Carnal in Cannes Read Online Free PDF

reaction. Harry"s large warm palm covered hers, and he twined their fingers together.
    Bending his head, his lips fluttered her ear when he whispered, “Easy. Easy.
    Look at me, Martine. We are the only two people in this room. No one else is important. No, don"t look away. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
    “Non,” she replied, focusing on the way his pupils darkened and dilated to become a rich, dark molasses color. The lies came easier than truth. These days no matter how hard she tried, she lied, lied, and lied, even about the most mundane things. The urge to hide her past overwhelmed even everyday activities.
    “Neither do I.” His full lips curled. “Always wanted a pack of sisters. Figured I could do without the brothers, though. What"s your favorite food?”
    The abrupt question made her frown. His thumb stroked her palm, and she blurted, “Ice cream.”
    “Chocolate?” The skin bracketing his brown eyes crinkled as a smile lifted his mouth.
    She shook her head. “Coconut.”
    Perfect tawny eyebrows rose in unison. “I"ve never even heard of coconut ice cream, much less tasted it.”
    “They sell it in the Haitian sections of Marseille.” As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Martine clamped her lips together, choking back a moan. The less he knew about her the better.
    Eyes widening he examined her face, and his features softened. “Coconut ice cream, huh? Must admit I prefer any form of chocolate to coconut.”
    I do too, but you can’t get chocolat in Haiti. I must stop lying.
    “I love chocolat,” she said.
    “I like the way you say that, sugar. Chocolat. Have you seen the movie?”
    She frowned, and her eyebrows rose. The man was insane. “Movie?”
    “We"ll rent it,” he advised. “Much easier than explaining the plot. It"s a love story about a woman who makes wickedly delicious chocolate, which makes people do extraordinary things.”
    “I see.” She didn"t, but he was going to pay her a lot of money, so he should be humored. Like all men.
    And so it went on and on—him jumping from topic to topic. What was her favorite color, did she like the sea, what were her favorite books, did she like the 18
    Jianne Carlo

    Mediterranean climate? Martine grew giddy under his conversational assault, and it didn"t seem as if twenty minutes had elapsed when one of the doctors cleared his throat and captured her attention.
    “All is in order, Monsieur Ford. Madame, we are finished with the exam.” The doctor stripped off cream plastic gloves as he spoke.
    Even though his voice proved soft and soothing, Martine shuddered and struggled to sit up, taking her heels out of the metal stirrups. The medical men seemed to be in a hurry to leave the room, and Martine watched their white-coated backs vanish from her line of vision.
    The woman from earlier, the one with long golden hair that rippled honey hues under the artificial light, came into her sight. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded across her chest, haughty chin lifted, lips curled into a sneer.
    Acerbic fear rolled over Martine"s tongue when she recognized the hate blazing from the woman"s round black eyes. Clutching the steel gurney with shaking fingers, she tried to look away, but the woman held her gaze and paralyzed her breathing.
    “Beat it, Delora.” Harrison stepped between them, hands balled into fists. “Get out. Now.”
    “Remember how much fun we used to have when you lost that temper of yours, Harry? Getting down and dirty in the creek?” Straightening, Delora undulated her lush hips, putting one stiletto-clad foot in front of the other. Sultry red lips parted to reveal even, snowy teeth, and she swayed forward, halting when mere centimeters separated her and Harry.
    “And now you"re going to screw that.” Delora angled a sweetheart chin at Martine. “I doubt you"ll get it up. You always did have trouble separating sex and emotions.”
    Rage pinned Martine to the bed better than any stake the villagers had used