"Then why are you wearing an expensive diamond ring?"
To keep the opposite sex at bay. Talking about her ex-boyfriend always made her tear up, and since she didn't want to have an emotional breakdown at their quaint corner table, Paris racked her brain for a suitable answer. Wanting to keep the mood upbeat, she said, "I love diamonds. Sue me!"
"I understand that, but why not wear the ring on your other hand?"
His question caught her off guard. No one had ever grilled her about her diamond ring before, but then again, she'd never let anyone get this close. Men were good for one thing and one thing only. After the deed was done Paris went home-alone. Pillow talk wasn't an option, and neither was spending the night with her lover. "You're a guy. You wouldn't understand."
Rafael released her hand and sat up straighter. "Try me."
"I'm good at my job and I take great pride in what I do, but my clients are more interested in flirting with me than listening to what I have to say."
"Do you blame them?" His tone changed, becoming playful, and amusement twinkled in his deep brown eyes. "You're stunning, you have a wicked sense of humor, and sensuality and femininity literally ooze from your pores. They can't help themselves!"
His words made her heart melt, but Paris didn't let her feelings show. No use encouraging him. Their lunch date was a onetime thing, and despite their attraction, Paris had no desire to strike up any kind of relationship with her ex. She didn't do long-distance, and hated the thought of being tied down to one person.
"Aren't you afraid of scaring off Mr. Right?"
Paris laughed, and shrugged off his question with a flick of her hand. "I'm too busy being successful to worry about being single. Besides, Mr. Right doesn't exist, and neither does the ridiculous notion of living happily ever after."
"You sound like a pessimist."
"I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist. Instead of wasting my time dating, I'm focusing my energy on climbing the corporate ladder, and expanding my father's lucrative business empire."
"Don't you get lonely?"
"Do you?" she asked, flipping the tables. "You're thirty-six. Isn't it time you quit sowing your wild oats and find a nice Italian girl to marry?"
"Have you been talking to my mother?"
His laughter filled the dining room, and the sound made her giggle. Joking around with Rafael made Paris feel good, better than she had in weeks. He was an honest-to-goodness gentleman, who said and did all the right things, and who knew how to make a woman feel special. Paris liked that. He was unique, interesting, nothing like the men most of her girlfriends complained about, and she was having a great time with him. "Have you ever been married?" she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. "Do you have children?"
"No, and I'm in no rush to have a family." A wicked grin curved his mouth. "I'll settle down as soon as I meet a smart, vivacious beauty like you, and not a minute sooner."
"Then you're going to be single for a very long time, because I'm one in a million!"
"That's what I thought the first time I ever laid eyes on you." He sounded serious, as if he meant every word, and his gaze smoldered with intensity. "You looked so cute in your sundress and cowboy boots I just knew I had to meet you. You were the prettiest girl in the room. Still are."
His confession blew her mind. "I can't believe you remember what I wore to the spring formal our freshman year at Georgetown."
"How could I forget? It was a special day."
That it was, she thought, her cheeks flushed with heat. We did a whole lot of French-kissing and slow dancing that night, and by the time you walked me back to my car I was in love!
"I remember a lot of things about you-"
"Really? Like what?" Paris didn't believe him, not for a second, so she put him on the spot. "What's my favorite color?"
"That's easy, purple."
Without a doubt, his megawatt smile was his best feature, and Paris could tell that he was proud of himself for answering the question correctly. Their banter was effortless, easily the highlight of her day. "Is that all you've got?"
He stroked his jaw as if deep in thought. "You used to love horror movies, the Backstreet Boys and chocolate fudge milkshakes from Dairy Queen."
"I still do!" she shrieked, laughing. "How do you think I got so curvy?"
"Paris, you're stunning and you know it."
"And you're too charming for your own good!"
The waiter arrived with their order and conversation was put on hold. Paris took a bite of her cake, enjoying the strong, rich flavor. As they ate, they discussed Stefano and Cassandra's New Year's Eve wedding, their families and their careers.
"I'm surprised that you work for your father's construction company."
Paris felt her eyebrows rise, and her shoulders tense. She was used to people taking cheap shots at her, knew what her colleagues said behind her back, and normally she didn't care. But what Rafael said ticked her off. "Why are you surprised? You don't think I'm smart enough to work in a male-dominated industry?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response."
His voice was cold, and his gaze was deadly. He was annoyed with her, but for some odd reason that turned her on, made her wonder if he was still a passionate lover.
"Your dream was to start a beauty salon franchise, and I figured by now you'd have dozens of high-end shops around the world."
Paris picked up her water glass. "Dreams change."
"Do you enjoy being a senior administrator at your father's company?"
No, she thought sadly, but I have no choice. I'm stuck. My father will never let me leave the family business, and furthermore, I'm a St. Clair. According to my dad, St. Clairs don't give beauty treatments, they get beauty treatments.
"Yes, of course," she lied, avoiding his probing gaze. "I'm very good at my job, and I'm proud of what Excel Construction has accomplished over the years. We've constructed schools, health clinics and community centers in inner city neighborhoods, and we have even more incredible projects lined up in the New Year."
"Any chance of you opening a salon one day?"
"Been there, done that, and I'm not going there again."
"It sounds like your past venture failed to meet your expectations."
"That's the understatement of the year," she murmured.
Rafael leaned forward in his chair. "What happened?"
"Trust me, it's a long, boring story. You wouldn't be interested."
Without a moment's hesitation, he said, "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know. Go on."
Paris parted her lips, and to her surprise the truth came tumbling out. "I opened a salon with one of my sorority sisters from Spelman after graduation, and it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. If not for my father stepping in, and cleaning up the mess I made, I'd still be in court duking it out with my ex-best friend."
"Paris, you can't let one bad experience stop you from fulfilling your dreams."
"That's easy for you to say," she argued. "Everything you touch turns to gold!"
"It wasn't always that way," he confessed, his tone subdued. "I screwed up a lot my first few years at Morretti Incorporated, but after each failure, I picked myself up, dusted myself off and vowed to learn from my mistakes."
Shocked, Paris closed her open mouth. "You struggled to find your footing in the business world, too?"
"Absolutely, and I'm a better man because of all the hardships I faced. It forced me to challenge myself, and to think outside of the box."
He spoke with such fire and intensity that her thoughts took an erotic detour. Paris loved how strong he was, how intelligent, and his confidence was damn sexy.
Rafael picked up his water glass and took a drink. "The only way you lose in life is if you beat yourself, and I'm determined to be at the top of my game no matter the cost."
Damn, Paris thought, licking her lips. I wish you were on top of me.
"You're very passionate about what you do," she said. "I admire that."
"I think my ambition and my intensity has been the key to my success. Being the vice chairman of Morretti Incorporated is more than just a career. It's my life, and I feel fortunate to be doing something I love. A lot of people aren't that lucky."
Tell me about it. Releasing a deep sigh, Paris toyed with her chain-link necklace. Owning a high-end salon-a trendy, glamorous place where women went to network, socialize and relax-would be a dream come true. But Paris was scared of falling flat on her face. It had already happened once, and it could again. "I love the idea of going into business for myself, but my father would never give me his support."