Designed by Desire. Pamela Yaye

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ