Romancing my Boss

Chapter 23

Seated at the bar with Jean-Pierre, that ridiculously suave Frenchman proved to be an effortlessly charming companion once again. He continued to regale me with stories of his globetrotting business dealings in that melodious baritone, each accented word practically dripping with European sophistication.

As the evening wore on, I noticed Max's smoldering gaze finding me more and more from across the ballroom. Oh-oh, looks like someone was getting a little territorial! Each time our eyes met, that delicious frisson of tension shot straight to my loins, making my skin practically sizzle with anticipation.

Part of me felt a delicious rush of feminine power commanding this level of rapt interest from such an Adonis of virile masculinity. Though the other part - well, that part was absolutely giddy at the thought of those emerald eyes finally drinking in the full provocative sight I was orchestrating.

The game was undeniably afoot now. The slinky dress, the dashing Jean-Pierre as my tantalizing prop, every heated look and lingering caress between us - it was all rapidly turning Manhattan's most infamous Bachellor and CEO into a bubbling cauldron of male aggression and primal want.

Jean-Pierre was only too happy to play along, seemingly delighting in each poorly concealed flash of Max's territorial nature whenever he leaned in too close or allowed his hand to brazenly skim my bare back. I'd shoot my boss a secret, taunting look in those moments, silently daring him to come unraveled at the sight.

At one point, Jean-Pierre rumbled a silky aside. "You're playing a very dangerous game this evening, ma chérie." His hand anchored at the small of my back in clear possession.

I widened my eyes in mock innocence. "Am I?" I breathed, allowing my fingertips to trail along the carved musculature of his forearm.

His eyes darkened with naked appreciation, making me want to fan myself. "Enough to try even this debauched Frenchman's restraint, I'll admit...and it seems Monsieur Pemberton is under your spell too, ma belle" His suggestive look in Max's direction left no doubt, he was aware of my ploy, he saw it through and through.

"Well, what can I say. You caught me, red handed." I replied, mouth curving into a pleased smile, tossing the last of my drink. "That's precisely the idea, Monsieur Duvall."

Jean-Pierre threw his head back with a rich peal of laughter, clearly delighted by my brazen admission. "Ah, I see I've stumbled into something utterly delicious here." He eyed me speculatively. "For a moment, I'd dared hope, ma belle."

I let out a resigned sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

"Oui." A succinct nod. "But no worries, Mademoiselle. I'll play along, tout au nom de l'amour - in the name of love, as you would say." His roguish grin gave me a new appreciation for Jean-Pierre. This complete stranger had read my entire situation without many details, seeing what Max vehemently denied on a daily basis.

Jean-Pierre's eyes danced with mischief. "Tell me, ma chérie...what shall be my reward for these sultry services? After all, Maximilian will be most displeased with our newfound...friendship."

I felt a shiver of pure sin tingle along my nerves at the pure rogue promise in his tone. Leaning in until my breath fanned teasingly against his lips, I let the words tumble out. "Let's just say...I'm very good at expressing my gratitude."

Jean-Pierre made a low, strained sound of masculine restraint, the muscles going taut along his chiseled jaw as his eyes burned into mine. "Mer-veilleux...you diabolique temptress! I almost feel bad for Maximilian - you're a devious one!"

Pulling back with a secretive smile, I turned my attention to where Max was watching our heated tableau with barely repressed intensity. He looked utterly undone - molten desire and corded tension warring across those chiseled features, threatening to shatter his vaunted control into a thousand exquisite pieces.