Carnal in Cannes Read Online Free Page A

her odd-colored eyes. Every gaze he"d met, he searched for what he"d read in those astounding eyes that night—a desperation bordering on suicidal, a determination worthy of a special-ops warrior.
    “What do you need the money for?”

    Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

    13

    Chapter Two

    Martine Bellamy knew she had to go through this farce of a wedding, knew she had no options left. She needed one hundred thousand euros, and this was the only way to raise the money short of the virgin auction she"d considered three weeks earlier.
    All her life she had fought not to become a whore like her mother. She stifled a bubble of hysterical laughter. All her Haitian hillside neighbors had predicted her outcome—born to a whore, born to die a whore.
    She held her head high, lifted her chin, and met Harrison Indiana Ford"s gaze without flinching. “That, Monsieur, is not part of our agreement. I do not have to answer your questions. And I will not.”
    “Have you signed the prenuptial?” he asked.
    “ Non .” Martine uncurled her fingers one by one, hoping the action would lessen her humiliation somehow. Deep inside she knew nothing would alleviate how small and brittle she"d become, how unworthy of living.
    “Austen did go over the procedure with you, didn"t he?”
    “He said there would be a medical exam before the marriage.” Even though the room"s air conditioning blasted from the vents above, the sting of degradation fired her flesh when she remembered the doctor"s words, “ a darkie’s twat .”
    “I"ll delay the proceedings until we can find someone to replace Dr. Halliday,”
    Harrison Ford said, his Texas drawl taking on an almost British enunciation. The ridges of his high cheekbones stained a deep rose beneath his bronzed skin.
    “Please, Monsieur, do me no favors,” she stated. “I need money. You need a virgin. Emotions do not come into this business transaction.”
    His mouth tightened, and he scanned her from head to toe. “If that"s how you want to play it, that"s mighty fine by me.”
    “I"d prefer to get this finished as soon as we possibly can.” Martine swallowed, and she glanced around the room, taking in the sumptuous intimacy of the honeymoon suite. “Where do you want me for the examination?”
    All at once the temperature spiked, the room"s walls grew closer, and a belt banded her chest. A flowery smell from the vent above circled to her nostrils. The aroma cloyed, and her claustrophobia, always seething through her veins, surfaced, coating her tongue with bitter saliva. Enclosed spaces made her skin tingle, made her nerves itch and want to jump out of her flesh.

    14
    Jianne Carlo

    “Since we"re to spend the night in this room, I"ll arrange to have the other one set up for the examination.” He cleared his throat. “If you"d care to wait in here until they"re ready for you…”
    He waved his hand, indicating the sofa to the right, and the flowery aroma was replaced by the scent of his aftershave, grassy with a hint of citrus and smoke. The mixed odors reminded her of the outdoors, of trees and fires. Her jangling nerves steadied.
    “ Merci . Thank you,” she said and couldn"t prevent the relief from showing in her voice.
    “I"ll give you a ten-minute warning.”
    “Merci. Thank you,” she said again, biting her tongue on the last word.
    Speak in English. Think in English. Make no mistakes.
    As he turned around a dizzying realization settled into her brain—Harrison Indiana Ford didn"t make her skin prickle, didn"t make her want to disappear under a bed or into a closet. She felt no fear in his presence. Instead he made her insides grow warm and fluttery, and the golden glints in his brown eyes did strange things to her lungs, strangling the very oxygen out of the air. And her mind went into peculiar tangents when she smelled a hint of the grassy aftershave he wore, her gaze flying to the stray hairs peeking through the lapels of his shirt. She marveled at his bronzed