Thanks for the kind reviews – nice that people discovered this one. On with the assignation …

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Chapter 2

Quinn hovered on the landing outside the room, a bunch of exotic blooms clutched tightly in one hand as he ran the fingers of the other nervously through his hair. He reminded himself he was here at her invitation so clearly the attraction was mutual. Taking a deep breath, he rapped twice on the door before he could change his mind.

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The flowers appeared to have gone down well, and at least they'd broken the ice. As he took his jacket off and draped it over the back of a chair, she bustled about the room, taking her time arranging them to her satisfaction. He guessed she was at least as nervous as he was.

The silence stretched between them until eventually she paused, gazing out over the spectacular view of the bay with her arms crossed.

"I wouldn't like you to think that I make a habit of this …"

"Me either. Strangely enough, I don't get propositioned by beautiful women all that often."

He moved across the room to stand directly behind her, feeling her shiver as he rested his hands lightly on her waist and began to stroke little circles with the pads of his thumbs. When she spoke again her voice was breathy.

"There was just … je ne sais quoi … an instant attraction? I think we both felt it."

"Our eyes met across a crowded room. Very romantic, n'est-ce pas?"

"Something like that."

He heard the smile in her voice at his lame attempt to put her at ease, and leant in to nuzzle her neck.

"You looked so poised, so immaculate. I had this overwhelming desire to ruffle you."

She turned slowly in his arms and looped her hands around his neck, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously.

"You wanted to 'ruffle' me?"

He grinned.

"You know … muss your hair, smudge your lipstick …"

"Ah. In that case, go right ahead."

She smiled up into his face and he needed no further invitation, reaching round to unpin her hair and letting the weight of its silky length run through his fingers. Her gaze dropped suggestively to his lips as she pouted at him, a naughty glint in her eye.

"And the lipstick?"

His grin widened.

"I was just getting to that."

Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth softly over hers. Her lips parted on a sigh and his tongue slipped inside and began a tentative exploration, the kiss at first gentle, unhurried but promising much more. She moaned low in her throat, tightening her hold around his neck and moving in closer, and instantly the passion flared between them as they ravished one another's mouths in an amorous onslaught of lips and tongues.

She took everything he had to give, responding with a fervent hunger of her own, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt, her hands sliding over his smooth tanned chest. Suddenly he was as hard as a rock, and all he could think about was being inside her.

"I want you, Christiane."

"Yes …"

Her breathing was quick and shallow as he nipped at her throat, one hand snaking round behind her to lower her zipper. She shimmied elegantly out of her figure-hugging dress and he took a step back, watching as it pooled at her feet leaving her in just her underwear. He might have guessed she'd be wearing silk stockings.

"Jesus. I think I've just died and gone to heaven."

He tugged her back into his arms, his kiss hungry, demanding, as one hand moved up her body to cup a pert breast. It fit nicely in his palm and she gasped as his thumb skimmed over an erect nipple, moaning softly as he bent down and covered it with his mouth. His lips caressed the taut bud through the silk of her bra and she arched into him, fingers threading through his hair to hold his head in place.

"Blake … mmmm … je te desire …"

His French didn't have to be brilliant to understand exactly what she wanted, and her husky voice, that sexy accent, undid him entirely. Sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her to the bed and deposited her gently on top of the covers, kicking off his shoes and socks and stepping out of his jeans before joining her.

"Now, where were we?"

His mouth claimed hers again, their tongues entwining erotically, his hand irresistibly drawn up a stocking-clad thigh, over her trim waist and back to fondle a breast. He broke the kiss for a second, reaching round to unhook her bra and peel it down her arms.

"Better."

Her underwear hit the floor as his mouth closed over a straining nipple, and she moaned wantonly at the gentle pull of his lips and the perfect scratch of his teeth. He shifted over until he was lying between her thighs and continued his delicious torture, letting her feel the hard length of him rubbing against the centre of her arousal until she could stand no more.

"Maintenant … now, Blake … I need you …"

He didn't need asking twice, tugging her lacy thong down her legs and standing to swiftly divest himself of his boxers. Her eyes widened at the first sight of his impressive erection and she stretched languorously on the bed, parting her thighs in open invitation.

"Condoms are in the top drawer. Extra large, I hope."

He smirked as he reached for one and tore the wrapper open. Even though he was used to this reaction it was still gratifying to know he was keeping the British end up, so to speak.

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She gasped as he pushed inside her and he paused, giving her time to adjust and himself a chance to regain some control.

"Blake?"

He leaned in to kiss her.

"It's been a while, love. I don't want to let the side down."

She raised a teasing eyebrow, wriggling lasciviously beneath him.

"You English and your pride."

"It's not our pride you have to be concerned about, sweetheart. It's our stiff … upper lips …"

One swift flex of his hips and he was buried inside her to the hilt, his pride more than satisfied by her unashamedly appreciative response. As he began to move, pulling out and thrusting in deep again, wanton sounds of encouragement fell from her lips and she wound her legs around him, digging her nails into his shoulders in her enthusiasm.

He fell into a delicious slow rhythm, gazing down into her flushed face and drinking in her impassioned moans and sighs as he drove her steadily towards the edge, revelling in the feel of her tight heat surrounding him. Just as he was approaching the point of no return her cries became more urgent and he paused, reaching down between them to touch her, feeling her stiffen for a moment before she tumbled headlong into an ecstatic release, convulsing and crying out his name.

"Blake! Mon Dieu … oh my God … yeeesss!"

He thrust hard a few more times before losing the battle, exploding deep inside her with a groan of pure pleasure. The small part of his brain that was still functioning found it strangely satisfying that in the height of passion she'd proved herself to be truly bilingual.

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Afterwards they lay in bed drinking champagne and flirting until desire overwhelmed them again. The second time was slow and sensual, their fingers, lips and tongues embarking on a voyage of erotic discovery before Christiane finally took the lead, pushing him back against the pillow and riding them both to another explosive climax.

He had to admit the third time was a bit of a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. As he took her vigorously from behind, delighting in the wanton sounds of encouragement that fell from her mouth, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. It appeared that there was definitely life in the old dog yet.

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Quinn felt the soft brush of her lips over his and allowed his lids to flutter open slowly, a contented smile spreading over his face. Christiane was gazing down at him, fully dressed once more.

"Les beaux yeux … bedroom eyes …"

She returned the smile and he tugged her down for another kiss, teasing her, tempting her with his wickedly clever mouth. She pulled away reluctantly.

"I have to go."

"Stay a while. Let me ruffle you again."

He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously, reaching up to stroke her cheek, and she covered his hand with hers, turning her face and pressing a tender kiss against his palm.

"Believe me, I wish I could …"

Pillowing his head on his hands, his eyes raked over her as she checked her reflection in the mirror and bent to pick up her bag.

"When can I see you again?"

"I've put my number into your phone. Call me."

He nodded, and she paused at the door to blow him a kiss.

"A bientot."

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Quinn allowed his mind to drift, watching the African veldt through half-closed eyes as it sped past below them, the dull throb of the engine lulling him into a semi doze. He was surprised at just how much he'd missed her, memories of the two of them together occupying his thoughts as he squirmed about in trousers that were suddenly uncomfortably tight.

Was it possible that he'd fallen in love with her? He wasn't sure he was even capable of that emotion any more. She'd said she loved him, promised she'd be waiting even after he'd told her the truth, but could he really trust her? After all, she'd been indirectly responsible for their assignation with a man who'd tried to blow their heads off in the middle of nowhere.

He shook his head, refusing to believe the unfortunate outcome had anything to do with her. He was just getting paranoid. No, he would return to his old existence, pick up the strings of his life and bide his time until he knew more. And in the meanwhile he saw no harm in cementing international relations and continuing to do his bit for the Entente Cordiale ….

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Can he trust her? Lets hope they don't keep us waiting too long to find out!

Hope you enjoyed, I'd be delighted if you took the time to let me know.