by Pamela Yaye
Paris hurled her cell phone into her purse and raked a hand through her dark silky hair.
“What’s wrong? You look upset.”
“My father’s assistant has been planning Excel Construction’s charity gala, but now that she’s off on medical leave he wants me to oversee the event.”
“When is the gala?”
“Not until the end of March, but I don’t have the time or energy to take on another project. I have enough on my plate as it is.”
“Then hire a party planner and leave everything in their capable hands.”
“You don’t know my father,” Paris muttered. “He’s the stingiest millionaire you’ll ever meet. If he finds out I spent thousands of dollars on a party planner he’ll have a fit. He always does. No matter how minor the expense.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being money savvy, especially in this time of economic instability. The economy isn’t what it used to be, and there’s no telling when it will rebound,” Rafael said thoughtfully.
“You only live once. Might as well live it up while you’re here!” Paris retorted.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that your personal philosophy?”
“Yeah, pretty much. My mom passed away when I was twelve years old, and I learned how fleeting happiness and success could be.” Paris studied her French manicure, then twisted her long, delicate fingers together. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I know my friends and family wish I wasn’t so impulsive, but I have no regrets.” She paused, then added, “The purpose of life is to live it, to taste adventure and excitement to the utmost and to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experiences.”
“Wow, Paris, that’s deep. I didn’t realize you were such a poet.”
“I’m not,” she said, with a laugh. “I’m paraphrasing Eleanor Roosevelt!”
Chuckling, he picked up a cup of gelato and handed it to Paris. Their fingers touched, and the feel of her skin against his made his temperature soar. “I got you three scoops of dulce de leche,” he said. “Buon Appetito!”
“It sounds decadent, and it smells delicious, too!” She dug her spoon into her gelato and put it in her mouth. Her eyelashes flicked and fluttered, and a sultry moan fell from her lips. “Oh, my, this is dreamy! What exactly is it?”
“Sweetened milk and caramel. I asked the clerk to add a splash of sherry, but she added way more than just a splash!”
“Great choice, Rafael. I think this is my new favorite flavor.”
And I think you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen.
“Looks like you have a new friend.”
A small, brown dog was sitting at his feet, barking furiously. “Yeah, a hungry one who wants to steal my snack.” Rafael reached into his backpack, took out his water bottle and poured some of the clear liquid into the puppy’s mouth. “Good boy.”
Paris gasped. “Oh, my, gosh, do you know what this reminds me of?”
“The freshman camping trip!” they shouted in unison.
“I almost died when that coyote snuck into your tent,” she said with a laugh.
“You and me both. Thank God you had that chocolate bar in your backpack!”
Paris laughed until tears filled her eyes. “We had some great times, didn’t we?”
“We sure did.” Rafael couldn’t control himself any longer and shocked them both by reaching out and caressing the length of her cheek. He inclined his head towards her, moving in close. He saw a nervous glint come across her face and watched her shift and shuffle around on the bench. It took everything in him not to crush his lips to her mouth. Still, after all these years, he felt connected to her, craved and desired her in ways he couldn’t explain.
Paris fixed her gaze on him, and a shiver shot through his body. He felt his temperature spike, heard his pulse hammering in his ears. When Rafael saw something he wanted, whether in his personal life or in business he pursed it relentlessly, and right now Paris St. Clair was the object of his affection. His goal was twofold: to get her into his bed and to prove to that she’d made a mistake by dumping him years ago. “I’m having a great time. Are you?”
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
“Nothing’s changed. You’re still the most fascinating woman I know, and I love spending time with you.” Rafael was taken by her, attracted to her in every way and wondered if Paris felt the same way. But before he could ask her, she pulled away from him.
“We should go.” She shot to her feet and grabbed her shopping bags. “There are a few more places I really want to see before it gets dark.”
Disappointment flooded his body, but he slapped a smile on his face and stood in turn. “You’re right, we should get going. We still haven’t checked out any of the museums near Saint Mark’s Square.”
“You’ve seen one painting, you’ve seen them all, right?” she said wryly.
“Ok, so, what do you want to do next?”
“I’m dying to see the Doge’s Palace and the Palazzo Dario.”
Rafael studied her face for clues, tried to gauge if she was serious or joking and decided it had to be the latter. “You want to go to ‘The House of No Return’?”
“Absolutely, it’s on the top of my must-see list.”
“But it’s been cursed for centuries and historians are convinced it’s haunted.”
“I know. Isn’t that crazy?” Paris laughed and shook her head. “I read all about it in my travel guide, but I find it hard to believe that such a striking piece of architecture is haunted. Too bad it isn’t open to the public because I’d love to look around inside.”
“I don’t see why. The house is dark, creepy and condemned.”
“I didn’t come all the way to Venice to peruse art galleries and boutiques. I came to experience an exciting, new adventure.” Gazing at him, Paris hitched a hand to her hip. “Haven’t you ever felt the urge to do something wild and crazy?”
“No, never. I’m as by-the-book as they come.”
“Come on, fess up. There must be something,” she insisted, her tone full of sass. “What’s the most fun you’ve ever had?”
The most fun I’ve ever had was making love to you.
“I’m waiting,” she said in a singsong voice.
He thought hard, but drew a blank. “I’m just not a wild and crazy guy, I guess.”
“What do you like to do in your free time?”
“Play with my dogs, exercise and watch documentaries.”
“Wow! How exciting. You’re a real party animal!”
“I enjoy my solitude,” he said, feeling the need to defend himself. “I work eighty hours a week, and on Sundays I like to kick back and relax. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if you’re an eighty-year-old man...”
“What are you saying?”
“Live a little. You don’t always have to be so serious and uptight...”
Rafael gulped. Uptight? Is she calling me...boring? He mentally stumbled over the word.
“Life is about having fun and trying new things, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Paris took her travel guide out of her purse and then stared up at the bilingual street signs on the decorative lamp posts. “I’m going to the Doge’s Palace. I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said, touching her waist. “I don’t want you to go alone.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. It’ll be great.”
“Awesome,” she said enthusiastically. “Let’s go. It’s only a few blocks from here.”
Rafael swallowed a groan. Lucky me.
* * *
“Casanova was more than just a scheming womanizer,” the tour guide said, his voice full of awe. “He was also a spy, a scam artist and one of the most fascinating
men in Venetian history....”
Paris tuned out the guide and admired the intricate carvings inside the small prison cell. The tour group was comprised of noisy travelers speaking a million different languages, and when they exited the dungeon, she was glad to see them go.
Paris looked up, caught Rafael watching her and broke into a shy smile. Goose bumps exploded across her arms, and tickled her flesh. Like fine wine, he just got better with age. He had killer sex appeal, and when he licked his lips, Paris wondered what kind of damage his tongue could do between her legs. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”
Rafael was standing outside of the cell, tapping his foot, clearly anxious to go. Paris didn’t blame him. It turned out he was right. The dungeon was creepy, as dark as a hole in the ground, and if not for fear of looking like a scaredy cat she never would have descended into the depths of Doge’s Palace.
“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
Paris 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.
