"I think we're on time, so another hour, hour-and-a-half at the very most. The flight attendants will be serving breakfast shortly."

"And then?"

"If you mean after we land, I'm afraid duty calls. I have a meeting to attend-one I cannot get out of. But-"

Trish removed her hand and zipped up his pants. She'd known from the instant the guy started coming on to her that this was an in-flight flirtation and nothing more. Even so, she'd hoped… For what exactly she wasn't sure, and the duty calls excuse made her feel a little disappointed and let down. A lot disappointed, if she was honest, but it served her right for falling for a handsome face and a sexy smile on the basis of absolutely nothing at all. At least he hadn't tried to make a date he had no intention of keeping. "That's okay. I understand. We've only just met, so I don't expect you to rearrange your life to please me. Now, if you'll excuse me a minute…" She attempted to get out of her seat with the intention of going to the washroom, but he held her down.

"No, chérie, you don't understand. I was in Toronto to negotiate the purchase of a business my company is interested in acquiring. Now, I have to report back to my board of directors so they can make their final decision."

Trish knew an excuse when she heard one, so it wasn't necessary to keep repeating it over and over, but she managed a weak smile anyway. "Hey, that's fine-business before pleasure and all that other good stuff. No problem. I really do understand."

Again, Trish tried to leave her seat, but again he held her down. "Will you please shut up and listen to me?"

Trish bared her teeth. "Sure. Like I have a choice?"

"I'm sorry." He smiled and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, sending her desire rocketing back up into the danger zone. "I want you. No question. And I know you want me. But I have to drop by my office first. My driver will be waiting when we deplane, so, provided you're agreeable, naturally, I can drop you off and leave you to get unpacked. Then, in about an hour, two at the most, I'll come back and take you somewhere for lunch."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. And I'm not in the habit of saying things I don't mean."

She nipped his thumb with her teeth and then she grinned and pushed his hand away. "Just lunch?"

"A nice relaxing lunch, a bottle of wine and…" His hand settled over her mound. It felt hot and heavy and unbelievably erotic.

"And then what?"

"I thought we might go to my apartment."

"To look at your etchings?" she teased.

"Sorry, no etchings. But I do have some very nice watercolors."

"Anything else I might like to see?"

"A king-sized bed with black silk sheets."

She chuckled. "Really? Sounds totally decadent. And what else do you have there?"

"My good friend and partner, Carlos."

"Carlos?" Meaning life partner or business partner? Trish felt a sudden rush of something that wasn't quite excitement and wasn't quite fear. "And what does Carlos do?"

"He likes to watch. And, sometimes, he also likes to join in."

Trish frowned and pulled back a little, trying to decide if he was serious or not. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"We both like to watch and be watched. And we also like to share. If you don't want to, I can ask Carlos to leave us alone for a while. Or we can forget about it altogether. The choice is entirely yours."

Trish chewed on her thumb and tried to think. At least he was up front about what he was into, rather than springing this other guy on her at the crucial moment and putting her in the awkward position of feeling she had to do something she might prefer not to. "What about you? Are you in to this watching thing, too?"

"Have you never watched?"

Trish had seen late night movies and porn videos with her friends and a few of them had been somewhat of a turn-on. But the thought of watching two people make love up close and personal was a little scary and, she suspected, a whole lot more arousing than watching it on film where the moves were always formula and the women's groaning sounded so phony. "No."

"Would you like to?"

She averted her gaze. "I'm not sure." To her surprise, just talking about it was turning her on, and making her more than a little curious as to what it would be like. "I've never done anything like that. I've never engaged in group sex, or orgies, or whatever they're called."

"There would only be the three of us."

Which was one whole person more than what Trish was used to. "And what if I say yes, but then decide it's not for me and I want to leave?"

"Then you would be free to do so. What we do we find pleasurable. But if it makes you uncomfortable…"

The cabin lights came on and the attendants started down the aisles with the breakfast trays. Trish straightened her clothing and folded up the blanket. When she received her tray, she drank the juice and the coffee and ate most of the bread roll, all the while thinking what to do. She badly wanted to say yes, but what if she chickened out at the last moment? She'd never been one to strut her stuff in any way. And, despite her uncharacteristically bold behavior of a moment ago, even taking her clothes off in front of a guy wasn't something she'd ever felt overly comfortable doing. But what if she got past all that and then froze? He'd take her for a complete idiot.

At least he wasn't pressing her for an answer. What little conversation he made while they had breakfast was mostly about the food they were eating and the weather he hoped they'd have when they reached Paris.

The attendants came back through the cabin, collecting the trays and putting the trash into large plastic bags, but still Trish wavered. She didn't want to say no, but she didn't quite have the courage to say yes. In the meantime, the ball was in her court, and she didn't have a clue what to do with it.

Completely preoccupied, she wasn't aware the plane had started its descent into Charles de Gaulle Airport until she heard the sound of the wheels dropping and locking into place, and realized she had her neighbor's fingers in a death grip. The wheels of the plane touched the ground and as the pilot applied the brakes she quickly released his hand.

"I hope I didn't hurt you," she said, feeling a little embarrassed. "As you've probably guessed, I'm not too crazy about the landing either."

He smiled and recaptured her hand. "You get this horrible image of the plane diving straight down and, no matter what the pilot does, he can't level off?"

Trish chuckled. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Well, here we are safe and sound. And now your vacation begins, yes?"

They were through passport control in a matter of minutes, and after collecting their luggage from the carousel and going through Customs, he steered her out through the main exit.

"Ah, there's Georges," he said, gesturing toward a uniformed chauffeur standing beside a very shiny and very expensive looking car. "What's the address where you will be staying?"

Trish pulled a card from her purse. "Here. It's on the Boulevard St. Germain. Jenny, she's my friend, said it's not far from the Boulevard St. Michel and all the famous Left Bank cafés."

The scenery between the airport and Paris itself was flat, industrialized and not very interesting. But just knowing she was about to see and experience things she'd previously only read about or seen on TV had Trish almost breathless with anticipation.

"You see the Eiffel Tower over there?" her companion said, pointing to the far distance.

'Where's Sacré-Coeur?"

"In Montmartre."

"And Notre Dame?"

"Not far from where you'll be staying." He laughed. "There is so much to see here in Paris, I hope you'll allow me to show you at least a few of our attractions."