One Night With a Billionaire - By VickiLewis Thompson Page 0,6
right now.
His need to get her away from that depressing hotel with its peeling paint and cracked cement steps had been a visceral thing not to be explained. She was alone in the city, and he’d appointed himself as her watchdog. He had the urge to surround her with a fence labeled KEEP OFF. An electrified fence would be even better.
“What’s your townhouse like?”
He turned toward her. “Old.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “How old?”
“Old enough that the first residents used chamber pots. I have a collection of them.”
“Oh! Is that what you use?”
How refreshing that she’d come right out and asked. “No. The place has all the modern conveniences now. The last owner even installed an elevator, but I like taking the stairs.”
“And walking to the Louvre. That’s why you almost caught those muggers.”
“I would have, too, except for a busload of kids. They piled out right in front of me and I had to put on the brakes or I’d have run them down. By the time I worked my way through them, the muggers had disappeared.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted you to run over any little children to get my backpack.” She’d leaned her head against the seat.
“I wouldn’t have.”
“No.” She covered a yawn with her hand. “You’re a nice guy.” Her eyelids drifted down.
“Mm.” Some of his business associates might not agree with her. If he’d caught the muggers, they wouldn’t have thought so, either.
The steady sound of her breathing told him she was asleep. He could hardly blame her. She’d been on a plane all night long, and then she’d been assaulted. The good news was that she must feel safe with him or she never would have dropped off so easily. Apparently she trusted him.
And she had every reason to. He had no intention of taking advantage of this situation. But he had to admit she was damned appealing. And sexy in a subtle way that really got to him. He’d felt a connection from the moment he’d seen her standing in front of Notre Dame. And it wasn’t just because she was Texan. What he really noticed was that her face had reflected the same awe that had struck him when he’d first seen the cathedral twenty-five years ago.
From a distance, he’d sensed a kindred spirit. When he’d drawn closer, he’d been captured by a primitive tug of sexuality. Her snug jeans and red hoodie outlined the body of a flesh-and-blood Venus de Milo. Just as he’d decided to strike up a conversation, she’d been attacked.
He hated that, but considering how much closer it had brought the two of them, he couldn’t hate it too much. He would have spared her the trauma if he could have, but now . . . well, he’d have to see how things turned out.
Henri drove more sedately than usual, as if he didn’t want to jostle his sleeping passenger. Consequently she was still sleeping when the Mercedes stopped in front of Drew’s townhouse.
Speaking in a low voice, Drew instructed Henri to open Melanie’s door before getting the suitcase out of the trunk. The click of the door opening didn’t rouse her. When Drew walked around the car and crouched down to shake her awake, she murmured something he couldn’t understand and sleepily wrapped her arms around his neck. Apparently he’d be carrying her inside.
If he hadn’t felt like the great protector before, this maneuver would have done the trick. As he lifted her into his arms, he breathed in peppermint and wondered if she had a roll of them in her sweatshirt pocket. But under that scent he detected a sweet, womanly aroma that sent an urgent signal to his groin.
Cradling her soft body with one arm under her shoulders and the other behind her knees, he started up the walkway. She sighed and snuggled closer. Dear God, he was getting an erection. Not cool. Fortunately her cute little fanny covered his crotch, but that was part of the problem. Every step caused more friction between her bottom and his cock.
Henri had beaten him to the door with the suitcase. He opened it and stood back so Drew could turn sideways and ease through the doorway without bumping either Melanie’s head or her feet. Once inside, he glanced at the staircase. Not happening. Not three flights.
Smiling, Henri walked over to the elevator and pushed the button. Drew stepped inside and vowed he wouldn’t make fun of the contraption ever again. Initially he’d scoffed at the idea of an elevator for