Secret Match

by Victoria Pinder

He directed her to the pedestrian walkway and pressed the button to wait for the “walk” signal. “It’s only natural to want to kiss the prettiest woman around. Your eyes are a deep chocolate, accentuating the perfect bow of your lips, which beckon me closer with your smile.”

  Her pulse quickened. Kissing him might be the most fun she’d had in years. His regal nose and chiseled jaw made her long to touch him.

  Pedestrians passed them and she glanced beyond his shoulder and realized the sign had turned. He walked beside her as she took a breath and asked, “And what if you don’t like what happens after we kiss? What if I turn into some crazy stalker?”

  They reached the sidewalk on the other side and he pressed that warm, hard body of his against her side. “And what if I turned out to be married or some criminal?”

  “Wait.” She pushed away and crossed her arms. The last thing she needed in her life was trouble. “Are you?”

  “No.” His hand brushed against her hip and she dropped her arms as warm goosebumps followed where he touched her. “I was just pointing out the dangers of kissing strangers.”

  Toe to toe, she looked up as her eyelids fluttered closed. She hadn’t known that was really a thing. “Which is probably why we shouldn’t.”

  Her mouth parted and in a flash his hot, hard lips met hers--something inside her soul melted.

  The kiss ended and all she could do was sigh. He pushed her thick curls behind her ear as he peered down at her. His shoulders were so strong, like he could hold all her problems without a worry. “I’m glad we did. I now know for a fact you’re sweet and probably more innocent than I’d hoped for.”

  Her hands brushed against his chest. “And I know you qualify as a bad idea.”

  He leaned down like he’d kiss her again, but their eyes met as he asked, “How is that?”

  “You smell too good.” She closed her eyes, puckering her lips.

  His hand traced her neck and back. “What?”

  Wow. Her insides fluttered too. Her arms wrapped around his neck. “You smell too good. You taste sweet and act like the world is yours for the taking. It’s attractive, but dangerous—so, being with you is a bad idea.”

  He continued to kiss her beneath the lights of the Champs de Elysee. Every part of her felt lit up just from his kiss.

  If only this could last forever…when the kiss ended he asked, “Why deny yourself?”

  She didn’t want to let go. Her hands hugged his waist as she said, “I fly back to Mia…” If she said Miami, she broke the rule of revealing too much about herself and mystery felt like a game tonight. She swallowed and changed her sentence, “the States this weekend. We’ll probably never see each other again.”

  He whispered into her ear and awareness zipped through her. “Then let’s make the most of the time we have.”

  She met his gaze. He wasn’t on her plan, or schedule, not even one of her to-do lists, but she never really made time for romance or men. She took a breath and nodded. “Okay. No one will ever know about this.”

  “Si, bella.” He kissed her again.

  One night in Paris might be all they’d ever have, but there was nothing more that she wanted right now. Her show was a success. Models and photographers had cheered her shoes on the catwalk. So tonight, maybe she could have a little magic too. Here, even romance seemed possible.

  Chapter 2

  Giorgio Morgan, known as Gio to his friends, left his private jet and instantly felt the heat and humidity of Miami like a boiling hot soup that was nothing like the warm Italian climate he loved.

  His phone dinged and he read the screen. Piper Lacey. Again. He’d spoken to her last night and she hadn’t really gotten to the reason why she’d called. It had been an awkward conversation so he sent the call to voicemail as he didn’t need to talk to his ex-girlfriend from over a year ago.

  The driver put his bag in the trunk and Gio relaxed as he slid into the black limo that was already cold from air conditioning. Piper had been a beautiful woman, but he hadn’t thought about her in a long time.

  However, the woman he’d met in Paris over fashion week a few months ago unusually returned often in his thoughts. Not introducing himself to play a mysterious romantic game had been stupid, in hindsight.

  The driver got behind the wheel and looked back at Gio with a nod. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Morning. House of Morgan headquarters.” Saying that out loud was surreal.

  The driver turned toward the road. “Yes, sir.”

  A moment later, the limo was heading into Miami. Gio took out the contract he had printed out and stared once again at the logo of The House of Morgan.

  His father’s logo was his way of saying “family.” Despite Mitch, or maybe because of him, he’d chosen it as his own label years ago for that reason.

  Last year, when he saw that someone else, someone he’d been told was dead, used the same name he used on his menswear but for dresses, he’d sued.

  His clothing line was his own and no one else’s. Now he was here and the offer was at hand. And part of him understood. His half-sister had probably picked the name and logo for the same reasons he’d chosen them. But, he’d been first.

  The limo stopped in front of a high-rise building. He stuffed the papers back in his briefcase and headed inside to the lobby. The House of Morgan logo shone in bright gold on the black marble wall behind the desk.

  Even the swish of the M was too much like his emblem. And the logo was all their father’s.

  If the merger deal worked out, no one would ever know there was friction within the House of Morgan as the world already thought the two half-siblings were a team.

  His father’s words that family never fights with family replayed in his mind and grated on his nerves. He’d never even met these siblings which made teaming up sound impossible.

  Gio was here almost to spite Mitch’s memories. His father would never have wanted him to speak with the legitimate heirs to his fortune.

  Another piece of him wanted to hate the Americans for stepping into his world and assume he’d roll over.

  Mitch had hated Gio’s fashion interests and never supported the arts. There was no reason to think his half-sister wasn’t just looking to incorporate and steal his own passion with her slight interests.

  Either way, it was time to meet his half-sibling and the star of their father’s children. The night of her party in Paris, he’d spied from a distance without introducing himself. Gio smiled at the receptionist. “I’m here to meet with Victoria Morgan.”

  A stunning Hispanic woman in a pink and gold skirt with a gold cardigan strode from a side office to the front desk and held out her hand. “I’m Caro Morgan. This way.”

  He shook the hand of the female fashion designer and vaguely remembered meeting her briefly that same night in Paris. When a friend of a friend had invited him to crash he hadn’t been able to resist a chance to study his half-sister. It was why he hadn’t told the beautiful woman his name.

  Gio wondered if the goddess he’d spent the night with worked here too?

  Not sharing names had been one of his stupid ideas that he’d hated in the morning. If he’d gotten her name, he’d at least have a way to track her down again.

  The scent of her floral perfume haunted him.

  Caro walked him through an office and right, toward a conference room that had a half glass wall showing a marble table and black leather seats. Gio scanned the office and looked for his lost goddess, but of course she wasn’t there. Caro had no idea his thoughts as she said, “She’ll be right with you. Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”

  Focus. If the contract was acceptable to both him and Victoria, then he might work with this young woman who had married one of his half-brothers and he needed to make a good impression. He met the woman’s gaze and murmured, “Sounds lovely, signora.”

  She gave him a wide smile as she said, “Caro, please.”

  He tipped his head and nodded. “Of course. I’
m Gio.”

  The door flew open and the goddess of his memories walked right into his reality. Tight black curls coiled to her shoulders, a light purple dress went to her calves covered with a long crocheted purple sweater hiding her gorgeous curves. She stared at him in shocked surprise. “Caro… I…”

  “Kiwi?” Caro asked.

  Ah—information fell into place. His mysterious goddess was Kiwi Washington, the shoe designer.

  In Paris, she’d said her show was a success—how modest on her part as his own customers now came in expecting his suits to be paired with men’s shoes too.

  She crossed her arms, her brown eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost—there was no sign of the passion from that night. She took an audible breath and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Caro stepped back with her hand on her heart. “Kiwi, do you know Gio Morgan?”

  “We met in Paris.” Kiwi couldn’t quite look at her coworker.

  Caro kept nodding her head like she was trying to understand something as she asked, “In Paris?”

  Right. He reached out and took Kiwi’s warm hand to kiss the knuckles, her skin like silk. “We had an unforgettable night. It’s nice to see you again, Kiwi.”

  “Washington.” She took her hand back and stared at him with those almond-shaped eyes of hers as she corrected him. “My name is Kiwi Washington.”

  One of the sexiest women he’d ever met, and also one of the most talented designers. “A lovely name for a lovely person.”

  Caro stepped in between them and for one second he lost sight of his goddess but then Caro opened the conference door and scuttled out. “I’ll leave you two alone and go get Victoria. Kiwi, show him the coffee machine?”

  Kiwi shot her friend a warning glare but then said, “This way.”

  Interesting. Her hips sashayed but it was hidden under the long purple sweater stylized with a crocheted hem. His fingers itched to pull the sweater off, but he didn’t dare touch her. She was not giving him a warm welcome.

  She opened the side door and showed a breakroom with a coffee machine and a refrigerator. His nose turned at the idea of American coffee. He reached for her hand before she offered him a choice of plastic pods. “Could we go get coffee after my meeting?”

  She took her hand back but her painted pink lip quivered as she shook her head. “I don’t drink coffee anymore.”

  Her softness intrigued him. He leaned closer and inhaled the earthy rose scent of her. This couldn’t be the last time he ever saw her. He straightened. “Then how about lunch?”

  “I don’t know.” She crossed her arms again.

  Women didn’t usually tell him no, until recently, and he’d have to work harder to get Kiwi to say yes again. He massaged Kiwi’s arms to get her to relax as he said, “You are the most magnetic woman I’ve ever met.”

  Her long, thick black lashes fluttered. “Magnetic?”

  If he wasn’t here for business, he’d kiss her and whisk her out of this office—but he had to focus on why he was in this building in the first place. He swallowed and held his kiss in check though he whispered, “You’re always on my mind.”

  Kiwi patted her stomach and nodded as the conference door opened and a blonde who must be his half-sister let herself in.

  Kiwi quickly took a napkin and scribbled on it with a pen she found on the counter. She handed him the napkin and said fast, “Okay, we can get lunch. We should actually. Text me at this number when you’re done with Victoria.”

  And she called her boss by her first name. Good. It meant Victoria must respect her. Victoria spoke to a few of her associates near the door so they had a few seconds left.

  He put her number in his suit pocket near his heart as he said, “I have a reason to live today.”

  A genuine smile grew on her face like she’d just really seen him as her eyebrows lifted. “Were you going to die?”

  He whispered in her ear, wanting instead to kiss her again but he simply said, “Yes, because you weren’t near me.”

  She hugged him and then let go as she sauntered toward the side door while she said, “Okay. You’re still the same, I see. I’ll meet you soon.”

  His gaze stayed on her until she left the glass door and the four associates with Victoria also filed out, leaving him and his half-sister alone.

  The door swung closed and he turned his full attention toward the blonde, blue-eyed woman who stood at the front of the table, her hand outstretched in greeting. “Gio Morgan, it’s nice to meet you in person, finally.”

  His sister looked like a pretty version of their father. He shook her hand and said, “Likewise, Victoria. Our father told us you had died.”

  She motioned for him to sit beside her. They both sat, and he pulled his chair next to her. They were family, even if they’d never met. She didn’t open the file under her palm but instead leaned closer with her hand on her cheek. “Why didn’t your family come to the funeral then?”

  Ah. Yes, he’d seen her return to life on his computer screen. He’d watched the funeral proceedings online in his office with the door closed and saw how Victoria Morgan had filed in and walked over to their father’s casket like she needed to see for herself that the man was dead.

  Gio, for his part, had refused to care that much if his father was alive or dead. “After our mother’s accident and how my… our father, never came home after that for weeks at a time, most of us wanted nothing to do with him.”

  Victoria sat back and opened her folder. “Is it true you knew our grandfather?”

  She took a pen from the holder on the table and he noticed the slight tremble of her fingers.

  Clearly she was nervous. He folded his hands on the table before him. His grandfather had the reputation of being vicious in business but to Gio, he’d been kind and read to him adventure stories at bedtime. Other than his mother, his grandfather had been the one to kiss his forehead if he scraped his knee. The memories caused him to sit back as they played vividly in his mind. “Yes, he died when I was ten, but he was always very kind.”

  She let out a small sigh and dropped the pen to the folder. “Well, at least you have some good Morgan memories. My brothers and I were all psychologically damaged by our father and are glad he died.”

  “Then we have much in common,” he said fast and without thinking.

  Now, his brother Anthony thought their father was a living embodiment of a god and to this day seemed just as entitled as their father had acted.

  Gio had set up his menswear shop in Milan and owned his own estate, far away from Anthony. His other two brothers were like him and kept their father’s memory at a distance.

  He saw Mitch Morgan in Victoria’s blue eyes but ignored the déjà vu feeling. He picked up his briefcase and took out the printed contract while his sister said, “Including why we’re here.”

  Fair. Victoria had clearly learned their father’s rule in business to always fire the first shot. He leaned back in his chair and looked down his nose. “Yes, and how you tried to steal my trademark.”

  She tapped the pen and made it click as she said, “I had no idea about your company when I started mine.”

  “Even with my notoriety?”

  “I don’t read gossip magazines.”

  Neither one of them believed that. The American Morgans had never bothered to find the Italian half-siblings. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt in not knowing he was Mitch’s son too, but he wasn’t sold. “Then you didn’t do your research.”

  Her cheeks had a tinge of redness to them as she admitted, “You’re right. I wasn’t researching male fashion at the time, or our father’s logo.”

  Good. She wasn’t entirely full of nonsense like his father and brother. He nodded at her and said, “I will admit your women’s line is at the top of its game.”

  She took out a spreadsheet from her folder and showed it to him. “We’re both profiting from each other’s success.”

  He’d run the same numbers. Advertisers already
assumed they were in business together. The numbers, if they worked together, outshone his own personal estimates on his men’s fashion line. He mimicked their father’s expression, also taking a pen from the cup on the table. “So, sis, do you want this merger our lawyers hammered out?”

  “I do.” She signed the papers before her. “I wasn’t expecting a partner when I started my business. All my other brothers don’t care about fashion.”

  “And I wasn’t expecting to meet the American sister, ever,” he said while she handed him the papers.

  “Yet here we are.” She watched him closely as he flipped through the contract.

  He initialed the highlighted part of the agreement that said final papers were to be signed by both parties after working together and inspecting the product of the other. “So we can agree on the two-week trial?”

  “We will each work a week in the other’s houses to see if working together every day is something we can both handle.”

  “Yes.” He signed.

  She put her elbow on the table. “As long as we’re clear that I would still run my lines and you would run yours.”

  He handed her back the agreement. “Absolutely, though the label House of Morgan will rival all other design houses with both of us in charge.”

  “Let’s get to work,” she said. “I’ll have certified copies ready for you and sent to both our legal teams.”

  He laughed and shook his head. Victoria even had some of their father’s expressions though he’d heard and met plenty of people to know it was cultural. “That’s so American of you, Victoria.”

  Victoria lifted a slender shoulder without apology. “I set the tour for two.” She texted someone on her phone.

  He stood. It wasn’t even eleven so this meant he had hours with Kiwi and he needed to find out everything about her this time. No more secrets. If they worked together he’d be a happy man. He bowed to Victoria when she rose as well. “I will see you here then.”

  She gave him a quizzical gaze as she picked up her papers. “Where are you going?”

  Fair enough. Normally he’d have asked his sister out to lunch, but Kiwi was here and he had to see her. He patted his stomach. “I just flew in and I’m famished. So I set a lunch date.”