surrounding the dance floor. Fat, creamy candles flickered in wall sconces, casting sensual shadows around the room. It was a beautiful place inhabited by beautiful people. There were couples having late-night dinners in secluded booths, Sophie observed, with surprise. She absorbed it all, fascinated. It was impossible not to feel seduced, at ease, even: Lucien had ensured that she'd blend in perfectly with his choice of her attire.
"Well?" he asked as he led her towards the bar.
"I never knew places like this existed," Sophie breathed with a tiny shake of her head. "It's fabulous."
Lucien handed her a glass of champagne and lounged against a high stool.
"I'd call it stiff competition."
Sophie raised her eyebrows, unsure how to express that she felt more comfortable here than in the Knight Inc. club she’d visited in London. Was she being disloyal? "It's very different from the Gateway," she ventured.
"It's Paris, Sophie. People look for something different here."
"I like it."
Lucien lifted an eyebrow at her. "Says the girl who didn't even want to come in here ten minutes ago."
Sophie couldn't argue. "Having that boutique attached is a really clever idea. It must attract more women, don't you think?"
Lucien nodded. "This place is run by women, for women. Men are not the top priority."
Now that Lucien had said it, Sophie understood why she felt more at ease here. It exuded femininity, and had a sensual ambience rather than a sexual one.
"It's much more relaxed than I expected," Sophie acknowledged.
The champagne was chilled and delicious, and Lucien's fingers warmed hers when he took her hand and tugged her forwards.
"Then let's go and relax, shall we?"
Lucien headed for a tucked away love seat and pulled Sophie down into it next to him, nodding brief thanks to the black-clad waiter who delivered their ice bucket to the table a second or two later.
Sophie glanced around at their closest neighbours as Lucien topped up their glasses. A curvy brunette in stockings and suspenders had curled herself into her companion’s lap, her arms around his neck as she whispered in his ear. Sophie noticed how the man casually stroked her full, bra-clad breasts as he listened to her, his other hand massaging her thigh. The woman looked utterly relaxed, as if she were fully clothed rather than dressed in stunning black and ruby red underwear that wouldn't have looked out of place at The Crazy Horse. A further glance around showed that the other couples scattered around the room were equally at ease. Some kissed. Some touched a little. Some touched a lot. There seemed to be no rules, no constraints and no pressure. Unadulterated, unhurried pleasure in whatever form anyone chose.
A smoky-voiced redhead who'd have given Jessica Rabbit a run for her money was perched on the closed lid of a grand piano, her vocals providing a sultry accompaniment to the dinner suited pianist. Here and there on the dance floor, couples twined around each other as they danced sinuously.
Lucien's arm curved along the back of the seat, his fingers a warm, gentle pressure on Sophie's neck.
It had been a long, long time since Sophie had last danced with a man.
"Shall we?" she said, tilting her head towards the sprung wooden floor.
Lucien looked mildly startled. "Are you asking me to dance?"
Sophie's mouth curved into a smile at his reaction. "Yes."
He frowned, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table, then stood and held out his hand formally.
"May I have this dance, Ms. Black?"
Chapter Sixteen
Lucien drew Sophie into his arms. He wasn't by nature a man for slow dancing. Although he’d never thought consciously about it, the passivity and languor didn’t appeal to him. He was a man of action. Where should he put his hands? He knew where he wanted to put them, and given their surroundings, he knew that it wouldn't be frowned on, but he had the distinct impression that Sophie herself might frown upon it. So she wanted to
"Well?" he asked as he led her towards the bar.
"I never knew places like this existed," Sophie breathed with a tiny shake of her head. "It's fabulous."
Lucien handed her a glass of champagne and lounged against a high stool.
"I'd call it stiff competition."
Sophie raised her eyebrows, unsure how to express that she felt more comfortable here than in the Knight Inc. club she’d visited in London. Was she being disloyal? "It's very different from the Gateway," she ventured.
"It's Paris, Sophie. People look for something different here."
"I like it."
Lucien lifted an eyebrow at her. "Says the girl who didn't even want to come in here ten minutes ago."
Sophie couldn't argue. "Having that boutique attached is a really clever idea. It must attract more women, don't you think?"
Lucien nodded. "This place is run by women, for women. Men are not the top priority."
Now that Lucien had said it, Sophie understood why she felt more at ease here. It exuded femininity, and had a sensual ambience rather than a sexual one.
"It's much more relaxed than I expected," Sophie acknowledged.
The champagne was chilled and delicious, and Lucien's fingers warmed hers when he took her hand and tugged her forwards.
"Then let's go and relax, shall we?"
Lucien headed for a tucked away love seat and pulled Sophie down into it next to him, nodding brief thanks to the black-clad waiter who delivered their ice bucket to the table a second or two later.
Sophie glanced around at their closest neighbours as Lucien topped up their glasses. A curvy brunette in stockings and suspenders had curled herself into her companion’s lap, her arms around his neck as she whispered in his ear. Sophie noticed how the man casually stroked her full, bra-clad breasts as he listened to her, his other hand massaging her thigh. The woman looked utterly relaxed, as if she were fully clothed rather than dressed in stunning black and ruby red underwear that wouldn't have looked out of place at The Crazy Horse. A further glance around showed that the other couples scattered around the room were equally at ease. Some kissed. Some touched a little. Some touched a lot. There seemed to be no rules, no constraints and no pressure. Unadulterated, unhurried pleasure in whatever form anyone chose.
A smoky-voiced redhead who'd have given Jessica Rabbit a run for her money was perched on the closed lid of a grand piano, her vocals providing a sultry accompaniment to the dinner suited pianist. Here and there on the dance floor, couples twined around each other as they danced sinuously.
Lucien's arm curved along the back of the seat, his fingers a warm, gentle pressure on Sophie's neck.
It had been a long, long time since Sophie had last danced with a man.
"Shall we?" she said, tilting her head towards the sprung wooden floor.
Lucien looked mildly startled. "Are you asking me to dance?"
Sophie's mouth curved into a smile at his reaction. "Yes."
He frowned, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table, then stood and held out his hand formally.
"May I have this dance, Ms. Black?"
Chapter Sixteen
Lucien drew Sophie into his arms. He wasn't by nature a man for slow dancing. Although he’d never thought consciously about it, the passivity and languor didn’t appeal to him. He was a man of action. Where should he put his hands? He knew where he wanted to put them, and given their surroundings, he knew that it wouldn't be frowned on, but he had the distinct impression that Sophie herself might frown upon it. So she wanted to
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