by Pamela Yaye
“Where are we going? You live around here?”
He smiled, gesturing at the large Colonial-style house to their left, and patted her hip affectionately. “I’ve planned a fun-filled day for you, Ms. St. Clair, and a few more big surprises.”
“If I don’t check into the hotel by noon I’ll lose my suite.”
“Then you can stay here with me,” he said in a smooth voice.
“Rafael, I can’t. That’s insane.”
“Not to me. I love the idea of taking care of you.”
Paris felt her heart melt, and knew she had stars in her eyes. At a loss over what to do, she weighed her options. She could call a cab to take her to the hotel, or have a long, luxurious brunch with Rafael. The answer should have been a no-brainer, but Paris couldn’t shake her fear of being alone with him again.
“After we have breakfast I’ll take you straight to the W Hotel.”
His gaze held her in its powerful grip, reduced her to a quivering mess in a Christian Dior pantsuit. And when Rafael leaned in, laying a slow, lingering kiss on her lips, Paris knew she didn’t have a chance in hell of resisting him.
Chapter 12
“Are you ready for dessert?”
Paris put her fork down on her plate, sank back into the padded chair and wiped her mouth with her napkin. Rafael had made all her favorites—chocolate croissants, strawberry-stuffed French toast, ham and cheese frittatas—and because of his persuasive charms she’d had second helpings and one Irish coffee too many. She was enjoying his company, the old-school songs playing in the background and all the scrumptious food, but she couldn’t eat another bite. “No, thanks. Nothing for me.”
Rafael cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“There must be something I can do to change your mind....”
Crossing her legs, she played with her scarf. Her heart beat with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. They’d been laughing and flirting since they sat down to eat and Paris was having a great time. Rafael made her feel like the only woman in the world, and every time he flashed his pearly whites at her she felt light-headed and giddy.
“You love dessert,” he teased. “Don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen you in action.”
“Guilty as charged. I’m a chocolate addict and proud of it!” she said with a laugh. “I overindulged in Venice, and if I want to fit into the gorgeous Christian Dior suit I bought for the Women’s Business Expo, I have to quit pigging out.”
“A few sweets won’t hurt. You have a gorgeous body, and that will never change.”
“What’s on the menu?” Paris asked, wetting her lips with her tongue.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
She pursed her lips and faked a scowl. “You are such a tease.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why? What do you have up your sleeve now?”
Rafael broke into a slow, sexy grin. “There’s only one way to find out....”
Curious, she did as she was told. Paris didn’t hear Rafael walk around the dining room table, but she sensed him beside her and knew he was just inches away from her face. Her pulse rate shot up. Rafael’s hands explored her flesh, moved slowly down her neck, over her shoulders and along her arms. His touch made her wet, filled her with longing and desire. Her heart clapped like thunder, and the sound of her fast, heavy breathing drowned out the soulful, sensuous music playing on the stereo.
Paris felt something brush against her collarbone and opened her eyes. “My necklace!” she shrieked, clutching the heart-shaped pendant to her chest. “I thought I’d lost it forever. Where did you find it?”
“Under the bed in your hotel suite.”
A sigh of relief fell from her lips as she admired her necklace. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been beating myself up all week for losing it.”
“I’m surprised you still wear it.” Rafael leaned against the table. “I figured you tossed it in the trash after we broke up.”
“No, never, it’s a gorgeous piece of jewelry and one of my most cherished possessions.”
He looked pleased, and when he asked about his “finder’s fee,” Paris cracked up. “Don’t worry,” she said, standing up. “I have it right here.”
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about!”
Paris cupped his face in her hands and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for returning my necklace, Rafael. You’re a lifesaver.”
“And you’re beautiful.”
The predatory gleam in his eyes made her mouth dry and her sex tingle, but Paris knew better than to act on her desires. What happened in Venice was a onetime thing, something on the spur of the moment after too many glasses of champagne. Today she was sober, completely in control and determined to keep her wits about her. “I’ll help you clear the table before I go,” she said, stacking the utensils on the empty plates. “It’s almost three o’clock, and I have a million things to do before this evening.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
The twinkle in his eyes and the grin on his lips belied his curt tone.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is.”
Paris hid a smile. His voice was firm, as if the matter was nonnegotiable, and his posture was one of confidence and self-assurance. She had to admit, his take-charge demeanor was damn sexy. It made her hot, way down below, and his fiery gaze was a turn-on.
“You belong to me for the rest of the weekend.”
“That’s not going to go over well with my dad,” she said with a laugh. “We’re meeting at Bourbon Steak for dinner, and if I’m a no-show there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Do you always do everything your father says?”
“I like to keep the peace.”
“Is that why you’re going to the World of Concrete convention next month?”
Smirking, Paris swiped a napkin off the table and chucked it at him. “You were supposed to be driving, mister, not eavesdropping on my conversation.”
“You don’t need anyone to run your life, Paris. You’re smart enough to make your own decisions. Always have been.”
Deep in thought, she fiddled with her bracelet, running her fingers slowly over each delicate pearl. “After my mother died, I was lost and inconsolable, and if not for my father I would have gone down the wrong path like my brother and sister. He made a lot of sacrifices for me, and I feel like I owe all my success to him.”
“I understand that. My parents worked hard to provide a good life for me and my brothers after we immigrated to the U.S. But although I love them dearly, I won’t let them run my life.” He added, with a wry smile, “And believe me they’ve tried, especially my mother!”
Paris gave serious thought to what he’d said. She was tired of her dad yelling at her and ordering her around, but she didn’t have it in her to stand up to him. She desired her father’s approval more than anything, often felt incomplete without it. And as Paris cleaned the dining room she realized that would probably never change.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Rafael gripped her shoulders and steered her out of the room. “Go into the living room and relax.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind helping.”
“I’m positive,” he said with a fervent nod of his head. “After I clean the kitchen, I’ll prepare dessert then feed the dogs. It won’t take long, I promise.”
“I feel terrible that you put them outside. My allergies aren’t that bad.”
“Don’t be. You’re much better company, and you smell nicer, too.”
Tickled pink, Paris concealed the girlish smile threatening to explode onto her face.
“Mi casa es su casa.” Rafael lowered his head and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Make yourself at ho
me. I won’t be long.”
He picked up the stack of dirty dishes and set off for the kitchen.
I swear his lips are going to be the death of me! Paris left the dining room feeling jovial. The paintings along the cream-colored walls depicted rolling hills, clear blue skies and the pictures of Rafael and his beloved dogs made her heart soften like a marshmallow. Thinking about her charming host and all the laughs they’d shared that afternoon brought a smile to her face. No one had ever made her a home-cooked meal or gone to such extraordinary lengths to impress her. Paris was deeply touched by his thoughtfulness.
In the living room, wall lamps emitted a soft glow, potted candles perfumed the air with a lavender fragrance and arched picture windows offered breathtaking views of the city. Outside, the breeze whistled through the trees, and thick white snowflakes fell from the sky.
Paris put her cell phone on the table, sat down on the leather couch and tucked her feet underneath her. She loved the swank decor in Rafael’s bachelor pad and admired the eye-catching sculptures and vibrant artwork. The black-and-white color scheme, vaulted ceilings and plush, chocolate-brown furniture made the two-story house cozy and inviting. And as Paris grooved to the D’Angelo song playing on the stereo, she felt relaxed and at ease.
Suddenly the scent of cinnamon filled the air. Hearing footsteps behind her, Paris glanced over her shoulder. Her pulse galloped like a Thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby. Rafael stalked into the living room wearing his signature dreamy smile, and her heart overflowed with gratitude. He knew how to treat a woman right, and for as long as Paris lived she’d never forget how special he’d made her feel every time they were together.
He walked with purpose, moved with such confidence and swagger it was impossible for her not to drool like one of his dogs. He was holding a silver tray, and when he set it on the coffee table Paris couldn’t decide what to do first: devour him or the desserts.
Determined to remain under control, Paris tore her gaze away from him and buried her hands in her lap.
“I made these just for you.” Rafael sat down beside her on the couch and picked up the plate of cookies. “Go on, help yourself.”
Paris did. The fried, doughnut-like cookies were soft, warm, and so damn good she ate four. “What?” she asked sheepishly, helping herself to another one. “You said to eat up.”
“And I meant it. There are lots more in the kitchen.”
Paris dunked her cookie in her Irish coffee and took a small bite. Chewing slowly, she savored the warm, sweet treat. “I can’t believe you bake.”
“Why? Because I’m a guy?”
“Uh, yeah!” She laughed. “You don’t strike me as the baking type, but I’m glad you are because these cookies are out of this world. You’ve got skills, man!”
“That means a lot, coming from you.”
He spoke in a low, husky voice, one Paris found undeniably sexy. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, couldn’t look away for a second, and wished his hands were stroking her body.
“Well, just so you know, there’s a lot more to me than meets the eye.”
“Oh?” Paris raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me. I’m all ears.”
His grin was sly and mischievous. “What do you want to know?”
He gave her a long, meaningful look. Paris felt vulnerable, exposed, as if she was sitting on the couch buck naked. It was hard to think when Rafael was staring intently at her, but she asked the question at the forefront of her mind. “Why did your last relationship end?”
His smile fell away and the muscles in his jaw tightened. “I’m surprised you don’t know. The story was all over the news for weeks.”
Intrigued, Paris turned toward him, giving him her undivided attention.
“My ex-girlfriend gave a tell-all interview about me and my family to Celebrity Scoop.”
“That’s terrible,” Paris said, disgusted. “You should have sued her ass for defamation.”
“I considered it, but once the magazine hit stores I changed my mind. Fighting Cicely in court seemed like a waste of time and money. I was too busy overseeing the development of our New York office to be bothered.” Rafael cleared his throat and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “My dad was pissed because she told the magazine our family has ties to the Mafia, but her allegations didn’t faze me. Cicely Cohen isn’t the first person to try and capitalize off my last name, and she probably won’t be the last.”
Curiosity pushed Paris to ask, “Did you love her?”
“No, and when I had dinner with my brothers and their girlfriends, I realized how pathetic my relationship with Cicely was. There was no passion, no fire, and after I caught her in numerous lies I decided to call it quits. We broke up nine months ago, and I haven’t spoke to her since.”
His eyes probed her face, and her flesh caught fire.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, and I doubt I ever will.”
Paris shifted uncomfortably in her chair and fiddled with her diamond ring on her left hand. “It sounds like you’re better off without her,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so squeaky. “What she did to you was cold and calculated.”
“It was, but I survived, and the ordeal brought me and my family closer together.”
Paris could relate to what he was saying and nodded in understanding. “It’s hard to find people to trust. Everyone’s hungry for fame and fortune, and will do just about anything to get both.” Memories of the past made her heart throb with pain, but she pushed her thoughts aside. “I’ve been betrayed, too, but all those painful experiences made me a better judge of character and a stronger, more independent woman.”
“It’s you against the world, right?”
“Yeah, it is, and that’s just the way I like it.”
“I know how you feel. I have my family and that’s all I need.” Rafael picked up his mug and tasted his coffee. “I have the worst luck with women, and if my parents weren’t pressuring me to get hitched I’d probably be a lifelong bachelor like George Clooney.”
“Your mom is desperate for grandbabies, huh?”
Rafael groaned as if in physical pain. “Desperate is an understatement. Her new hobby is hooking me up on blind dates with her friends’ daughters and introducing me to random women on the street.”
“You poor thing. It must be such a drag meeting beautiful women 24/7.”
“Thank you!” Rafael pumped his fist in the air as if he was cheering on his favorite basketball team. “Finally! Someone who understands my plight!”
Paris smirked.
A spirited conversation about love and relationships ensued, and when Rafael told her about his blind date from hell, Paris burst out laughing. Laughing so long and hard, tears gushed down her cheeks. For the first time in months, she felt happy. She couldn’t stop smiling, didn’t try to hide her feelings. Rafael was kind-hearted, romantic and chivalrous, and she was having a blast with him.
“You couldn’t pay me to attend another holiday jam,” he said, resting a hand comfortably on his knee. He looked as relaxed as a sun-seeker stretched out on Champagne Beach, and spoke freely, without restraint. “Singles events just aren’t for me. I’d rather work or play poker with the guys than stand around making conversation with a bunch of people I have absolutely no interest in.”
His words threw her, making her wonder what had happened to the friendly, outgoing guy she’d fallen hard for her freshman year of college. “When did you become so antisocial? When we in college you used to love going out and meeting new people.”
“Things were a lot easier back in school. No one at U of W knew my family had money, so my father’s wealth was never an issue. But these days I can’t go anywhere without someone trying to cash in on the Morretti name.”
“I hear you. I’m so tired of being lied to and disappo
inted that I refuse to date.”
“Tell me about your last serious relationship.”
The statement and the intensity of Rafael’s gaze caught her off guard. Paris drew a deep breath, but her pulse was drumming so loudly in her ears she couldn’t think straight. It hurt to think about her ex-boyfriend and the thought of confiding in Rafael about her past made her burn with shame.
Needing a moment to collect her thoughts, she stood and wandered over to the window beside the towering bookshelf. The streets were deserted, blanketed with snow, and hundreds of stars lit up the night sky. “This is a nice neighborhood. I love how quiet and peaceful it is. Have you lived here a long time?”
“You’re trying to change the subject.”
Paris struggled for a suitable response but came up empty. She heard footsteps cross the hardwood floor, saw his refection in the window and felt her body tense. Rafael stopped behind her, just inches away. Suddenly it became hard to breathe, difficult to swallow, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Perspiration drenched her body, made her palms slick with sweat. The walls were closing in on her, the tension in the room so suffocating she felt as if she was trapped in an elevator with a hundred other people. Her throat closed up and her tongue lay limp in her mouth. Paris didn’t want to talk to Rafael about her ex; she just couldn’t do it, not today, and likely never. She made up her mind to call a cab as soon as her hands quit shaking.
“I just want to get to know you again. Is that so bad?”
Rafael touched her shoulder, and she reluctantly turned to face him. Bad idea. Seeing the compassion and concern on his handsome face made her eyes sting. A flood of tears momentarily blinded her, causing the living room to swim out of focus.
“Angel eyes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Embarrassed for letting her emotions get the best of her, she shook her head and waved her hands in front of her face. “Don’t be silly. I’m not crying. It’s just my allergies acting up again....”
He closed his arms around her, engulfing her cold, trembling body in a hug. Paris stood perfectly still. She tried not to notice how good it felt being in his arms. As he stroked her hair, her fears abated. Her tears dried up, her vision cleared and her hands quit shaking. The music, his soothing touch and the promises he whispered in her ears were her undoing. Desire overtook her like a crook lying in wait. Paris tried damn hard not to cross the line, promised herself she wouldn’t throw herself at him again, but her body betrayed her.