“I could ram my fist down his minor-royal throat. That would get his attention.”
She laughed. “But so violent. And Brewster would be sure to write about it and it would be a horrible scandal. Do you have a Plan B?”
“Do you?”
“Honestly, no. If I introduce myself, he might refuse to recognize me. And how awkward for everyone, including that poor girl who doesn’t even know I exist. No, the best thing to do is to ignore him. Unless he follows me on the Internet too, he won’t have a clue who I am. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a terrible idea. Kimi, you have a right to know him, and your half sibs. Maybe they’ll throw their arms around you and everybody will cry and you’ll all go off to Lake Como for the summer.”
“Right now I just want to go back to the hotel and hide,” she admitted. “I know it’s cowardly, and I won’t do it, but that’s my instinct.”
“Get over it. You’ve got a job to do, a job you’re damn good at, by the way.”
She opened her eyes at him.
“I read some of your stuff last night.” He grinned at her. “On the Internet.”
“You don’t know anything about fashion.”
“I know good writing when I see it. You’re good.”
“Thank you.” She clutched his hand. “And thanks for being here while I had my little meltdown. I’m okay now.”
“Your hand’s trembling.”
“Is it? I guess it’s quite a shock to finally see him in person after…all these years.”
“You should go talk to him.”
She shook her head. “It’s an unspoken agreement. He doesn’t want me in his life. I accept that.”
“His loss.”
“Thank you, Holden. I think so too. Now, you can take me back inside and let’s go to work.”
HOLDEN KEPT HIS EYE on Kimi when they got back inside the town house, which seemed to have become even more crowded in the time they’d been outside. He watched her eyes dart around the room, locating her father. He knew when she’d spotted him from the look of pure yearning that crossed her face, before she turned and started talking to somebody standing near her.
He felt his fists cramp in his pockets. He wasn’t a violent guy, but to even think of a man refusing to know his own daughter made him sick with anger. She was such a great person that he’d been sincere when he stated that not knowing her was Mr. Minor Royalty’s loss, but what really angered him was that it was Kimi’s loss too.
He’d grown up as one of a dying breed, a happy, well-adjusted kid in a two-parent household where his mom had stayed home to raise three rowdy boys and an even rowdier girl. He couldn’t imagine growing up without the sibs or one of his parents. Even most of the kids of divorced parents had seen the noncustodial parent regularly, and if there’d been a remarriage, they were part of the new family.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being shut out.
Kimi was busy with her notebook, so he strolled closer to the father-and-daughter pair. There didn’t seem to be anyone else with them. He wondered what they were doing here?
So, he’d take on a little investigation side job and find out.
He’d been struck when he first saw her by how much the young woman looked like Kimi. As he grew closer, he thought the resemblance was even stronger than he’d thought. Clearly, both girls took after their father. The hair was part of it, but lots of Italians had that lustrous dark hair. No, he thought what made them more unusual than most people, and therefore so obviously alike, was the striking blue eyes in the sun-tinged complexion.
All three of them had those eyes.
He’d have slipped closer to eavesdrop, but he could tell from here that they were speaking Italian. He was about to go back and join Kimi, when he felt someone’s gaze on him. He looked up to find Brewster Peacock eyeing him. The man glanced first to where Kimi was busy pretending her world hadn’t turned inside out on her, and then deliberately turned to where the father and sister were. Glancing back at Holden, he raised his brows in a silent question.
Okay, so Kimi was right. Mr. Peacock didn’t miss much. However, this wasn’t any of pretty boy’s business, so Holden simply shrugged as though he had no idea what the gold-jacketed dirt-shifter could mean, and turned to rejoin Kimi. He didn’t know what was going on here, but he had a feeling she might need him.
9
KIMI’S TEMPLES pounded with the beginnings of a killer headache but she ignored it and carried on. Maybe her father didn’t know who she was or that she was here, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to chase her away from doing her job. This was her turf, damn it. She didn’t go showing up on the polo grounds in Rome. He should keep away from fashion week in Paris. Except, she thought with a depressed sigh, he probably didn’t even know she worked in fashion.
To him, she was no more than the unfortunate consequence of a brief affair.
She knew he was at the other side of the room, so she went over to the lavish buffet—very little of the food would be eaten—and bar. An entire table of the most amazing desserts was laid out—an anorexic’s hell. And beside them, coffee and tea. All she wanted was a cup of tea.
She asked for tea in French and then turned when a soft voice said in French, “The same for me, please.” It was her half sister standing there. What rotten luck. She turned away again but not before the young woman said, “Excuse me, but you look so familiar. Have we met?”
Try looking in the mirror.
“No. I don’t think so.”
She tried to step away, but the sister who didn’t know she existed said, “It’s my first time at the couture shows. It’s very exciting.”
Kimi was twenty-eight and she calculated that this woman was in her mid-twenties. She’d also inherited the fashion gene. She wore a dress Kimi loved that she recognized was by a hot young Italian designer. She was also wearing a substantial engagement ring. No wedding ring.
“It is exciting. I come here every year. I work for a fashion magazine in the States.”
“Oh, but your French is excellent for an American.”
“Thank you.”
Once more she tried to leave, and once more the woman had more to say. “I’m getting married. I’m here to pick out my wedding dress.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. My mother was supposed to come with me, but one of my sisters broke her leg right before we were to leave. So Mama couldn’t come. My father brought me instead.”
“Couldn’t you have come by yourself?”
The woman trilled with laughter. “Of course I could, but we’re a very close family. My mother and father hate to have us out of their sight. You know how it is.” She shrugged, obviously used to her life as she knew it, and Kimi gulped down hot tea to drown the shaft of pure, vicious envy that had surged up. “My fiancé is meeting me here in a couple of days and Papa was very definite that he didn’t want us here alone. He’s very strict.” Preaching what he didn’t practice himself.
Over the woman’s shoulder Kimi caught sight of their father walking briskly forward. He glanced at her and a puzzled expression crossed his face. She held his gaze and saw the moment he made the connection. A look of barely suppressed panic appeared as he looked at Kimi then at the chatty girl beside her. And Kimi had a second to realize that he was trying to protect his “real” daughter from any upset. She’d deal with the pain later. Right now pride took over. If her father didn’t want anything to do with her, she was not going to beg.
“Well, I’d better get back to work.”
“Oh, wait. You’re the first nice person I’ve spoken to here. I’m Claudia Ferrarro.”
The man who’d fathered her was now at his daughter’s side. The look he sent Kimi was pure pleading. Please, don’t hurt my baby, he was saying silently. It wasn’t Claudia’s fault. None of it was, so Kimi did something she hated to do. She showed poor manners. “Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking hands and never giving her own name.<
br />
“I hope I’ll see you again?”
She ignored the father. “I’m afraid I have to work. I’m so sorry. Enjoy your time in Paris.”
And she moved away.
Blindly, she brushed past someone, two or three people.
Holden. She had to find Holden.
Fortunately, he found her. One glance at her face had him taking her hand and leading her to a quiet corner.
“I need to get out of here,” she whispered.
“I’ll get your coat.”
“Thank you. I’ll wait outside.”
She made it outside and wished she’d followed her mother’s advice and gone to law school. She could at this moment be fighting for fair wages for female workers, or better day care, anything to have avoided this misery.
The door opened again behind her and she kept herself turned toward the road, knowing it couldn’t be Holden and hoping it wasn’t anyone she knew.
“Mademoiselle.” The low voice made her entire body stiffen.
She closed her eyes briefly, then turned slowly.
He looked as lost for words as she was. He stared at her, and she thought for a moment he was perhaps sorry he didn’t know her at all, except as the woman he didn’t want his child talking to. “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. I did not know you would be here.”
“You made that very obvious. And that you don’t want me to be here. But this is where I do my job, monsieur. If my…presence makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you leave Paris.”
He rubbed his temple as though he too was getting a headache. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said almost to himself. “You had your life in America with your mother. And I had my life here. With my family. I never told my wife, you see.” He shook his head. “She is a very devout woman. I did not want her to know I had done something so foolish—” He caught himself.
She shrugged. “Speaking for myself, I’m glad you were foolish. And please don’t worry. My mother did an excellent job. I didn’t miss having you in my life.”
“You and Claudia—you look more alike than any of her sisters.” He rubbed his temple again. “It’s extraordinary.”
“She seemed nice.”
“She is. Thank you for not telling her who you are.”
She smiled, but without humor. “I’ve kept your secret for twenty-eight years. I won’t reveal it now.”
Holden chose that opportune moment to arrive on the scene with her coat over his arm. “Bon nuit, monsieur.”
Her father bowed slightly. “Bon nuit.” Then he turned, gave Holden the once over and passed him as he returned to the party.
Holden helped her into her coat then put his arm around her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She breathed in the crisp Paris air. “I want you to take me back to your place and make me forget all my worldly cares.”
“I can definitely do that.”
“Good. Do you have champagne?”
“I can have some sent up to the room.”
“Excellent.”
HE WASN’T SURE what Kimi needed from him, but he wanted to give her all he had. He’d let Kimi take the lead. If she wanted to get plastered on that champagne, she’d earned the indulgence. If she wanted to cry and rant and throw things, he was there to be a handy target. And if she wanted to talk, he had it in him to listen.
She didn’t say anything on the ride back to his hotel and she held his hand as though they’d be permanently separated if she let go.
Luckily, most of the hotel staff spoke English, so Holden had no trouble ordering the champagne and, since he was hungry and he had no idea what Kimi might want, he ordered some kind of platter with cheeses and things, and, he said, bring extra bread. He was crazy about the bread.
“Can I give Mr. Armani the rest of the night off?” he asked Kimi, who’d gone to the window and was staring out.
“Yes. Of course.”
He pulled out jeans, the new ones in her honor, and one of the shirts that looked like the ones he got at home at Eddie Bauer, only that cost six thousand times as much because some French guy put a squiggle in the pattern, and started changing.
She turned around, took one look at him and screamed.
“What?” he said, grabbing his jeans and holding them in front of himself. “You’ve seen me naked before.”
“Never, never, never throw a designer suit on the chair like that!”
“Is that what you’re screaming about? You gave me a heart attack over a suit? I was going to hang it up after.”
She shook her head and walked over, picking up each piece and hanging it with meticulous care in the wardrobe. When she was done, it looked exactly as it had when he’d removed it from the garment bag earlier. She even helped him out of the cuff links.
He finished changing and then went to answer the door. After he’d waved away what he thought were offers to open the wine, and tipped the guy profusely, mostly out of guilt that he didn’t speak the local language, as though he could buy forgiveness, he went back into the main room.
And damn near dropped everything on the floor.
Kimi was standing there in a couple of wisps of black silk and lace that revealed more than they concealed.
And she’d left her heels on.
He walked forward and kissed her shoulder. “Have I told you that you are the sexiest woman in Paris?”
She chuckled low in her throat. “You know that thing you like that I do with my tongue?”
He grunted in response, since the primitive part of his brain seemed to have taken him over and he was incapable of speech.
“I’m going to do it again. Only this time there will be champagne all over my tongue.”
Okay, so she wasn’t going to cry or throw things. At least not right away. Everybody had their own method of dealing with emotional trauma, and right now he very much respected Kimi’s method.
“Let me get this champagne open.”
“Good idea.” She picked up an apple slice and popped it into her mouth before wandering to the window to look out at the view. He thought the sight of her silhouetted in his window only enhanced the view.
He poured champagne and walked over to pass her a glass. “Mmm. Thanks.” She turned and tapped her glass against his. “To an unexpected knight who rode to the rescue,” she said.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You were there when I needed you.” She leaned her forehead against his chest. “Thank you.”
She sipped her champagne and sipped again. “Mmm. This is my favorite drink in the whole world.”
He was a Budweiser man himself, but he didn’t figure this was a good time to mention it. Especially as she’d put her glass down, taken his from him and was currently pulling his shirt over his head.
It seemed that overpriced golf shirts didn’t rate the same finicky care as a designer suit when she tossed the shirt to the floor and attacked his belt buckle.
She used the bubbly champagne almost like a second tongue, teasing and tormenting him until he was rethinking his loyalty to Bud.
When he could stand it no longer, he raised her up and turned her to face the long window. He left her in the lacy bra, but slipped her panties down her long legs and she stepped out of them. He tossed the sliver of black lace so it landed on top of his polo shirt.
He nudged her legs apart, stroking his way up.
“Bend over,” he instructed softly.
She did, hanging on to the window frame. He could see her silhouetted in the window glass, her face dreamy and insubstantial, the black lace of her bra teasing him.
The greatest thing about his room was the view of the Eiffel Tower, tall and proud and currently lit up. Sort of how he felt. He entered her slowly, enjoying that first long slide, and the way she gasped when he hit her G-spot. When she ground herself back against him he realized she wasn’t looking for slow and easy, so he slipped off his own leash and pounded into her.
Their brea
thing grew harsh, her cries more guttural, below them the streets of Paris were busy with traffic and pedestrians, those little toy Smart cars people loved here.
In a café on the corner, they were closing up for the night, and one last couple lingered over their wine.
He viewed all that while he drove into Kimi’s wet, hot, writhing body, while he smelled her excitement and heard her cries begin to build. He reached for her hands and was shocked at the coldness of the windowpane, slid his palms back to her chest, brushing the lace-covered peaks of her breasts taut and straining with their passion, down her belly and finally to the center of her, where he found her so hot. He rubbed her clit in rhythm to their thrusting bodies and almost immediately felt her spasm around him.
Oh, yes, his body seemed to shout as he joined in her explosion.
They slumped to the floor spent. He toyed with her breasts while they got their breath back.
“Thanks. I really needed that.”
He kissed the back of her neck, which was still sweat damp and warm beneath his lips. “Anytime.”
“I should probably get going.”
“Stay.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it. The word slipped out before he’d thought about the implications. Going from sex to a sleepover was a big deal for him. He didn’t ever progress this fast. But, in spite of the idea that he should be horrified, he found he wasn’t. He really wanted her to stay.
She turned her head and looked at him. “I don’t have a toothbrush or fresh clothes.”
“We can send down for one. Room service has everything in this hotel. And I doubt you’re the first girl in Paris who ever went home wearing last night’s clothes.”
She giggled. “True.” She hesitated long enough that he figured she had the same reaction he’d had about moving to sleepovers so fast, but, like him, she must know this was a time-limited affair. Outside of fashion week he couldn’t imagine them together.
She rolled over and pressed herself against him. “Sold. And tomorrow we have most of the day off. Heaven.”
One-Click Buy: April Harlequin Blaze Page 43
