The Billionaire's Craving
The touch reignited the electricity and sparks between them. Colin resisted a shiver and led her outside to the car. Bruno waited for them and opened the door to the sedan.
When everyone was settled, Bruno began the slow descent to Andermatt. The crunch of the tires on the snow and the howling wind was all the music they needed. Sabela mostly stared out the window, but occasionally she’d turn her head when she thought Colin wasn’t looking.
Colin was always looking.
No matter how he tried to fight it, he couldn’t deny his attraction, and he didn’t plan to. But there would be no more to it than sex.
Only when he was free of the shackles Blanca welded on his heart, would he’d be free to care for a different woman. The timing with Sabela was all wrong. But it couldn’t be helped.
He told himself there would be other gorgeous, intelligent, strong women who’d challenge him once his plan was completed.
“Where are we going?” Sabela asked.
“To a restaurant owned by a friend of mine,” he said. “You’ll be the center of attention, I am sure.”
Sabela glanced down, seeming pleased and embarrassed. Her honest innocence made his heart pound.
“I’m not used to being the center of attention,” she said. “I don’t know that I would like that.”
He leaned closer. She trembled when he broached her space. “If you want, I’ll have my friend clear the restaurant for us. Then you won’t have to worry about it.”
“Oh, no. Don’t do that. I’m just being … it doesn’t matter.”
“As you please. Tonight, we’ll just be two people having dinner. Okay?”
The jacket slipped off of her shoulder, and he saw that it was bare. He couldn’t resist. He lightly let his lips drift down and touch that bit of exposed skin. She shivered again.
“Just two people having dinner,” she whispered. “Maybe I can deal with that.”
It was as if the rest of the world disappeared. Her skin smelled of jasmine and something else, deeper and intoxicating. She was smooth and soft, and he wanted to taste every inch of her sweet flesh.
The rest of the drive disappeared in stolen kisses and hidden caresses. Colin couldn’t tear himself away from her, and he knew it was the same for Sabela. Together they were magnetic.
The car pulled up to the curb outside the restaurant. Bruno got out and made his way around to open the door for them, without comment on their teenage behavior.
Composing himself enough to stop at last, Colin exited the car and walked around to Sabela’s side. He extended his hand to her.
It was like a scene from an old movie, how she extended one gorgeous leg and rose from the car like a starlet with the world at her feet. Where was the paparazzi? A woman this fine should have had crowds swarming her, dying to hear whatever pearls of charm might fall from her rose-blush lips.
“What kind of a restaurant is this?” Sabela asked.
He tucked her close against him to keep her warm. “French. The chef is my friend, François Beaudoin. He was the head chef of a two star Michelin restaurant in Paris, but gave it up for a quiet life here in Switzerland. Now he runs this establishment, and you can tell how happy he is with it by the way the food tastes.”
“I’ve always wanted to try French food,” Sabela whispered, as though it were a secret between them. “He’s lucky to get to follow his dream.”
Colin’s heart slammed in his chest. Yes, François was lucky, unlike Sabela, who worked herself half to death for an unworthy lowlife. “You’re going to love it, I’m sure. François believes in a comfortable atmosphere and comfort food. Nothing uptight and overly fancy.”
Sabela held herself straight with her head held high as they entered the restaurant. Her projected confidence in denial of her secret insecurity bewitched him. Even when facing difficulties, Sabela pulled herself together and showed her true strength.
It was one of the sexiest things about her.
They checked their coats at the coat check, and Colin was struck yet again by how lovely she was now that he had the full view of her dress. The slinky, strapless dress hugged her hips and drew his attention to all the right places.
Screw dinner, he thought. He wanted to turn around and go back to the chalet to make good on what he’d been promising himself all day.
But of course, that would be the move of a man who wasn’t in control of himself, and Colin Morgan was always in control.
Their table was the best in the house, just as he’d requested. It was located at the back of the restaurant in a romantically shadowed corner. From where they sat, they had an excellent view of the restaurant, but it would be hard for others to see them. A single candle, small and white, burned at the center of the table and cast flickering light across Sabela’s beautiful face.
Some of the control Colin fought for waned.
She turned him wild just by existing. What had he gotten himself into?
Once they were seated and Sabela was comfortable, he handed her a menu a young man brought when he filled their water glasses. She accepted it and opened the black leather cover to look at the dishes listed inside. There was a pause before she looked up and across the table to him.
“I don’t know what any of this says,” she admitted. “Can you help?”
The menus were all in French, and with the Swiss population familiar with the language, no translations were provided.
“Bien sûr,” Colin replied. When Sabela glared at him, he smiled. “I mean, of course.”
“You speak French?”
“Marie’s been teaching me. I like to think I’m good, but any local would probably disagree.”
“If you can read the menu and explain it to me, I’ll be impressed enough,” Sabela replied with a playful touch to her voice that he adored.
“I am a man of exceptional talent.” Colin grinned. “The longer you stick around, the more of them you’ll discover.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
ONE BY ONE, HE BROKE DOWN the items on the menu for her. There were only a handful of course options, each of them including complex flavors and top notch ingredients.
“Foie gras torchon with pickled pear and —”
“Wait.” Sabela shook her head. “I still only understood half of that. What is a foie gras torchon?”
?
??Well,” Colin found himself at a loss for words. “A torchon is a descriptor, used to distinguish how the foie gras is cooked. In this case, traditionally, it would be cooked in a hand towel in order to give it its distinctive shape.”
“But what is a foie gras?”
Before he could go down that rabbit hole, the waiter arrived. Colin recognized him from the last time he’d visited, and the man recognized him, as well.
“Welcome back, Mr. Morgan,” he said in a thick French accent. “We’re delighted to see you again. I’ve informed Chef Beaudoin that you are here, and he is very pleased, I assure you. Will you be having your usual this evening?”
“Bring us a bottle of the Bordeaux,” Colin said. “Then I think I would like something different this evening.”
“Something different?” Sabela asked in a low whisper. Colin could only smile.
“Tell Chef Beaudoin that we would like him to prepare us something off-menu. Something to warm the soul. What he thinks we’d like best.”
Sabela looked surprised, as if ordering off-menu was a concept she’d never considered. And she probably had never heard of such a thing. Colin winked at her.
It wasn’t the first time he’d pulled some strings with François in order to make an impression with a guest, but it was his first time doing so outside of business hours.
The waiter took the menus.
“Very good, Mr. Morgan. I’ll inform Chef Beaudoin of your request. Would you like me to check back with his recommendation?”
“No, I trust François. Thank you.”
The waiter bowed his head and left.
Sabela sat up straight in her chair, her brown eyes wide and sparkling in the candlelight. “You can do that? Just have the chef make you something that isn’t on the menu? I think the cook at Pinkie’s (that’s Bud, by the way) would have my head if I came back and told him someone wanted a dish to warm the soul.”
Colin laughed. “There are a surprising number of things you can do when you’re friends with world-class chefs. Well, so long as you’re willing to pay those chefs handsomely. François will be expecting a great reward for his efforts tonight. And well he should. He’s an artist.”