Carnal in Cannes by Jianne Carlo Read Free Book Online Page A

eat?”
    St. Pete collapsed like an overinflated helium balloon hit by a thirty-man buckshot squad. Harry couldn"t stop the bitter twist of his lips.
    Forni-fucking-cation.
    How often had Daddy gone on and on about forni-fucking-cation?
    Harry tipped his hat down over his forehead, effectively shadowing his features until he could force his clenched jaw and flattened mouth to relax.
    “ Mon Dieu . Pardon, pardon, pardon, Monsieur, I have offended you.”
    She fisted her hands over her mouth, but Harry heard the half-hiccupped sob she tried to stifle. He shuddered, anticipating a flood of waterworks and hysterics.
    Rattlesnake piss. Time for plan B.
    Harry scraped his chair back and almost vaulted over the table. Her eyes widened, the white corneas making her pupils and irises Bambi-huge. He didn"t have time for reassurances and had to get her out of there faster than Speedy Gonzales. He scooped her into his arms and jog-walked to the terrace doors, surprised she weighed so little for such a tall woman. Thank the almighty she didn"t struggle, because her long limbs would have loosened his hold on her when he fumbled with the lock on the French doors.
    As soon as he stepped onto the stone balcony, he set her down and turned to close the door. Mediterranean brine bore by an icy mistral gust, one of the famous winds of France"s Provence region, sailed across the wide patio. Harry swung around to face Martine and found her hugging herself, her lips pursed, staring unblinkingly at his throat.
    She froze like a desert rat mesmerized by the hiss of a rattler about to strike.
    She swallowed, the movement imperceptible to those not trained as an interrogator in Afghanistan to pick up subtle distress cues. The muscles in her slender neck worked. She showed no other sign of nervousness, poignant features impassive, fathomless eyes unreadable, but her toes had turned inward, a sure sign of pure terror.
    Until the war he"d never known fear smelled the same from race to race, from sex to sex, from adult to child. And he could scent the dread oozing from the slight sheen of perspiration barely visible above the corners of her mouth. He had the urge to stroke her spine, to soothe the fear emanating from her still form.

    Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

    27

    She swallowed again, and the movement did him in.
    “Ah shucks, sugar,” he murmured and tugged her tight against his chest.
    She went rigid, knees locked, vertebrae aligning in a jerk so her stomach sucked away from him.
    “Listen to me carefully,” he whispered, all the while scanning the ivory balustrades for any hint of irregular dark circles, any sign of the hidden surveillance his gut told him remained. No matter what the SEALs had said, Harry knew they"d been bugged and were being watched. “We"re getting out of here.”
    Her control had been absolute until that moment; his stroking palms detected the barest hint of a quiver in her deltoids. “Monsieur…the contract? You are sending me away?”
    “Too late for that. You and I are stuck with each other for the duration.”
    Her rigid back relaxed a tad, and her soft exhale feathered the chest hair bared by his robe. St. Pete"s crest grew slick.
    Down, boy, Harry ordered, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his brain sifting various methods of calming her.
    “Just follow my lead, but no talking while we"re inside, okay?”
    She nodded, and a stray curl tickled his collarbone. St. Pete twitched.
    Setting her at arm"s length, Harry tipped her chin with a finger and asked,
    “Ready?”
    Again, a slight nod. She met his gaze directly, and the fierce pride she"d exhibited before returned with a vengeance. “Yes, Mon—” She shook her head, then continued, “Yes, Harrison.”
    He had no siblings, had never felt pride for another human being in memory aside from his mama, but damn he liked her style. Reluctantly Harry broke contact with her supple flesh, and he reached into the pocket of his robe for his iPhone.
    Holding one