “we” did something funny inside her chest and she almost smiled.
“The Louvre?” She knew he was going to take her, but she hadn’t thought it would be this soon, or at night, after-hours. The man really was well connected.
“We can go after it closes?”
Wes nodded. “I can get us in. I knew a few people. I’ll explain tonight on the way to dinner. For now, finish your brioche. There’s fruit juice in the fridge. Then shower and change. We’ll go out for a few hours.”
“Okay.” Callie didn’t usually like to be bossed around, but she was way out of her depth. She didn’t remember much from her one year of high school French and she had no idea of what to do, what to see, or where to go in Paris. She had to trust Wes. The man came here often enough that he owned an apartment. It was logical to put her fate in his hands, but she couldn’t feel that it was symbolic of something more.
Callie went up to the large bathroom between their two rooms and explored the shower. It was expensive looking with quite a few jets that aimed at her lower back. A set of towels was on the counter, ready for use, and Callie quickly retrieved her toiletries from her duffel bag. An expensive-looking bottle of French shampoo and conditioner were already in the shower. When she used them they filled the room with the scent of peppermint.
After showering and changing, she was ready to leave and tucked her wallet, passport, and money into her purse. She had some money saved, not a lot, but she figured she could visit a few discount stores, assuming there were any around here.
Wes was waiting for her in the library, a thick book in his hands as he reclined in a wine-colored leather chair.
“There you are.” He smiled as he set the book aside and rose to his feet. When he held out his hand, she took it. “It’s time we buy you something decent to wear.”
* * *
“It’s too much…” she whispered fretfully, eyeing the massive stack of clothes.
Wes had dragged her through the entire Galeries Lafayette with its multiple levels and hundreds of shops. She’d refused to enter the store when she viewed price tags that made her eyes pop out of her head. The evening gowns, the jewelry, and the shoes…She tried them all on at Wes’s insistence and had twirled in front of him more than once while he sat on a sofa and watched like a king of an ancient land, waiting to be entertained.
More than once his eyes lit up when she’d worn certain things. Like the red evening gown that had a tight shell-cupped bodice but flared out at the waist in folds. It looked like something Grace Kelly would have worn. Classy, yet still sensual. Wes’s eyes had heated up enough that she could almost feel the burn on her bare skin. He’d waved over one of the eager store attendants and she’d bent down to listen as he whispered something in her ear, and then she straightened and rushed away.
Callie touched the smooth red satin of the dress. It was lovely. All of the things she’d tried on today had been. So far she’d purchased only one blouse, and she’d held out her euros with a shaky hand, trying not to think how much that one item set her back. The exchange rate was not strong for the dollar and she winced as she paid for it.
“Come here, Callie.” Wes pointed at a spot on the floor in front of him.
She moved, the gown’s train whispering over the crème carpet as she came to a stop in front of him. He parted his knees and reached out to hold her hips as he straightened on the couch. His face was level with her breasts as he gazed up at her. It was a strange sensation to be looking down at him. She did not feel any more power over him than before, but the position made her body hum with awareness.
“Do not worry about the expense. I’ve been buying everything that looks good on you.”
“What?” She tried to pull away but he held on to her hips.
“No, no, no, my little Callie. You are exactly where I wish you to be. Now listen carefully. I brought you here, and I will pay for everything because it’s part of my end of the bet we made. I expect nothing for these gifts, so do not even think about telling me I’m trying to buy you. I’m not. It simply pleases me to give you what you deserve. Do not argue with me or that spanking I promised will happen. And if I spank you…” His eyes churned with inner storms. “Then I won’t be able to control myself and I’ll take you to bed. Do you understand?”
Callie nodded frantically, trying to escape his hold again and he let her.
“The dress is perfect. Go and change. I think we’ve bought half the clothes in the Galeries Lafayette today.” He grinned, the traces of that dark side nearly gone. There was still a shadow, just at the edge of her vision, one that reminded her that the part of himself he fought to control wasn’t far from the surface.
The store clerks packaged up the purchases and would have them delivered. Callie tried not to think of how overwhelming it all was. Or how young and foolish she felt compared to the tall, skinny, young women with perfect hair and makeup who attended to Wes all day. He hadn’t looked at them, not really, but Callie still felt that at any moment he’d decide his interest in her had been a passing fancy. A crazy one at that and he’d ship her back to Colorado on the first available flight.
Wes handed the cashier a black credit card and the woman’s eyes grew round. He didn’t seem to notice the woman’s reaction.
“There’s a champagne and coffee bar here if you’d like something,” Wes suggested.
Callie shook her head. She felt a little…light-headed.
“Can we do something outside? I think I need some fresh air and would like to walk.”
Wes touched the back of his hand to her forehead. “Are you all right? You feel fine.”
“I am.” She brushed his hand away.
“Very well, a walk it is.”
He led her out of the huge mall and back onto the streets. The tourists were out, crowding the streets and crosswalks. Wes wrapped an arm around her shoulder. At any other time she would have pulled away, resisted the touch, but people in the crowds seemed to part when Wes walked, and if he was touching her, she was afforded the same rite of passage. She knew what held them in awe. Wes was incredibly attractive with his chiseled features and brooding stares. He looked like he stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. But it was more than that. It was the way he moved with a panther-like grace and a sense of innate authority. And she was with him. That little fact never ceased to puzzle her.