He walked with purpose, moved with such confidence and swagger it was impossible for her not to drool like one of his dogs. He was holding a silver tray, and when he set it on the coffee table Paris couldn't decide what to do first: devour him or the desserts.
Determined to remain under control, Paris tore her gaze away from him and buried her hands in her lap.
"I made these just for you." Rafael sat down beside her on the couch and picked up the plate of cookies. "Go on, help yourself."
Paris did. The fried, doughnut-like cookies were soft, warm, and so damn good she ate four. "What?" she asked sheepishly, helping herself to another one. "You said to eat up."
"And I meant it. There are lots more in the kitchen."
Paris dunked her cookie in her Irish coffee and took a small bite. Chewing slowly, she savored the warm, sweet treat. "I can't believe you bake."
"Why? Because I'm a guy?"
"Uh, yeah!" She laughed. "You don't strike me as the baking type, but I'm glad you are because these cookies are out of this world. You've got skills, man!"
"That means a lot, coming from you."
He spoke in a low, husky voice, one Paris found undeniably sexy. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, couldn't look away for a second, and wished his hands were stroking her body.
"Well, just so you know, there's a lot more to me than meets the eye."
"Oh?" Paris raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me. I'm all ears."
His grin was sly and mischievous. "What do you want to know?"
He gave her a long, meaningful look. Paris felt vulnerable, exposed, as if she was sitting on the couch buck naked. It was hard to think when Rafael was staring intently at her, but she asked the question at the forefront of her mind. "Why did your last relationship end?"
His smile fell away and the muscles in his jaw tightened. "I'm surprised you don't know. The story was all over the news for weeks."
Intrigued, Paris turned toward him, giving him her undivided attention.
"My ex-girlfriend gave a tell-all interview about me and my family to Celebrity Scoop."
"That's terrible," Paris said, disgusted. "You should have sued her ass for defamation."
"I considered it, but once the magazine hit stores I changed my mind. Fighting Cicely in court seemed like a waste of time and money. I was too busy overseeing the development of our New York office to be bothered." Rafael cleared his throat and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "My dad was pissed because she told the magazine our family has ties to the Mafia, but her allegations didn't faze me. Cicely Cohen isn't the first person to try and capitalize off my last name, and she probably won't be the last."
Curiosity pushed Paris to ask, "Did you love her?"
"No, and when I had dinner with my brothers and their girlfriends, I realized how pathetic my relationship with Cicely was. There was no passion, no fire, and after I caught her in numerous lies I decided to call it quits. We broke up nine months ago, and I haven't spoke to her since."
His eyes probed her face, and her flesh caught fire.
"I've never loved anyone the way I love you, and I doubt I ever will."
Paris shifted uncomfortably in her chair and fiddled with her diamond ring on her left hand. "It sounds like you're better off without her," she said, wishing her voice didn't sound so squeaky. "What she did to you was cold and calculated."
"It was, but I survived, and the ordeal brought me and my family closer together."
Paris could relate to what he was saying and nodded in understanding. "It's hard to find people to trust. Everyone's hungry for fame and fortune, and will do just about anything to get both." Memories of the past made her heart throb with pain, but she pushed her thoughts aside. "I've been betrayed, too, but all those painful experiences made me a better judge of character and a stronger, more independent woman."
"It's you against the world, right?"
"Yeah, it is, and that's just the way I like it."
"I know how you feel. I have my family and that's all I need." Rafael picked up his mug and tasted his coffee. "I have the worst luck with women, and if my parents weren't pressuring me to get hitched I'd probably be a lifelong bachelor like George Clooney."
"Your mom is desperate for grandbabies, huh?"
Rafael groaned as if in physical pain. "Desperate is an understatement. Her new hobby is hooking me up on blind dates with her friends' daughters and introducing me to random women on the street."
"You poor thing. It must be such a drag meeting beautiful women 24/7."
"Thank you!" Rafael pumped his fist in the air as if he was cheering on his favorite basketball team. "Finally! Someone who understands my plight!"
Paris smirked.
A spirited conversation about love and relationships ensued, and when Rafael told her about his blind date from hell, Paris burst out laughing. Laughing so long and hard, tears gushed down her cheeks. For the first time in months, she felt happy. She couldn't stop smiling, didn't try to hide her feelings. Rafael was kind-hearted, romantic and chivalrous, and she was having a blast with him.
"You couldn't pay me to attend another holiday jam," he said, resting a hand comfortably on his knee. He looked as relaxed as a sun-seeker stretched out on Champagne Beach, and spoke freely, without restraint. "Singles events just aren't for me. I'd rather work or play poker with the guys than stand around making conversation with a bunch of people I have absolutely no interest in."
His words threw her, making her wonder what had happened to the friendly, outgoing guy she'd fallen hard for her freshman year of college. "When did you become so antisocial? When we in college you used to love going out and meeting new people."
"Things were a lot easier back in school. No one at U of W knew my family had money, so my father's wealth was never an issue. But these days I can't go anywhere without someone trying to cash in on the Morretti name."
"I hear you. I'm so tired of being lied to and disappointed that I refuse to date."
"Tell me about your last serious relationship."
The statement and the intensity of Rafael's gaze caught her off guard. Paris drew a deep breath, but her pulse was drumming so loudly in her ears she couldn't think straight. It hurt to think about her ex-boyfriend and the thought of confiding in Rafael about her past made her burn with shame.
Needing a moment to collect her thoughts, she stood and wandered over to the window beside the towering bookshelf. The streets were deserted, blanketed with snow, and hundreds of stars lit up the night sky. "This is a nice neighborhood. I love how quiet and peaceful it is. Have you lived here a long time?"
"You're trying to change the subject."
Paris struggled for a suitable response but came up empty. She heard footsteps cross the hardwood floor, saw his refection in the window and felt her body tense. Rafael stopped behind her, just inches away. Suddenly it became hard to breathe, difficult to swallow, and she couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Perspiration drenched her body, made her palms slick with sweat. The walls were closing in on her, the tension in the room so suffocating she felt as if she was trapped in an elevator with a hundred other people. Her throat closed up and her tongue lay limp in her mouth. Paris didn't want to talk to Rafael about her ex; she just couldn't do it, not today, and likely never. She made up her mind to call a cab as soon as her hands quit shaking.
"I just want to get to know you again. Is that so bad?"
Rafael touched her shoulder, and she reluctantly turned to face him. Bad idea. Seeing the compassion and concern on his handsome face made her eyes sting. A flood of tears momentarily blinded her, causing the living room to swim out of focus.
"Angel eyes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."
Embarrassed for letting her emotions get the best of her, she shook her head and waved her hands in front of her face. "Don't be silly. I'm not crying. It's just my allergies acting up again...."
He closed his arms around her, engulfing her cold, trembling body in a hug. Paris stood perfectly still. She tried not to notice how good it felt being in his arms. As he stroked her hair, her fears abated. Her tears dried up, her vision cleared and her hands quit shaking. The music, his soothing touch and the promises he whispered in her ears were her undoing. Desire overtook her like a crook lying in wait. Paris tried damn hard not to cross the line, promised herself she wouldn't throw herself at him again, but her body betrayed her.