by Pamela Yaye
His caress was better than she remembered. Paris told herself to breathe, to stare at something—anything—besides Rafael’s lips, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his face. Her desire for him was strong, so intense it made it impossible for her to think. Moving her hand away was out of the question too. Paris loved how he’d always made her feel desirable, wanted and sexy. “I date from time to time,” she said, twirling a lock of hair around the index finger of her free hand. “But I’m single, and have no plans to settle down.”
“Then why are you wearing an expensive diamond ring?”
To keep the opposite sex at bay. Talking about her ex-boyfriend always made her tear up, and since she didn’t want to have an emotional breakdown at their quaint corner table, Paris racked her brain for a suitable answer. Wanting to keep the mood upbeat, she said, “I love diamonds. Sue me!”
“I understand that, but why not wear the ring on your other hand?”
His question caught her off guard. No one had ever grilled her about her diamond ring before, but then again, she’d never let anyone get this close. Men were good for one thing and one thing only. After the deed was done Paris went home—alone. Pillow talk wasn’t an option, and neither was spending the night with her lover. “You’re a guy. You wouldn’t understand.”
Rafael released her hand and sat up straighter. “Try me.”
“I’m good at my job and I take great pride in what I do, but my clients are more interested in flirting with me than listening to what I have to say.”
“Do you blame them?” His tone changed, becoming playful, and amusement twinkled in his deep brown eyes. “You’re stunning, you have a wicked sense of humor, and sensuality and femininity literally ooze from your pores. They can’t help themselves!”
His words made her heart melt, but Paris didn’t let her feelings show. No use encouraging him. Their lunch date was a onetime thing, and despite their attraction, Paris had no desire to strike up any kind of relationship with her ex. She didn’t do long-distance, and hated the thought of being tied down to one person.
“Aren’t you afraid of scaring off Mr. Right?”
Paris laughed, and shrugged off his question with a flick of her hand. “I’m too busy being successful to worry about being single. Besides, Mr. Right doesn’t exist, and neither does the ridiculous notion of living happily ever after.”
“You sound like a pessimist.”
“I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist. Instead of wasting my time dating, I’m focusing my energy on climbing the corporate ladder, and expanding my father’s lucrative business empire.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“Do you?” she asked, flipping the tables. “You’re thirty-six. Isn’t it time you quit sowing your wild oats and find a nice Italian girl to marry?”
“Have you been talking to my mother?”
His laughter filled the dining room, and the sound made her giggle. Joking around with Rafael made Paris feel good, better than she had in weeks. He was an honest-to-goodness gentleman, who said and did all the right things, and who knew how to make a woman feel special. Paris liked that. He was unique, interesting, nothing like the men most of her girlfriends complained about, and she was having a great time with him. “Have you ever been married?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. “Do you have children?”
“No, and I’m in no rush to have a family.” A wicked grin curved his mouth. “I’ll settle down as soon as I meet a smart, vivacious beauty like you, and not a minute sooner.”
“Then you’re going to be single for a very long time, because I’m one in a million!”
“That’s what I thought the first time I ever laid eyes on you.” He sounded serious, as if he meant every word, and his gaze smoldered with intensity. “You looked so cute in your sundress and cowboy boots I just knew I had to meet you. You were the prettiest girl in the room. Still are.”
His confession blew her mind. “I can’t believe you remember what I wore to the spring formal our freshman year at Georgetown.”
“How could I forget? It was a special day.”
That it was, she thought, her cheeks flushed with heat. We did a whole lot of French-kissing and slow dancing that night, and by the time you walked me back to my car I was in love!
“I remember a lot of things about you—”
“Really? Like what?” Paris didn’t believe him, not for a second, so she put him on the spot. “What’s my favorite color?”
“That’s easy, purple.”
Without a doubt, his megawatt smile was his best feature, and Paris could tell that he was proud of himself for answering the question correctly. Their banter was effortless, easily the highlight of her day. “Is that all you’ve got?”
He stroked his jaw as if deep in thought. “You used to love horror movies, the Backstreet Boys and chocolate fudge milkshakes from Dairy Queen.”
“I still do!” she shrieked, laughing. “How do you think I got so curvy?”
“Paris, you’re stunning and you know it.”
“And you’re too charming for your own good!”
The waiter arrived with their order and conversation was put on hold. Paris took a bite of her cake, enjoying the strong, rich flavor. As they ate, they discussed Stefano and Cassandra’s New Year’s Eve wedding, their families and their careers.
“I’m surprised that you work for your father’s construction company.”
Paris felt her eyebrows rise, and her shoulders tense. She was used to people taking cheap shots at her, knew what her colleagues said behind her back, and normally she didn’t care. But what Rafael said ticked her off. “Why are you surprised? You don’t think I’m smart enough to work in a male-dominated industry?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that question with a response.”
His voice was cold, and his gaze was deadly. He was annoyed with her, but for some odd reason that turned her on, made her wonder if he was still a passionate lover.
“Your dream was to start a beauty salon franchise, and I figured by now you’d have dozens of high-end shops around the world.”
Paris picked up her water glass. “Dreams change.”
“Do you enjoy being a senior administrator at your father’s company?”
No, she thought sadly, but I have no choice. I’m stuck. My father will never let me leave the family business, and furthermore, I’m a St. Clair. According to my dad, St. Clairs don’t give beauty treatments, they get beauty treatments.
“Yes, of course,” she lied, avoiding his probing gaze. “I’m very good at my job, and I’m proud of what Excel Construction has accomplished over the years. We’ve constructed schools, health clinics and community centers in inner city neighborhoods, and we have even more incredible projects lined up in the New Year.”
“Any chance of you opening a salon one day?”
“Been there, done that, and I’m not going there again.”
“It sounds like your past venture failed to meet your expectations.”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” she murmured.
Rafael leaned forward in his chair. “What happened?”
“Trust me, it’s a long, boring story. You wouldn’t be interested.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. Go on.”
Paris parted her lips, and to her surprise the truth came tumbling out. “I opened a salon with one of my sorority sisters from Spelman after graduation, and it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. If not for my father stepping in, and cleaning up the mess I made, I’d still be in court duking it out with my ex-best friend.”
“Paris, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from fulfilling your dreams.”
“That’s easy for
you to say,” she argued. “Everything you touch turns to gold!”
“It wasn’t always that way,” he confessed, his tone subdued. “I screwed up a lot my first few years at Morretti Incorporated, but after each failure, I picked myself up, dusted myself off and vowed to learn from my mistakes.”
Shocked, Paris closed her open mouth. “You struggled to find your footing in the business world, too?”
“Absolutely, and I’m a better man because of all the hardships I faced. It forced me to challenge myself, and to think outside of the box.”
He spoke with such fire and intensity that her thoughts took an erotic detour. Paris loved how strong he was, how intelligent, and his confidence was damn sexy.
Rafael picked up his water glass and took a drink. “The only way you lose in life is if you beat yourself, and I’m determined to be at the top of my game no matter the cost.”
Damn, Paris thought, licking her lips. I wish you were on top of me.
“You’re very passionate about what you do,” she said. “I admire that.”
“I think my ambition and my intensity has been the key to my success. Being the vice chairman of Morretti Incorporated is more than just a career. It’s my life, and I feel fortunate to be doing something I love. A lot of people aren’t that lucky.”
Tell me about it. Releasing a deep sigh, Paris toyed with her chain-link necklace. Owning a high-end salon—a trendy, glamorous place where women went to network, socialize and relax—would be a dream come true. But Paris was scared of falling flat on her face. It had already happened once, and it could again. “I love the idea of going into business for myself, but my father would never give me his support.”
“Why do you need his approval?”
Good question. Why indeed?
“You’re a smart, intelligent woman who can do anything she sets her mind to.”
I am! Paris considered what Rafael had said, and realized he was dead-on. My dad didn’t consult me when he married his trophy wife from hell, so why should I consult him about going into business for myself?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, picking up her napkin and dabbing the corners of her mouth. “Do I have chocolate icing on my face or something?”
“No, you look perfect.” He shrugged and said, “I was just wondering what our lives would have been like if we didn’t split up.”
“Sure you were,” she quipped, her tone filled with sarcasm. “Just admit it. You haven’t thought about me since our breakup, and the only reason you recognized me last night was because you overheard someone at the party say my last name.”
Rafael didn’t miss a beat. “I knew it was you the moment I heard your laugh.”
“No way. Seriously?”
“Once you love someone, they always stay in your heart. Contrary to what you think, I never forgot about you. You were my first love, and I wanted to marry you.”
“Rafael, we were kids.”
“No, we weren’t. Quit saying that.”
His sharp tone and the strength of his gaze shocked her.
“We were nineteen, and we both knew exactly what we were doing.” Rafael cracked a smile. “And if my memory serves me correctly you kissed me first.”
I sure did, and I loved every minute of it! Paris swallowed a moan, and buried her hands in her lap. Talking about the past would inevitably lead to daydreaming about all the times they’d laughed, and kissed. If she wanted to keep her wits about her she had to guard her mind against her memories.
She picked up her handbag and checked the time on her cell phone. Enough flirting with Rafael. Lunch was over, and not a moment too soon. “Thanks for lunch. This was nice.”
“You’re most welcome. It was my pleasure.” Rafael strode around the table and pulled out her chair. “After you.”
Standing, she took the hand he offered and slipped on her sunglasses. Paris was wearing her favorite pair of high-heeled shoes, but Rafael still towered over her. He was six feet six inches of drop-dead sexy, and being in the presence of such a gorgeous, virile man was doing one hell of number on her libido. Making love to Rafael was inconceivable, but when he rested a hand on the small of her back, it was all Paris could think of. He was her first love, and he’d always have a special place in her heart, but that was the extent of it. Paris wasn’t interested in rekindling their relationship, and as long as she remembered that all men were dogs—even charming, well-bred guys like Rafael—she’d never have to worry about being betrayed by a lover again.
Chapter 6
Rafael spent the rest of the afternoon strolling around the crowded, bustling streets of Venice with Paris. They admired the extravagant window displays, the gothic architecture of ancient buildings, and relished being in one of the most breathtaking cities in the world. In the fashion district, they bought gifts for their families, tried on Venetian face masks and enjoyed a snack at a sidewalk cafe. As they drank wine and ate calzones, they laughed about their college days and watched the tuxedoed band perform at the city square.
“I don’t know what to get.” Paris stood at the front of the souvenir shop, holding a hanger in each hand, wearing a frown. “Which one do you like better? The T-shirt with the pasta shells or the boxer shorts covered with wine bottles?”
“They’re both hideous, but if I had to pick one I’d choose the boxers.”
Flashing a coy smile, she slanted her head to one side. “Are you sure you don’t want a couple pairs? I think they’re très chic, and totally you!”
Rafael chuckled. “I’m positive, but if I change my mind I’ll let you know.”
Foreign languages and boisterous laughter filled the air. The souvenir shop was just steps away from the Grand Canal and crammed with everything from postcards to shoes and housewares. Being in such a small, confined space, with dozens of other people, made Rafael uneasy but he was having a hell of a good time. Paris freely spoke her mind, no matter the topic, and he enjoyed hearing her colorful stories about her employees, her friends and her family.
“This shop has the coolest stuff.” She picked up a cross-shaped rosary box and examined it. “My brother gave me a gag gift for Christmas, and now it’s payback. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he opens the gondola condom holder!”
“How are your brother and sister doing?” Rafael leaned against the counter and slid his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “Your niece is fifteen-years-old now, right?”
“Wow, you have an amazing memory,” Paris said, her tone one of awe. “Bella’s a high school junior, and she’s already taller than me!”
“I bet she’s just as beautiful as her aunt.”
Paris winked, and patted his cheek. “Keep the compliments coming, and I’ll buy you your own gondola condom holder!”
Rafael tossed his head back, and laughed long and hard. Her spirited, fun-loving nature appealed to the kid in him, and he loved her witty sense of humor.
“Kennedy is happily married with four children, but my brother, Oliver, is still as juvenile as ever. He’ll be forty next year, but I’m starting to think he’ll never grow up.”
“Does Oliver work for your father, as well?”
“On paper, yes, but he rarely goes into the office. He’d rather play golf with his buddies than attend executive meetings.”
“Be patient. Your brother will find his way.”
“I hope so, because I’m sick of doing his job and mine!”
At the cash register, as Paris loaded her items onto the counter, she chatted with the shop owner and selected more trinkets to buy. Then, purchases in hand, she strode purposely through the store and out the door.
The street was filled with restaurants, bars and high-end boutiques. Couples sat underneath umbrellas, chatting and eating. Tourists posed for pictures in front of cathed
rals and museums, and police officers patrolled the area on foot. The sky was a magnificent blue, the brightest, most vivid shade. Church bells rang on the hour, opera music played in the distance and school children played soccer in the square.
“I’m going to get some gelato,” Rafael said, gesturing to the small, quaint shop across the street. “Do you want some?”
Her face lit up and amusement twinkled in her almond-shaped eyes. “Do you even have to ask? I’ve been hooked on gelato since the first time you bought it for me!”
“What flavor do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
Her innocent, good-girl smile made Rafael think wicked thoughts. He’d been fighting the desires of his flesh all afternoon, and he didn’t know how much more of her teasing and flirting he could take without crossing the line.
Standing there, gazing at her, he noticed two things: the tiny freckles on her nose, and how plump and juicy her lips looked. He wanted to taste her, and imagined himself stroking her smooth skin.
“My cell phone’s ringing!” Paris opened her handbag, and frantically searched around inside. Finding it, she sighed in relief, and typed in her password. “It was my dad. I better call him back. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. I’ll go grab the gelato.”
“Great, because I could use a break.” Paris sat down on a wrought-iron bench and dropped her shopping bags at her feet. “Ten minutes, and I’ll be good to go. I promise.”
Inside the store, Rafael placed his order and paid the cashier. His gaze strayed to the front window, and his smile faded. Paris was talking on her cell phone, and it was obvious the conversation was not going well. Her expression was somber, and her shoulders bent. Concerned, he grabbed their desserts and jogged back across the street.
“Fine, Dad, I’ll do it. I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
Rafael sat down on the bench, and placed the cup holder beside him.
“I love you, too. Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow.”