Seduced by the Heir(2)

"I want to get to know you better."

Rafael surfaced from his thoughts. "Is that right?"                       
       
           



       

"Absolutely," the blonde purred, brushing her lips against his cheek and  a hand against his forearm once again. "Let's sneak inside for a  quickie. No one will even notice we're gone."

Rafael had to admit it was a tempting offer, but he wouldn't do it. He  wasn't looking for trouble, and Stefano's cousin could be the poster  girl for Gold Diggers Anonymous. For all he knew, she was in cahoots  with one of his business rivals, and he had no desire to end up on the  cover of a sleazy Italian tabloid. Not when he was on the verge of  finalizing a multimillion-dollar deal with one of the largest car  manufacturers in the world. He had come to Venice for business, not  pleasure, and it was imperative he keep his eyes on the prize, and off  Julietta's jaw-dropping cleavage.

"I'm not interested."

"Of course you are," she argued, licking her lips lasciviously. "I can do things with my tongue that will make you scream...."

A rich, effervescent laugh filled the air, seizing Rafael's attention.  It couldn't be, he told himself, shaking his head. No way she was there.  Not in Venice, at his friend's wedding.

Another giggle reached his ears, louder and longer than the last. Rafael  combed the tent, searching for the woman whose throaty, sultry laugh  still gave him chills. His gaze landed on the bar, more than fifty feet  away. And there she was. Paris St. Clair. How could he miss her? She'd  been his first love, the only woman he'd ever felt an intense connection  to, and even after all these years the sound of her voice still aroused  him.

Her scarlet-red lips looked plump and juicy, her silky hair hung like a  curtain over her shoulders, and she was dressed to kill in a black lace  minidress. His eyes roved over her delectable shape. His pulse hammered  in his ears, and his temperature shot through the roof. Breathe, fool,  breathe!

Rafael stood at the back of the room, mesmerized, watching Paris dazzle  her group of male admirers. Her radiant, butterscotch skin was glowing,  her eyes shimmered under the decorative lights and her silky brown legs  seemed to go on for miles. He was curious to know if she was married,  how many children she had and if she'd fulfilled her dream of owning a  beauty salon franchise. But most important, he wondered if she'd ever  thought of him over the years.

Rafael didn't realize he was moving until he heard the blonde's  high-pitched voice fade into the background. With a dry mouth and a  pounding heart, he strode purposely toward the bar. The beauty with the  dazzling smile and bountiful curves sure looked like his ex, but Rafael  had to know for sure if it was Paris, and there was only one way to find  out.

* * *

Paris St. Clair loved having male attention. She stood at the bar  discussing lucrative investment opportunities with a group of  distinguished Italian businessmen worth millions. It was her job as maid  of honor not only to tend to the bride, but to socialize with the other  guests. Plus Paris knew if she continued flirting, and laughing at  their jokes, they'd soon be putty in her hands.

Raising her champagne flute to her lips, she discreetly scoured the tent  for anyone else wearing diamond watches and designer suits. No one  caught her eye, but she made a mental note to introduce herself to the  groom's family during dessert. Stefano Via came from old money, and  although he never flaunted his wealth, Paris knew his father, a former  mayor, was one of the richest men in the country. Definitely someone to  get better acquainted with.

"So, what happened, little lady?" The media mogul with the  salt-and-pepper hair grinned like the Cat in the Hat. "Did you hit the  target or miss by a mile?"

Make them wait. It builds suspense! she thought, taking another sip of  her champagne. Being a senior executive at her father's company, Excel  Construction, had given her keen insight into the opposite sex. And  holding center court among a group of rich, influential men was an  exhilarating high. Being the "boss's kid" definitely had its downside,  but Paris wouldn't trade working for her father, or her fabulous,  jet-setting lifestyle, for anything in the world. She'd never forgotten  her humble beginnings-all the times she'd gone to bed hungry as a  child-and she was willing to do whatever it took to remain in the lap of  luxury.

"I hit the bull's-eye on my first throw," she said proudly, shaking off  the bitter memories of her past. "And when my brother fell into the dunk  tank, he looked like he was going to cry!"

Tossing her head back, she laughed long and hard at the memory of Oliver  shouting and flailing his arms in the dunk tank during Excel  Construction's annual employee barbecue. Midgiggle, her gaze fell across  a superfine man with light brown skin, a fitness trainer's build and  the sexiest lips she had ever seen. The ground fell out from under her  feet and her eyes widened in surprise.                       
       
           



       

Swallowing a gasp, she willed herself not to faint. Her heart was  beating so loud and so fast she feared it would explode straight out of  her chest. It was Rafael. Her first love. The guy she'd lost her  virginity to; the man she'd once innocently believed was her soul mate.

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?"