An Affair to Remember.

He’d picked that movie on purpose. He was sending her a message about the bet. The man was too cocky, but for some reason it made her want to laugh.

The idea of having an affair with him, well, she admitted it would be memorable. The certainty of it made her tremble. As much as she wanted to believe she was going to win this wager, she knew it was going to get harder and harder to fight her fascination and attraction to him. Could she sleep with him and not let her heart get involved? That was what worried her more than any bet. A little shiver rippled through her.

“Cold?” His voice was low, a baritone rumble that awakened strange sensations in her body that she didn’t want to feel, not with him.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, curling her arms against her chest and rubbing her cheek against the pillow. It felt good to lay here. She could almost fall asleep like this. Because Wes was only six inches away, and she was attuned to his every move.

He remained uncommonly still, as though trying not to frighten her, but it still rattled her to be that close. That predatory stillness she’d seen so often in nature, like a hawk perched on a fence post, watching the grass below, holding very still as a field mouse made the foolish mistake of trusting that its silence and stillness meant it was safe.

*  *  *

Wes held his breath for several long seconds as he watched Callie drift to sleep. The movie continued to play, and he smiled at the little joke. Perhaps it was a tad dramatic, but he knew she’d gotten the message. They were going to be together and it would be an affair to remember for both of them.

His blood had heated when she’d taken the pillow from him and cuddled down on the seats as he’d suggested. It pleased him that she’d obeyed his wishes. He had no desire to break her, but to teach her that he could lead her, and she would enjoy it. He did not want to control every facet of her life. His goal lay only in control of her in bed, but in order for her to trust him there, she would need to learn to trust him outside the bedroom first.

His body tensed as Callie shifted, nuzzling the pillow and then exhaled a soft little sigh. Lust exploded through him like a flash bang. He loved the sound of that sigh, craved to hear it again and again as he possessed her and gave her such pleasure she thought she might die.

Wes forced a breath out and checked his watch, counting the seconds and minutes before he deemed it was safe to move. He slid a hand beneath her pillow and carefully eased the armrest down so that he could settle her pillow in his lap, buying her a few more inches to stretch out. And he got what he wanted. Her. Closer. His hand hovered about the tumbling waves of honey-gold locks, his skin tingling with the need to touch.

Just one little touch, he promised.

Her hair felt even softer than it looked and he marveled at the way it slid like silk beneath his hand. He stroked her hair. The urge to connect to her, even in such a small way, was a bone-deep need he couldn’t ignore. Thirty days of taking it slow to win her over was going to be hell on his control. Her claiming would not be easy, but then again, anything worth having was never easy to obtain.

He’d accomplished much more than he thought he’d be able to in so short a time. Of course, there was the knowledge that once they got off the plane things could revert back to how they’d been a few days ago, and she would be thinking of his friend Fenn with those lovely eyes full of tears. She had put that man on a pedestal, and it infuriated Wes. He was friends with Fenn, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry at his own jealous response to the way Callie thought of him with hurt and longing. The problem was she was young and didn’t know her own heart or how to love and she was under the illusion that she loved Fenn.

I’ll change her mind and enlighten her to everything she’s been missing out on while she moons over that bull rider.

Wes threaded his fingers through Callie’s hair, the gentle strokes soothing more to him than to her. He let out a soft sigh of his own. For the moment he was in control. She was close and he was content. He watched the movie a few more minutes, not quite paying attention before he leaned back against the headrest. His eyelids fell shut, and he found that for the first time in years he could relax. So long as he touched Callie, the restless beast inside him ceased to prowl.

*  *  *

One day later she was exiting the Charles de Gaulle airport, one duffel bag in tow, following Wes through the maze of travelers. At least a dozen languages could be heard within earshot and the signs were all in French. She’d taken one year of French and now, being in France, she couldn’t remember a single word. Wes reached out and grasped her hand, keeping her close. She clung to him, relieved by the connection. He was the only person she knew here, the only thing familiar, and given that he was still mostly a mystery, that wasn’t comforting.

People bumped into them and she kept muttering apologies. When they reached the outside of the airport, drivers were waiting for guests, little dry-erase boards in their hands with names scrawled on them. Wes bypassed all of them and met a man standing at the back, who didn’t have a sign. He grinned as Wes shook his hand.

“Monsieur Wes, I’m glad to have you back so soon.” The driver, a man in his early forties, and fairly attractive, shot a glance at her and then spoke to Wes. “Qui est la femme? Elle est très jolie, mais non?”

Wes smiled at the man and turned to Callie. “This is Monsieur Michel Lavoie. Michel, this is Callie Taylor.”

Michel’s brown eyes twinkled and he bent over her offered hand, kissing the backs of her knuckles.

“Enchanté, mademoiselle.”

Callie blushed and nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Michel straightened and took the bag from her hands. “This way, mademoiselle. The car is waiting.”

She and Wes followed Michel to the temporary parking area outside of the airport where private taxis waited. Michel led them to a black Porsche SUV and quickly loaded their luggage into the back. Callie was too distracted to notice much about the car as she climbed into the backseat with Wes. The distant city skyline of Paris held her captivated. The thin needlepoint of the Eiffel Tower was beautiful and she blinked several times, expecting it to vanish.

“We’re really here,” she exclaimed in wonder.

Wes brushed a lock of her hair back from her face. “Yes, we are.” The smile on his lips was indulgent and sweet, making her insides warm.

“Ahh, the mademoiselle, it’s her first time in Paris?” Michel’s eyes met hers through the rearview mirror, his gaze mischievous.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Then bienvenue, Mademoiselle Callie.” He pronounced her name “cahl-ee” and it made her grin.

“Merci.” She remembered that much from her year of French. Michel laughed merrily and she couldn’t help but laugh, too.

The traffic was overwhelming, along with the sights and sounds. Callie nearly had her nose pressed to the glass of her window as Michel took them over a bridge and into the right bank of the Seine. Large riverboats with multiple decks cruised the scenic river, tourists’ cameras snapping wildly at the views around them. Callie sighed. She had no camera or even a cell phone with a camera and wouldn’t be able to get any snapshots. She and her father hadn’t been able to afford anything but the landline.

Wes’s hand settled on her arm, and she turned back to him. “Here, this is for you. It has an international plan with unlimited minutes. I gave your father one before I left. You can call him whenever you like.” He offered a slim shiny smartphone, the latest and most expensive model on the market. Her eyes widened and she hesitated. Wes pressed it into her hands.