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  “C’est incroyable, non?” Franco said directly behind her seconds before his muscular frame spooned her back. His arms surrounded her and his fingers laced through hers on the iron railing, holding her captive when she would have ducked away.

  He had to stop doing that. Every feminine particle in her urged her to lean into him and relish in the novel sensations he sent bubbling through her, but her survival instincts screamed Run, danger ahead. The emotional push-pull left her breathless and disoriented.

  “But my view is better. You will see,” he added in a deep voice that stroked her skin like a caress, peaked her nipples and made her quiver. “Come, we must go. Candace looks in need of a chaise and a cool drink.”

  He stepped away, taking his body heat with him and leaving Stacy surprisingly chilled in the warm late-morning air. How could she be so affected by a man she barely knew?

  Candace had indeed paled as she slowly climbed the stairs to the main patio. Stacy crossed to her side, but her friend waved away her concern as they returned to the car.

  Stacy struggled to fortify her resistance to Franco as they pulled onto the road, but her internal alarms shrieked when he slowed the vehicle and turned into a driveway two doors down. “Is this your house? Why are we coming here?”

  “Did I forget to tell you Franco invited us for coffee?” Candace asked from the back seat.

  Stacy turned to scowl at her. “Yes. You did.”

  “Oops.” There was no oops about it. The bride was matchmaking and not at all subtly.

  “How kind of him.” Not kind. Manipulative.

  The satisfied smile playing about Franco’s delectable lips made Stacy seethe. He’d wanted her in his home and he’d manipulated circumstances to make it happen. The man was set on seduction, and she had a sinking feeling he wasn’t thwarted often or easily. And then she spotted his house and gasped.

  The large two-story rectangular villa had been painted a buttery yellow. The trim on the second-floor balcony and around the arched windows gleamed white in the morning light. “Palladian style, right? How old?”

  “Correct. The original structure was built in 1868. It has been renovated many times. Most recently by me. You have studied architecture, Stacy?”

  “No. I just like to read.”

  Candace scooted forward. “Stacy’s a bit of a history buff. She devoured any research material on Monaco and the Mediterranean she could get her hands on before our trip.”

  A blush warmed Stacy’s cheeks. “Your home’s beautiful, Franco.”

  “Merci. Wait until you see the inside. And the gardens, of course. They are lovely by moonlight.” His gaze held hers and last night’s invitation lingered in his eyes. She would have seen his gardens by moonlight if she’d come home with him after dinner. She still could if she became his mistress.

  Her heart accelerated and her mouth dried. “Too bad we’ll miss that.”

  The twitch of his lips as he climbed from the car said he hadn’t missed her sarcasm, and then Candace poked Stacy’s shoulder. “Cut it out.”

  Stacy twisted in her seat. “Quit matchmaking.”

  The car doors opened. Franco stood in the driveway. “Mesdemoiselles?”

  He helped them from the car and then turned toward the house. Stacy caught herself admiring the fit of his trousers over the tight globes of his derriere as she followed him up the stone walk toward the covered front entrance. European men wore pants that fit—none of that super-baggy stuff American guys currently favored. The fitted style certainly suited Franco.

  After unlocking the tall arched door he motioned for them to enter with the sweep of his arm. Candace led the way. Stacy reluctantly followed with Franco on her heels. She couldn’t help feeling that by entering his domain she was crossing a point of no return.

  Her first impression was one of high ceilings and sun-drenched spaces rolling on and on in acres of cool, glossy white marble floors. Wide arches divided the individual rooms, but the glass-paned doors to each stood open. To her left a suspended staircase circled upward, and in front of her a pair of round marble columns separated a foyer bigger than her den back home from a living room larger than her entire apartment.

  She glanced at Franco and found him watching her intently. “Welcome to my home.”

  “It’s um…” Gorgeous. Huge. Intimidating. “Very nice.”

  The million euros he’d offered her should have been a clue to Franco’s wealth, but she’d had no idea he was filthy rich. Most women would find his affluence a turn-on. But for Stacy it had the opposite effect.

  “We will have refreshments on the terrace.” He led them through the living room. Stacy trailed Candace past the dark wooden tables that interspersed the black leather sofas and chairs. Woven carpets in shades of ivory, black and red dotted the floor.

  Red. Like blood on the white floor. She shuddered and skirted around the rugs.

  Curved floor-to-ceiling French doors punctuated the exterior wall revealing an expansive patio that put the last home’s to shame. Franco opened one of the doors. His bare forearm brushed Stacy’s as she passed through. Accidental? Doubtful. Awareness trickled over her. She moved into the sunshine to bake the goose bumps away.

  Candace crossed directly to the swimming pool located at the far end of the stone terrace and leaned over the railing. “Stacy, you have to see this. The pool pours over the side of the patio in a waterfall.”

  “It empties into a whirlpool below,” Franco told her and then he moved closer to Stacy, dipped his head until his breath teased her ear. “Half of the spa is concealed beneath the house by the falling water. I would like to make love to you there.”

  Stunned by his sneak attack, Stacy struggled to catch her breath and formulate a prickly reply, but her brain refused to cooperate. Her heart raced and her palms moistened. Her skin flushed hot and then cold when she realized that in the split second before reason intervened she’d wanted to make love with him too.

  That kiss clearly addled your thinking.

  “Make Candace sit and rest,” he murmured quietly along with a brief, but electrifying caress over the curve of her waist. “I will return with refreshments momentarily.” He went inside.

  Shakily, Stacy crossed to the railing. Not because she wanted to see the whirlpool below and visualize the decadent scene Franco had planted in her head. No, definitely not that. She looked because the view of Monte Carlo and Larvotto Beach from Franco’s patio was more beautiful than any of the postcards she’d bought as souvenirs of her trip.

  To her right a stone staircase wound down to the lower level of the terraced yard. Trees and flowers dappled the lush slope of green grass with shadows and brilliant splashes of color. And fight as she might, Stacy couldn’t prevent her gaze from dropping to the exposed half of the spa.

  Why not? You want to.

  She’d have to be crazy to risk it. From what she’d seen of his home Franco had to be ten times wealthier than she’d suspected. And ten times sexier. He arouses you with nothing more than words. Why not give those big hands a try? It’s not like you’re ever going to let yourself fall in love with anyone. So why hold out?

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Candace interrupted Stacy’s illicit thoughts. “I can’t imagine living like this.”

  Stacy pushed aside the tantalizing images. “Neither can I. It must be a real power rush to have enough money to buy whatever you want. We should find a shady spot to sit and wait for Franco.”

  “He knows about the baby, doesn’t he? Did you tell him?” Candace asked as they strolled toward the shady covered loggia.

  “Yes, he knows. Vincent told him.”

  “I should have guessed Vincent would. He’s very protective, and he would trust Franco not to betray our little secret.” Candace plopped onto a rattan lounge chair covered by a deep white cushion, lay back and closed her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be great to live in paradise like this only two doors apart?”

  Stacy chose a chair. She couldn’t relax in Franco’s