Submit to Desire by Tiffany Reisz Page B

you try my pancakes.”
    He sat his teacup and saucer down and held out his hand.
    What the hell was she getting herself into?
    Charlotte reached out and put her hand into his. Wrapping his
fingers around hers, he pulled her to her feet. Wobbling a little on her high
heels, she put her hand on his chest to steady herself. He covered her hand with
his and met her eyes.
    “You’re a beautiful woman.” His dark-lashed eyes studied her
face. “Even with scuff marks on your cheek.”
    Charlotte blushed and rubbed her face.
    “Don’t bother. We’ll wash it off at my townhouse. Shall we,
Charlie?”
    “Okay, so you’re going to call me Charlie. What do I call
you?”
    “Everyone calls me Kingsley or King. Or Monsieur. Take your
pick.”
    “Monsieur?”
    “Mon père était français et j’ai servi
dans la légion étrangère française.”
    Charlotte blinked and tried to make out any of the words
Kingsley had said. But none of it registered as anything but poetic
nonsense.
    “I said ‘my father was French and I served in the French
Foreign Legion.’”
    Charlotte stared at Kingsley. French…riding boots…the suit…and
he changed her name to Charlie.
    “You’re a little insane, aren’t you, Kingsley?”
    “ Oui , and you’re coming home with
me.” He flashed her a wicked grin.
    “Touché.”
    Kingsley strode off and Charlotte followed behind him. He
paused as he passed the bar and picked up her cowboy hat, which someone had left
there. He tossed it back to her.
    “I’m giving it to you but don’t think you’re allowed to wear it
in my presence.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you have the most beautiful claret-colored hair I’ve
ever seen, and it’s a crime to cover it.”
    Charlotte rolled her eyes.
    “It’s not real. Well, the hair’s real, but not the color. I’m a
hair stylist.”
    “I don’t care if it’s real. I wasn’t born bilingual but that
doesn’t change the fact that it turns you on that I am. Oui? ”
    Kingsley spun on his heel to smile back at her. He raised his
eyebrows and seemed to be waiting for her to answer.
    “Okay, oui ,” she admitted.
    “J’accepte.” Kingsley threw open
the doors to the club.
    Charlotte shielded her face as the morning sunlight beat down
on her aching eyes. Once inside the back of Kingsley’s car she noticed the lush
leather interior and the old-world feel.
    “Holy shit…is this a Rolls-Royce?”
    Kingsley sat on the bench seat opposite her.
    “She is. Not my favorite one, but she’s fine for running
errands.”
    “So am I an errand?” Charlie asked.
    “I don’t know.” Kingsley gave her a long look that set the
hairs on her arms standing up. “Are you running?”
    Charlotte looked out the window and saw the city regulars on
their way to work—men in power suits, women in severe dresses. And here she sat
in a Rolls-Royce with one of the city’s most notorious underground figures.
    “Not yet.”
    Kingsley grinned.
    “Good answer, Charlie. Here we are.”
    The Rolls pulled in front of an elegant black-and-white bricked
town house that looked at least three stories high.
    Kingsley left the car first and held out his hand for her. She
tried to stay steady on her feet as he pulled her out. Kingsley steered her up
two flights of stairs. A stunningly beautiful young woman delivered a file
folder to him with a quick curtsy.
    “You can shower while I read,” Kingsley said.
    “You’re really going to make me take a shower?”
    “I can give you a bath if you prefer.”
    “I wouldn’t prefer,” she said, not sure if she meant that.
    Kingsley pushed open a set of intricately carved black double
doors.
    Never before had she seen a bedroom more erotic and inviting.
She wished she knew more about architecture so she could properly describe it to
her friends…if and when she ever made it out of here. She wanted to study the
vaulted ceilings adorned with black-and-white paintings of lovers coupling in
positions both pornographic and artistic.