Authors: Pamela Yaye
“We better rejoin the group. I'd hate for us to get lost,” Rafael said before taking her hand and leading her out of the dungeon and through the hallway. Paris heard the tour guide's loud, booming voice and knew the sightseeing group was nearby.
“Do you mind if we skip the rest of the tour?” she asked, rubbing her hands up and down her forearms. “This place is giving me the creeps!”
He gave her a one-arm hug. “You have nothing to worry about. I won't leave your side.”
“Not even for the busty redhead?”
Rafael frowned. “What redhead?”
“Oh, come on, you mean you haven't noticed the chick in the fuchsia dress making eyes at you for the past forty-five minutes?”
“No, actually, I haven't. I've got a lot on my mind.”
“Really? Want to talk about it?”
Raking a hand through his short dark hair, he shrugged and released a deep sigh. “I'm feeling for one of Cassandra's bridesmaids, but she won't give me the time of day.”
His words were a crushing blow. Paris nodded in understanding, as if she was listening, but her thoughts were a million miles away.
How could Rafael be interested in someone else? Doesn't he feel the chemistry between us? The strong, mind-blowing attraction?
Her mind returned to her favorite moments of the afternoon. Rafael was suave, chivalrous and smooth, and when he wasn't making her laugh, he was making her smile. Earlier, as they'd sat outside eating their gelato, she'd been so sure he was going to kiss her that she'd jumped to her feet in a state of panic.
Paris scolded herself for acting like a jittery fool back at Saint Mark's Square and vowed never to lose her cool again. Rafael was interested in someone else, and the suspense was killing her. All the bridesmaids were crushing hard on him, and the thought of him being intimate with someone else made her stomach lurch. “Who is it?” she blurted out, her curiosity finally getting the best of her. “It's one of the Wilson twins, isn't it?”
“I don't even know who they are!”
They laughed, and the tension in the air receded.
“She has gorgeous eyes, the sexiest pair of legs I've ever seen and a wicked sense of humor.” Rafael stopped at the entrance of the palace and fixed his gaze on Paris. “We haven't seen each other in years, but I still find you incredibly attractive.”
His words delighted her, filled her with pride.
“Our breakup was one of the worst things to ever happen to me,” he confessed, in a soft, quiet voice. “And to this day I still don't know why you dumped me, Paris.”
She lowered her head, shifted her tired, aching feet.
“Was it because of the stress you were under at home, or because you fell for that clown on the football team?”
Caught off guard by the question, she opened her eyes in surprise, and her mouth fell open. Standing at the entrance of the Doge's Palace was no place to have a heart-to-heart talk. But Rafael was opening up to her in a way he never had before, and Paris was desperate to clear the air once and for all. Maybe once they got everything out in the open she'd stop fantasizing about kissing him. At the thought, her nipples hardened under her dress. Banishing the image from her mind, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “There was no one else.”
“You started dating another guy a few weeks after our breakup.”
Paris held up an index finger. “We went on one date. That's it.”
“That's not what I heard.”
“Why does it matter? It's not like you stayed home lamenting our breakup. As I recall, you hit the clubs pretty hard that summer.”
“I had to do something to get over losing you.”
“Rafael, I had to break things off with you. My dad gave me no choice.”
Rafael regarded her intently.
“My father went ballistic when he found out my sister was pregnant and had dropped out of college,” Paris explained, shivering at the bittersweet memory of that Sunday afternoon. “I think he was scared of me becoming a teenage mother, too. He had high hopes for me, and he didn't want you messing up my plans.”
“Is that what he said?”
Paris shook her head. “No, but he told me if I didn't break up with you and focus on my studies he'd cut me off financially, and at nineteen I was in no position to take care of myself.”
The expression on Rafael's face broke her heart. Seeing the hurt in his eyes made Paris regret the way she'd treated him in the past. She wanted to apologize, to tell him how much she'd loved him, but couldn't bring herself to say the words. Not after fifteen long years apart. They'd moved on, had other relationships, and Paris didn't want him to think she'd been pining over him for almost two decades.
“Why didn't you tell me the truth?” he asked.
“I didn't know how to.”
Rafael nodded. “I understand, and I appreciate your honesty now.”
“And, for the record, I went out with that football player because his parents and my dad are good friends. Not because I liked him.”
Seconds passed, and the tension grew thicker than smoke.
The sound of Paris's ring tone broke the silence.
“It's Cassandra,” she said, reading her latest text message. “And she's not happy. We better go. The wedding rehearsal starts at six, and if I'm late she'll kill me!”
Rafael checked his wristwatch. “The church isn't far from here, but we'll have to take a vaporetto to get there on time.”
“A vaporetto? What's that?”
“A motorized boat. They work just like a city bus except they stop at docks and never get flat tires,” he joked, leading her out the museum doors.
Outside, they bought tickets at a tiny white booth and headed to the nearest dock. Minutes later, they boarded a water taxi and found seats at the rear. The air was warm, the breeze strong and the sky was filled with hundreds of faint stars.
“Here, take my coat.”
“No, thank you, I'm not cold.”
Rafael took off his jacket and draped it over her arms, anyway. “You have to cover your shoulders or you'll be turned away at the church.”
“Oh, thanks, I had no idea.”
Within minutes, they arrived at the breathtaking fifteenth-century cathedral. When Paris spotted Julietta pacing in front of the church, she strangled a groan.
“I'll see you back at the villa.”
Paris gestured to the church. “You're not coming inside?”
“No, I have tons of work to do, and I still have to write a speech for the bride and groom. Tomorrow is the big day, and I don't want to let them down.”
“That's right. You're the master of ceremonies. Are you nervous?”
“No,” he said confidently, licking his lips. “I think it's going to be fun and good practice for my brother's weddings next year.”
“I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Don't forget to save me a dance.” Rafael gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze while juggling their bags from shopping and then dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, Paris,” he said as he handed over her belongings.
Long after he walked away, Paris stood on the street, thinking about him and all the fun they'd had that afternoon. Closing her eyes, she buried her face in his jacket and inhaled the scent of his fragrant cologne. She was so aroused by his chaste kiss, her body was inflamed with desire. She craved more, could almost feel his hands stroking and caressing her flesh, and struggled to answer the question plaguing her thoughts.
How am I supposed to resist a man whose smile makes me weak and whose touch leaves me breathless?
Chapter 7
P
aris sat at the head table inside the grand ballroom at the Hotel Excelsior Venice, watching the bride and groom waltz around the dance floor. She'd never seen a couple more in love. The wedding ceremony had been touching, so heartfelt it had moved her to tears. Deep, choking sobs had raked her body as she'd listened to Stefano recite his handwritten vows. Crying was completely out of character, something Paris never did, but standing at the altar with two people who deeply loved each other made her secretly long to have someone special in her life. Someone who'd support her and be there for her at the end of a long, stressful day.
As Paris dabbed at her cheeks, something truly remarkable had happened. She'd caught sight of Rafael sitting in the first pew, and when their eyes met she'd felt an overwhelming sense of peace, a calm she'd never known.
He was working the hell out of his black tuxedo and eye-catching blue vest, but it was the sympathetic expression on his handsome face that had made her heart pitter-patter.
The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch, and it turned out Cassandra was right about Rafael. He was more charismatic than a politician, and his quiet confidence was a turn-on. During dinner he entertained guests with hilarious tales about Stefano, recited poetry and even serenaded the bride.
Paris picked up the chocolate truffle on her plate, popped it in her mouth and savored the sweet, rich taste. As she ate, she admired the elaborate centerpieces on the table. Silver ribbons hung from the ceiling, potted candles emitted a soft, pink light, and long-stemmed roses filled the air with an intoxicating fragrance. Paris felt as if she was in an enchanted wonderland and marveled at the size and grandeur of the soaring ice sculptures and eight-tier wedding cake.
Searching the room for Rafael, she found him standing at the champagne bar with Julietta. Paris's eyes narrowed
.
For some reason, seeing them together made her green with envy. The blonde had been nipping at his heels since he'd arrived at the villa three days earlier, and as Paris watched them on the sly she couldn't help wondering if the would-be model was making any progress. Yesterday, while shopping, Rafael had said he wasn't interested in Julietta, but Paris didn't believe him for a second.
Of course he's into Julietta,
her conscience argued.
She young and perky and eager to please!
Paris tore her gaze away from the bar. Smiling to herself, she stroked the delicate rose petals of the bride's bouquet. Too competitive to lose, she'd fought off the other bridesmaids and the groom's cousins to catch the bouquet. And when Paris was declared the winner, she'd danced around the grand ballroom, posing for pictures with her sweet-smelling prize.
“All right, guys, it's your turn!” Stefano said, waving the bride's garter in the air.
Reluctantly, all the bachelors in the audience stood and ambled out onto the dance floor. Paris watched, amused, as Cassandra grabbed Rafael's hand, then dragged him to his feet and through the room as if he were an errant child. He stood behind the sour-faced group, staring down at his cell phone, seemingly bored.
“Ready, fellas?” Stefano flashed a mischievous grin. “Ready or not, here it comes!”
He twirled the garter around on his finger and then tossed it over his shoulder. It dropped on the floor, and the men nearby scattered in all directions.
Guests cracked up.
“Rafael won!” Cassandra scooped up her frilly lace garter, tucked it inside Rafael's front pocket and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Congratulations!”
Paris knew what was coming next, but before she could jump to her feet and make a run for it Cassandra grabbed the microphone out of the DJ's hand and said, “Paris St. Clair, get down here and come bust a move with your future husband!”
Cheers exploded across the room. Everyone was smiling and laughingâeveryone except Julietta. The groom's cousin was shooting evil daggers at her, so Paris shot them right back.
Who does she think she is?
Ignoring her new blonde nemesis, she rose gracefully from her chair and carefully descended the short staircase. Drawing upon what she'd learned in etiquette class way back when, she raised her chin, pinned her shoulders back and sucked in her stomach. Each step Paris took hurt like hell, and all she could think about was soaking her tired feet in a bowl of Epsom salts later that night.
The moment Paris heard the opening bars of her favorite Backstreet Boys song she knew she'd been set up. And the cheeky grin on her best friend's face confirmed it. Paris wanted to smack Cassandra for tricking her, but when Rafael slid his arms around her waist, her anger evaporated into thin air. His touch was magic, and his dark, smoldering gaze made her feel sexier than a model frolicking on the beach.
They swayed to the beat of the music, moved their hands and legs in perfect sync. It was hard not to get lost in his eyes, impossible not to be swept up in the moment. His slow, sensual dancing aroused her and caused explicit thoughts to flood her mind. Turned on, she fought to control the tingling sensation between her legs. Paris was trembling, hot all over, and her entire body was damp with sweat. Her throat was bone dry, and she was so nervous she couldn't think of anything smart or interesting to say.
She knew everyone was watching them, could feel the heat of their stares, but she refused to let her nerves get the best of her. Swallowing hard, she searched the crowd for a friendly face. The bride and groom waved, and a laugh fell from her lips. Seeing Cassandra and Stefano wrapped in each other's arms made Paris smile. She hadn't seen her friend this happy in years, and she was thrilled that her girlfriend had finally found true love.
“Are you having a good time?”
The sound of Rafael's deep voice instantly seized her attention and sent ripples of pleasure down her spine. “Of course,” she said with a nod. “I'm a foodie with a bottomless stomach, and the selection was to die for.”
“I couldn't help but notice you tonight.” Desire blazed in his eyes, warmed his light brown skin. “You look sensational,
and
you made four trips to the dessert station.”
Paris pressed a finger to her lips and glanced around playfully. “Don't tell anyone, but I have chocolate biscotti hidden inside my purse!”
“I hate to brag, but I've been told my orange-pecan biscotti ranks right up there with the best of them,” he said, his voice oh so smooth. “Next time you're in Washington I'd love to make you an authentic Italian meal.”
“You cook?”
“Of course, I'm a Morretti!” Rafael chuckled. “My father taught me and my brothers how to cook at a very young age, and we can all throw down in the kitchen. But you don't have to take my word for it. I'll show you.”
Her mind went blank and her heart swooned.
Good God, is he trying to seduce me?
“I frequently fly to Atlanta for business, so we can definitely make it happen....”
He spoke in a low, husky whisper, one intended to arouse and seduce. He caressed her hips slowly as they moved to the music. His stroke set her body on fire, causing her to yearn for French kisses and passionate lovemaking. Paris recalled their first date, and all her feelings and emotions for Rafael came rushing back.
“When's a good time for you?”
“I'll, um, have to get back to you.” She wouldn't, of course, but Rafael didn't need to know the truth. Or that she'd be in Washington next Friday to prepare for the Women's Business Expo. Being the keynote speaker at the sold-out conference was an incredible honor, and Paris needed to be more focused than ever. Rafael was her weakness, the ultimate distraction, but Paris was too smart to act on her feelings.
The last time I let someone get close to me he betrayed my trust, and I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than get hurt by another charming, charismatic man.
“I'm going to hold you to that,” he said, tightening his arm around her waist. “It's not often I meet a woman of your caliber, and I'd be honored to take you out on a
second
first date.”
Paris concealed a smile. She didn't know how he did it. He had the ability to connect with people, no matter how old or young they were, no matter their race or gender. For the past three hours she'd watched in awe as Rafael worked his charms on everyone in the grand ballroom. She admired his intelligence and loved how his eyes twinkled whenever he teased her.
“I think you're an incredible woman, and I hope this is the start of a great friendship.”
I hope this is the start of a great friendship?
Paris almost laughed out loud, but caught herself in the nick of time.
I can't be friends with you. You're a charmer and if I wasn't so afraid of you breaking my heart, I'd do you right here, right now!
Paris maneuvered the conversation to a safer, less personal subject and spoke with excitement about her company's charity gala in Washington, D.C. “Soldier's Angels is a remarkable charity, and I'm hoping to raise a million dollars for the brave men and women who need this vital organization.”
“I'll send a generous donation in your name.”
“If you attend the event, I'll save you a dance,” she said, with a cheeky smile.
“Black-tie events aren't really my thing,” he confessed. “I'm a numbers guy so I leave the partying and schmoozing to my father and Nicco.”
The music ended, but Rafael pulled her closer to his chest.
“Is it true you spent the morning doing everyone's hair and makeup?”
“Not everyone,” Paris said. “Just the girls in the bridal party.”
“You make it sound like it's no big deal, but I bet it was a lot of work.”
“The stylist Cassandra booked for the wedding never showed up, and when she started crying I knew I had to do something, so I grabbed my curling iron and got down to work.”
“You're very talented.”
And you're very sexy!
“There's nothing worse than wasted potential, and it would be a shame to spend your life doing something you're not passionate about.”
His words gave her something to think about. Was he right? Was she talented enough to run her own beauty salon, or would she fall flat on her face again?
Paris danced with Rafael for the next hour, and was having so much fun laughing and joking with him she forgot all about her tired, aching feet. “This DJ is off the chain!” Waving her hands in the air, she swiveled her hips to the loud, infectious beat. “I can't believe he's playing The Fugees. I haven't heard this song in years!”
“It takes me way backâ”
“All the way back to the U of W's winter ball our freshman year?” Paris asked, with a coy smile.
“I had an amazing time that night.”
“What was your favorite part?”
Rafael lowered his mouth to her ear. “Making love to you in the backseat of the limo.”
“I'm surprised you remember.”
“How could I forget? You rocked my world that night.”
His words gave her a rush. The air was thick, saturated with the scent of his desire and charged with electricity. Their connection was strong, still as powerful as ever, and all Paris could think about was kissing him. The strength of his gaze and the soulful, sensuous music playing in the background only heightened her need.
“May I cut in?”
Paris turned, saw Julietta standing behind her and stared her down.
“Now's not a good time.” Rafael had a cold, grim look on his face, but he spoke in a soft tone.
“But you promised me a dance, and I've been waiting for over an hour.”
“Then go bust a move with someone else.”
“You guys are hilarious,” Paris quipped. “You bicker like an old married couple!”
The blonde wore a triumphant smile. “See, Rafael, I told you! I'm not the only one who thinks we're a great match.”
“I need a drink,” Paris said, turning to walk away.
Rafael grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side. “Hold on, I'm coming with you.”
“You are?”
“Of course. You're one hell of a dancer, and I worked up quite a sweat trying to keep up with you.” He led her across the room and sighed in relief when they reached the champagne bar. “Do me a favor. The next time you see Julietta coming, tell me to run!”
Paris giggled. Couldn't help it. Men who could make her laugh were hard to come by, but Rafael had been making her giggle all night.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Champagne, please.”
Rafael spoke to the bartender in Italian, and Paris fanned a hand in front of her face.
It's bad enough he's tall, dark and dreamy. Does he have to sound sexy, too?
“When are you heading back to the States?”
“Bright and early tomorrow morning.” Paris took the goblet he offered her and tasted her drink. It helped take the edge off her nerves. “I have a meeting in the afternoon that I can't afford to miss. I do wish I could stay in Venice a few more days, though. But there are clients to meet, deals to close and money to be made.”
“Amen to that!”
They laughed and clinked glasses.
“I need to use the powder room, so if I don't see you again tonight have a safe trip back to the States. Oh, and Happy New Year!”
“Well, can I have your number? We've had such a great time reconnecting and I'd like us to keep in touch.”
Paris loved the idea of seeing Rafael again, but tempered her excitement. Their attraction was stronger than ever, and she feared what would happen if they renewed their relationship. “Really? But we're both insanely busy.”
“It's a ninety-minute flight from Washington to Atlanta, and my family is fortunate enough to have our own plane,” he said, with a hint of pride in his voice. “We can see each other as often as you'd like, and it won't cost you a dime.”