...Sage licked her lips, slowly assessing the striking face that belonged to a dark-haired Frenchman dressed in an all-black ensemble. He looked like a work of art who almost resembled the male character in the paintings. She shivered, imagining her naked body pressed against his, legs entwined as sweat glistened from the aftermath of their lovemaking.

She swallowed, her gaze dropping to his shirt that was loosely unbuttoned to expose his throat, revealing a deep tan and a hint of muscled pectorals. A soft glimmer of silver around his neck caught her attention, yet the pendant was hidden beneath the dark material. He cleared his throat, easily switching to English to accommodate her. “May I buy you a drink, mademoiselle?”

Her eyes returned to his face, still at a loss for words. She nodded a demure affirmative response.

“Ah, may I safely assume you are a cosmopolitan kind of woman?” His accent was distinctly French, slightly diluted, with a mix of British, proving an educated breeding and a strong grasp of languages.

She nodded again, and he smiled, flashing perfect pearly whites.

“I see that you are unaccompanied. It’s not customary to allow a single woman entry without a chaperone. You must be an exception, non?”

Sage struck a seductive pose and blinked exaggeratedly.

He laughed a throaty laugh at her silent game. “Fair enough.”

Her lips curled into a seductive smile.

The sexy stranger waved the bartender down and ordered their drinks, ahead of the queue of waiting customers. He must be a regular. Maybe even an influential client. So who could he be?

She bit her lower lip trying not to let her imagination run away with her. The man handed her the blush concoction in the tempered Martini glass.

He raised his Scotch as if in a toast, speaking in a hushed tone for her ears alone, “Ne le buvez pas, belle enchanteresse.” He tipped the glass toward her and took a long swallow.

Was he testing her French skills? She acted as if she did not understand his words and took a slow sip. His rich baritone echoed through her. Do not drink that, beautiful enchantress. What kind of game was this Frenchman playing? Inside, she smiled at her own trickery.

The man set down his glass and leaned in to cup her face, startling her with his frankness. His mere touch burned her flesh and scorched her body with a fevered desire. He peered into her eyes, as if he was trying to reach into her soul. Her gaze stayed on his lush mouth, watching his lips move seductively. “À moins que vous ne capituliez à mon contrôle…”

The deep timbre of his voice resonated through her at his obvious proposal. Unless you are surrendering to my control.

His closeness, the heat of his touch, and his enigmatic charm made her grow wet with need.

Yes. Yes. I want to surrender to you! her body screamed. She wanted to be taken, to be ravaged right here. Right now.

He closed his hand over hers and guided the glass to her lips. Sage drank the cool liquid, and the alcohol coated her throat, sliding smoothly, spreading easily through her system.