The Chatsfield Short Romances 1-5. Marguerite Kaye

the hardness she glimpsed in those depths.

      ‘I was in the French army no-one likes to mention. The Foreign Legion.’

      Nat sucked in a breath. The Legionnaires were legendary for their brutal training regime, their fearlessness and their incredible loyalty to each other. And their mystique that was riven with equal parts controversy and myth.

      ‘How did you end up there?’

      He took a sip of wine, for all the world a civilised man, but Nat could see the blunt edges not far beneath the surface.

      ‘I grew up in the banlieu, the suburbs of Paris. My father was Algerian, my mother French, there are six of us in my family, there wasn’t much time for looking out for us individually. I’d been dyslexic in school and was never diagnosed, so grew up being labelled stupid. I was running with a gang, up to no good. Petty crimes that were about to get much worse. I saw your father’s photos in a window of a gallery, and for the first time I felt a sense of purpose. I knew about the Legion…and so I went straight to the recruiting office in Paris and that was it, for ten years.’

      Nat reeled. This man wasn’t stupid. Not remotely.

      ‘Did you have another name, in the Legion?’

      Salim smiled and it knocked the breath out of her belly.

      ‘They called me Steven Seagal, after the actor, a play on my own name. And the ribbing I still get, especially now, is worse than any 30km forced run under the African midday sun that I ever endured.’

      Nat let out a laugh at his rueful admission. ‘And how did you go from that to this?’

      He toyed with his glass, his eyes hooded. ‘When I left I was spotted on a street one day, they were looking for models…’ he made a self-deprecating face, ‘Who looked like men. I couldn’t believe how easy the work was. It was a world away from where I’d come from, the other end of the spectrum. But perversely, I think its very silliness and superficiality helped me to readjust to living normally again.’

      He looked at her and shrugged minutely, ‘And the acting…I like it. I took another name, another persona, while I was in the Legion, so it’s not that hard to play someone else.’

      Nat absorbed this insight, she could empathise with that need to pretend to be someone else. She’d tried to be someone she wasn’t for her father’s memory. ‘Do you still see some of the men you served with?’

      Salim nodded and finished his wine. ‘One of my closest friends is from the family who own this hotel actually. Marco Rossi as he was in the Legion—Antonio Chatsfield as he is really. We were in the parachute regiment together. I’m in London to promote the movie, but also because I’m going to invest in his security business and offer my expertise. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss it.’

      His mouth tipped up on one side, ‘Let’s just say that movies and modeling are easy, fun, but not exactly…fulfilling.’

      Nat was impressed. The parachute regiment of the Legion was one of the most elite forces of trained soldiers in the world. And then she thought of what he’d just said and felt a little breathless. ‘What kind of fulfilment are you looking for?’

      Salim leaned forward, eyes glinting. ‘Right now?’

      Nat nodded.

      ‘Right now I’d really like to take you dancing.’

      Visions of a dance-floor and feeling his body pressed against hers sprang into Nat’s over-heated brain. She wanted to go dancing with this beautiful man, in this city, tonight. And forget about whatever tomorrow might bring. If her father’s legacy had taught her anything it was that life was short and you had to seize it when you could.

      Feeling giddy with lust, desire and a general intoxication with this extraordinary man, she stood up from her seat, feeling the movement of her dress against hot skin, making her nipples peak against the material. She saw his eyes drop there and almost groaned out loud.

      Softly, huskily she said, ‘What are you waiting for then?’

      * * *

      The throbbing insistent beat of the music seemed to have merged with the beat of Salim’s pulse. He cut a swathe through the crowd, caught some double-takes, lustful glances, but was only aware of Nat’s small hand in his as he guided her through the club to the dance-floor.

      Never had he been so intensely aware of a woman. All through dinner, he’d noticed every tiny movement she’d made—twirling her hair around a finger; self-consciously tugging at her ear lobe; biting her lip; fingers cupping the stem of her glass; which had automatically made him imagine how it might feel to have them touch him like that, feathering up and down the aching straining erection he’d battled to contain. It had been a delicious torture.

      Just when they got to the heaving dance-floor, the music changed to a slow sexy beat. Salim turned and looked at Nat for an infinitesimal moment. Golden green eyes locked onto black, and for the first time Salim felt some of her lightness reach out to touch the depths of his darkness, transforming it into something lighter. Impossibly.

      It was too loud to speak. But they didn’t need words. He felt as if he’d known her for millenia. He tugged her into him, the crush of the other bodies making it easy to tug her even closer. She came willingly, her soft curves melting against him like parts of a jigsaw sliding into place. It sent his head into a spin. Was he losing it? Finally? The control he’d wielded over his tangled tortured past loosening, so the demons finally reach out to claim him?

      But no. As he folded Nat into his arms and felt hers reach around his neck, bringing her even closer, Salim knew this was different. This felt like he was moving away from that darkness.

      And then he stopped thinking. Because he couldn’t anymore. Because all he could feel was the thrust of Nat’s soft full breasts against his chest, and her belly pressing against his arousal, each movement making it harder, ache a little more.

      He slid one hand down over the slippery silk of her dress and cupped her bottom, its firm lushness making him groan. She pulled her head back and looked up at him and Salim drowned in her beauty.

      His mouth was on hers, crushing her sweet softness, feeling the touch of her tongue against his. And he knew that if he didn’t get them out of there right now, he’d be stripping her bare and pushing her against the nearest hard surface before anyone could stop him.

      He drew back even though every cell in his body protested. It took a long moment for her eyes to open and when they did they were darkened with the same need he felt.

      He muttered roughly with uncharacteristic inarticulateness, ‘I want you.’

      For a moment he tensed, thinking she might say no. He was already howling inwardly in rejection of that. But then she just said, ‘yes,’ and Salim clung onto the shreds of whatever control he had left to take her hand and lead her off the dance floor.

      * * *

      The chauffeured car ride back to the hotel was thick with sexual tension. Nat was still jittery after Salim had pulled her close as soon as they were in the back and he’d said, ‘The privacy window stays down. If it goes up then I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you, here and now. Unless you want that.’

      Nat had looked at him in the gloom in the back of the car and had wanted nothing more than to say yes and have him pull her onto his lap, so this unbearable ache might be assuaged.

      But the strength and depth of her desire scared her. So she’d shaken her head. And now Salim was gripping her hand and looking forward, his jaw tight, every torturous second that passed making her regret her decision. Making her wish she was brave enough to straddle him, take him inside her.

      But then the gleaming golden lights of the hotel came into view and Nat almost let out a sob of relief. When the car pulled up, Salim was out of the door before the driver could get out, and he reached in for Nat, practically lifting her out.

      She could