Once in Paris by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

learned it from the ground up, the hard way. Grandfather never pampered me, but he loved me. He was Greek, very old-world even after becoming a naturalized American citizen.” He chuckled at the memory of the gruff old man. “I adored him, rude manners and all.”
    â€œBut your last name doesn’t sound Greek,” she said.
    â€œIt was Pevros, before he changed it to Hutton, after a wealthy family he’d read about in the States,” he replied. “He wanted to be American all the way. I still have French citizenship, but I could qualify as an American citizen, having spent half my life in New England.”
    â€œYou said your grandfather had a small construction company,” she murmured. “But yours is enormous and international.”
    His broad shoulders rose and fell. “I had a sort of sixth sense about mergers that paid off big. Once I got the hang of it, there was no stopping me. I sold the oil tankers and parlayed the proceeds into an enterprise that became the core company of an empire.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Margo’s father had a chain of building supply companies in Europe,” he recalled. “The merger led to a marriage and ten of the happiest years of my life.” His face seemed to harden to stone. “I thought she was immortal.”
    Impulsively, she laid her hand over his big one on the table. “I still miss my dad,” she said softly. “I can only imagine how it must be for you.”
    His hand stiffened. Then it relaxed and turned, enveloping hers in its warm, strong grasp. “That empathy of yours saved me,” he said, searching her eyes quietly. “If you hadn’t taken me home to my hotel that night in Paris, I really don’t know where I would have ended up.”
    â€œI do,” she murmured dryly. “You’d haveended up with that industrial-strength blonde, being rolled for your wallet!”
    He chuckled. “I probably would have. I was too drunk to care what happened to me.” His eyes softened. “I’m glad you were there.”
    Her fingers curled trustingly into his. “I’m glad I was there, too.”
    His eyes grew slowly darker as they stared intently into hers. His thumb began a lazy stroking motion against her palm. She felt the sensation all through her body, as if he was touching her bare skin instead of just her hand.
    He saw the reaction and deliberately enlarged the area of her palm that he was stroking. He hadn’t wanted women in his life since Margo’s death, and he certainly shouldn’t be encouraging this green little innocent. But she made him feel kingly when she looked at him with those soft, drowning eyes, when she trembled from the merest touch of his hand. Any man could be forgiven for being tempted.
    Her breath was choking her. She looked at him with an ache that made her sick all over. “I don’t suppose you’d like to stop that?” she asked unsteadily.
    â€œWhy?” he asked softly.
    â€œBecause I’m getting this awful ache in aplace I can’t tell you about,” she whispered tightly.
    His hand tightened around her soft fingers. He wasn’t thinking about right and wrong anymore. He had an ache of his own, and he needed something to numb it before it doubled him over.
    â€œSuppose I told you that I have a similar ache?” he asked huskily, holding her gaze with steady, hot black eyes.
    â€œIn a…similar place?” she asked outrageously.
    â€œTell me where yours is,” he murmured wickedly.
    â€œJust south of my navel,” she said bluntly, and her mouth felt bone dry. “And my breasts hurt,” she added huskily.
    His eyes fell to them with keen, sharp interest and he saw the peaked nipples under her thin top. His intake of breath was audible.
    â€œNobody ever looked at me there, or touched me there,” she whispered when she saw where his eyes were riveted.