Forbidden Attraction: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by K. C. Crowne

  Her melodic voice pulled me out of my fantasy and back to her. I gave my head a little shake and cleared my throat, doing my best to make it look like I hadn’t actually just been picturing her naked.

  “Sorry, I guess I just spaced out for a minute,” I explained. “Just taking in all of the beautiful things around here and was decompressing at the same time. I honestly haven’t felt this relaxed in quite a while.”

  Hope chewed on her bottom lip in a way I found incredibly sexy and had a mischievous sparkle in her eye, obviously not missing the “beautiful things” comment. I’d only realized after the fact how that might have sounded. But hell, she didn’t seem to be too off put by it, so I was just going to let it ride.

  “You had a strange look on your own face when you were waving to those older people on the tour boat,” I noted, desperate to divert the conversation down another path. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was just thinking that when I get to be that age, I hope I’m still out having adventures,” she mused. “Don’t you think it would be amazing to be older but still out sucking all the marrow from life?”

  “A Thoreau fan?”

  “He’s okay. I just happen to like that quote.”

  “Fair enough,” I replied with a chuckle “Truth be told though, I wouldn’t know how to have adventures, amazing or otherwise.”

  Hope turned to me, her full, luscious lips turned down to a frown, the pouty look really working for her.

  “That’s really sad,” she commented. “That makes me sad for you.”

  I shrugged. “It is what it is,” I said. “I spent so much of my time and energy working on my career, focused on my patients, and until recently, caring for somebody else that I didn’t have much time to think about myself or what I might want.”

  “Oh Colin,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I think we need to teach you how to have fun and to really live. To have adventure.”

  “Good luck with that,” I grinned.

  “If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  She hooked her arm through mine, just her touch sending bolts of lightning shooting through my every nerve ending. The only adventure I wanted in that minute was to pull her to me and kiss her with all of the pent-up passion in me. Knowing it wouldn’t be well received though, I managed to rein myself in. Just barely.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you met me then,” she beamed. “I’m the one who’s going to show you how to live and have an adventure again.”

  We continued our little walking tour along the river, stopping by a group of people sitting on small stools, large canvases in front of them, painting away happily.

  “Is it me? Or does the art just look more beautiful here?” she asked.

  “I think it’s like food; we appreciate it more and think it’s the best thing ever when it’s in someplace new and not out of our refrigerator,” I flashed her a grin.

  “Yeah, maybe so,” she replied.

  Most of the paintings they were doing were quite nice though. I focused in one that was a bit darker and broodier. It was a grittier look at the street before us. The artist obviously saw it in ways the others I glanced at didn’t. Whereas the others used bright and vivid eye-catching colors, this man used dark and more muted tones, which sort of seemed to fit my mood those days almost perfectly.

  “Which one is your favorite?” she asked.

  I pointed to the canvas that caught my attention. “That one.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, that kind of fits you.”

  I turned and looked at her, a grin on my face. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  Hope shrugged. “It just suits your dark, broody nature.”

  “I’m not that dark and broody,” I objected.

  “Please,” she scoffed. “You make Batman look like a My Little Pony.”

  I couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that erupted from my throat. I howled with it, drawing the baleful glares of everybody sitting there painting. Hope took my arm and quickly ushered me away, lest I get us murdered by a bunch of angry painters. When we were a safe distance away, she stopped and turned to me, a smile on her face.

  “I like making you laugh,” she smiled.

  She did a lot more to me than just make me laugh. But I couldn’t tell her that. That would only make things awkward as hell between us. And even though she’d already said no to anything other than friendship, I got the feeling that she was still of trying to convince herself that friendship was the only thing she wanted from me.

  Every now and then, I’d catch her stealing a glance at me and I got to see what was really behind that mask of cool indifference she seemed to wear most often.

  We stopped at a cart selling coffee and I ordered a couple of espressos for us. Taking our drinks, I led us over to a table and we sat down. I found myself stealing glances at her as we sipped our espressos in silence for a couple of moments. And a couple of times, I caught her stealing glances of her own.

  The sexual tension and chemistry between us was thick. It was palpable. And both of us were doing our best to suppress or just outright ignore it. Which made things a little bit strained and awkward.

  As we sat there, a mime appeared as if out of nowhere and much of the tension disappeared almost instantly. Hope’s face lit up with a smile like a kid on Christmas as he went through his routine to her wild delight. She clapped enthusiastically and then tipped him when he finished. I just sat there and rolled my eyes. After he’d gone, Hope turned to me, a smile on her face.

  “You’re afraid of mimes, huh?” she prodded.

  “I’m not afraid of them. I just don’t like them.”

  “You looked ready to wet yourself there for a minute.”

  “Hardly,” I scoffed. “They just serve no purpose other than to be creepy. Like clowns.”

  “So you’re afraid of clowns too, huh?”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” I explained. “I just happen to think the world would be a better place without them.”

  “Uh huh,” she mocked. “Totally scared of them.

  I laughed, enjoying seeing that mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Hope was filled with an energy I found utterly intoxicating and compelling in ways I hadn’t felt in so long. She was night and day from Whitney, and I was genuinely enjoying my time with her, the tension that existed between us a moment ago thankfully gone like it had never been.

  “Anyway, I assume we need to do something fun, adventurous, and faux romantic for your article, yes?” I ask. “Since all we’ve done so far is walk along the river, wave at old people, and mock my disgust for people with painted faces, I’m thinking we need a plan.”

  “Of course you do,” she said. “You always need a plan, don’t you?”

  “It helps to be organized.”

  Her smile was beautiful and threatened to stop my heart. “Sometimes, you just need to learn to let go,” she said. “You don’t need to schedule every last minute of every single day.”

  “In my field, you kind of do,” I said.

  “True. But when you’re not on the clock, you really need to learn to loosen up, Colin,” she pressed. “Otherwise, you’ll wind up dead by forty.”

  Her comment brought my father to mind and the fact that he died so early again. It reminded me once again just how much I wanted to not be like him. I’d done things differently in my life aimed at living longer than he did. But Hope was right – I needed to learn to loosen up and have some fun. To go with the flow. Life was often messy, and no amount of scheduling or organization could always contain it.

  I needed to learn that trying to control the uncontrollable was not only an exercise in futility but a ticket to an early grave.

  “You sound like my mother,” I chuckled.

  “Comparing me to your mother already,” she grinned. “Ouch.”

  “Oh shut up,” I returned her grin. “Only in that she’s worried I’m going to keel
over if I don’t get out and have some fun.”

  “Well then, your mother sounds like a very wise woman.”

  “She likes to think so.”

  “Be nice to your mother or I’ll call the mime back,” she teased.

  “You are an evil girl.”

  “When I have to be,” she quipped. “Okay fine, you’re probably right. Having a plan of attack might not be a terrible idea. What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, it just so happens, I picked up some material back at the hotel,” I said.

  I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket and pulled out some brochures that had been near the concierge stand. They showed different attractions and tour packages we could take. I picked one up and showed it to her.

  “How about a tour of the Bastille?” I offered.

  “Yes, because nothing says romance quite like a place where countless people were killed,” she laughed.

  “Actually, historians tend to agree that not nearly as many people died at the Bastille as you might think,” I told her. “It’s generally believed that prisoners there were kept in relatively good conditions and –”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Really?”

  “What? History is a hobby of mine.”

  Hope took the brochure out of my hand and tore it in half without a word, dropping it onto the table between us. Obviously, a trip to the Bastille was out. I plucked another brochure out of the pile and showed it to her.

  “Okay, here’s one,” I read. “We can take a boat along the Seine, tour the Eiffel Tower, then the Louvre.”

  “Too touristy,” she said offhandedly as she rummaged through the other brochures.

  I picked up another one. “Okay, how about this one? A tour of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and a show at the Moulin Rouge?”

  “Too commercialized.”

  I blew out a long breath and laughed. “Then you come up with something, woman.”

  “Why don’t we start at Notre Dame?”

  “Uh, I didn’t realize Catholic churches were a hot bed of romance.”

  Her laughter was like the high tinkling of windchimes in a soft breeze. I could seriously listen to it all day long.

  “You are awful.”

  “I can be,” I admitted.

  “I just meant because it’s absolutely gorgeous,” she said. “The stained glass is exquisite and the architecture –”

  “Wait, you’re ragging on me for being interested in history,” I started. “And yet, you’re going to sit there and talk to me about architecture?”

  She cocked her head, looking at me for a moment, the nodded. “Yup. Sure am,” she smiled. “This is my world, you’re just living in it.”

  The “for now” I heard at the end of the sentence was only implied, but loud and clear all the same. Whatever was happening between us had a shelf life on it. I knew it and understood it going in but for some reason, I was starting to think it kind of sucked.

  “It’s only about a mile from here or so,” she noted.

  “Well then, let’s go.”

  We stood up and headed off to see Notre Dame. We spent several hours touring the place, looking at everything there was to be seen. She was right, it really was beautiful. There was a hushed atmosphere inside that was reverent and filled me with awe. I even had to tell her she was right about the architecture of the place; it was stunning. Knowing that the structure was built by man with the most rudimentary tools imaginable, nearly a thousand years ago now, was nothing short of awe inspiring.

  After leaving the cathedral, we walked back toward the Eiffel Tower and had dinner at a small café with a clear view of it. The conversation the entire day was light and fun. I didn’t think I’d laughed as much or as hard as I did with Hope in so long, I couldn’t even remember when exactly. Which, to borrow her words, was kind of sad. It made me sad for myself.

  Time flew and it was late by the time we got back to our hotel. We stood at the elevator, looking into one another’s eyes. Though the atmosphere of lighthearted fun was still there between us, it was joined by the feeling of a pulling and undeniable attraction once more. It was even thicker and stronger than it was before knowing we both had hotel rooms we could go to if we so decided. And there was a part of me really hoping she’d ask me to her room.

  We stood off to the side, neither one of us apparently ready to pack it in quite yet. Other guests of the hotel passed us by and there was a loud buzz of conversation in the lobby, even at that hour.

  “So how was day one of injecting some fun and adventure into your life, Colin?”

  “Well, I survived it,” I said. “And I have to say it wasn’t completely horrible.”

  Hope laughed and shook her head. “I just knew you were going to say that.”

  “Am I that predictable?”

  “Sometimes,” she fired back and flashed that dazzling smile at me before subconsciously running her tongue over her bottom lip.

  What I wouldn’t have given at that moment, to feel that tongue in my mouth. Or on other parts of my anatomy. But I had to be honest, it wasn’t just all about sex with Hope. There was something deeper at work inside of my head.

  She was unique; so vastly different than anybody I’d ever dated before. In addition to being drop dead gorgeous, she was smart, funny, strong, and witty. And best of all, she didn’t need me to take care of her. She was her own independent woman and she stood tall on her own two feet. I respected that about her a lot.

  I certainly didn’t expect to feel the way I was feeling about her so quickly. And most definitely not so strongly. Yet I couldn’t deny that I did. There was just something about Hope that triggered something inside of me that was completely unexpected, but entirely amazing all the same time.

  As we looked into each other’s eyes, I knew she was feeling something. Maybe not exactly what I was feeling, but there was definitely something there. But like me, I could tell she was resisting the temptation to act upon it. It seemed like she was working hard to resist the urge to give in to her baser instincts and keep her vow of this being a “no booty call” sort of a deal.

  Although I was tempted to push the issue, try to persuade her to spend the night with me, there was some small part of me that worried she would just turn tail and run. I didn’t want to scare her off and never see her again. But I wanted her. Badly. And judging by the look in her eyes, she was feeling the same way. It seemed like some small part of her was hoping I’d take the lead and walk her down that path. The conflict on her face was as evident as the longing in her eyes.

  Pushing the issue though, probably wouldn’t have the effect either of us wanted. Although the chemistry between us was real, it would probably make things tense and awkward. If something was going to happen between us, I thought it best to let it happen organically, when we were both ready for it.

  I wanted her but I could wait.

  Reaching out, I pushed the call button for the elevator, and she opened her mouth as if to say something. But then she closed it again and gave me a gentle smile.

  “Well, thank you for today,” I said, clearing my throat. “I actually had a lot of fun.”

  That moment of anticipation and expectation between us passed and I could see a slight shimmer of disappointment in her eyes. Though I saw something else too; respect. I could tell she was glad I didn’t force the issue between us and in that moment, I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she would have given in. Which might have very well ruined everything.

  “So, same time tomorrow?” she squeaked.

  I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Ooo000ooo

  “Knock, knock,” a voice called from outside my hotel room door. “I come bearing coffee.”

  I had already been awake for several hours, wondering when I might hear from Hope. Of course, she had meant it when she said the same time as the day before. We were already coming up on noon, and part of me had feared she’d had
a change of heart.

  Hearing her voice, however, brought a smile to my face. I pulled myself away from my laptop, closing it without a second look and hurried to the door.

  When it opened, she stood before me looking even more beautiful than before. Her hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, and she had on makeup today, I noticed. Not a lot, but just enough to enhance her already gorgeous features. Her eyes popped even more than usual thanks to long, thick lashes and a soft, pink shimmer on her eyelids.

  Her lips, already luscious, were red and supple. She smiled as our eyes met.

  “You sure opened the door fast,” she said, stepping into my room as if she’d owned the place. She hadn’t been lying about the coffee either; she had two cups and handed me one as she passed me by. Our hands touched, briefly, and there was that electric shock again.

  When she walked by me, I couldn’t help but stare at her body. Her ass looked amazing in a pair of tight jeans. She was wearing a shirt that was practically a crop top, so it gave me an ample view of her ass, as well as her flat stomach when she turned back around to face me.

  “So what’s the plan for today?” I asked, sipping my espresso.

  Rolling her eyes playfully, she laughed. “There you go with that planning talk again.”

  “I thought we’d already decided that some planning was necessary,” I said, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, brushing off the comment with her hand. “I’ve already looked into where we’re going to go next. Nothing too structured, just walking around Montmarte, perhaps walk the stairs to the Sacre-Coeur.”

  “Ah, so you are a fan of Moulin Rouge after all,” I said with a wink.

  She didn’t look amused. “Honestly, I haven’t seen it.”

  “You haven’t?” I asked. Every woman I’d ever known had loved that film, and I’d watched it countless times. It wasn’t bad, I actually kind of liked it. But to find a woman who hadn’t seen it, well, that was a surprise of a lifetime for me.

  “Nope. I’m not much of a movie person,” she said. “I prefer doing things over watching things play out on screen.”

  “But you’re a writer,” I stated.