One Night With a Billionaire - By VickiLewis Thompson Page 0,25
when she flew home, she’d wake up.
After eating every last morsel on her tray, she found a blow-dryer in the bathroom and styled her hair. She suspected that the clothes she was about to try on would require more than a casual ponytail. She was both curious and eager to see what a Paris shopping guru had picked out for her.
Finally, she put on her running shoes, because she had nothing else. Then she made her bed, replaced her towels on the rack, and picked up the breakfast tray. Servants were probably supposed to do all that, but she hadn’t been raised to leave chaos in her wake.
A middle-aged woman dressed in black slacks and a white blouse was polishing the banister on the second floor. She spoke only French, but she made it clear that she would take the tray from mademoiselle or know the reason why. Melanie relinquished the tray and followed the woman down the stairs.
The double doors to the formal parlor stood open, and sure enough, the elegant furniture was draped with a rainbow of colorful garments. Drew paced the room, his phone to his ear, but he turned when she came in and quickly ended the call.
His eyes were lit with excitement. “So? What do you think?”
She gazed at the beautiful clothes in colors she loved—red, purple, turquoise, and jade—outfits that would have been right at home in a Neiman Marcus trunk show. “It’s overwhelming, Drew. I couldn’t even wear all of these in the days I have left.”
“I know.” He didn’t sound worried about it. “Just pick what you want for now. You can take the rest ho–”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, no, thank you, I won’t be taking anything home with me. I don’t mean to sound ungracious, but I can’t accept clothes I won’t be wearing here. That’s . . .” She hesitated, not sure what she wanted to say.
“Opportunistic?”
She pointed a finger at him. “Exactly! I get that you want to show me the city your way. I understand you’ll have fun in the process and that I’ll need the right outfits. But scooping up this entire wardrobe and making off with it feels like I just won the jackpot in some televised game show. ‘Melanie Shaw! Come on down!’ I can’t do it.”
He studied her, a smile tugging at the corners of his sculpted mouth. “Does that mean you’re ready to go along with my plan?”
“Yes.” She wondered if he’d offered her the extra clothes on purpose, so that she’d reject that idea but accept the initial concept.
“Excellent.” His expression was triumphant. “Take whatever you want, but I do hope you’ll choose the red and black dress and the cape that goes with it.”
She’d been drawn to it from the moment she’d walked into the room. The abstract swirls of red against the black made her think of passion, and passion made her think of Drew. “Where would I wear it?”
“At Les Folies Bergère,” he said. “I have tickets for tonight.”
Her gaze met his. She was intensely curious about the show, but she’d crossed it off her list once her friends had canceled. Going alone hadn’t sounded like much fun. Seeing it with Drew, however, would be a total turn-on. “I’d love that,” she said. “And I’ll wear the dress.”
***
They spent most of the afternoon at the Musée d’Orsay, because Melanie wanted a destination that allowed them to walk along the Seine both there and back. Once again, she was transfixed by the artwork, and she admitted that she’d done a little painting herself in college. Drew wasn’t surprised to hear it. Her enthusiasm for her surroundings told him she had the soul of an artist.
While they toured the museum, he’d deliberately put a leash on his libido. Other than an occasional brush of hands or touch on the shoulder, he hadn’t made physical contact with Melanie all afternoon. He ached to do that, but he wanted to give her space to appreciate the experience.
Still, memories of making love to her taunted him constantly. When she paused before a Renoir nude, he had to look away. Otherwise he might have given in to the urge to drag her somewhere private and kiss her until they were both senseless with lust.
The worst part was that he thought she’d be okay with the idea of him doing that. More than once he’d caught her looking at him with a sexy gleam in those big gray eyes of hers. But then