Seduced by the Heir(12)

"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.