Читать книгу Designed by Desire - Pamela Yaye - Страница 12

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.