Dreaming Of... France: The Husband She Never Knew / The Parisian Playboy / Reunited...in Paris!. Кейт Хьюит

glanced back at her now, eyebrows raised. He seemed, Noelle thought, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. His chest was bare, a pair of drawstring trousers riding low on his hips so she could see the hard ridge of bone and taut muscle. He looked, as always, mouth-dryingly gorgeous.

      ‘Sleep well?’ he asked, and she gave a little laugh.

      ‘I don’t think I slept much at all.’

      His mouth curved in a knowing smile. ‘Funny, I didn’t, either.’

      She pushed a tangle of hair away from her eyes, wanting to ask him to come back to bed, but the words caught in her throat. Last night had been wonderful, but she still felt strangely shy this morning. He came anyway, sitting on the edge as he glanced at her solemnly.

      ‘It’s Sunday.’

      ‘Is it?’ The weekend had flown by, and yet at the same time Noelle felt as if she’d been here for ever. A lifetime lived in the space of a few days.

      ‘You need to go back to Paris.’

      She stared at him, not wanting to grasp the implication. ‘I do?’

      ‘From the horrified look on your face, I take it you’ve come to appreciate desert living.’

      ‘I suppose I have.’

      ‘But needs must,’ he said, rising from the bed. ‘I’d hate to cost you your job.’

      Her job. Noelle sank back against the pillows. She hadn’t given Arche even a thought for at least twenty-four hours. After two days’ unexplained absence, she wasn’t even sure she’d have a job left. She could definitely forget about the promotion. Why didn’t she care? Because, she realised with a pang, she had never loved the job in the first place. She’d tried to and she’d poured her life in it, the new life she’d created post-Ammar that bore no resemblance to the person she’d been with him, the person she wanted to be now. Her true self. When I’m with him, she thought, I’m the woman I want to be.

      ‘I have some work to do in the Paris office anyway,’ Ammar said, distracting her as he reached for a T-shirt and slid it over his head. Noelle watched the sculpted muscles of his chest disappear beneath the white cotton with a flicker of regret. ‘We can fly out this afternoon.’

      ‘We’ll both go?’

      ‘That’s the idea.’

      It was a wonderful idea, Noelle thought. A normal and yet intoxicating idea—living in the same city, sharing simple pleasures. They’d go on dates. They’d watch films and eat take-away and sleep—what little sleep they might get—in the same bed.

      A few hours later, they took a helicopter to Marrakech, touching down at the airport only to board a private plane that would take them to Paris. Noelle settled into a sumptuous sofa of cream leather with a sigh of appreciation.

      ‘Do you always take a private jet, wherever you go?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes.’ Ammar sat across from her and opened his briefcase.

      ‘It must be an awful expense.’

      He took a sheaf of papers out. ‘It’s worth it.’

      There was something repressive about his manner, the way he wouldn’t look at her. Noelle felt a flicker of unease. She knew he didn’t like to talk about Tannous Enterprises. She didn’t really like to ask. But, sitting there across from him, she was conscious of how much she didn’t know. ‘You said you wanted to legitimise Tannous Enterprises,’ she said quietly. ‘What does that mean exactly?’

      ‘Exactly what it sounds like.’ Ammar was still scanning his papers, clearly unwilling to look her in the eye or continue this conversation.

      Noelle reached over and laid a hand across the papers he was reading so avidly, causing him to look up, startled. ‘Don’t,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t shut me out.’

      He stared at her for a long moment, and Noelle could not read his expression at all. She hated it when he blanked her out like this, almost as if he were blanking himself out. Not thinking anything, just as he’d told her before. ‘I’m not shutting you out,’ he said evenly. ‘But I’m not sure you want to know all the sordid details of my father’s business. He was corrupt, Noelle. A criminal.’ He spoke flatly, his jaw tight.

      Noelle swallowed. ‘But it’s your business now.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘Are they so very sordid?’ she asked, heard how small her voice sounded. Ammar uncapped a gold-plated pen and made a notation on one of the papers.

      ‘It’s simply not worth discussing. I intend to legalise every aspect of Tannous Enterprises and make restitution where it is necessary.’

      Doing what was right. ‘That sounds like a huge job.’

      ‘It is.’

      She felt a surge of admiration for what he was undertaking, what he wanted to do. Impulsively, she leaned over and placed her hand on his. His skin was warm, his muscles taut. ‘I’m proud of you, Ammar. Of what you’re doing.’

      He glanced at her properly, his amber eyes opaque and fathomless. A muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘Don’t speak too soon,’ he said, and removed his hand. ‘I haven’t done much of anything yet.’

      ‘But you will.’ She spoke with confidence, with love, and she knew Ammar heard it. He glanced at her again and she saw a hunger in his eyes, a need she felt bloom in herself. Suddenly she was breathless.

      Slowly he reached one hand out and laced his fingers with hers. Her heart began to pound as he drew her to him, up from her seat and across the aisle and then onto his lap, her legs splayed across his hips. She felt the hard ridge of his erection against her and a thrill ran through, like icy fire.

      He tangled his hands in her hair, drew her face to him for a kiss so deep and endless it felt as if he were plumbing the depths of her soul. She pressed against him, let out a shuddering breath as he pressed back, every point of contact aching with exquisite and unsated desire.

      He slid his hands under her top and nudged aside her bra, his palms cupping her breasts as he shifted to angle her more purposefully on top of him. Another thrill shot through her at the feeling of him underneath her, and she let out a shuddering breath. She would never get tired of this, never feel that she had enough of him.

      Ammar flipped open the top button of her skirt, the flat of his hand sliding along her skin. Noelle instinctively wriggled her hips to give him greater access. Yet, just as his fingers tugged beneath the lace of her underwear, the sound of a door opening, a throat clearing had them both freezing.