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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.”