“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