Romain watched from behind the monitor. A red mist had descended on his vision as he had watched Sorcha laughing and joking with Zane. And now she was kissing him. Did she have to look so good in his arms? Did he have to grab her so close? The thought of Zane feeling her curves pressed up against him had Romain ready to call out, the job forgotten, the reason they were even there forgotten. But just then Simon did it for him and told them to cut. Romain trembled slightly. Still out of control for this woman, despite his best efforts.

They'd been in Paris for almost four days. They were running behind schedule because of a problem with some of the clothes not being available, and then a problem with the specialised camera that Simon was using. But this was it-the last shot.

When they finally agreed they were happy with everything, they called a wrap and released all the extras. Everyone started packing up, and Sorcha disappeared to her dressing room in a nearby hotel with Zane and the stylist.

She and Zane had done a sequence of shots earlier, with a one-year-old baby girl and a five-year-old boy. It had affected Sorcha far more deeply than she would have thought, bringing up a hitherto non-existent biological clock, and she'd found herself very studiously avoiding Romain's laser-like gaze. Kate was the one who'd always wanted a family, not her. What was wrong with her?

'Are you staying around for the party tomorrow night, Sorch?'

She looked at Val, arching her brow. Her whole body ached with tiredness. And ached with the knowledge that Romain had obviously decided he'd had enough of their...whatever it was. He hadn't made contact once since arriving in Paris. She was already a casualty.

'They're throwing a wrap party to say thanks, and they're inviting some bigwigs to see a very rough cut of what we've shot.'

Sorcha shook her head. She couldn't imagine anything worse than hanging around for longer than absolutely necessary. And she had to get home for the opening of the outreach centre in two weeks' time.

'No...I'm going to try and get a flight home in the morning.'

'So things didn't-?'

She halted Val's words with a quick, curt, 'No.'

The last thing she wanted too was to see an I-told-you-so look on anyone's face.

When Sorcha got back to the hotel a little later she was so tired all she wanted to do was order Room Service and crawl into bed. She had a shower and felt a little better, putting on a soft voluminous robe and wrapping her hair in a towel. When the knock came, she went and answered, a.s.suming it to be the food she had ordered.

The breath whooshed from her body when she saw Romain on the other side, one arm leaning on the doorjamb, the other stuck in his jeans pocket.

She went to slam the door on a reflex, but Romain stuck his foot in the way.

'Excuse me,' she said as coldly as she could, her insides a ma.s.s of quivering nerve-ends. 'I'm expecting Room Service and then I'm going to bed. So if you wouldn't mind moving your foot...'

'Of course.' He obliged happily, but instead of moving it and stepping away from the door, he moved it and stepped inside.

Sorcha gaped at his audacity and crossed her arms over her chest, glad of the huge robe which concealed how her body was responding.

'I meant for you to leave.'

He leant against the back of the door and his eyes raked her up and down. 'I've missed you, Sorcha...'

Sorcha snorted, and words trembled on her lips, her mind swirling with confusion. Even though she was doing her best to act cool and insouciant, to push him away, she was hurting badly-and that largely had to do with something someone had left out for her tin the dressing room. It rose up and she spoke without thinking.

'Could've fooled me. We've been in Paris for four days now. If you've missed me so much, maybe you should have taken me out to dinner last night instead of Solange Colbert.'

Romain tensed. 'How did you hear about that?'

Sorcha cursed her runaway mouth. Would she never learn? And she cursed whoever it was again for leaving that paper just where she'd see it, with all the subtlety of a brick. And then she felt too angry to care.

'Romain, please don't insult my intelligence; she's one of France's most famous models. It's all over the French press today. Very cosy pictures.'

'My relations.h.i.+p with her is none of your business.'

'Well, evidently,' Sorcha spat out.

He advanced towards her with silky deadliness. Sorcha backed away. 'Don't come near me.'

'Why?' he taunted. 'Because you can't trust yourself?'

'Don't be ridiculous. I trust myself fine. I'm just not interested in another woman's cast-offs.'

'And if I told you nothing happened?'

'I wouldn't believe you.'

He shrugged, still advancing, 'Well, then, I'm afraid you're just going to have to believe what you want.'

Sorcha's knees. .h.i.t the back of the bed and she staggered slightly.

'Get away from me.' But her voice was breathier this time. He filled her vision, her senses, her mind-and, G.o.d help her, she wanted him to fill her body.

'I haven't seen you since we got to Paris because I've been caught up in unavoidable work meetings...and in wrapping up this job.'

A voice mocked him. Liar...you tried to stay away and it didn't work...

Sorcha tilted her small chin defiantly. 'You don't have to explain yourself to me. I don't care.'

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'Then Solange called me yesterday and asked me out. Asked me out. And I went. Do you know why?'

Sorcha shrugged. She couldn't take her eyes off his. He was so close now that she could touch him if she wanted to, and her hands itched.

He sounded almost angry, and the intensity of his tone was doing something intense to Sorcha's insides.

'Because you are everywhere I look. You're in my head, my blood, and it's like a fever. I've never felt this way about anyone and I don't like it.'

'Well, I'm...sorry.'

And then something elemental moved through Sorcha, and she stepped forward so her nose was within centimetres of Romain's chest.

She poked him with a finger and he swayed back slightly. 'Actually, do you know what? I'm not sorry. And do you know why? Because I never asked for this. From the word go I told you I didn't want to do this job, but you insisted because you always get your own way. I never asked to be attracted to you. I never asked for you to take me to bed. I never asked to spill my guts. Well, I've had enough, Mr High and Mighty-Mr Confused who doesn't know what he wants-'

'What did you say?' he asked incredulously.

Sorcha was past caring-past being really aware of what she was saying. Her blood was on fire and she was afraid that if she didn't keep talking she'd jump on Romain and beg him to take her right there and then, standing up against a wall.

He stopped backing away and Sorcha looked up, at a loss for words for a second. The air sizzled around them. And then, with a sudden swift movement, Romain had pulled open and yanked down the top of her robe, so she was bared to him from the waist up. Sorcha gasped in shock and outrage, but just as swiftly Romain grabbed her close, taking both of her hands with one of his and anchoring them behind her back.

She struggled fruitlessly, about as effective as a fly on its back, and any more gasps or words of outrage were silenced as his mouth came down on hers and a violent explosion of need erupted in her belly and between her legs.

He lifted his head for a brief moment and said, 'You're wrong. I know exactly what I want, and it's right here in my arms. Et maintenant, je n'en peux plus...'

Sorcha opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped any words with his own mouth again. She had a moment of wanting to struggle, but then she became aware of how her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were crushed against his chest, the friction of his s.h.i.+rt making her nipples taut and tight with need. The towel had slid off her head and her hair was wet against her back, where his hand was threading through it to the back of her head, urging her closer, angling it for his benefit. Any thought of struggle fled. Instead she wanted to feel him, flesh to flesh. She struggled to get her hands free but he was so strong, so ruthless. His other hand moved down her back, skimming under the robe, loosening it even further until it hung treacherously on her hips. And then with a brief flick of his fingers it fell to the floor completely, and she was naked in his arms, captive to his onslaught.

His hand urged her against him, and she could feel the heated evidence of his desire through the fabric of his jeans. The friction against her own deeply sensitised body was making her tremble. And then his hand moved up over her waist and higher, around the front, over her belly to the swell of one breast. He still hadn't released her mouth, his tongue and teeth nipping, tracing her full lower lip. Sorcha was dizzy with needs that clamoured through her blood and body like waves pounding against a sh.o.r.e.

When his hand closed around that breast, and his mouth finally left hers to make a sensual pa.s.sage ever downwards, her legs couldn't hold her up any more. She would have sunk to the floor if not for Romain's arm supporting her. His mouth closed over the tight, turgid peak with an almost savage intensity, and Sorcha couldn't stop herself from crying out. She ached with the need to touch and caress. Her hands being imprisoned was too much of a torture.

'Please...Romain...please...' she begged brokenly, hating the weakness in her voice.

'Please, what?'

'Please...let me go...'

'Never.'

His eyes glittered with glowing silver flames. He did finally release her hands, but only briefly, to carry her over to the bed. He laid her down, stripping off his clothes with indecent haste, and she didn't have time to formulate a word or a thought. He stood before her, a tall, lean bronzed specimen of thrusting male potency. He reached for something in his jeans pocket. Protection. He smoothed it on. Even that reminder couldn't cool her blood. Watching him stroke it on made her even hotter.

All she could think was for this moment he was hers. She opened her arms to him and he fell on her. They kissed and touched and stroked and smoothed and writhed. Their bodies were slick with sweat. Breath intermingling, short and rapid.

And then he was there, thrusting more deeply than he had done before. Sorcha's whole body arched up to his and her legs wrapped around his waist, taking him even deeper into a spiral of ecstasy too urgent and immediate to question. Driven by a force he'd never encountered before, Romain looked down into Sorcha's clear blue gaze, saw how her cheeks were hectic with colour, how she bit her lip to keep her moans back. He kissed her mouth to stop her biting it, unaware of the tender nature of his gesture.

And then he felt her bite his shoulder in direct response to the way her body was starting to contract around him-so powerfully that he could feel every spasm as it clenched around his shaft, urging him on to a deeper and more intense o.r.g.a.s.m than he'd ever experienced. When it came, he actually blacked out for a second, and then the world came into focus again, his body still pulsing, still releasing.

After a long moment he pulled free and pulled Sorcha close into his chest, for that was the only thing he was capable of doing. And he knew in that moment that everything he'd thought or believed before had gone out of the window. But he was in no state to try and rationalise what that meant right now...

'I want to go home to Dublin, Romain. I have things to do there.'

Sorcha looked out of the window to the busy Paris street outside. Her whole body seemed to be one big, aching ma.s.s of fizzing nerve-ends. They'd made love all the previous evening and into the night. When she had commented on how Room Service had never arrived, Romain had informed her that he had asked that they were not to be disturbed. So then they had ordered Room Service again. And a bottle of wine.

As if too much personal history had been shared, they had been careful not to stray into those waters. They had spoken of general things, drunk the wine and eaten. And then afterwards they had made love again, long and languorously, until the dawn light had tinged the sky outside with pink.

He was dressing behind her. She could hear him pull up jeans, close the b.u.t.ton, pull on his s.h.i.+rt...She closed her eyes and swallowed. Her body was reacting to just hearing him. G.o.d, she didn't even have to see him to want him. Her heart ached so much that it was like a physical pain.

The tenor of their relations.h.i.+p had changed so much since it had become physical. Romain was harder, more distant. The lightness that had existed between them, however briefly, at lunch that day in India was gone. Once he'd achieved what he'd set out to do the gloves had come off. And now the job was over and he was sating himself while he could. It was horrendously obvious. But though she knew he would be able to walk away, was used to this, she wouldn't. But she'd have to.

He came close behind her and she willed him away. But of course he didn't obey her silent plea. He pulled her hair aside at the back of her neck and pressed a kiss there, to the tender skin. A shudder of arousal ran through her. To stop it, she turned around.

'You have to come to the party. People will expect you to be there.'

'Romain, I-'

He felt a surge of anger move through him. Why did she have to be so stubborn?

'Sorcha, the job isn't officially over until after this party.'

She paled under his gaze, and he could see the shadows under her eyes. He felt his chest constrict. But something bigger motivated him, and he didn't want to look at what that was.

'Are you ordering me to go?' she asked quietly, her heart breaking a little more. Because, despite all the intimacy they'd shared, not one word of tenderness had been spoken. Even now, if he'd been asking her to come with him, because he wanted her there, then she would have gone without question. And castigated herself afterwards.

Romain stood stock still and thought silently to himself, If that's what it takes. Instead he shrugged. 'If you want to leave-leave. But you are expected to be there-to show a united front with myself, Zane...the rest of the board and the crew.'

She felt a little dead inside-cut off from everything around her. If she made a big deal and left, he might suspect something of her feelings for him. It would kill her to stay for one more night, but she would. Anything to avoid that penetrative gaze, that questioning mind.

She fixed her attention on something on the wall above his shoulder. 'Very well. There's an exhibition I wanted to see before I left. It won't make any huge difference if I leave tomorrow, I guess.'

Romain felt something suspiciously like relief flood him even as he reacted to her nonchalant tone.

'Good. I'll pick you up at seven.'

Big blue eyes caught his. 'I can go with-'

'I'll pick you up at seven.'

He pressed a swift kiss to her mouth, and she watched as he strode from the room.

The door shut behind him and Sorcha sank back onto the window seat behind her. For the first time since he'd arrived the evening before, her whole body sagged. Her mind was thankfully a little numb.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

A LITTLE before seven that evening, Sorcha stood in much the same position as she had earlier, looking out of the window. She felt very still and serene inside, but she knew it was just the calm before the storm. The storm which was going to come when she would walk away from Romain and never see him again.

A knock sounded on the door and she jumped. That brief moment of tranquillity was gone. This evening was it-the last time she'd be with him, see him, experience him. So whatever fantasy she had in her head would have to be lived out tonight. She walked over to the door and opened it.

The breath left her body as if she hadn't already seen him in a tux-first in New York and now here again. She reacted as if it were the first time. He looked resplendent. Too gorgeous for words. His heavy-lidded sensuality was overwhelming.

Jerkily she gestured for him to come in. 'I just have to put on my shoes, then I'm good to go.'

She went into the small dressing room and pulled out shoes from her open case. Coming back out into the bedroom, she saw he was looking at her strangely. She hopped from one foot to the other, pulling the shoes on. Not feeling like smiling at all, she managed to quirk a small one and ask, 'What's wrong? Have I got something on my nose?'

She went to look in the mirror, to check her reflection. Romain came and stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, and she could feel her body react just to that impersonal touch.

'You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?' he asked.

Sorcha blushed and tried to turn around, but he wouldn't let her. She refused to look at herself, mortified. 'Romain, I'm well aware that I'm lucky enough to have good genes that make me photogenic, but really there are a million women more stunning-'

He turned her almost savagely in his arms and tipped her chin up with a finger. 'You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.'

Inside and out.

She shook her head in denial. His mouth bent to hers, stopping any words. And when he broke away he whispered, 'Yes. You are.'

He reached into his pocket then and took something out-something in a long box. He flicked his eyes down to her shoes and his mouth quirked. 'This should match what you're wearing...'