Seduced by the Heir(13)

Searching the room for Rafael, she found him standing at the champagne  bar with Julietta. Paris's eyes narrowed. For some reason, seeing them  together made her green with envy. The blonde had been nipping at his  heels since he'd arrived at the villa three days earlier, and as Paris  watched them on the sly she couldn't help wondering if the would-be  model was making any progress. Yesterday, while shopping, Rafael had  said he wasn't interested in Julietta, but Paris didn't believe him for a  second. Of course he's into Julietta, her conscience argued. She young  and perky and eager to please!

Paris tore her gaze away from the bar. Smiling to herself, she stroked  the delicate rose petals of the bride's bouquet. Too competitive to  lose, she'd fought off the other bridesmaids and the groom's cousins to  catch the bouquet. And when Paris was declared the winner, she'd danced  around the grand ballroom, posing for pictures with her sweet-smelling  prize.

"All right, guys, it's your turn!" Stefano said, waving the bride's garter in the air.

Reluctantly, all the bachelors in the audience stood and ambled out onto  the dance floor. Paris watched, amused, as Cassandra grabbed Rafael's  hand, then dragged him to his feet and through the room as if he were an  errant child. He stood behind the sour-faced group, staring down at his  cell phone, seemingly bored.                       
       
           



       

"Ready, fellas?" Stefano flashed a mischievous grin. "Ready or not, here it comes!"

He twirled the garter around on his finger and then tossed it over his  shoulder. It dropped on the floor, and the men nearby scattered in all  directions.

Guests cracked up.

"Rafael won!" Cassandra scooped up her frilly lace garter, tucked it  inside Rafael's front pocket and gave him a peck on the cheek.  "Congratulations!"

Paris knew what was coming next, but before she could jump to her feet  and make a run for it Cassandra grabbed the microphone out of the DJ's  hand and said, "Paris St. Clair, get down here and come bust a move with  your future husband!"

Cheers exploded across the room. Everyone was smiling and  laughing-everyone except Julietta. The groom's cousin was shooting evil  daggers at her, so Paris shot them right back. Who does she think she  is?

Ignoring her new blonde nemesis, she rose gracefully from her chair and  carefully descended the short staircase. Drawing upon what she'd learned  in etiquette class way back when, she raised her chin, pinned her  shoulders back and sucked in her stomach. Each step Paris took hurt like  hell, and all she could think about was soaking her tired feet in a  bowl of Epsom salts later that night.

The moment Paris heard the opening bars of her favorite Backstreet Boys  song she knew she'd been set up. And the cheeky grin on her best  friend's face confirmed it. Paris wanted to smack Cassandra for tricking  her, but when Rafael slid his arms around her waist, her anger  evaporated into thin air. His touch was magic, and his dark, smoldering  gaze made her feel sexier than a model frolicking on the beach.

They swayed to the beat of the music, moved their hands and legs in  perfect sync. It was hard not to get lost in his eyes, impossible not to  be swept up in the moment. His slow, sensual dancing aroused her and  caused explicit thoughts to flood her mind. Turned on, she fought to  control the tingling sensation between her legs. Paris was trembling,  hot all over, and her entire body was damp with sweat. Her throat was  bone dry, and she was so nervous she couldn't think of anything smart or  interesting to say.

She knew everyone was watching them, could feel the heat of their  stares, but she refused to let her nerves get the best of her.  Swallowing hard, she searched the crowd for a friendly face. The bride  and groom waved, and a laugh fell from her lips. Seeing Cassandra and  Stefano wrapped in each other's arms made Paris smile. She hadn't seen  her friend this happy in years, and she was thrilled that her girlfriend  had finally found true love.

"Are you having a good time?"

The sound of Rafael's deep voice instantly seized her attention and sent  ripples of pleasure down her spine. "Of course," she said with a nod.  "I'm a foodie with a bottomless stomach, and the selection was to die  for."

"I couldn't help but notice you tonight." Desire blazed in his eyes,  warmed his light brown skin. "You look sensational, and you made four  trips to the dessert station."

Paris pressed a finger to her lips and glanced around playfully. "Don't  tell anyone, but I have chocolate biscotti hidden inside my purse!"

"I hate to brag, but I've been told my orange-pecan biscotti ranks right  up there with the best of them," he said, his voice oh so smooth. "Next  time you're in Washington I'd love to make you an authentic Italian  meal."

"You cook?"

"Of course, I'm a Morretti!" Rafael chuckled. "My father taught me and  my brothers how to cook at a very young age, and we can all throw down  in the kitchen. But you don't have to take my word for it. I'll show  you."

Her mind went blank and her heart swooned. Good God, is he trying to seduce me?

"I frequently fly to Atlanta for business, so we can definitely make it happen...."

He spoke in a low, husky whisper, one intended to arouse and seduce. He  caressed her hips slowly as they moved to the music. His stroke set her  body on fire, causing her to yearn for French kisses and passionate  lovemaking. Paris recalled their first date, and all her feelings and  emotions for Rafael came rushing back.

"When's a good time for you?"

"I'll, um, have to get back to you." She wouldn't, of course, but Rafael  didn't need to know the truth. Or that she'd be in Washington next  Friday to prepare for the Women's Business Expo. Being the keynote  speaker at the sold-out conference was an incredible honor, and Paris  needed to be more focused than ever. Rafael was her weakness, the  ultimate distraction, but Paris was too smart to act on her feelings.  The last time I let someone get close to me he betrayed my trust, and  I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than get hurt by another  charming, charismatic man.                       
       
           



       

"I'm going to hold you to that," he said, tightening his arm around her  waist. "It's not often I meet a woman of your caliber, and I'd be  honored to take you out on a second first date."

Paris concealed a smile. She didn't know how he did it. He had the  ability to connect with people, no matter how old or young they were, no  matter their race or gender. For the past three hours she'd watched in  awe as Rafael worked his charms on everyone in the grand ballroom. She  admired his intelligence and loved how his eyes twinkled whenever he  teased her.

"I think you're an incredible woman, and I hope this is the start of a great friendship."

I hope this is the start of a great friendship? Paris almost laughed out  loud, but caught herself in the nick of time. I can't be friends with  you. You're a charmer and if I wasn't so afraid of you breaking my  heart, I'd do you right here, right now!

Paris maneuvered the conversation to a safer, less personal subject and  spoke with excitement about her company's charity gala in Washington,  D.C. "Soldier's Angels is a remarkable charity, and I'm hoping to raise a  million dollars for the brave men and women who need this vital  organization."

"I'll send a generous donation in your name."

"If you attend the event, I'll save you a dance," she said, with a cheeky smile.

"Black-tie events aren't really my thing," he confessed. "I'm a numbers  guy so I leave the partying and schmoozing to my father and Nicco."

The music ended, but Rafael pulled her closer to his chest.

"Is it true you spent the morning doing everyone's hair and makeup?"

"Not everyone," Paris said. "Just the girls in the bridal party."

"You make it sound like it's no big deal, but I bet it was a lot of work."

"The stylist Cassandra booked for the wedding never showed up, and when  she started crying I knew I had to do something, so I grabbed my curling  iron and got down to work."

"You're very talented."

And you're very sexy!

"There's nothing worse than wasted potential, and it would be a shame to  spend your life doing something you're not passionate about."

His words gave her something to think about. Was he right? Was she  talented enough to run her own beauty salon, or would she fall flat on  her face again?

Paris danced with Rafael for the next hour, and was having so much fun  laughing and joking with him she forgot all about her tired, aching  feet. "This DJ is off the chain!" Waving her hands in the air, she  swiveled her hips to the loud, infectious beat. "I can't believe he's  playing The Fugees. I haven't heard this song in years!"