The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition by Katherine Garbera Read Free Book Online Page A

the article.
    “You haven’t read it yet?” she asked.
    “Not all of it.”
    “What does the headline say?”
    “‘Snagged. Elusive bachelor found in love nest.’”
    “Oh, my God. ”
    “If you’re going to pray, you should at least ask for something.”
    “Tristan, I’m going to ask for lightning to strike you.”
    “Not a wise course of action,” he said.
    “You don’t think so?” she asked, trying to keep the panic she felt rising inside her from her voice.
    He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her into his body. “I don’t. You need me, Sheri Donnelly, and I’m going to get you out of this mess.”
    This close to him, it was hard to keep the distance she’d been struggling to maintain since she came down for breakfast.
    “I can’t believe this,” she said.
    “What?”
    “I took a chance last night…Man, I knew that leaving the reception with you was a bad idea, but I was only thinking about what you might think when you saw me naked.”
    Tristan drew back and tipped her head up toward his. “What I might think when you were naked?”
    “Yeah, you know, stuff like, ‘she’s a lot flabbier than the women I’m used to….’”
    “ Ma petite, you were perfection in my arms last night.”
    “You don’t have to lay it on that thick, Tristan. I look in the mirror every day and what I see staring back at me isn’t perfection.”
    “Your mirror is not the best. Otherwise you’d never leave your flat in the clothes you wear.”
    “Um…are you trying to make me feel better?” she asked.
    He gave her a quick pat on the backside and stepped away. “I was, smart-ass.”
    “So how are we going to deal with this?”
    “ We are not. I am.”
    She shook her head. No way was she going to leave everything to Tristan. Thus far he hadn’t exactly been successful in getting the paparazzi off his own tail. And she wasn’t like him. She couldn’t afford a security detail, or a chauffeur. She took the subway to work and walked seven blocks from the station to her office.
    “Tristan—”
    “Enough. I said I will deal with it. Trust me.”

    Tristan wasn’t surprised by the flash of temper in Sheri’s eyes. But he was surprised that she backed down. She crossed her arms over her chest, and he saw tears gleaming in her pretty brown eyes.
    He was angry. At himself for not anticipating that photographers would be bold enough to take advantage of an intimate moment. At Sheri for looking up at him with wounded doe eyes that made him realize he had to fix this. She simply wasn’t as sophisticated as the heiresses and actresses he usually brought to his bed, and laughing off this kind of scandal was beyond her.
    And mostly he was mad at the tabloid that had decided to print this picture. He suspected it was because the publisher, Gabrielle Damienne, was an ex-lover of his and they hadn’t parted on the best of terms.
    “Sheri?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will you trust me?” he asked.
    Distantly he heard the doorbell ring, but knew the housekeeper would answer it. He had the feeling that anyone who came to the door today he wasn’t going to want to see.
    “I’m not sure.”
    Was her trust really important to him? She was more than a one-night stand, she was a woman he cared for, but he wasn’t going to love her. So was trust really that important?
    Yes, he thought. He wanted her to say she trusted him to handle this for her. He wanted to demand it. To make her admit that she would rely on him to handle this media mess.
    “You seemed sure last night.”
    She narrowed her eyes and then tipped her head to the side. “Last night was lust. Surely you knew that.”
    He felt the burn of her words and that sickly sweet tone she used. He knew he’d been rushing her out the door until he’d seen the paper. He hadn’t really cared if she’d picked up on that fact earlier. But now, hearing those words come from her lips…he realized he already cared more for Sheri than was prudent.
    She was dangerous