Passion’s in vogue

A front-row seat at Paris Fashion Week is the perfect pick-me-up for Brianna Hamilton, eldest daughter of New York’s most successful clothing dynasty. The once-burned designer has had it with men who care only about the bottom line. Until she meets a guy who’s impossible to resist. Here, in the world’s most romantic city, Brianna’s giving in to desire with a sensual stranger she’ll never see again.

As CEO of an international hotel chain, Collin Childs has everything…except the one thing money can’t buy. So when fate reunites him with the woman who gave him the most unforgettable week of his life, he vows to overcome every obstacle standing in their way. From Paris to New York to a tropical St. Thomas paradise—in the face of danger and sabotage—Collin is slowly winning Brianna over. But can he convince her to take a chance on a love of their own passionate design?

Brianna heard music playing, and spotted a guitar player sitting under a decorative lamppost, singing with earnest.

Collin stopped and tossed fifty euros into the man’s tattered plaid cap. A small crowd had gathered around the musician, and although he sang off-key in a hoarse, throaty tone, Brianna recognized the old Beatles tune and hummed along. She was singing to herself, thinking about what a great time she was having with Collin when it happened. He slipped his hands around her waist, lowered his mouth and kissed her.

It was a moment Brianna would never forget as long as she lived. It wasn’t his technique that blew her away, or even how damn good his mouth tasted, it was the urgency behind each kiss, the passion, the lust, the hot, scorching desire. His lips were made for kissing, for pleasing, and Brianna just couldn’t get enough. She leaned into him, pressed her body flat against his and matched him kiss for kiss, lick for lick, stroke for stroke. A church bell chimed in the distance, but Brianna’s loud, thunderous heartbeat drowned out the noise. The kiss ended much too soon, and when Collin pulled away, Brianna felt a profound sense of disappointment.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

PAMELA SADADI YAYE

has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education. Her love for African-American fiction prompted her to pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not working on her latest novel, this busy wife, mother and teacher is watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Alberta, Canada, with her gorgeous husband and adorable but mischievous son and daughter.

Designed by Desire

Pamela Yaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

I love New York. It’s a great place to visit (the people, the energy and the nonstop action are right up my alley!) and I love that this chic, vibrant city was chosen for the backdrop of the Fashioned with Love series. Styles of Seduction by the incomparable Jacquelin Thomas kicked off the series with a bang, and Designed by Desire picks up right where book one left off.

One of my favorite scenes to write in this book was the first time Brianna Hamilton saw Collin Childs. She spotted him across the runway inside Paris’s world-famous Carrousel du Louvre, and the moment their eyes locked, Brianna felt a dizzying, intoxicating rush of desire—one that threatened to consume her. Brianna is as straightlaced as they come, but dining in five-star restaurants and dirty dancing with Collin in the hottest nightclubs stirs something deep inside her. Want. Need. Hunger.

Straight talk?

Brianna can’t keep her hands off Collin, and when they reunite in New York days later, her first impulse is to throw herself in his arms and kiss him all over. That doesn’t surprise me. Collin spoiled Brianna silly in the City of Lights, and loved her like she’d never been loved before. Of course she’s hot for the man. He rocked her world!!! Word to the wise: keep a cold drink nearby. The love scenes in Designed by Desire are blazing-hot!!!

After you finish reading Brianna and Collin’s sexy love story, run out and grab a copy of Runway Attraction by talented, multipublished author Farrah Rochon. Passions ignite, secrets are revealed and the ending of the family miniseries is a shocking, pulse-pounding ride. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

With love,

Pamela Yaye

God blessed me with a loving, close-knit family, and I’m thankful for my husband, Jean-Claude Yaye, my beautiful children, Aysiah and Christian Yaye, my parents, Daniel and Gwendolyn Odidison, and my siblings, Ken and Bettey Odidison. You guys are the best, and I feel fortunate to have you all in my lives.

To Maria Ribas and the rest of the team at Harlequin Kimani Romance for all their hard work on the Fashioned with Love series.

To say I love the cover of Designed by Desire is an understatement and, as always, it’s been a pleasure working with you all.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 1

Brianna Hamilton had a love-hate relationship with the paparazzi. Always had, likely always would. And because today her feelings for the aggressive, money-hungry jerks verged on the latter, she strode briskly past the legions of photographers jockeying for position in front of the red carpet outside the world-famous Carrousel du Louvre in Paris. Her hands were so slick with sweat she struggled to hold on to her satin evening bag, and each step she took increased her fear, her anxiety. Keep smiling and no one will ever know that you’re an emotional wreck. Or that you cried yourself to sleep last night.

The brisk, early October breeze whipped her lush, shoulder-length curls around her face, and the hem of her strapless burgundy dress flapped so high in the air Brianna feared she’d just flashed the French paparazzi an eyeful of her booty. The scene on Rue de Rivoli was insane, more frenzied than a Twilight premiere and twice as loud. Cameras flashed, screaming fans waved signs, helicopters buzzed overhead and paramedics were on hand in case someone went into cardiac arrest after seeing their favorite globe-trotting star.

“Brianna, where’s your sister?”

“What rehab clinic is Bailey hiding in?”

“Do you have a problem with drugs and alcohol, too?”

Questions swirled around her, fast and furious. They came from every direction, every angle. The voices taunted her, teased her, conjured up painful, gut-wrenching memories Brianna couldn’t escape. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, but she waved at the crowd and then rushed inside the lobby as fast as her six-inch high heels could take her.

Sucking in a quick breath—which did little to calm her nerves—Brianna touched a hand to her stomach, terrified she was going to hurl. But she wouldn’t.

Inside the auditorium, the lights were low, the atmosphere was festive and the air was filled with the heady scent of wine, perfume and fresh flowers. Everyone who was anyone was in Paris for Fashion Week, and the room was full of entertainers, socialites and A-list stars from around the globe.

Studly male waiters sporting bow ties marched briskly around the room offering champagne, hors d’oeuvres and toothy smiles. Everywhere Brianna looked people were mingling, schmoozing and posing for pictures. High-pitched laughter bounced off the ceilings and ricocheted around the room, but the loud, cheerful sound didn’t brighten her mood.

Sitting down in her satin-draped front row seat, she crossed her legs and waited impatiently for the Fendi fashion show to begin. Brianna loved the sights and sounds of Paris and had been to the city dozens of times over the years, but this year her heart just wasn’t in Fashion Week. She wanted to be with her sister, Bailey, somewhere far away from the crowds, the pushy photographers and the prying eyes of the media.

But her parents, Roger and Lila Hamilton, wouldn’t hear of her going to St. Thomas, where they’d sent Bailey for some much-needed rest. Not even to comfort her kid sister, the person she loved more than anything. They didn’t want anyone to tip off the press about Bailey’s location, so Brianna had no choice but to stay away. After much prodding from her mother, Brianna reluctantly packed her bags for Paris and boarded the family jet first thing Monday morning. The week had been a blur of last-minute fittings, tension-filled meetings and mistake-riddled rehearsals that dragged on for hours, but now that the Roger Hamilton Designs fashion show was over, Brianna realized all the stress and drama had been worth it. The fashion show had been an enormous success, and now she could finally sit back and relax.

Her gaze swept through the fashionably dressed crowd. Women in fitted designer dresses with perfectly coiffed hair snapped pictures with bejeweled cell phones, while the steely-eyed editor of Vogue spoke quietly to her assistant, who jotted notes in a leather-bound notebook. The excitement in the auditorium was palpable, almost suffocating. Brianna wished someone would crack open a window or jack up the air-conditioning.

But not everyone was watching the show.

A burly photographer in dark sunglasses was leering at her as he swung his high-powered camera lens in her direction.

Brianna snatched the program off her lap and shielded her face. Take that, stupid! What she really wanted to do was whack the photographer upside the head with it, but she inhaled a deep, calming breath instead.

He was supposed to be taking pictures of the glamorous models gliding down the runway, and the rows upon rows of celebrities seated along the stage, not of her—a quiet, low-key fashion designer who preferred being behind the scenes. But ever since her sister’s disappearance at Lincoln Center in New York last month, the paparazzi had been chomping at the bit for pictures of her family. And the constant scrutiny was getting to her. For as long as Brianna could remember, the media had always had a rabid fascination with her family, but these days the public’s curiosity was insatiable and completely out of control.

Brianna told herself not to go there, not to think about what had happened to Bailey weeks earlier, but she couldn’t stop the questions that rose in her mind. Why would someone kidnap Bailey, knock her out and plant drugs on her? Someone was out to destroy her sister’s flourishing modeling career and ruin the Hamilton family name—but why? What had Bailey ever done to deserve being attacked?

Brianna blinked back the tears in her eyes. It had been almost a month since the frightening, horrific attack, and she still couldn’t make sense of why it had happened. Bailey was the life-of-the-party, a beauty who lit up every room she entered and, although the modeling industry was as cutthroat as the Mafia, her sister didn’t have any enemies. Not one.

Bailey was the face of Roger Hamilton Designs and a statuesque, exotic-looking beauty who was outgoing, passionate about life and outrageously funny. Or at least she used to be. Every time Brianna spoke to Bailey at the resort her parents had shipped her off to in St. Thomas, her sister sounded stressed, on edge. She refused to leave her hotel suite and spent hours on end lying in bed, reliving every second of her brutal attack.

Lights flashed in Brianna’s face, causing her to return to the present. Dropping the catalog on her lap, she cheered along with the audience. Putting all thoughts of the attack out of her mind, she watched as the models commanded the stage

Brianna sat in her chair, marveling at the response of the crowd, at how everyone in the room seemed to be on the edge of their seat. It shouldn’t have surprised her. The vibrant, cutting-edge gowns were eye-catching, the models were stunning and the techno music was so lively Brianna temporarily forgot all about the drama surrounding her family—and the devastating secret that kept her up at night. She loved this world, loved how fashion united people from different cultures and backgrounds, and was aware how fortunate she was to be a Hamilton.

Brianna heard the buzz in the crowd and knew another A-list star had just entered the auditorium. Curious to see who the new arrival was, she tore her gaze away from the stage and searched the international crowd for the fashionably late celebrity.

That’s when Brianna saw him.

A man so fine she felt her eyes widen and her mouth fall open.

The drop-dead sexy heartthrob was a full head taller than every other man in the room and moved with pride and confidence. Sporting a camel-brown coat, a white turtleneck sweater and black dress pants, he radiated a cool, casual vibe. Brianna gave him the once-over, and she liked what she saw so much that she did it again. The second time, her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she undressed him with her eyes. Her body was suddenly humming with need, so inflamed with desire that R-rated thoughts filled her mind. Brianna hadn’t been intimate with anyone since her divorce and, up until now, hadn’t given much thought to ending her twelve-month sexual drought.

Why would I? she thought, her eyes crawling down the stranger’s slim, toned physique. It’s not like I’ve met anyone I’m remotely interested in sleeping with.

The truth was, Brianna thought sex was overrated. Her orgasms had always been few and far between, so she’d often chosen working in her home office over making love to her husband. But there was something about the stranger with the dark, smoldering gaze and thick lips that gave her butterflies. Hot flashes. A dizzying, intoxicating rush.

His stylish designer eyeglasses, blinding white smile and perfect posture gave him a studious, mature look, but Brianna suspected he was in his early thirties. He carried himself with importance, like someone who lunched with Trump, golfed with Tiger and partied with Kanye. And as he made his way through the auditorium, the buzz grew to a fevered pitch. One by one, jaws dropped and lips curled into dreamy smiles.

The stranger sat down in the front row beside a French pop star who had a penchant for dating bad boys, wearing see-through clothes and making sex tapes. He greeted his date with a kiss on each cheek, then cast a glance around the packed auditorium. That’s when he caught Brianna staring at him. Their eyes met across the runway, and for one nerve-wracking minute they gazed intently at each other.

Brianna felt faint, spent, as if she were in a Zumba class.

A tingly sensation spread through her body. The man had to be an actor, someone über famous who partied with the royals and smiled down from billboards in the heart of the city. He had that look, that vibe, an aura that instantly drew people in. All around the room, women were making eyes at him, but he seemed oblivious to the stir he caused. His gaze was on her, slowly moving from her eyes to her lips.

Brianna felt her cheeks flush and knew her face was bright red. The color of her passion, the shade of her desire. The stranger watched her in a way that aroused her. Instead of glancing away, Brianna appraised him right back, from head to toe. There was something magnetic about him, something so compelling, she felt an instant and immediate connection to him. Brianna knew the notion was outrageous, so far out in left field that even her single, man-hungry girlfriends would call her crazy, but she couldn’t change the way she felt.

“The Hamiltons have money and wealth and fame, but they’re still a hot mess!”

Brianna sat up ramrod straight. Squinting, her head inclined to the right, she listened to what the women seated behind her were saying. They sounded young, like a couple of Valley girls straight out of San Fernando, California, and their vocabulary was so limited Brianna wondered if they’d finished elementary school.

“My boyfriend’s brother hooked up with Bailey Hamilton at Diddy’s White Party last year, and he said they spent hours doing coke and each other.”

“Yuck,” another woman said, her tone loud and nasally. “I’ve met your boyfriend’s brother and I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. Models are so screwed up in the head.”

“And she’s a Hamilton.”

The women giggled like tween girls watching Nickelodeon.

“Authentic fashions my ass.” More high-pitched laughter. “Roger Hamilton needs to change his company slogan because there’s nothing real or authentic about his family. They’re all a bunch of fakes, and their relatives in Philadelphia are, like, ten times worse.”

For a moment, Brianna forgot who and where she was. Whipping around, she shot the blonde women an evil glare. But instead of looking ashamed or bolting from their plush second-row seats, the twosome rolled their eyes to the ceiling.

“Look who it is,” quipped the woman with the short, curly hair. “It’s Brianna Hamilton, the only one left in her family who isn’t strung out on drugs or in rehab.”

“Everything you just said about my sister is a lie,” Brianna said, raising her voice above the music. “Bailey’s never, ever done drugs.”

“Then why did the police find her stoned out of her mind at Lincoln Center?”

Brianna ignored the question. She didn’t have the time or the energy to argue with dumb and dumber, but she refused to sit back and let them bash her kid sister. “You don’t know anything about me or my family—”

“Oh, yes, I do,” snapped the blonde with the hazel eyes. “I’m a gossip blogger for Celebrity Scoop, so I know what happens to the rich and famous even before it happens.” Wearing a smug smile, she propped her hands on her hips. “Face it, Bri-Bri, your family’s so dysfunctional they make the Jacksons look normal!”

Brianna wanted to grab her purse and leave the Carrousel du Louvre, but how would it look if she stormed out of the Fendi fashion show before it ended? No, she’d just have to stick it out for the rest of the night. She was in Paris to represent her family business—not to get into a screaming match with a pair of gossips.

“How is Bailey doing in rehab?” A big fat smirk sat on the woman’s thin peach lips as she flipped her hair over her shoulder for the umpteenth time. “Is she finally getting the help she so desperately deserves, or is she so doped up on meds she has no idea where she is?”

Rage consumed Brianna. She imagined herself jumping over her satin-draped seat and punching Malibu Barbie and her ditzy sidekick in the face. Brianna wanted to defend Bailey and her family name but knew that acting a fool inside the Carrousel du Louvre with the whole world watching would only create more bad press, and that was the last thing her family needed. So Brianna turned back around in her seat. I could use a drink, she thought, signaling to an approaching waiter and then snatching a flute off his silver tray.

Brianna hoped the champagne would help calm the fire raging within her. The stranger, sitting directly across from her on the opposite side of the runway, raised his flute in greeting, but Brianna couldn’t even muster a smile. She felt defeated, beaten down, and her heart ached for Bailey.

People were cruel and seemed to derive great pleasure from kicking her family while they were down, but something told Brianna things were going to get a hell of a lot worse before they got better.

Behind her, the blondes continued their verbal assault. I wish I could give them a New York beat down, but since I don’t want to see my mug shot on TMZ, I’m going to keep my butt in this seat even if it kills me.

And when one of the women called Brianna a pampered princess with no talent, Brianna began to think that it just might.

Chapter 2

As Brianna slipped through the private entrance at Bar 8, an exclusive hotspot that happened to be on the ground floor of her hotel, she felt the stress of the past two hours fade away. She could have gone upstairs to her cozy three-bedroom suite and ordered room service, but the night was still young, and she didn’t feel like being alone.

She took a seat at the circular marble bar. The sophisticated ambiance and hushed lighting made it easy for Brianna to forget the outside world. The sleek, wood walls were inlaid with crystals, creating the illusion of raindrops. Couples sat at glass tables, enjoying obscenely expensive bottles of wine, and the sound of laughter and foreign languages sweetened the air. Everyone at the bar had their eyes glued to the soccer game on the flat-screen above the bar, and their loud, boisterous cheers created a festive mood.

“Madame, what can I get you?” the waiter asked in his thick Russian accent.

“Pinot grigio ’95, please.”

As Brianna looked at the menu, memories filled her mind. The last time she’d been at this trendy spot, Bailey had attracted the attention of everyone inside the bar, and soon their quiet dinner for two had turned into an impromptu party for twenty. Patrons snapped pictures of Bailey, begged for her autograph and chatted her up about her photo shoot that morning at the Eiffel Tower. By the time they’d left the bar, the sun was peeking over the horizon and the paparazzi were staked out in the lobby, waiting to snap the perfect shot of the model on the brink of superstardom.

It’s hard to believe that was six months ago, Brianna thought, taking the glass the bartender offered and tasting her wine. My family has always been the toast of the town, but now it feels like everyone in the world is gunning for us.

Brianna closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh. It was days like this, when perfect strangers bashed her family and questioned her talent, that Brianna wanted to disappear. For once, she wished she could be a nobody. Someone no one knew or recognized. Not Brianna Hamilton, fashion designer and eldest daughter of Roger and Lila Hamilton. Just Brianna. No last name.

A clean, refreshing scent washed over her. It was aftershave, and the fragrance reminded her of home, of her father, of all the cold winter days they’d spent inside playing chess and watching Jeopardy! on TV. Brianna opened her eyes, half expecting to see her gray-haired father sitting in the stool beside her, but when she saw him—the sexy heartthrob who’d caused a stir when he’d entered the Carrousel du Louvre—she gasped.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace, his expression one of genuine concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His smile was apologetic, but Brianna eyed him warily. She wasn’t used to men approaching her at a hotel bar, or anywhere for that matter. Guys rarely asked her out, and that suited her just fine because she wasn’t interested in having a one-night stand or finding that special someone, either. Dating didn’t appeal to her, and neither did racking up more sex partners than the Material Girl. She’d much rather work or spend time with her family than sweat out her perm with a guy who was more interested in getting off than pleasing her. Brianna knew, in theory, that there were still a few good men out there, but she didn’t have the energy or patience that dating required.

And why bother when love doesn’t last, anyway?

“Do you mind me sitting here?”

“Yes—I mean, n-n-no,” she stammered, tripping over her own tongue. “It’s a free world. You can sit wherever you want.” Brianna recognized she was rambling, but she couldn’t get her lips to stop moving or her hands to quit shaking.

“I won’t bother you. I promise.” He gestured with his head to the TV. “I just want to watch the World Cup qualification match between Italy and Germany.”

Brianna flashed him a smile. He was definitely American, likely from the West Coast, and radiated a calm, laid-back vibe. His voice was deep, husky—a sound she’d love to hear more of. So why not strike up a conversation? Despite all the drama at the fashion show, she was feeling surprisingly upbeat.

Sitting at a bar with a gorgeous guy can do that to a girl, Brianna thought, shifting nervously on her swivel stool.

“I bet on the boys in blue, and I’m anxious to see how they’re doing,” he said.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the game’s over. Germany won by two.”

His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“How the hell did that happen?” The stranger raked a hand over his brown close-cropped hair. “The last time I checked, Italy was up by two.”

“In the second half, the Germans were the faster, more aggressive team,” Brianna explained. “They’re a talented, young squad that plays with a lot of heart, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they won it all in Brazil next year.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know so much about European football?”

“I lived in Milan for a year, and it was the only thing on TV!” Brianna laughed. “Italians live and breathe football, and it wasn’t long before I fell in love with the sport, too. I don’t watch as many games as I used to, but I still follow my favorite teams.”

“Interesting.” Studying her, he stroked the length of his jaw. “Who do you like in the France versus Spain game? I was just about to place my bet.”

“That’s a no-brainer. France.”

“How can you be so sure? They haven’t been playing well as of late.”

“That’s why I’m convinced they’ll win,” she told him. “The French perform best when it matters most, and they know if they lose to Spain they’ll have to permanently relocate because their fans will never, ever forgive them!”

The stranger chuckled and offered his right hand. “I’m Collin.”

No, you’re fine-as-hell, Brianna thought.

He was, without a doubt, the best-looking man she’d ever seen in the flesh, and being in such close proximity to him was wreaking havoc on her body—and her mind. Her nipples had hardened under her dress, and she couldn’t stop picturing Collin naked in her bed. And if he looked half as good in real life as he did in her fantasy, that could spell serious trouble.

“Are you going to tell me your name, or do I have to buy you another glass of wine first?”

“I’m Brianna,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. A flutter danced in the pit of her stomach, then spread south. Brianna sat up taller, straighter. She had to be on guard if she wanted to withstand the heat of his gaze and his devilish smile. Her body’s reaction to Collin— a dark-skinned brother with killer swag and dreamy brown eyes—momentarily stunned her, but she found her voice and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“No, the pleasure is all mine.”

For a moment, they sat in complete silence, appraising each other.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Brianna asked, reluctantly releasing his hand.

“Yeah, I thought it was real cool, but it wasn’t as good as the RHD show I caught the day before. Roger Hamilton is one of my favorite designers, and I can’t wait to get my hands on his spring line.”

Brianna wore a proud smile but didn’t reveal who she was. Tonight, it didn’t matter. She was just a woman in Paris, enjoying a drink inside a swank bar, chatting with the sexiest man in the room. Why spoil the mood by telling him she was Roger Hamilton’s daughter? And one of the top designers at RHD?

“Your girlfriend doesn’t mind you skipping the Vanity Fair party to watch the soccer game?” she asked.

“I’m single,” he said smoothly. “And Evangeline isn’t my girlfriend. She’s doing the new ad campaign for my company, and when I heard she was in town for Fashion Week, I decided to meet up with her to finalize the deal.”

“Do you work in the industry?”

“No, I’m in the hotel business. Hardly exciting, but it pays the bills.”

Brianna gave a nod and sipped her wine. She found it hard to believe this attractive, impeccably dressed man was single. In her experience, men who looked like him didn’t have just one girlfriend, they had several. But who knew? Maybe he was telling the truth. Brianna told herself it didn’t matter—it wasn’t like she was taking Collin back to her suite tonight, or any night for that matter. They were just making small talk and sharing space at the bar, and once Brianna finished her drink, she was going upstairs, alone.

“Are you a model?”

“God, no! I’m a designer.” Brianna laughed, and he did, too. “I enjoy food too much to be on a calorie-counting diet, and I don’t have the stomach for all the backstabbing in the modeling industry. My sister is always teasing me for staying home on the weekends, but I love my quiet, drama-free life just the way it is.”

Collin nodded. “I hear you. I travel a lot for work, and when I get back to the States after a long overseas trip, all I want to do is put on some sweats and veg out on the couch.”

“And watch European football,” Brianna added, smiling at him.

Chuckling, he slipped off his coat and draped it on the back of his chair. “Are you sure it’s okay if I sit here?” he asked, glancing around the bar. “Your man isn’t going to storm in here and beat me to a pulp for talking to you, is he?”

With that body, no one could ever beat you to a pulp, she thought, unable to resist glancing at his ripped physique. “I’m not here with anyone. I’m divorced.”

A look of sadness washed over his face, but when he spoke his tone was filled with genuine disbelief. “Your ex must be an idiot because only a fool would let you go.”

“It’s complicated,” Brianna said with a shrug. “Relationships always are. That’s why I’m taking a break from the dating scene and focusing on my career.”

“Any chance of you and your ex getting back together?”

His question surprised her. The answer was a resounding no, but Brianna didn’t want to talk to Collin—a virtual stranger—about the demise of her two-year marriage. Even now, a full year after their divorce, Brianna still didn’t have the courage to tell anyone—not even her family—the real reason why she’d walked out on her ex.

“I don’t want to talk about my past,” she said. “I’m sitting in a posh bar, enjoying my wine in a vibrant, captivating city most people will never get to see, and I don’t want to take any of it for granted.”

“I love it here, too. Paris is the only city I love as much as New York.”

“You’ve been to New York?” Brianna heard the enthusiasm in her voice and told herself to simmer down. After tonight, she’d never see Collin again, so there was no use in getting worked up about him one day passing through her hometown.

“I could do without the noise, and the gridlock traffic, but New York will always be my favorite city in the world.”

Same here, Brianna thought but didn’t say. From the moment Collin had sat down beside her at the bar, they’d been talking and laughing like old friends, and it was unnerving, shocking even, how much they had in common.

“Earlier, you mentioned that you’d lived in Milan,” Collin said, picking up one of the drink menus off the bar. “What was that like? Black men get a bad rap for aggressively pursuing women, but Italian guys take flirting to a whole other level. I bet they professed their undying love to you on the street every day!”

Brianna burst out laughing. And just like that, she felt herself relax, felt her nerves calm. Collin ordered hors d’ouevres, and as they feasted on stuffed mushrooms, crabmeat and French cheeses, Brianna found herself opening up to him. She told Collin about her quirky, creative family; how she loved being a fashion designer; and the year she spent in Milan, studying and traveling around Europe. As Brianna spoke, she was struck by something remarkable. Collin did something her ex-husband, Rick Lassiter, had never done: he listened. Just...listened.

He didn’t interrupt her, didn’t try to cram his opinions down her throat. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. He asked thoughtful, insightful questions and cracked jokes that made her laugh out loud. And although Bar 8 was full of scantily dressed women, he never once stole a peek at any of the beauties who sashayed past—not even the buxom redhead who winked at him.

This is a first, Brianna thought, impressed. It’s nice being with someone who’s not making eyes at every other woman in the bar.

During the course of her short, tumultuous marriage, her then-husband’s roving eye had been the cause of most of the trouble between them. They’d had countless arguments over him flirting with other women. But that wasn’t what ultimately drove them apart....

“How much longer will you be in Paris?”

Surfacing from her thoughts, she smiled and reached for her wine. “I leave tomorrow afternoon, but I really wish I didn’t have to.”

“Then stay,” Collin said with a wink.

Brianna felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach.

“I’d love to show you around the city.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I’ve been to Paris countless times.”

“And?”

“And,” she repeated, adopting his playful tone, “there’s nowhere you can take me that I haven’t already been to a hundred times.”

“Wanna bet?”

Hiding a grin, Brianna raised her eyebrows at him. “If I were you, I’d leave gambling to the professionals,” she sassed in a singsong voice. “You’ve already lost one bet tonight, so quit while you’re ahead.”

Collin hung his head and threw a hand over his heart. “That’s cold, Brianna. Talk about kicking a man when he’s already down!”

Brianna laughed. Then she caught sight of a waiter, frantically wiping down tables, and her eyes widened. The bar was empty, and the TVs had been turned off. Brianna had been having so much fun with Collin, she hadn’t noticed that Bar 8 was about to close.

“We better get out of here. The waiters are giving us the evil eye,” he joked, signaling to the bartender. “I know a club just around the corner that has a cool VIP area and great music. It’s a mature crowd and the perfect place to chill at the end of a long day.”

“I think I’ll pass. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“But you just finished saying how much you love house music.”

“I do, but the club scene is not really my thing.”

“Come on. Live in the moment. Throw caution to the wind. Be spontaneous.”

Brianna laughed again. “You sound like a self-help tape.”

“Good! Is it working?” he asked, flashing a camera-ready smile. “I hope so because I want to hold you in my arms tonight.”

Excitement powered through Brianna’s veins. His words aroused her, making her feel warm inside. She was enjoying Collin’s company immensely and, although it was well after midnight, she didn’t want the evening to end.

“We’re in one of the most romantic and thrilling cities in the world,” he pointed out, standing. “If you can’t have fun and cut loose here, you can’t have fun anywhere.”

“Collin, we just met a few hours ago. How would it look if I left the bar with you?”

“You’re an attractive young woman who wants to have a good time. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He leaned against the side of the bar, just inches away from her face, and spoke in a tone that he probably used only in the privacy of his bedroom. The thought of it gave her chills. “You’ll be perfectly safe with me, Brianna. I’m a gentleman, and I’ll behave as such at all times.”

“Is that a promise?” The question was out of Brianna’s mouth before she could stop it.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

Brianna hid a cheeky smile and swallowed the provocative quip on the tip of her tongue. She’d never been one to act on impulse, and she always did exactly what was expected of her. But she’d realized something about herself after Bailey’s kidnapping. Deep down, she longed for more—more spontaneity, more thrills. Life had never felt so precious, so valuable, and tonight Brianna wanted to do something wild and completely out of character.

So, why not do Collin? she thought. Spending the rest of her night cooped up in her hotel suite sketching designs didn’t appeal to her, but dancing in a Paris nightclub with a hot, dreamy brother sure did.

“We’ll go check out Le Baron, and if you’re not feeling it, we’ll leave.”

Brianna liked the sound of that and how good it felt to have Collin’s hand on the small of her back as she rose from her stool. But when she saw Evangeline sashay into Bar 8 with her enormous entourage, Brianna felt the smile slide off her face. The French pop star looked like a vixen, and she moved like one, too. In her sheer, neon-pink mini-dress, she’d fit in perfectly at a hoochie-mama convention, but there was no disputing her beauty. Evangeline was a ten—one of the most desirable women in the world and every man’s type. Brianna noticed the staff scurrying around the bar, grabbing menus, pulling up chairs and draping tables with crisp, white tablecloths.

Paying her no mind, Evangeline bumped Brianna aside with her hips and pressed herself flat against Collin’s back. His smile vanished and the look on his face said “Busted.” Evangeline lowered her mouth to his ear and purred like a kitten with a bowl of warm milk.

“Look, Collin, now you have a very eager dance partner.” Brianna opened her purse, took a hundred euros out of her wallet and tossed it down on the counter to pay her tab and Collin’s. The stunned expression on his face gave Brianna an odd sense of satisfaction. She’d one-upped him, and that felt damn good. “Enjoy the rest of your night,” she said, faking a smile.

Evangeline stroked Collin’s chest with one hand and waved absently with the other. “Don’t worry, mon cherie—we will.”

“Brianna, hold up,” Collin said. “Wait! Don’t go!”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Without another word, Brianna strode out of Bar 8 and into the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. Sorry she’d wasted her time with Collin, she chided herself for spending the past three hours laughing and flirting with another woman’s man. Contrary to what he’d told her, it was obvious he was screwing Evangeline and that everything he’d told her about his relationship with the pop star was a lie. Collin was a player, a man who got off on seducing women, and Brianna was glad she’d found out the truth about him before it was too late.

Before she did something stupid like sleep with him.

Collin was a jerk, a guy with no conscience, and Brianna hoped to God she never saw his lying, cheating face again.

But long after Brianna boarded the private elevator and returned to her suite, the guy at the bar with the soulful voice and the dreamy, deep-brown eyes was still heavy on her mind.

Chapter 3

“Bonjour, Monsieur Childs,” greeted the silver-haired hotel manager standing at the reception desk. “You’re looking hale and hearty this morning and, might I add, quite sharp in that tan sports coat.”

Collin returned the manager’s smile. Leaning forward, he stole a quick glance over his shoulder. No one was standing behind him, and the female clerks at the front desk were busy with customers, but Collin still lowered his voice to a whisper. “I met a young woman at Bar 8 last night, and I’d like to know if she’s staying here at Mandarin Oriental.”

The manager gasped and shook his head. Seconds passed before he spoke, and when he did his tone was filled with alarm. “Monsieur Childs, I’m afraid I simply cannot disclose that information. It’s against hotel policy.” He wore a wry smile that made him look decades younger. “But I don’t have to tell you that. Childs International Hotels is one of the most celebrated hotels in the world, and the Childs Corporation prides itself on providing world-class service and discretion.”

Collin winced. He felt like a kid who’d just been scolded by his teacher, and when the hotel manager shot him a pointed look, Collin stared down at his Italian loafers. What he was asking the hotel manager to do was not only unethical, but also completely out of character.

He didn’t pursue females—he didn’t need to. Women were constantly throwing themselves at him, always ready, willing and eager to dive into his bed and his bank account. It was easy for Collin to sniff out a gold digger, and the attractive fashion designer he’d spent hours talking to last night at Bar 8 certainly didn’t fit the bill. That’s why he didn’t mind breaking a rule or two, or three, to track her down.

“I’m not asking you for Brianna’s suite number, or even her last name, so technically you’re not breaking the rules,” he said with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “Just think of this as a favor to a trustworthy guest who’ll forever be indebted to you for your kindness.”

Collin knew he was laying it on thicker than molasses, but he’d made up his mind last night, while watching the French national team crush Spain in the World Cup qualifying match, that he wasn’t leaving Paris without finding Brianna. And the first stop on his list was the front desk of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.

“Sir, I’m not trying to rush you,” Collin said, “but it’s imperative I speak to her today and I’m pressed for time.”

The hotel manager opened his mouth, then closed it. He stood there quietly, drumming his fingers on the desk, a pensive expression on his narrow face. “I’m sorry, Monsieur Childs. I just can’t do it. My conscience won’t let me.”

Collin opened his wallet, took out two hundred euros and slid it discreetly toward the hotel manager. “How does your conscience feel now?”

“Much better, Monsieur Childs. Thank you.” Swiftly pocketing the money, he returned his attention to his computer screen, a hint of a smile on his thin lips. “Just give me a moment.”

Collin pumped a fist in the air, nearly spilling his espresso, then remembered who he was and where he was and dropped his hand to his side. “I appreciate it, sir.”

“I trust that you will keep this information to yourself and use complete discretion when approaching this guest.” He spoke softly, as if he was confessing his deepest and darkest secret. “There is a woman named Brianna staying in one of our seventh-floor suites, but she’s due to check out at noon.”

“Damn, that’s what I was afraid of.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Monsieur Childs?”

Collin shook his head. “Thanks again for your help.”

Swiping a copy of Le Monde off the front desk, Collin tucked it under his arm and walked into the sunlit waiting area. The space was filled with suede couches, towering stone sculptures and leafy potted plants. Collin sat down on a black lacquer chair, opened his newspaper and reclined comfortably in his seat. From where he was sitting, he had a clear, unrestricted view of the main floor.

Perfect. He’d read the paper and keep his eye out for Brianna. They had some unfinished business to discuss before she left town, and this time Collin wasn’t letting her get away.

An hour later, Collin was restless and tired of waiting. To pass the time, he’d read the local newspaper, a business magazine and even a couple of trashy tabloids. He didn’t care about the Oscar-winning actress who’d been shipped off to rehab by her family or the soccer superstar who just had his latest run-in with the law; he wanted to talk to Brianna about what she thought she saw last night and repay her for covering his enormous bar tab.

Collin downed the rest of his espresso in one quick gulp. He was starving, hungrier than a kid at fat camp, but worried that if he left to grab a bite he’d miss Brianna.

The elevator pinged and a group of tourists—along with Brianna—flooded the lobby. Collin saw her instantly. She was hard to miss. For a fashion designer, her fitted, off-the-shoulder sweater, jeans and heeled boots were simple, but with her face of an angel and curves for days, Brianna garnered the attention of everyone on the main floor, men and women alike.

Irresistible was the word that came to mind as Collin watched her stroll past the waiting area. Her steps were confident, her posture gracefully refined. Her eyes were striking, and those curves made him drool like a dog with a bone.

I should have taken Brianna dancing last night instead of sitting in the lounge, listening to Evangeline whine about being snubbed by the Hiltons, Collin thought. Evangeline and Brianna both had flawless brown skin and were roughly the same height, but that’s where the similarities between the two women ended. Evangeline shouted, and Brianna spoke in a soft, soothing voice; Evangeline wanted to gossip, and Brianna liked to talk about her family. That’s what made the designer stand out and what piqued his interest. Brianna was unlike anyone he’d ever met, and Collin was curious to know more about her.

Starting right now.

Collin didn’t move. Timing was everything, and although Brianna walked through the lobby looking like a model in her own right, Collin didn’t jump to his feet and chase her down. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn’t want to look as desperate as the middle-aged business man nipping at her heels. He’d wait for the perfect moment to approach her.

Collin got his chance ten minutes later. Brianna walked out of the hotel gift shop carrying one shopping bag too many and paused beside the antique desk, just steps away from where he was sitting. He then stood, strode out of the waiting area and sidled up beside her. “Hello, Brianna. You’re looking especially beautiful this morning.”

Brianna turned around, realized it was him and took off across the lobby. She was marching as stiffly as a soldier and wearing the requisite scowl to match.

To catch her, Collin had to break into a jog. “If I knew you were going to make me run, I would’ve worn my cross-trainers,” he joked, falling into step beside her. “Slow down, Brianna. Power walking isn’t really my thing. I’ve got bad knees!”

“You said you traveled a lot for work, but I had no idea you were a comedian,” she said, her tone rich with sarcasm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go.”

Collin slid in front of her, thwarting her escape and earning himself another icy glare.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to talk to you.”

“Where’s Evangeline? Upstairs keeping the bed warm while you grab brekkie?”

“I have no idea where she is, but I’d guess at her mansion nursing one hell of a hangover.”

Brianna raised an eyebrow, a dubious expression on her face.

“After you stormed out of the bar, Evangeline and her posse started doing body shots, and since that’s not my speed, I bounced.”

He broke into a grin intended to make her smile. When she did, he felt victorious and Collin knew he was making progress. “I’m glad I listened to you and bet on France. They played an incredible game last night!”

Her eyes brightened. “I told you Spain didn’t stand a chance.”

“Thanks to you, I won big, and to show my appreciation I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Brianna glanced at her gold wristwatch bracelet and shook her head. “I have to be at the airport by three, and I still have some packing to do.”

“Take a later flight or, better yet, leave tomorrow morning after we’ve had brekkie.”

A smirk lit the corner of her lips. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I want to celebrate my winnings with you.”

“Your pop-star girlfriend is going to have a fit when she finds out.”

“There’s no special woman in my life,” he told her, wishing she’d believe him.

“You and Evangeline looked awfully cozy last night.”

“Like I said, she’s doing the new print ad for my company. That’s it.”

Brianna shrugged a shoulder. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just a girl you met at the hotel bar. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It does to me.” He took a step forward, close enough to smell her intoxicating floral perfume. “I don’t want you to think I’m a player, Brianna. Let me take you out. Then you’ll see what a great guy I am.”

“And the humility award goes to...”

Collin gave a hearty laugh. “I’m just speaking the truth.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said, winking at her. “It’s a surprise.”

Brianna pursed her lips as if she were skeptical about him and his whole plan, but her eyes gave her away. They were bright and luminous and shining with amusement.

“I’m keeping my plans under wraps, but I will say this,” Collin said, knowing he had her right where he wanted her. “I’m going to show you a side of Paris you’ve never seen before, and you’re going to love every minute of it.”

* * *

Brianna stood in the middle of the lobby, hanging on to every word that came out of Collin’s sexy mouth. This was what every woman secretly wanted—to be swept off her feet by a handsome, dashing man who smelled like heaven and looked divine. Collin was offering thrills and adventure, and Brianna had never wanted anything more.

This was her chance to step out of the box.

To do something wild and spontaneous.

The thought made her body flush with heat and sent a shiver rippling down her spine. Her life consisted of board meetings, consultations and dress fittings, and even though Brianna loved being a fashion designer, she was itching for new, exciting experiences. For the kind of fun her family members were having.

Her brother Kyle and his fiancée, Zoe, were always jetting off somewhere and were so madly and desperately in love they practically wore matching outfits. And then there was her cousin, Harper, and his wife, Azure. The newlyweds were pregnant with their first child, and every time Brianna spoke to Harper he was planning something grand for his wife. They couldn’t stand to be apart and often worked from home so they could be together. Brianna couldn’t imagine loving someone so much she’d blow off work. She was stunned by how much her brother and cousin adored their partners.

So why not throw caution to the wind and do something wild and spontaneous for once?

It was another warm, sunny afternoon in Paris, perfect weather for strolling around downtown or enjoying a coffee at a sidewalk café. Last night she’d let all those glasses of pinot grigio go to her head and was actually entertaining thoughts of inviting him back to her suite, but this morning Brianna was as sober as the First Lady. She knew Paris like the back of her hand, and if things went south on their date, she could always hop into a cab and come back to the hotel.

Should I or shouldn’t I? she wondered, doubt suddenly creeping in.

“Are you going to let me take you for lunch, or do I have to get down on my hands and knees and beg like Jodeci?”

His chuckle tickled her ears—and the space between her legs. Brianna was shocked when her lips parted and the word yes sprung out of her mouth. Just like that, she’d agreed to spend the day with Collin. To her surprise, she was anxious to know what he had in store for her.

“I think we need to set up some ground rules first,” Brianna said.

“Ground rules?”

“I don’t want us to exchange last names or phone numbers or make promises we can’t keep.”

“I understand.”

They shared a smile.

“I’m going to the front desk to make some arrangements,” Collin said, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t.”

He dropped a kiss on her cheek and scooped her shopping bags up off the floor. “I’ll see to it that your things get delivered to your room.”

“Thanks, Collin.”

When he strode off, Brianna whipped her BlackBerry out of her purse and called her mother. It went straight to voice mail, so she called her brother. Thankfully, Kyle answered on the first ring.

She’d only been in Paris for a week, but he greeted her as if he hadn’t spoken to her in months. They’d always been close, but the attack on Bailey last month at Lincoln Center had brought them even closer together.

“Congratulations, sis. Everyone’s buzzing about our show and it’s obvious all your hard work these past few weeks has really paid off,” he said, his tone rich with pride. “RHD is featured on dozens of websites, and I’ve been fielding nonstop calls for interviews and TV appearances.”

“I know. I’m so excited about the response to our spring line. We made the society pages in all the local newspapers here.”

“That’s awesome. Can’t wait to hear more about it when you get in tonight.”

Brianna paused, waiting for the right words to come. When they didn’t, she simply blurted out, “I’m going to stay in Paris for a few more days.”

“Really? Why?”

Because I met a guy I clicked with, and I want to spend the weekend with him.

Brianna knew the truth wouldn’t go over well with her brother, and in light of everything that had happened to Bailey, she didn’t want to give him reason to worry. “Things have been insane ever since Bailey’s attack, and now that Fashion Week is over, I could really use a few days to recharge.”

“You’re certainly right about things being crazy around here,” he confessed, releasing a deep sigh. “Last night, a loudmouth reporter approached me outside Nobu, and if not for Zoe dragging me away from him, I would’ve given the jerk a good old-fashioned beat down.”

“Don’t let the paparazzi get to you, Kyle. They’re only messing with you so they can sell photos to cheap, trashy tabloids.”

“I know, but this situation is just so damn frustrating,” he confessed. “I’m doing everything in my power to find out who’s behind Bailey’s attack, and sitting here waiting for information to roll in has me on edge.”

“That’s why I want to stay in Paris for a few more days. It’s the perfect place to escape.”

“I hear you,” Kyle said. “I need a break, too.”

Brianna scoffed. “Boy, please! You and Zoe just got back from Tahiti!”

“I know, but we had such a good time at the Childs International Resort, we’re anxious for some more fun in the sun!”

“Just don’t skip town until I get back from Paris. I want to discuss my new line with you,” she said. “I hate to toot my own horn, but the sketches I did this week are pretty amazing, and I think you’re going to love them, too.”

Kyle chuckled. “All right, all right. I’ll cool my heels until you get back from the city of lights, but once you’re back in town, my baby and I are out of here!”

Brianna couldn’t help but laugh at her brother.

“I better go. It’s almost six o’clock,” Kyle said. “I got tickets for Phantom of the Opera, and if I’m late, Zoe will kill me. And withhold the lovin’!”

“When did you start going to Broadway musicals?”

“When I found out my baby loves them.”

“You are so whipped,” Brianna teased.

“I know, and it feels great!”

Brianna shook her head in disbelief. Six months ago, her brother would never have been caught dead at a musical, and now he was willingly taking his fiancée and had probably splurged on premium seats. Brianna was thrilled that her brother and Zoe had hooked up, and although she’d lost faith in love years ago, she wished them nothing but happiness. “Have fun, and let Mom and Dad know I’ll be back in a couple days.”

“Will do. Stay safe and take care of yourself.”

Brianna slid her cell phone back into her purse. She looked up just in time to see Collin leave the reception desk.

He was headed toward her, and his gaze was so intense, so piercing, it felt like they were touching. Since her divorce, she’d been on a handful of dates, but this was the first time Brianna had met someone she was this attracted to. Someone she couldn’t stop fantasizing about making love to. Just that morning, she’d woken up with an image of him in her bed, kissing her passionately and driving her insane with his tongue....

Oh, God, I’m turning into a desperate sex fiend.

Brianna told herself to stop, to quit envisioning Collin shirtless and covered in chocolate, but when he flashed his pearly whites at her, her thoughts went straight back to the gutter. Collin was as handsome as he was charming, and there was no doubt in Brianna’s mind that they were going to have a great time together. The expression on his face proved it. His eyes held a mischievous gleam, and his grin was undeniably sexy.

And when Collin slid a hand around her waist and ushered her out the hotel’s sliding-glass doors, Brianna decided her brother wasn’t going to be the only one having fun tonight.

Chapter 4

“You’re lying!” Brianna accused, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside her. Le Jules Verne, the five-star restaurant in the Eiffel Tower that offered spectacular views of the city, was not the place to bust a gut. The patrons were as refined as the decor, the gentleman playing the baby grand piano looked as stern as a military commander and everyone in the dining area spoke in hushed voices. Brianna didn’t want to draw attention to their cozy table beside the window, but it was hard not to crack up at Collin’s outrageous stories, and the innocent expression on his face only fueled her laughter.

“I don’t believe you crashed the Woman’s International Sex Show in New York last month. I think you just said that to make me laugh.”

“If the organizers didn’t want men there they should have locked the doors of the grand ballroom,” he said with a dismissive shrug.

“No one asked you to leave?”

“No, in fact, I was a huge hit. The organizers forced me to stay!”

“I bet they did. So, did you learn anything or did you just stroll around the room flirting with attendees and pocketing phone numbers?”

“I learned a little somethin’ somethin’.” Collin winked at her. “The conference was a real eye-opener, and my only regret is not crashing it earlier. I would’ve loved to see the dominatrix do her thing.”

Brianna sucked in a quick breath. His gaze was intense, moving over her skin like a caress. Her flesh was tingling, prickling with the heat of her desire, and she had the sudden urge to kiss him. To lean across the table, slip her tongue into his mouth and taste him once and for all.

But instead of acting on impulse and getting them both tossed out of the upscale restaurant, she asked Collin about his job. It was a safe topic, and listening to him talk shop would give her body time to simmer down. Brianna hoped she could finally get her act together. The problem was, she’d been like this all day. Giddy, short of breath, battling lustful thoughts.

Since leaving the hotel that morning, they’d walked from one museum to the next, strolled along the bustling, tree-lined promenades and taken in the marvelous sights and sounds of the most romantic city in the world.

But the best part of the day had been laughing with Collin.

He possessed more knowledge than a French tour guide, and he led her through world-famous cathedrals and art galleries, sharing surprising information about the history and architecture of each building. Brianna had been to the Sainte-Chappelle before and always enjoyed admiring the stained-glass windows, elaborate carvings and wall paintings, but that morning, as they’d ambled through the building, she couldn’t take her eyes off Collin. She loved hearing his voice, loved staring at his mouth and lips even more. And as she sat there listening to him talk, she found herself wondering what it would be like to touch him. To stroke him. To feel his body pressed flat against hers....

“I admire the relationship you have with your family.”

Brianna forced her thoughts back to the present. “Are you and your brother close?”

Collin cleared his throat. “We used to be.”

“What changed? Did you guys have an argument or something?”

“No,” he said, tapping his fingers absently on the glass table. “I think he might be having marital problems, but he refuses to talk about it.”

“It’s hard when you can’t help someone you love, isn’t it? I’m dealing with some family issues of my own, and I’m finding it hard to be strong for everyone else when all I want to do is cry.”

The words were out of Brianna’s mouth before she could stop them, and when she saw the sympathetic expression on Collin’s face, she wanted to die. What did I say that for? Brianna thought, cringing inwardly. I shouldn’t be talking to Collin. He doesn’t know me or my family.

But as Brianna sat there, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she realized Collin was the perfect person to talk to. He didn’t know who she was, and after Saturday, they’d never see each other again, so why not tell him how she was feeling? Brianna didn’t know if it was the fact that they’d spent the past six hours together wandering the streets of Paris, or all those apple martinis she’d had with dinner, but she found herself revealing things to Collin she hadn’t planned to.

She told him about her past relationships, about the enormous pressure she was under at work, about her nonexistent social life. Brianna didn’t know Collin’s last name or where he lived, but tonight none of those things mattered. He was intelligent and cultured, opinionated and outspoken, and Brianna liked that he didn’t judge her. And because Collin didn’t know her true identity, she didn’t have to worry about him having ulterior motives. She was able to let her guard down, be herself and just enjoy his company.

“Tell me more about your overseas travels,” Collin said, downing the rest of his wine.

“I better not. Once I start talking about my favorite vacation spots, I just can’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” Collin leaned forward and studied her intently for a long minute. “I think you’re fascinating, Brianna, and I want to learn more about you.”

As they talked, the minutes slipped into hours. The more they laughed and joked, the more comfortable Brianna felt with Collin. He gave her his undivided attention, asked her thoughtful questions and ignored his cell phone when it rang. Didn’t even take it out of his jacket pocket. That was a welcome change. Her ex-husband used to jump every time his iPhone rang and would answer it at the dinner table, in church and even in bed. It felt great being with a guy who was not only a gentleman, but fine as hell.

Although they’d spent the entire day together, Brianna was in no rush to return to the hotel.

“Do you like Jacques Dubois movies?” Collin asked, his smile oh-so-sexy. “His new movie, Irresistible, is playing outdoors at the Parc de la Vilette, and I was hoping we could check it out.”

“I think I better pass. His films are sexually explicit and I’d be mortified if I ran into someone I know.” Or a crafty photographer, she thought. She could see the headline now: Brianna Hamilton Spotted at Public Orgy in Paris! Brianna didn’t want her time with Collin to end, but she wanted to keep a low profile, not end up on the front page of the New York Post.

“You seem to care a lot about what people think.” Collin touched her hand and ever so gently stroked her warm skin. He wore a puzzled expression, and his voice was filled with curiosity. “Why is that? Why does it matter so much to you?”

His fingers grazed the inside of her wrist, and Brianna almost moaned out loud.

“Everyone cares about how they’re viewed by others,” she said, her tone breathy and thick. It was a struggle to talk when he was touching her, especially when all she could think about was how much she wanted him. “Don’t you?”

“I used to, but after my marriage fell apart, I stopped caring about a lot of things, and the public’s perception of me was the first thing to go.”

“You were married? For how long?”

“Five years and some change.”

“Do you have children?”

“No, but not for lack of trying.” Collin chuckled, but his laughter sounded forced. “Family is important to me, and I hope one day to find a woman who feels the same way. Someone who wants to live a normal, quiet life and have a bunch of kids....”

Brianna felt an ache in her chest, and the pain quickly spread to her heart. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to pick up her water glass and take a long sip. Brianna didn’t believe in love and thought the notion of everyone having a soulmate was a crock of bull, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want children.

She did. Badly.

Having a child out of wedlock wouldn’t go over well with her parents, but she’d recently met with a family counselor to discuss the adoption process. Brianna was shocked to discover agencies frowned on single-parent homes, and when the counselor encouraged her to return once she was married, Brianna scowled. That was never going to happen again. Not on her watch. She wasn’t interested in being in a serious, committed relationship. They didn’t work and didn’t last, and Brianna was smart enough to realize the only person she could depend on was herself.

“Would you ever get married again?”

Brianna puckered her lips and furiously shook her head. “No way. Been there, done that. Advancing my career is my top priority—not finding Mr. Right and riding off into the sunset.”

The waiter returned with their bottle. “More wine?”

Collin nodded, and once the waiter filled their glasses and departed, he raised his glass. “To escaping,” he said, proposing a toast.

“And to a day at the spa because Lord knows I need it!” she said, hoping to lighten the mood.

They clinked glasses and tasted their wine.

“It sounds like you could use some serious R & R before heading back to the States.”

“And some gourmet chocolate from Pierre Hermé,” Brianna added, licking her lips. “Their desserts are to die for, and it doesn’t matter how stressed out I am—one bite of their scrumptious gingerbread cake and I’m happier than a shoe addict in Carrie Bradshaw’s closet!”

“I’ve never heard of the place.” Collin scrawled his signature on the bill and slid his platinum credit card back into his leather wallet. “But I have heard of Ben & Jerry’s. Want to check out the one on the second-floor platform?”

“You know it. I love ice cream almost as much as I love Dating in the City!”

Chuckling, Collin strode around the table and helped Brianna to her feet. “When do you have time to watch that crazy reality show about those bougie socialites from NYC?”

“I record it and watch it on the weekends. I wasn’t kidding when I said I had no life.”

“You like to kick it at home after a long day at work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“That’s what I keep telling my family, but they think I’m turning into an old maid.”

“You’re too fine to be an old maid, and besides, if you were, you wouldn’t be here with me.” Collin flashed her a smile and offered his right arm. “Ready to go paint the town red?”

Brianna laughed, but leaving Le Jules Verne on the arm of the best-looking man in the restaurant thrilled her. Near the door, a group of twentysomething women were enjoying dinner, but the table fell dead quiet as she and Collin approached. Someone whistled and then all of the women were talking at once.

Ooo la la!

Il est absolument délicieux!

Ils sont le couple parfait pour avoir un trio!

Brianna shook her head. Right, she thought, rolling her eyes at the slender redhead wearing last season’s stiletto boots. As if I’d ever share this gorgeous man with you and indulge in a tawdry threesome. On Saturday, when Brianna left Paris, Collin would be a distant memory, but tonight he was hers—all hers—and she wasn’t interested in adding another woman to the mix. Not even a woman wearing an RHD dress. A dress she’d personally designed for their fall collection.

Ten minutes later, Collin and Brianna left the Eiffel Tower, holding ice cream cones and each other. “Let’s walk over to the Rue Saint-Dominique,” Collin said. “Our ride should be waiting.”

The streets were filled with students, businessmen on their way home clutching designer briefcases and doting mothers fawning over their children. Lights glowed in the distance, car horns blared and the air held a sweet, fragrant aroma. Brianna appreciated the city’s rich heritage and vibrant culture, but what she loved more than anything was observing the fashionably dressed Parisians strolling the tree-lined streets. She could spend hours sitting on a café terrace with her trusty sketch pad, watching Parisians amble by and never grow restless or bored.

Paris was still considered by many the fashion capital of the world, but New York was poised to knock the city of lights off her throne, and Brianna was prepared to do whatever it took to make it happen.

“How was your ice cream?” Collin asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin and tossing it in a nearby garbage can. “Did it hit the spot?

“Yes, but now I’m stuffed.” Brianna patted her stomach. “When it comes to sweets, I have absolutely no restraint, so please stop buying me delicious, high-calorie treats!”

They shared a laugh as he took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. Brianna was so overcome with emotion she felt her heart swoon. It was amazing that such a simple gesture could make her feel so special, so cared for.

Every time Collin touched her, Brianna had to remind herself to breathe.

Brianna heard music playing and spotted a guitar player sitting under a lamppost. Collin stopped and tossed fifty euros into the man’s tattered plaid cap placed by his feet for tips. A small crowd had gathered around the musician, and although he sang off-key in a hoarse, throaty tone, Brianna recognized the Beatles tune and hummed along. She was singing to herself when it happened.

Collin slipped his hands around her waist, lowered his mouth and kissed her.

It was a moment Brianna would never forget as long as she lived. It wasn’t his technique that blew her away or even how damn good his mouth tasted; it was the urgency behind each kiss, the passion, the hot, scorching desire. His lips were made for kissing, for pleasing, and Brianna just couldn’t get enough. She leaned into him, pressed her body flat against his and matched him kiss for kiss, lick for lick, stroke for stroke. A church bell chimed in the distance, but Brianna’s thunderous heartbeat drowned out the noise. The kiss ended much too soon, and when Collin pulled away, Brianna felt a profound sense of disappointment.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day.”

“Then what took you so long?” she asked, breathless.

Wearing a rueful smile, Collin leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. “We better go. Our ride is here, and I don’t want our driver to take off without us.”

Dozens of taxi cabs were parked alongside the curb, but Collin bypassed the queue and strode over to a red double-decker bus flashing its lights. “Have you ever been on a night tour through the streets of downtown Paris?”

Brianna laughed and shook her head. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Then climb aboard, Brianna, because we have much to see and do tonight.” Stepping aside, Collin bowed chivalrously at the waist and extended a hand toward the bus doors. “After you, Mademoiselle.”

Seconds later they were off on their private tour. Sitting on the open deck provided a striking view of the city, one Brianna had never experienced before. They sat together, holding hands, as Collin pointed out the Musée d’Orsay, the Pont Alexandre III and the Arc de Triomphe. Brianna showed him the best cafés for people watching, boutiques that carried her designs and her favorite chocolatiers.

When traffic crawled to a stop, Brianna noticed a large, young crowd and pointed at the sleek, modern nightclub at the end of the block. “Wow, look at the line outside of Nouveau. It’s down the street and around the corner.”

“I’m not surprised,” Collin said. “Rashad J always draws a huge crowd wherever he goes, and tonight’s his one and only show in Paris.”

“I wish I had known. I would have loved to see him perform.”

Collin raised an eyebrow. “You like Rashad J?”

“Of course I do. He’s incredibly talented.”

“Most women I know think his music is raunchy.”

“I don’t. I was so anxious to get my hands on his latest, The Bedroom Maestro, that I harassed my friend at Billboard until she sent me an advanced copy!”

“Do you like his single, ‘Between Your Thighs’?”

Brianna leaned into him and brushed her lips against the curve of his ear. “I love it,” she whispered, resting a hand on his leg. “In fact, it’s my favorite track.”

Collin surged to his feet. “We’re going to that concert,” he announced. “I’ll get the driver to drop us off in front of the club.”

“There are already hundreds of people waiting in line. There’s no way we’ll get in.”

“Don’t worry. We will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know people,” he said, winking at her. “And, they’d never dare turn me away.”

Brianna stared down at her ruffled scarf, fitted sweater and boot-cut blue jeans. “The bouncers aren’t going to let me in like this,” she said, shaking her head. “Paris nightclubs have a strict dress code.”

“You’re stunning, Brianna, and I couldn’t be more proud to have you on my arm.”

His words floored her. All night Collin had been showering her with compliments, and even though Brianna knew she’d never be permitted inside in her casual attire, his praise made her confidence soar.

“Let’s get going. I don’t want you to miss the show.”

But Collin didn’t lead her off the bus. He kissed her hard on the lips with such heat and passion Brianna felt her body tingle in a hundred different places. He stroked her cheeks, the length of her neck, her shoulders. And when he cradled her tightly to his chest in a passionate lover’s embrace, Brianna knew.

Tonight, when she returned to her cozy seventh-floor suite at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, she wouldn’t be returning alone.

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