Seduced by the Heir(8)

"Yes, of course." He thought back to the first time he'd met Jariah, and  cringed inwardly when he remembered the unflattering things he'd said  about her to Nicco. His brother had always had horrible taste in women,  and he'd feared that Jariah was another gold digger. Thankfully, she  wasn't, and the more time Rafael spent with the hardworking single  mother, the more he admired her. "Any more questions, Katie Couric?"

"Excuse me for trying to make conversation," she said with a laugh. "I  was surprised to see you get on the tour bus this morning. Aren't you  supposed to be doing business in Tuscany?"

Rafael wore a puppy dog face. "You're keeping tabs on me. I'm touched."

More laughter passed between them.

"My meeting was pushed back to Monday, so I decided to join the group,"  he explained, admiring her radiant brown skin. "Why are you hiding out  in here? You're supposed to be at the bell tower with everyone else."

Paris picked up her wicker basket, slipped her hand inside a white  package and tossed a chocolate-covered cashew into her mouth. "I got  hungry."

"You always did like your sweets."

"Still do," she quipped. "Cassandra forced me to go on the soup diet  with her, and if she finds out I cheated she'll go ballistic, so don't  tell her you saw me in here, okay?"

"I won't tell a soul. Your secret is safe with me."

Paris walked over to the cash register, unloaded her items on the marble  counter and paid the cashier. Seconds later, she joined him at the  entrance of the store. "What's your story?" she asked, slipping on her  oversize Givenchy sunglasses. "Why did you ditch the group?"

Because I want to be alone with you, he thought, but didn't say. It was  too much too soon, and he didn't want to scare her off. Not when they  were enjoying each other's company. To keep the mood light, he said, "I  got tired of Cassandra's foster mom hitting on me, so I decided to make a  break for it when she wasn't looking!"

Paris cracked up. The sound of her high-pitched giggles bolstered his  confidence. He couldn't have scripted a better reunion     .

"It was great talking to you, Rafael. See you around!" she said suddenly, walking closer to the door.

He caught her arm just as she was about to breeze past him, and slid in  front of the door to prevent her from leaving. "Where are you rushing  off to?"

A frown touched her lips, marring her pretty features, but she didn't  speak. His body was a raging inferno and his impulse to kiss her was so  strong it consumed him. He wet his lips with his tongue, moved closer.  "Don't go." His voice sounded foreign to his ears, a lot huskier than it  had ever been. "I'll escort you to the bell tower."

"I'm not going there. The group is slowing me down, and I have tons of shopping to do."

An idea came to him, and a lie fell smoothly from his lips. "You have to  shop and I have to shop, so we might as well knock it out together."

"Are you sure your paramour won't mind? I don't want to create any problems at home."

I'm not interested in Julietta. I'm interested in you.

"You guys looked awfully cozy last night," Paris continued. "And she's  also made it very clear to the bridal party that you're off-limits."

"Paris, I'm single, and there's no special woman in my life, but if you feel uncomfortable hanging out with me, then..."

Her frown deepened. "Why would I be uncomfortable?"

"Because we had a messy breakup."

"Yeah, like twenty years ago," she scoffed, giving him a funny look. "We  dated when we were kids. It didn't mean anything. I moved on and so did  you. No hard feelings."

Listening to Paris downplay their relationship hurt like hell, but  Rafael held his tongue. Besides, she was right. They'd dated eons ago,  and living in the past was a waste of time. "So, you don't mind if I tag  along? I promised my dad I'd buy him a case of Italian cigars, and if I  forget he'll cut me out of his will!"                       
       
           



       

Paris wore a cheeky smile. "Sure, why not? You could help me carry my bags."

"First we eat and then we shop."

"When did you get so bossy?" she teased, slanting her head to the right.  "What happened to the sweet, easygoing guy who used to let me call the  shots?"

Rafael lowered his mouth to her ear. "He grew up."

"I can see that."

"And what you call bossy, I call decisive," he said smoothly. "I don't  believe in playing games. When I see something I want, I go after it. No  matter what."

Her eyes opened wide.

The air was saturated with the scent of his desire. Rafael wanted to  crush his lips to her mouth, wished he could taste her one more time,  but he didn't act on his impulses. To keep his hands busy, and off her  curvy, shapely body, he stepped aside and opened the door. "Shall we go?  I'm hungry, and I bet you are, too."

"Where are we going?"

"To the best Italian restaurant in town, of course."

Her face came alive, brightened with excitement. "Now you're talking. Lead the way!"





Chapter 5

Harry's Bar, a ridiculously expensive pub in the heart of the city, was  more than just a classy restaurant, it was a cultural institution. Open  since the 1930s, it attracted Venetian high society, diplomats and  celebrities from around the globe. The menu was simple, and the  furnishings understated, but the award-winning food more than made up  for the modest decor.

"Might I recommend the Cipriani chocolate cake for dessert?" The waiter,  an older gentleman with kind eyes, collected Paris and Rafael's empty  lunch plates and refilled their water glasses. "It's our most celebrated  dish, and one of the First Lady's personal favorites."

"Sounds good," Rafael said. "We'd also like another round of Bellini cocktails."

The waiter gave a curt nod. "Very well, sir. I'll be back shortly with your order."

"You have to quit feeding me, or I won't be able to fit into my gown  tomorrow!" Paris joked, settling back comfortably in her chair. "I don't  want to get on the bride's bad side-"

"Don't worry, Paris. I'll be there to protect you."

He flashed a grin, and her breath caught on a moan. The second floor was  filled to the brim with distinguished diners, and waiters in shiny bow  ties rushing to and fro, but when Rafael looked at her everyone else  faded into the background.

His gaze roamed over her face, warmed her tingling flesh. Desire blazed  in his eyes, and for a pulse-pounding second Paris feared he was going  to kiss her. What should I do if he does? Push him away, kiss him back  or make a break for the emergency exit?

Swallowing hard, she moistened her lips with her tongue. Her attraction  to Rafael was ruling her, mind and body, and if she didn't get a handle  on her feelings quick she was going to fall victim to her desires. And  there's nothing cute about pouncing on a man in public.

"The Cipriani chocolate cake is the pièce de résistance, and I can't let  you leave Venice without trying it. Trust me, you're going to love it."

"God, you're smooth," she quipped. "Now I know why Julietta's been  throwing herself at you all weekend. You're as charming as they get!"

"She's not interested in me per se, just my bank account."

"That's a harsh assessment. You hardly know her."

"I know her type." A frown wrinkled his brow, caused fine lines to gather around his eyes and mouth. "Tell me something."

"Ask away. What's on your mind?"

Rafael picked up her left hand, gently caressed each finger. Electricity  crackled between them, and the more he stroked her skin the harder it  was for Paris to concentrate.

"You're single, right?"

All she could do was nod her head. Her mind was too jumbled to produce a  coherent thought. She tried to ignore the flutter in the pit of her  stomach, that tingling sensation shooting down her spine, but to no  avail. He's just a man, scolded her conscience. Sure, he's tall, ripped  and toned, but that's no reason to get nervous and flustered.

His caress was better than she remembered. Paris told herself to  breathe, to stare at something-anything-besides Rafael's lips, but she  couldn't tear her gaze away from his face. Her desire for him was  strong, so intense it made it impossible for her to think. Moving her  hand away was out of the question too. Paris loved how he'd always made  her feel desirable, wanted and sexy. "I date from time to time," she  said, twirling a lock of hair around the index finger of her free hand.  "But I'm single, and have no plans to settle down."