She couldn’t understand the effect this man—of all men—had on her.
Obviously he had it all going on. He was gorgeous, he was powerful, and his fathoms-deep masculine voice with that accent was designed to be meltingly effective on a woman’s hormones...
But if she had to pinpoint it she’d say it was in his eyes and the way he looked at her. As if he wanted to do all kinds of things with her that another woman would slap him for, and that instead made her feel beautiful and female and, yes, fluttery.
She just wasn’t a fluttery kind of girl.
She zipped her finger into the backpack.
Ouch!
Shoving her middle finger in her mouth, she tried not to look at him. He was being so reasonable, which wasn’t helping, and now he wanted to drive her home.
Didn’t he understand that if she spent any more time with him she might very well push him down, climb on top of him and make him kiss her all over again?
Or, worse, make him stroke her breasts—because her nipples were like tight little marbles and they felt tingly, and she only had to close her eyes to remember how it had felt to be pressed up into his big hands...
She swallowed hard and kept her head down.
‘You don’t need to drive me home.’ She slung the backpack over her shoulder. ‘I can grab a taxi.’
Actually, she would find a vélib station and bike it home. Taxis were for rich people, or girls who danced at the Lido.
She adjusted the strap on her backpack to give herself something to do when he didn’t reply. Raised her eyes. He was looking down at her as if she’d said something bizarre, and then he flashed her a scarily intimate look that told her he knew exactly how damp her knickers were.
‘You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen my car.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘TAKE A LEFT up here and we’re at the top of the street.’
Khaled didn’t know what he’d expected. Something tight on space and utilitarian, given the area. Montmartre had come a long way from the fields and cheap lodgings of its artistic heyday. Apartment dwelling wasn’t cheap in these parts. And he’d seen what the showgirls were paid—it wasn’t a lucrative profession.
He hadn’t expected the little dead-end cobbled street, the high grey stone walls or the four-storeyed petit mansion peering overhead.
He parked his yellow Spyder Lamborghini on the roadside between a couple of not inconsiderably priced cars and eased back to take a look at Gigi.
‘This is it?’
She was taking off her belt. ‘Sure.’
He watched her for a moment, running her hand over the door, trying to get out. She appeared to be in a hurry. He could have leaned across and done it for her. Instead he opened his own door and strolled around to her side of the car. He lifted the door and watched her get out, taking in those incredible legs and the pert roundness of her behind.
‘Thanks.’ She lugged her backpack over her shoulder. ‘Are you coming up?’
‘Do you usually let men you hardly know into your flat?’
She gave him a surprised look, as if it hadn’t occurred to her before, and then reached into her jacket and brought out a small tube, brandishing it like a gunslinger.
‘I’m packing heat.’
‘What’s that?’ He took it from her, examining the simple pump-style device.
‘A high-frequency alarm. All the girls at the cabaret have them.’
‘I take it this was the Dantons’ idea.’
She shook her head. ‘Jacques considers what we do off the clock our own business—he’s not big on the health and safety thing. But some of the girls have had problems with patrons following them when they leave the theatre, so I got Martin to introduce a courtesy bus system, which is great. Lulu and I use that all the time.’
‘Who supplied the alarms?’
‘Me. I got one for Lulu, after she was almost attacked one night, and grabbed one for myself too. The guy who sold them to me gave me a discount for a box of two dozen. So I got enough for the other girls.’
‘Basically, you’re doing the Dantons’ job for them?’
Her expressive face gave her away. She obviously didn’t want to down-talk the cabaret’s management in front of him, but at the same time it was fairly clear what was going on.
‘I guess if something needs to be done you do it, right? Besides, Lulu could have been in real trouble that night.’