by Pamela Yaye
Paris squinted, focused her gaze. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d mistaken a gorgeous Italian guy for her ex, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Their eyes met, zeroed in on each other, and Paris knew without a doubt it was Rafael. She’d recognize his smoldering stare and those long, thick eyelashes anywhere. Off-kilter, she gripped the side of the bar to keep from keeling over onto the manicured grass.
Eyes narrowed, she inspected him from head to toe. The years had obviously been kind to him. Back in the day, Rafael had been cute, but today he put the h in hot. His thick black hair was neatly trimmed, and he was immaculately groomed. His muscled physique filled out every inch of his tailored suit, and his boyish smile still made her heart swoon. He moved through the crowd with more confidence than one of Hollywood’s leading men, and if that wasn’t bad enough, charisma oozed from his pores.
Paris fanned a hand in front of her face, warning herself to get a grip. But he looked so dapper in his khaki suit that she couldn’t help but stare at him. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. What is Rafael Morretti doing here? And why is he headed my way?
His cologne was a subtle fragrance, and as it wafted through the air her thoughts slipped back to the afternoon she’d lost her virginity to him at his family’s beach house in Cape May. Did he remember that night? Paris quickly told herself it didn’t matter. She didn’t have time to relive the past, not when her past was staring her right in the face. Rafael was there, just inches away, and seeing him again gave her a heady feeling.
Desire rushed down her spine, tickling and teasing her most intimate parts. After all these years, she still wanted him, but Paris was determined not to embarrass herself.
To break the ice, she smiled. Rafael didn’t.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” His clipped tone suggested otherwise, but he had that twinkle in his eyes. A hungry, predatory expression on his face that said he was aroused. Back in the day, that look used to make her body tremble and quiver—
Still does, her conscience interrupted. You’re shaking so hard your teeth are chattering!
“It’s been, what, twenty years since we saw each other?”
No, fifteen years and three days, but who’s counting? Feeling as if she was trapped in a mental fog, she gave her head a hard shake to clear her thoughts. Never in a million years did she expect to see Rafael at her best friend’s engagement party. Questions raced through her mind. Did he still live in Washington? Did he have children? Was he married?
Of course he’s married! her conscience shrieked. Look at him! He’s worth millions, he’s built like a Greek god and his scent is as seductive as his smile.
Years ago, he’d been featured in Money magazine, but the article didn’t reveal any personal information about him. Currently, the rumor mill was filled with tales of embezzlement, lawsuits and infighting at Morretti Incorporated. But the most shocking story she’d heard recently was that Rafael’s brothers, Demetri and Nicco, were happily in love. Deliriously in love, if the gossip blogs were true. The Morretti brothers used to be closer than the Three Musketeers, and Paris couldn’t imagine any woman—no matter how beautiful she was—ever coming between them.
“It’s wonderful to see you again.” Commanding her legs to quit shaking, Paris leaned casually against the bar, as if she wasn’t the least bit affected by his arrival. And she wasn’t. She was a confident, thirty-five-year-old woman, not a shy, pubescent tween. She refused to let her nerves get the best of her. “It’s been a long time, Rafael. How have you been?”
Rafael parted his lips, but his brain froze. Nothing came out. Not a word, not a squeak. Paris took his breath away—literally—and it demanded every ounce of his self-control not to sweep her up in his arms for a kiss. His tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth, and it hurt to swallow. Struck dumb, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Rafael wanted to smack himself hard upside the head. What’s the matter with you, man? Why are you standing here gawking at her? She dumped you, remember?
Standing tall, he masked his unease with a smile and slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. Damn, Paris made him feel nineteen again—like that quiet, socially awkward teenager who used to carry her books and walk her to class. But I’m not a kid anymore, he told himself, in an effort to bolster his confidence. I’m an accomplished businessman who out earns the president, so why the hell am I acting like a flustered, jittery fool?
“There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you.”
Rafael turned, saw his brothers and shot them a puzzled look.
“Ms., do you mind if I steal my brother away for a few minutes?” Nicco asked.
“No, not at all. He’s all yours.” Paris placed her empty glass on the bar and tucked her purse under her arm. “It was great seeing you again, Rafael. Take care.”
As she turned away, Rafael caught sight of the massive diamond ring on her left hand. Knowing that she belonged to another man should have tempered his desire, but it didn’t. Paris was a stunner, hands down the most beautiful woman in the vicinity, and he hated to see her go.
“Damn, bro, are you okay?”
“Yeah, Demetri, I’m fine, but I wished you hadn’t interrupted us.”
Nicco wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead. “Thank God we did. You were drowning fast, bro. Five more minutes and you probably would have fainted at her feet!”
His brothers chuckled, but Rafael didn’t appreciate their laughter at his expense. He wanted them to disappear, so he could track Paris down. She was married, and likely had children, but he’d rather spend time with her than with his wisecracking brothers. “All right, I admit it, seeing Paris again threw me off my game, but—”
“That was Paris St. Clair? The girl you were obsessed with in college?”
Rafael scowled. “Demetri, you’re exaggerating. I wasn’t obsessed with her.”
“Yes, you were,” Nicco argued, his tone matter-of-fact. “You wrote her love letters every day, and you slept with her picture under your pillow!”
“That was then, and this is now.”
Demetri wore a skeptical look. “Are you sure? Because you were crushing on her pretty hard a few minutes ago.”
“No, I wasn’t. I was just making conversation.”
Nicco chuckled long and hard. “You weren’t. You were drooling like a Doberman with a raw steak bone!”
Chapter 2
“Why didn’t you tell me you invited Rafael Morretti to your wedding?” Paris burst into the master bedroom on the second floor of the twelve-room villa and cornered her best friend, Cassandra Knight, inside the enormous walk-in closet. “I almost fainted when I saw him!”
“What’s the matter? Why are you so upset?”
Stumped, Paris closed her mouth. What am I supposed to say? Seeing Rafael left me rattled. I’m still attracted to him. He’s even more handsome at thirty-six than he was at nineteen.... Since she couldn’t find the right words to express her feelings, she said nothing.
“You two should get along great. He’s half Italian, and you love pasta, and Godfather movies. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me!”
“Knock it off,” Paris snapped, annoyed by her friend’s teasing. “This is serious.”
Cassandra’s face softened and she wore a sympathetic smile. “I know what this is about. You propositioned him and he shot you down, didn’t he? I told you girl, less is more—”
“Rafael did not shoot me down.”
Cassandra belted her robe and returned to the master bedroom. “Then why are you ranting and raving about a guy you just met?”
I know him better than you think, Paris thought, ambling over to the window. Pulling back the bronze drapes, she searched the grounds of the villa for her first love. Reuniting with her old college sw
eetheart had stirred powerful feelings inside her, but even more shocking was the impulse she felt to jump his bones. Maybe celibacy isn’t such a good idea. I’m so horny I’m fantasizing about a guy I dumped fifteen years ago!
“Keep your chin up. You’ll meet a great guy this weekend. I just know it.”
Paris scoffed and rolled her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. “Girl, please, I have a better chance of being struck by lightning during a snowstorm!”
“Okay, okay, fine, quit pouting. I’ll get Rafael’s phone number for you.”
“I’ve known Rafael since I was a teenager,” she blurted out, staring down at her bejeweled hands. The very same hands she’d once used to stroke Rafael’s face, his chest and his... Paris deleted her last thought. To ward off the memories sneaking up on her, she pressed her eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath. “He was my first love.”
“You hooked up with Rafael Morretti? No way!”
“We started dating our freshman year of college, and broke up a year later.”
Cassandra wore a cheeky grin. “That means Rafael is Mr. O!”
“Don’t call him that.”
“What?” Her smile was coy, but the expression in her eyes was one of pure mischief. “You said your first love gave you orgasm after orgasm, night after glorious night.”
“All right, all right,” Paris snapped. “Enough already. I don’t want to talk about my sexual escapades with Rafael Morretti.”
“Don’t get mad at me. They’re your words, not mine.”
Needing a distraction—something, anything, to take her mind off her old college sweetheart—Paris surveyed her surroundings. The seventeenth century villa was the perfect blend of Old World Venice and the modern, contemporary age. During the tour of the villa that afternoon, she’d learned it had a wine cellar, a personal theater and a home gym. But the room that impressed Paris the most was the study. Later, when the party died down, she was going to curl up on the couch and unwind with a romance novel.
“How was I supposed to know Stefano’s childhood friend was your old college sweetheart?” Cassandra plopped down on the antique chair at the vanity table and unzipped her Hermes makeup bag. “I’m a savvy businesswoman, Paris, not a mind reader!”
Paris laughed, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach remained. To take her mind off Rafael, she joined Cassandra at the vanity table and picked up a curling iron. “You’re right. I’m sorry for blowing up at you, but seeing Rafael again after all these years has me on edge.”
“Relax, you’re getting yourself all worked up for nothing. Rafael is too much of a gentleman to rehash the past. Besides, he’s leaving for Tuscany tomorrow, so you won’t see him again until the wedding day.”
“He balked at your ridiculous, five-page itinerary, too, huh? Smart man.”
“I just want everyone I love to spend quality time together this week.”
“I hear you, but a week-long wedding celebration is a little over the top, even for me.”
“Don’t talk to me about over the top. You rented out Spago for your thirtieth birthday, flew in friends from all across the country, and paid thousands of dollars to have Maxwell to perform,” Cassandra said, nailing her with a don’t-mess-with-me look. “Only celebrities do that, and the last time I checked your last name wasn’t Kardashian!”
The friends laughed.
“Is, ah, Rafael, staying here, too?” Paris asked, keeping her tone light, casual.
“Of course.”
“But I thought you rented the villa for the bridal party.”
Cassandra frowned. “I did. Rafael is the master of ceremonies.”
“Of what?”
“The wedding, Einstein!”
“And you’re just telling me about this now!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, eyebrows raised, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize I needed your approval before making decisions about my New Year’s Eve wedding.”
Paris ignored the dig. Things just keep getting better! Her gaze landed on the bedroom window overlooking the backyard. She recalled her conversation with Rafael, wondered why he had given her the cold shoulder. Is he still mad about the way things ended? Their exchange had been plagued with silence, and had felt like the longest minute of her life. Paris didn’t want to stay at the villa, but she had few options. If she grabbed her stuff and left, Cassandra would flip out, and Paris didn’t want to get on her girlfriend’s bad side. “Are you sure Rafael’s the right person to emcee the wedding? He’s always been on the quiet side, and he hates public speaking.”
“Don’t be crazy. Of course I’m sure. He’s incredibly charming,” Cassandra said. “Once you get to know him you’ll see what an amazing guy he is.”
Girl, please, trust me, I know him. I’ve had that man in ways you wouldn’t believe!
“Rafael only arrived a few hours ago, but the bridesmaids are already fighting over him. Even the ones with boyfriends!” she said with a laugh.
“They are? Really?”
“Yeah, Stefano’s cousin, Julietta, told the other girls to back off or else.”
Paris didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. It was insane that after all these years she was still attracted to Rafael, but she was, and she didn’t want him sowing his wild oats while they were under the same roof. “Is there anything else I should know?” she asked, twirling a lock of Cassandra’s hair around the base of the curling iron. “I don’t like surprises, and I have a feeling you’re keeping something from me.”
“You’re paranoid.” With a grin, Cassandra added, “And horny! You want Rafael so bad desire is practically oozing from your pores.”
Paris wanted to tell her friend that she was dead wrong, but couldn’t get the words out. Am I that transparent? Did Rafael sense my desire? Is that why he ignored me earlier?
“It’s obvious you still like him, or you wouldn’t be so upset about seeing him again.” Her tone was confident. “Just admit it. You have the hots for him, and you want to rekindle your romance.”
“That’s ludicrous. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Yeah, but Rafael was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first love—”
“I know, I know,” Paris said glumly. “Don’t remind me.”
“As if you haven’t relived that night a million times in your mind.” Cassandra sighed dreamily, as if her heart was bursting with love, and touched a hand to her chest. “You said your first time was the most magical moment of your life.”
“I was a teenager. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Good, so I don’t have to worry about you and Julietta fighting over him, right?”
“Don’t worry. I’d never dream of doing anything to ruin your big day.”
Cassandra grabbed her hairbrush and pointed it at the mirror. “You better not, or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!”
The women laughed. As Paris continued to style Cassandra’s hair, they discussed the sightseeing excursion planned for tomorrow, and the wedding rehearsal at the world-famous Frari Church in the evening. Everything was in place for Stefano and Cassandra’s New Year’s Eve ceremony, and Paris was so excited for the couple that she was anxious for the big day to finally arrive. Just because she didn’t believe in love, or the ridiculous notion of two people living happily ever after, didn’t mean she couldn’t support her best friend. Stefano was a great man, who treated Cassandra like a queen, and Paris was glad he’d finally popped the question and relocated to London to be with her. They were a dynamic couple, and Paris was thrilled that her friend was finally going to get her happy ending.
“If things get too overwhelming this weekend just let me know.” A sad smile touched Cassandra’s lips. “I’m here for you, Paris. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Quit stressing. I’m fine, really
.”
“I know, but I worry that all this wedding stuff is going to bring back painful memories.”
Paris dropped her gaze to the floor and swallowed the lump in her throat. Sadness consumed her, caused her heart to pound erratically. Willing herself not to cry, she bit the inside of her cheek. Three years ago, she’d dated a man she’d hoped to build a life with despite her feelings for Rafael, and now she was alone, forced to deal with the pain of her ex-boyfriend’s bitter betrayal.
Taking a deep breath, she cleared every troubling thought from her mind. Instead of dwelling on the past, she was going to focus on all the wonderful things in her life. She had a loving family, caring and supportive friends, and a successful career. Sure, she hated her job, and thought of quitting every day, but she’d rather suffer in silence than disappoint her father. Paris wanted to make him proud, craved and desired his approval more than anything in the world, and was determined to earn his respect.
“Have you spoken to Winston’s mother recently?”
Paris nodded, but didn’t elaborate on the hour-long conversation she’d had with the retired nurse days earlier. She couldn’t talk about her ex-boyfriend’s mother without getting emotional, and just thinking about the frail, elderly woman made her heart ache. She appreciated Cassandra’s concern, but knew if she didn’t change the subject quick she’d succumb to the clutches of grief and despair. And the last thing Paris wanted was to have an emotional breakdown.
“Don’t move.” Paris picked up the pink aerosol can on the vanity table, and sprayed Cassandra’s elegant up-do with hair sheen. “Voilà, you’re all done.”
“I love it, girl, thanks!” Touching the nape of her neck, Cassandra turned from right to left, admiring her chic hairstyle. “When are you going to quit working for your old man, and finally open a high-end beauty salon?”
Paris groaned. “Not this again.”
“Yes, this again. It’s time you quit working for daddy dearest, and branch out.”
“We’ve talked about this ad nauseam. I’m not cut out to run my own business.”
