by Laura Burton
The crowd breaks into excited chatter.
“Is he talking about you?” Lucy asks, reminding me I’m still holding my phone to my ear. I swallow against the dryness in my throat.
“No. He can’t be…”
“That’s very exciting, is that why you say it’s complicated? Are you concerned that the feelings are not mutual?”
I’m clamping down on my lip to the point that it stings, and I strain my ears, trying not to miss a word.
“Oh, I know she feels the same way,” Blaze says, turning cocky now. “But whether she’ll let her guard down and let me in is the question.”
The presenter scoffs. “You are Blaze Hopkins; I don’t think there is any woman on the planet who won’t let you in.”
A wave of laughter crosses the crowd.
“Leila, he’s totally talking about you!” Chessy squeals. “Oh, my goodness, Blaze Hopkins is in love with my sister. I can’t believe this!”
Her words bring me back to life and I shake my head. “I have to go; I’ll call you later.” I end the call on my sister's protests and gulp against the rising nausea.
The people start pressing in and my chest grows so tight, it’s a struggle to breathe.
I’ve got to get out of here.
All the voices start to merge into one rumbling sound as I shoulder my way through the people, clutching my purse and trying not to pass out.
Blaze is going to tell someone he has feelings for her, tonight.
He’s not talking about me. He can’t be.
We’ve been spending the evenings together, sure. We’ve had laughs, he’s opened up a little about his likes and dislikes; I know a few things.
I know he hates red licorice; his grandma buys it for him every year and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her. I know he sings Queen songs while in the shower––he told me that; I definitely don’t have firsthand experience.
I know he’s not got an unkind bone in his body. In spite of the fact that he can sometimes come across as cocky and domineering, he’s a teddy bear underneath it all - just a really nice guy willing to give a hug to anyone who needs it.
I know he loves family and loves listening to me ramble about my sisters. I know he wants to live in a house with lots of land so he can keep chickens.
What I don’t know is how he feels about me.
I’ve been so careful. I’ve tried to keep things professional. Did I somehow let things slip and fall into unprofessional territory without knowing it?
Or am I completely wrong?
I break out of the crowd and walk double-time across the pavilion, heading for a bridge.
The moon is out in full and it’s beaming down like a giant flashlight, covering everything in a silver glow. Couples walk arm in arm along the bridge, a few of them kiss under the moonlight, and every part of my body is warm and gooey, like I’ve just jumped into a honey bath.
It feels like hours pass by while I’m wandering up and down the bridge, getting more than my 10,000 steps in. I lose myself in confusing thoughts and feelings, trying not to imagine what it would be like to walk arm in arm with Blaze and have him cradle my face with his huge hands… press his lips to mine.
I’m getting far too ahead of myself. There are lots of women on this trip.
Maybe he’s talking about Harper? He told me he disliked her, but maybe that was to cover up his true feelings?
Or maybe there’s an old friend in Paris, someone he’s known and adored since their childhood, and tonight is the night he’ll finally make his intentions known?
It could even be one of the stylists. After all, Joy and Hope spend a lot of time traveling from location to location with the actors, and they get a lot of alone time with them in hair and makeup.
“Leila!”
I stop in my tracks and my ears pick up the sound of excited chatter. I turn around and Blaze is walking toward me as if in slow motion. There’s a huge crowd of paparazzi behind him, with cameras going off every 15 seconds. All that’s missing is some cinematic rom-com music.
I hold my breath, feeling a part of my soul die with every flash of a camera.
Blaze finally reaches me. “I’m glad I found you. I thought I saw you in the crowd.” He grins at me. I try to ignore the fact that there’s a sea of people around us––watching, listening.
“You saw me? There were thousands of people.”
“Of course I did. You stand out like a rose in a bed of thorns.”
It’s a line from a movie, I’m sure. And usually, a line like that is something that would make me gag, but it feels different hearing words like that from him.
I don’t know if it’s the string music playing, or the soft glow from the streetlamps, or maybe even the full moon, but my defenses crumble. For the first time, I let Blaze take my hand. He presses his lips to my knuckles.
“I’m all done for the evening. Would you like to join me somewhere private for dinner?”
I glance around at the strangers surrounding us, overwhelmed. Then I look back at Blaze. I don’t think I mind. The words private and dinner are setting off all sorts of happy feelings. I grin back.
“Do you even need to ask?”
Chapter 14
Blaze
As we walk along the streets of Paris, my heart won’t stop thumping against my ribcage.
Leila’s eyes sparkle with wonder as she looks around at the buildings and takes it all in. “Look at that fountain! Look over there at that statue!” She’s pointing at everything, but we could be walking in the middle of the desert for all I know, because I can’t keep my eyes off her.
She’s stunning. The evening wind is blowing her wavy hair back from her face, and the shine of her lip gloss in the moonlight is like a magnet, pulling me in. It takes all of my resolve not to lift her up and kiss those pretty lips, right in front of all the paparazzi.
No. I must behave. She flinches every time a camera flashes, and her terrified eyes scan the faces around us every few minutes. She’s too tense. I don’t want our first kiss to be like that.
I remember the advice Harry gave me; women are not to be manipulated. So I’ve given up on my plans for reverse psychology.
Hopefully, I can dial up the charm and convince Leila to take a chance on me.
“I’m so full, I feel like my limbs are getting heavier with every step,” Leila says, yanking me out of my head. I want to swoop her up and carry her, but that move will only draw more attention.
I wrack my brain, trying to think of a place we can go where we won’t be bothered by the press or the general public. Then I look up and catch sight of the tallest landmark in the city. I smirk.
“I have an idea,” I say, taking Leila’s hand. To my relief, she doesn’t pull away, so I lead her to the entrance of the structure. I hand over a wad of cash to the attendant. “Can we have this to ourselves for an hour?”
He takes the money and gives me a curt nod, then lets us into the elevator.
“No way. Is this…?” Leila asks as we step inside.
The doors shut and block out the shouting paparazzi. We both exhale with relief at the cheesy elevator music.
We’re still holding hands. I can’t help fantasizing about what it would be like to stop the car and spend a few minutes doing what I like with Leila.
The tiny camera in the corner blinks at me.
There’s always someone watching.
The doors roll back and we walk into the next one.
It takes two different elevators to get us to the top.
At this altitude, the wind is really picking up Leila’s hair and blowing it around like she’s a model in a shampoo commercial or something.
“You can see the whole of Paris from up here,” Leila says. Her voice is breathy as she holds onto the railings.
I squint at the tiny, ant-like people walking around below. I’m hoping we’re high up enough to get away from the long-range lenses on the ground.
“The Eiffel Tower was the place wh
ere my grandpa proposed to my grandma.”
Leila looks at me, her eyes wide and shiny. “That’s so romantic.”
I nod, turning nostalgic as I remember the story my grandma told so often.
“It was after Vietnam. He brought her up here and proposed not more than twenty-four hours after he returned.”
“So, your grandparents are French?”
“My grandma is French. My grandpa spent two years in Paris studying French poetry and art. He met her here.”
Leila’s shoulders relax and she leans against the railings, looking at me like I’m recalling the greatest love story ever told.
“This would be the worst place to propose to me,” Leila blurts. Then she looks at me with horror. “Not that I think you’re––” she stops and holds her mouth.
“No. Oh no, that’s not why I brought you up here,” I say, waving my hands. We both laugh awkwardly. “I just mean I’m the clumsiest person on the planet,” Leila explains, resting a hand on my arm. “Knowing me, I’d drop the ring and knock somebody out down there.”
I cock my head to the side, studying the flush of red rising to her cheeks as she talks. “You’re not clumsy.”
Leila gives me a look that says Are you crazy?
“Come on, do I need to remind you of the tape measure incident?”
A bubble of laughter rises from my chest. I had totally forgotten about that.
“And what about the shoe fiasco?” she adds. We’re both laughing now.
“Okay, so you’re a little clumsy,” I admit. Then I look at her with some concern. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you up the Eiffel Tower. There’s no telling what could happen up here.”
I wrap her up in my arms from behind, prompting a squeal from her. “I better hold you tight, just in case the wind knocks you off your feet.”
Leila’s responding laugh is the most beautiful sound I’ve heard all day, and as I press her body up on mine, I’m flooded with warmth. It’s like a homecoming after a long stay away.
“The only thing sweeping me off my feet is you, Blaze Hopkins,” Leila says.
Is she flirting with me?
She swivels around in my arms to look up at me and her eyes drop to my mouth for an extended period of time.
She is flirting with me!
Now I’m torn between lowering my head and kissing her until we both run out of breath, and staying in this moment of flirting back and forth.
The last thing I want to do is dive in deep and scare her off.
But Leila licks her lips, and her gaze meets mine again.
Her smile falls and there’s an intensity in the way she looks at me that catches me off guard.
I’m so used to being the one to tease her. Now that she’s the one teasing me, I don’t know how I feel about it.
For one second, I’m suddenly acutely aware of how close we are. My arms are wrapped around her in a full body hug, and I’m pretty sure she can’t feel the bitter wind anymore.
Leila blinks, her thick lashes fluttering, and she glances at my mouth again.
“I don’t think I can fight it anymore…” she whispers.
“Fight what?” I ask, prompting her to meet my eyes again. Her cheeks dimple as a devilish grin crosses her face. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“Have you been avoiding me, Miss Scott?” I ask. First, she declined my offer to sit with me on the plane, then I couldn’t find her anywhere after we’d landed. I thought it was all in my head, but with the way Leila’s looking at me now, I’m not so sure.
“It’s easier to resist temptation. You know, out of sight, out of mind.”
I snort. “That didn’t work out so well, did it?”
Leila rises up on her tiptoes, and our mouths hover barely an inch apart. “It didn’t work at all. I just thought about you even more.”
The confession lights up a fire inside of me. “So, you do have feelings for me?”
I have her locked in my hands and neither of us can tear our eyes off each other. “I heard what you said. About telling a special woman how you feel…”
“And you think that special woman is you, do you?” I ask. I hold back a laugh at the way she squirms and her face goes pink.
“Well I…” she stops and keeps her mouth shut, giving me a hard stare as though she’s trying to read my mind.
“Would you like it to be you?” I graze my thumb across her cheek, and she nips her bottom lip under my touch.
“That depends. Would you like me to have feelings for you?” she quips back.
We stay in a stalemate for what seems like an eternity. Then she finally blinks and exhales. “Fine... I––”
But I don’t let her finish.
She doesn’t need to say it. And I’m done talking.
No longer able to constrain myself, I lean in and our noses nuzzle before I give her a hungry kiss. It’s like I’m a starved man that’s wandered the desert for days, and she’s my oasis. I gulp in her sweet scent, and every dark place in my mind lights up with all kinds of excitement.
This woman’s lips taste irresistibly. I always thought they looked welcoming.
I can’t tell if it’s her lip gloss, or if that deliciousness is just her. But now that I’m kissing her, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.
I’m not even sure I could stop if my life depended on it.
Leila moans and rests her hands on my chest.
My body heat is rising.
The cold wind blows her hair around my face, and I feel like some kind of personification of fire and ice. I suck on her upper lip until she squeals, then I move to her bottom lip, wanting to taste this woman for the rest of my life.
I turn us around until she has her back pressed up against the elevator doors. Then, moving as if by instinct, I take her hands and hold her by the wrists above her head. I hear Leila’s breath hitch and it’s the most adorable sound. I break away to search her eyes, looking for any sign that she wants me to stop. As if she’s sensed my thoughts, Leila wraps a leg around mine, pulling me closer. “Don’t you dare stop, Blaze Hopkins.”
With a happy growl, I move forward, more than happy to oblige.
Chapter 15
Leila
There’s a fan girl running around the inside of my head, screaming, “I’m kissing Blaze Hopkins!”
It’s always been a fantasy of mine to be totally helpless with my hands above my head and be kissed passionately by a big, alpha male like Blaze.
I mean, it’s the kind of thing I never expected to actually experience in real life.
Now, here I am, living out my fantasy, and it’s every bit as thrilling as I thought it would be.
Every atom in my body is buzzing.
It’s like I’m supercharged with energy and all of my senses are heightened. I’m bathing in his man scent. There it is again, like a steaming plate of steak or freshly cooked bacon. I could spend the rest of my life smelling him and I’d die happy.
Blaze kisses me with a perfect blend of roughness and tenderness.
He gives me a few soft pecks, then nips my bottom lip, sending a rush of adrenaline throughout my whole body. I fight back the urge to laugh and succumb to the passion instead. I’m giddy and my mind is all over the place.
He drops my hands and starts to caress my shoulders instead, then he runs his fingers through my hair, curls his hand around the back of my neck and deepens the kiss until I let out an agonized moan.
He is delicious. Expertful. Addictive.
I forget all about the fact that we’re at the top of the Eiffel Tower. I can’t even feel the evening air on me; Blaze’s red hot skin is setting me alight.
Like a dance, we alternate between passionate and playful kisses while roaming our hands over each other’s back and arms. Neither of us is quite ready to venture in other zones, for fear of losing control entirely.
I’m kissing Blaze Hopkins.
Blaze Hopkins is kissing me!
Money aside, this
makes the whole trip worth it.
Harper’s endless shopping lists. Olly’s snooty remarks. The judgmental glances from Joy and Hope. Even the lumpy old mattresses I’ve been sleeping on. It was all worth it.
Even if I never get another kiss like this in my life, I’ll be satisfied.
Blaze doesn’t moan like me, he growls in the most primal way, and it only increases my excitement.
All this time, we were both fighting the urge to give in to our feelings. And for what?
I can’t even remember. I’m sure I had some super sensible reasons for keeping Blaze at arm’s length. But right now, I can’t think of a single reason to stop making out with my celebrity crush.
As Blaze licks my bottom lip and sucks on it, all of my thoughts and worries about the future fizzle away under the heat of his tongue.
Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I was concerned about dating a celebrity.
The paparazzi are a turn off for me, and the idea of never having privacy makes me feel sick.
But right now, we’re totally alone in the most romantic city in the world, and all I want to do is cling to Blaze for dear life and cherish every delightful moment.
Our time is limited. Blaze paid that guy by the elevator to let us have time alone, but there’s still the risk of someone turning up at any moment. So pardon me, but I’m going to make every second of this count.
I take control and start to lead the kiss. Blaze grunts, but the corners of his mouth lift and he tugs on my hair again.
We should probably slow down and take a second to breathe; my lungs are screaming.
But Blaze shows no sign of stopping. In fact, he picks me up like I weigh nothing more than a doll, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his middle. Now I’m holding on to him like I’m a koala bear.
He tugs on my hair again, this time with a little more aggression, and I let the tug jerk my head back. I shut my eyes and moan at the press of his lips against the most sensitive parts of my neck.
“Oh, Blaze,” I say through a ragged breath.