Love Redesigned

by Collins, Sloane B.

  She picked up the glasses and carried them to the kitchen. He followed her, thinking she looked so natural in his home. He retrieved her now-dry clothes, and she excused herself to change.

  She met him back in the kitchen a few moments later, and looked out the window. “It’s stopped raining. Can I see the backyard real quick before we go?”

  “Of course.”

  They walked out the kitchen door to the gardens. A path through a canopy of wisteria led the way to the small lake at the edge of the grass. He glanced at her as she stopped, staring at the wisteria dripping above the pathway.

  She walked beneath the canopy of fragrant flowers, her steps slow. She inhaled, the scented air filling her lungs, her breasts lifting. She looked up, reaching for a stem hanging low. Her fingertip lightly touched the fragile purple blossom.

  “I love wisteria,” she murmured.

  He’d loved the wisteria canopy when searching for a house to buy, and that’s what had convinced him he had to have this place. Realization dawned, and his skin prickled, turned cold. Somehow, subconsciously, he’d remembered she loved the flower.

  He’d bought this place for her.

  Chapter 10

  The small private jet banked right. Genevieve stared out the window as they flew toward the airport, passing near the Eiffel Tower.

  She was still upset over the argument she and Daniel had the previous afternoon. He’d gone ballistic when she returned from Roman’s house and told him and Connie Sue about her date in Paris.

  “Are you freakin’ crazy?” Daniel had yelled. “After all you’ve been through, you’re going away for the night with him?”

  “You can’t even say his name, can you? I told you we talked this morning—”

  “That still doesn’t excuse his behavior.” He’d thrown his hands in the air.

  She’d rounded on him. “It’s one night. He asked me to accompany him to an awards banquet. I’ll have my own room. I’m not going to get involved with him, okay? My life is in Atlanta, his is in France. There’s a lot of ocean between us, not to mention a lot of years. I have to focus on getting my business up and running. I’m not going to screw that up.” She’d hugged him, but it hadn’t softened him. He held himself rigid, so she walked away.

  “I worry about you.”

  “I know you do. You’ve always been there for me, and you have no idea how much it means to me. But I need to do this. It’s a door that never closed. Not knowing what happened keeps me wondering about what if. Maybe we can sort it out and part as friends. Wouldn’t that be better in the long run?”

  Daniel had agreed, but still gave Roman the stink eye when she climbed in the car to go to the airport. He was normally a lamb, but at times like this, he was fiercely protective.

  She and Roman spent the flight talking, and she shared some of her plans for her business. Her stories from the TV competition had him laughing. She loved how his laughter rumbled out of him, low and sexy, and it was the first time she’d seen him with his guard down since her return. For the short time they had left together, she resolved to make him laugh just to hear him let loose. Like he used to.

  “And then the cake artist from New Orleans had a hissy fit when the cake layers started leaning like the Tower of Pisa. He dumped the entire bowl of icing on his assistant’s head, even though it wasn’t her fault. The poor thing stood there with bright pink frosting topping her head like a cupcake. Apparently the drama improved the ratings, I heard later on.”

  He leaned back in his seat, his eyes lighting up.

  “Another team added salt instead of sugar to the cake batter. Can you imagine the look on the judges’ faces when they took a bite of cake expecting sweet and instead got salty? The lead on that team was so upset that she lobbed fistfuls of cake at her assistant. The assistant insisted it was the lead’s fault and lobbed cake right back at her.”

  He chuckled. “Did anything happen on your team?”

  “No, thank heavens. We made it through unscathed. In fact, the host of the show took me aside later and said the judges were very impressed with our professionalism, and it went a long way toward our scores being so high.”

  “I wish I had seen the show. I am sure you were great on it.”

  “I was scared to death. I don’t like being filmed, so I had to block out the cameras. I pretended I was back in the kitchen at home with my mom, and it helped me focus on designing, baking, and decorating the cakes. It got me through the show.” She took a sip of water and changed the subject. “So how did you end up living in Milan?”

  “After I had been at the Paris design house a few more years, I had enough of my own designs ready, so I quit and launched my own label. I hadn’t been happy in Paris for some time actually, ever since you left. Everywhere I went, there were memories of you.” He leaned closer and his shoulder brushed hers.

  She froze, the crystal glass halfway to her mouth. She shifted, pulling away from him.

  “Don’t back away. I’m not blaming you. It was time to break away, to be out on my own. Just as you are getting ready to do with your career. It was a good move for me, and I learned a great deal living in Milan. My designs started reflecting the Italian culture, but I kept enough of my French heritage in the clothes that I created a niche market for consumers. Eventually, I made it as a couture designer.” He shrugged.

  She had learned long ago that when he gave one of those Gallic shrugs, it meant he was embarrassed. He’d never bragged about his achievements, and had always been self-effacing any time he succeeded.

  “You always were committed to achieving your dreams. It takes perseverance and drive to make it in the fashion world. I’m happy things worked out for you.” She laid her hand on his arm and squeezed.

  He covered her hand with his own and opened his mouth to say something, but the flight steward walked up to them.

  “S’il vous plait attachez vos ceintures.” He picked up their glasses. “Please, to fasten the seat belts. We land in a few moments.” He bowed and backed away.

  She fastened her seat belt. “Much faster than driving to Paris, isn’t it?”

  “Oui. I am lucky Francois decided to purchase the jet for the winery business, and that he put it at my disposal.”

  She leaned back in the cushioned leather seat. She had originally assumed it was a puddle jumper, but this was a luxury jet, with multiple seating areas, wooden paneling, and plush carpeting. “Yeah, I meant to say something. I hadn’t realized it belongs to your cousin. I’m impressed.”

  He picked her hand up and squeezed. “I am very happy you agreed to accompany me tonight. It will be a nice break from wedding frenzy. I have a car waiting for us, and it will take us straight to the hotel. The event begins at eight o’clock, and is being held at the same hotel, so you will have plenty of time to prepare for the evening.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Not that you will need extra time. You are stunning no matter what you wear.”

  Tingles raced up her arm. She looked at their joined hands. Just sitting next to him on the short plane ride had set her hormones dancing. She had to maintain her resolve not to get involved.

  It would be too hard leaving him again.

  She raised her eyes to his, searched their depths.

  He met her gaze, and she thought he might kiss her. The jet touched down and broke the spell they were cocooned in.

  They rode to the hotel in the back of a limousine, her nose practically pressed against the window. She wanted to see it all again. So many of the sights familiar to her. How she’d loved living in Paris, everyday bringing a new adventure.

  And Roman had been the best adventure of all.

  “You’ve missed Paris, haven’t you?” he asked.

  “I didn’t realize how much until now,” she murmured, catching s
ight of the Arch de Triumph glowing in the dusky evening lights.

  “You should come back after the wedding and spend a few days here. I’d be willing to play host.”

  She turned around to find him sitting closer to her. He sat silent, his face not revealing what he was thinking.

  “I’d love to, but . . . I have to get home.”

  He sat back in the seat, turned his head away from her. “Just keep it in mind. The offer stands.”

  Is he hurt? Does he really still care for me after all this time?

  They reached the Hotel Ritz, and the privileges of Roman’s fame and fortune had them whisked straight to a luxurious suite. While he tipped the concierge, she walked around the room, marveling at the extravagant furnishings. The living room was large, filled with antiques. Floor to ceiling windows lined the corner room, overlooking the city.

  She drifted to the bank of windows and looked out over the city she had once loved being a part of. The sky was on fire with the sun just setting, and it cast a russet glow on the Eiffel Tower.

  He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her close. “See anything you like?”

  She nodded. “There’s no other place like it on earth.” She relaxed into his strong arms and leaned against his warmth. How many times had they stood just this way on the balcony of his tiny garret?

  He touched his cheek to hers, his beard tickling her skin. “Paris has missed you. I have missed you. There is no one else like you. I’ve searched for someone to fill the hole in my heart, but have not found her.” He kissed the side of her neck, rested his chin on her shoulder. “Have you found anyone to love over the years?”

  “No,” she whispered, cleared her throat. She paused. Loneliness filled her, and she said, wistful, “No. I’ve dated some, but never found anyone I wanted to be with. Frankly, I was too busy working to pay off our hospital bills.”

  His arms tensed around her. “Our hospital bills?”

  She caught herself, stepped out of his arms, out of his reach. “I mean Dad’s hospital bills, and the expenses related to his illness, then his funeral. So I never really had the energy to meet people or date after working two jobs.” Oh my God, that was close.

  “I wish I had known you were going through those troubled times. I would have done anything to help you.”

  She turned around and tried to smile at him. “Thanks. But I’m doing okay now.”

  “Let me show you to your room.” He led her to a closed door.

  She turned the handle and walked into a fairyland of pink roses and candlelight. “Oh,” she sighed. “You remembered pink roses are my favorite.” She breathed deeply, inhaling the delicate scent of the exquisite flowers and scented candles.

  She turned to look at him.

  He looked away, ran a hand over his eyes, down his face.

  “What is it?”

  “I remember everything about you. I’ve never forgotten you. You were the first woman I loved, the first person who, I thought, loved me?”

  “You loved me? You never said anything.” Young and inexperienced, he’d been her first love, her first lover. She’d been afraid, too scared to find out if he returned her love.

  “What can I say? I was young and stupid. I was desperately in love with you, but so afraid of telling you. I feared you would reject me. Then Patrice told me why you left—”

  She walked to him, put her fingertips on his lips to silence his words. His lips were soft and warm.

  “Let’s not bring her here. This is our place, and you’ve made it so special for me. For us,” she said.

  He reached up and gently held her fingers, kissing the tips of each one. Heat pooled low in her belly, spread throughout her body.

  His deep brown eyes searched her face, so intense it made her shiver.

  He pulled an oblong black box out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it. I hoped you might like to wear it this evening, for old time’s sake.”

  Hands trembling, she slid the ribbon off the box and opened it to reveal a charm bracelet lying on red velvet. She gasped, and slowly pulled it out of the box. The tiny charms tinkled like music.

  “I bought the bracelet for you and started collecting charms while we were together. I was going to give it to you for your graduation from Le Cordon Bleu. But I never had the chance.”

  She examined each of the charms. There were so many of them. Her throat closed, and tears threatened at his insightfulness. He’d lived a frugal life in Paris, and money had been tight for him back then. He must have scrimped and saved to buy each one.

  “I wanted you to know how special each memory was to me. The Eiffel tower is for our first visit there together. The rolling pin was for when you passed your fondant test. The umbrella because you loved the rain. The heart, because I wanted you to know you would always have mine.”

  Her throat closed, and her eyes pricked with tears. “It’s beautiful, Roman. Thank you so much. I can’t believe you kept it all these years.”

  “I think deep down inside, I always hoped I would someday see you again. That I would find you some way, somehow. But I was afraid to try . . .”

  She searched his face, wanted to see her answers there.

  His eyes smoldered, and she wondered if he sensed the same need skittering through her.

  Can I do this? Should I do this? What’s going to happen when I go home and never see him again? She never did anything like this. Every step of her life was planned down to the minute. It had to be in order for her to achieve her goals, her dreams.

  It was sink or swim time, and her body was urging her to dive deep, and take him with her.

  Forget tomorrow, live for today.

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, softly at first. She was surprised he did not deepen the kiss, kept his hands to himself. She braced her hands on his broad shoulders, tilted her head. She licked the seam of his lips, and he opened, allowing her in.

  He still hadn’t touched her, and she realized he was keeping his promise, letting her set the pace, deciding how far to go. In that moment, she decided she wanted him, had to have him.

  Carpe diem. Seize the day. Seize this minute, dammit, and live for once. Feel alive again!

  They might never have this chance again, and she was going for the brass ring.

  “Touch me,” she murmured against his lips. “Make love with me.”

  He groaned, and his arms swept around her, pulling her flush against his body. He held her so close they seemed melded together.

  His heart thudded against her breast, and hers answered, matching it beat for thundering beat.

  “Are you sure?” He leaned back and met her eyes.

  Unable to wait a moment longer, she unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers trembling. She pushed it off his shoulders, slid her fingers slowly through the smattering of dark chest hair. She traced the faint arrow of hair to his belt buckle, and his stomach muscles quivered.

  He stopped her hands before she could unsnap his pants. “I need to touch you, love. Turn around.”

  She turned around to let him unzip her red dress, trembled as it whispered down her body to puddle on the floor. He stopped her before she could face him again, and unhooked her black lace bra, dropped it to land on her dress. His arms slid around her, hands cupping her breasts, pulling her back to lean against him.

  She felt the warm skin of his chest against her back, and her eyes drifted to the mirror on the opposite wall. She watched, fascinated, as his thumbs flicked her nipples, and she arched into his hands. Liquid desire spread through her veins, coated her skin. His erection nudged her bottom, and she shifted her hips, rubbing against him. He groaned, and a shiver danced down her spine.

  “Mon Dieu
, what you do to me,” he whispered in her ear, his voice dark and husky. One hand traced slowly down her stomach to slip beneath her panties. He stroked one finger inside her, then spread the moisture between her folds. He groaned. “So wet. For me?”

  A rush of intense yearning burst through her blood, and she moaned, even as she nodded. Shards of pleasure shredded her reserve. Excitement coiled within her, and she was about to spiral out of control. She trembled.

  He’d ignited an inferno, and it raged through her body. She hadn’t been this close to anyone in a very long time. No one else made her feel the way he did, or could draw the pleasure from her so quickly.

  “You are so ready for me. I need you, need to be with you, Genevieve.”

  She heard the tremor in his voice and turned in his arms. His eyes were nearly hooded, luminous with passion. Burning, yearning for him, she kissed him, pulled him toward the bed. The backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she sank onto it.

  Unbuttoning his slacks, she slowly slid the zipper down, pushed them down even as he removed his shoes. His erection jutted forward, long, thick, and hungry. For her.

  He wanted her. Her. Knowing it, seeing it, empowered her to be bold, brazen. To take what she’d been aching for the last few days. Hell, the last fifteen years if she were honest.

  She held him gently in her hand, traced her fingers over the velvety steel. Licking a droplet off the head, she tasted the sweet and salty tang that was his essence. Her lips opened, and she circled him, using her tongue to please him.

  He sucked in a harsh breath, fisted a hand in her hair, pulled her head back gently. “You are torturing me. I won’t last if you keep touching me. I want to come inside you this first time.”