"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."