Love Redesigned (7 page)

Chapter 9

The flames crackled and popped, but she couldn’t feel the heat, couldn’t move. “Are—” her voice cracked, and she cleared it. “Are you engaged?”

“No,” he said.

He turned her around, and guided her to the couch. “What’s wrong? You are so pale.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes, turned her chin up. His eyes searched hers.

She nodded. “I—I think I’m just cold and tired. It was a late night last night.”

He poured them each a glass of wine, handed one to her.

Where to begin? So many unanswered questions. So much pain over the years.

“When were you divorced?” he asked, his voice low.

Her face grew hot. “I was never married.”

“What? But isn’t that why you left Paris when you did?” He frowned. Deep lines etched a furrow between his eyes.

“No. I don’t know why you thought I was married. You surprised me yesterday when you called Daniel my husband. I didn’t know what to say. He’s my best friend. He and Connie Sue are friends also, so she invited him to the wedding. Besides that, he’s gay.”

“When I came back from Milan, Patrice told me you left a letter for me, and she read it. Said you’d had a change of heart about me, you wanted to be financially secure instead of staying with a struggling designer. You were going home to marry a boy you’d been seeing before you went to Paris.”

“Ah, yes. Patrice. Your
patroness
.” She swallowed a gulp of wine, and set her glass down so hard it clinked. “You know she always hated me.”

“
Nón
, she did not.”

She rolled her eyes.
Is he really that obtuse?
“Get real. She was always jealous of the time we spent together. She wanted you for herself. I may have been a naïve nineteen year old, but I could tell the way she looked at you that she wanted you. And obviously she lied to get rid of me. Seems to have worked, considering how fast she ended up in your bed.”

Red suffused his cheeks, and he looked away.

“After you left, I started drinking. I couldn’t function. I barely remember anything . . .” He glanced at her. “How do you know she and I . . . we . . .”

“I waited two weeks for you to call or answer my emails. When I didn’t hear anything, I called you early in the morning so I’d be sure to reach you at home. She answered the phone. I heard you in the background ask who it was, and she told you to go back to sleep. She couldn’t wait to tell me y’all had been
celebrating,
even hinted you two were an item now.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “She took advantage of my state. It’s no excuse for me, but I was miserable without you. We were never an item.”

“What about the partnership?”

“There was no partnership. She garnered the investors for my label, and wanted more. But eventually she tried to control me, and my designs, so that’s when I moved to Milan.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I still do not understand this. If you did not leave to get married, why did you leave me?”

“Right after you left for Milan, my dad had a massive heart attack. I was the only one left in our family. Even though we didn’t have the best relationship, there was no one else to take care of him.
That’s
what I put in the letter I left for you.”

His hand crept to hers, lightly clasped it. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known.”

“I didn’t know how to reach you in Milan. I was still in shock when I landed in Atlanta. My dad had triple bypass surgery the day I got home. It didn’t go well, and he was an invalid the rest of his life. I had to go to work to support both of us.”

“Is he still living?”

“No, he died several years ago.”

He reached across the gap between them, brushed a lock of hair off her cheek.

Her skin tingled at his touch.

He hesitated, then pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “
Je suis désolé
. So sorry you had to go through that alone,” he murmured, stroking her back.

She leaned into him, soaking up his warmth. What did she want? He still appealed to her on a basic, primal level. If the kisses were any indicator, they would still be highly compatible in bed.

Compatible? Ha! An understatement.
Their passion had flared hot and bright fifteen years ago. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She’d never been able to say no to him. And she’d
thought
he felt the same way.

But what about outside the bedroom? He was a world-famous designer, a celebrity in his own right. He could snap his fingers and have any woman he wanted.

She was a nobody. Sure, she wanted to start her own bakery, and make the artistic cakes that were becoming more popular every day, but she couldn’t compete with him. Nor did she want to. He would swallow her up, and she would never be her own person.

The long strokes down her back lulled her into relaxation, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He still wore the same cologne, and she breathed deep, closing her eyes.

He lowered his face to her neck, his beard tickling her skin. Goose bumps rose on her arms.

Pleasure fogged her mind, and she shuddered. Struggled not to give in and take what she wanted.

She sat up, pushed against his chest to give her some breathing room. “I don’t—”

He cupped her head and leaned forward, kissing her into silence.

She shuddered, torn between pulling him in and pushing him away.

He nipped her lower lip in a silent demand for more. She opened, and his tongue swept in. She shuddered at the intrusion, but welcomed it at the same time. He tasted of wine, coffee, and the unique flavor all his own.

She rubbed her tongue over his, eliciting a husky groan from him. Lightening rocketed through her body, from her head to her toes, and down her arms to her fingertips.

He pressed her against the back of the couch. She sighed, welcoming his weight. She ran her hand down his cheek, the bristles of his beard prickling her palm. She arched against his hard body. He’d been lean so long ago, but had filled out with hard muscles over the years.
Deliciously so.

He tore his lips away from hers, kissing a path to her neck. He gently bit her skin, just below her ear, then soothed the spot with his delectable tongue.

She tried to catch her breath. Flames licked a path along her skin, following his lips, his tongue, his fingers.

She had to stop this insanity.
But it feels so good.
He
feels so good.
Needing to touch him, she untucked his shirt, slipped her fingers underneath to his back. His muscles bunched beneath her hands.

He groaned. “You are more enticing than ever,” he muttered thickly. “I can’t help myself. You’re like the finest wine, one I have been too long denied.” He pulled the neckline of the thermal shirt down slightly to reveal her collar bone, and pressed a kiss there. His fingers slid beneath the hem.

Tracing a path along her stomach, he brushed the scar.

No!
She froze. No way did she want him asking questions about the scar. Horrified he would find out, she pushed against him. “Roman, stop. Stop! We can’t do this.” She struggled out from beneath him, stood up and turned her back to him, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“What’s wrong?” He turned her around, cupped her cheeks in his hands.

Her eyes closed, and she stepped away from him, leaving him cold. “I just don’t think this is a good idea. We haven’t seen each other in fifteen years. We don’t know each other now.”

She was right. It had been a long time. A very long time. The lies he had believed for fifteen years were not true. She hadn’t deserted him. Hadn’t led him on only to leave him for someone else.

His body ached to take her to bed, and everything else be damned. But he didn’t want to scare her away. He pulled her into a hug, held her gently. “I would very much like to get to know you again. You are an incredibly beautiful and talented woman.”

She pulled back and stared at him. “Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can have your pick of any woman in the world . . . and may I say you
have,
” she said.

She sounds jealous.
Satisfaction bloomed inside him as he searched her face.

“Why do you want to know me? I’m nobody.” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. Moisture shimmered in her eyes.

“You are not
nobody
. You’ve always been someone special to me.”

She tried to pull away from him. “Don’t make me laugh.”

He held her tight, wouldn’t let her retreat now that they were finally talking. “You’re right, you’re nothing like the women I’ve been involved with over the years.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she shoved his hands away from her.

“Listen to me. I’m glad you are not like those women. They are superficial, and you are real. Their only concern is being seen with me, dating me, for their reputations, and what I could do for them. You were a stunning young woman, and you brought happiness into my life. You’ve matured into an even more gorgeous and talented woman.”

“You callin’ me old?”

She was trying to be stern, but he could tell the compliment pleased her.

If I rush her, I could lose her for good.
She did not see in herself what he recognized in her. “Would you spend an evening with me?” He held his breath, praying she would agree.

For long moments, she stared at him. Finally, she nodded.

Relief swept through him and he wanted to cheer.

“When?”

He heard the hesitation in her voice.

“I have to attend a banquet tomorrow night in Paris. I would very much like to have you accompany me.”

“I—I can’t go to Paris! It’s a five hour drive each way, and I have so much baking to do.”

“There is a small airstrip not far from here. Several weeks ago I asked a friend of mine to fly me to Paris tomorrow afternoon, then back the next morning.”

“You mean spend the night, too? I just told you I don’t think spending the night together is a good idea.”

“You will have your own room. I would never ask you to do anything you do not want to do.” He couldn’t stop himself from adding, “I will not touch you until you want me to. But it won’t stop me from imagining you in my arms, and in my bed, naked beneath me.”

Color washed over her cheeks, and she bit her lip, enticing him to soothe the sting. She had no idea how every movement she made was seductive. Every fiber in his body cried out for her to be his once again. He ached to hold her, to show her what she did to him. He wanted to spend hours, days, worshiping her—body, mind, and soul. But if the only way he could be near her was to leave her alone, then he would, and would suffer through it gladly.

She met his eyes, and he saw the trust. “I know you’d never force me. You’re not that kind of man. I have to be here to get ready for the shower on Tuesday evening. Will you promise me we’ll be back early?”

“
Oui
, I promise.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, almost reluctantly. She traced his lower lip with her index finger, and he held still, refrained from reaching for her again.

He would show her they were right for each other. He needed to spend time with her, convince her she could trust him not to hurt her.

She looked out the window. “It’s getting late. If we’re going to be gone so long, I need to do a lot of baking for the shower. Would you please take me home?”

“As soon as you are ready.”

She picked up the glasses and carried them to the kitchen. He followed her, thinking she looked so natural in his home. He retrieved her now-dry clothes, and she excused herself to change.

She met him back in the kitchen a few moments later, and looked out the window. “It’s stopped raining. Can I see the backyard real quick before we go?”

“Of course.”

They walked out the kitchen door to the gardens. A path through a canopy of wisteria led the way to the small lake at the edge of the grass. He glanced at her as she stopped, staring at the wisteria dripping above the pathway.

She walked beneath the canopy of fragrant flowers, her steps slow. She inhaled, the scented air filling her lungs, her breasts lifting. She looked up, reaching for a stem hanging low. Her fingertip lightly touched the fragile purple blossom.

“I love wisteria,” she murmured.

He’d loved the wisteria canopy when searching for a house to buy, and that’s what had convinced him he had to have this place. Realization dawned, and his skin prickled, turned cold. Somehow, subconsciously, he’d remembered she loved the flower.

He’d bought this place for her.

Chapter 10

The small private jet banked right. Genevieve stared out the window as they flew toward the airport, passing near the Eiffel Tower.

She was still upset over the argument she and Daniel had the previous afternoon. He’d gone ballistic when she returned from Roman’s house and told him and Connie Sue about her date in Paris.

“Are you freakin’ crazy?” Daniel had yelled. “After all you’ve been through, you’re going away for the night with
him
?”

“You can’t even say his name, can you? I told you we talked this morning—”

“That still doesn’t excuse his behavior.” He’d thrown his hands in the air.

She’d rounded on him. “It’s one night. He asked me to accompany him to an awards banquet. I’ll have my own room. I’m not going to get involved with him, okay? My life is in Atlanta, his is in France. There’s a lot of ocean between us, not to mention a lot of years. I have to focus on getting my business up and running. I’m not going to screw that up.” She’d hugged him, but it hadn’t softened him. He held himself rigid, so she walked away.

“I worry about you.”

“I know you do. You’ve always been there for me, and you have no idea how much it means to me. But I need to do this. It’s a door that never closed. Not knowing what happened keeps me wondering about
what if
. Maybe we can sort it out and part as friends. Wouldn’t that be better in the long run?”

Daniel had agreed, but still gave Roman the stink eye when she climbed in the car to go to the airport. He was normally a lamb, but at times like this, he was fiercely protective.

She and Roman spent the flight talking, and she shared some of her plans for her business. Her stories from the TV competition had him laughing. She loved how his laughter rumbled out of him, low and sexy, and it was the first time she’d seen him with his guard down since her return. For the short time they had left together, she resolved to make him laugh just to hear him let loose. Like he used to.

“And then the cake artist from New Orleans had a hissy fit when the cake layers started leaning like the Tower of Pisa. He dumped the entire bowl of icing on his assistant’s head, even though it wasn’t her fault. The poor thing stood there with bright pink frosting topping her head like a cupcake. Apparently the drama improved the ratings, I heard later on.”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes lighting up.

“Another team added salt instead of sugar to the cake batter. Can you imagine the look on the judges’ faces when they took a bite of cake expecting sweet and instead got salty? The lead on that team was so upset that she lobbed fistfuls of cake at her assistant. The assistant insisted it was the lead’s fault and lobbed cake right back at her.”

He chuckled. “Did anything happen on your team?”

“No, thank heavens. We made it through unscathed. In fact, the host of the show took me aside later and said the judges were very impressed with our professionalism, and it went a long way toward our scores being so high.”

“I wish I had seen the show. I am sure you were great on it.”

“I was scared to death. I don’t like being filmed, so I had to block out the cameras. I pretended I was back in the kitchen at home with my mom, and it helped me focus on designing, baking, and decorating the cakes. It got me through the show.” She took a sip of water and changed the subject. “So how did you end up living in Milan?”

“After I had been at the Paris design house a few more years, I had enough of my own designs ready, so I quit and launched my own label. I hadn’t been happy in Paris for some time actually, ever since you left. Everywhere I went, there were memories of you.” He leaned closer and his shoulder brushed hers.

She froze, the crystal glass halfway to her mouth. She shifted, pulling away from him.

“Don’t back away. I’m not blaming you. It was time to break away, to be out on my own. Just as you are getting ready to do with your career. It was a good move for me, and I learned a great deal living in Milan. My designs started reflecting the Italian culture, but I kept enough of my French heritage in the clothes that I created a niche market for consumers. Eventually, I made it as a couture designer.” He shrugged.

She had learned long ago that when he gave one of those Gallic shrugs, it meant he was embarrassed. He’d never bragged about his achievements, and had always been self-effacing any time he succeeded.

“You always were committed to achieving your dreams. It takes perseverance and drive to make it in the fashion world. I’m happy things worked out for you.” She laid her hand on his arm and squeezed.

He covered her hand with his own and opened his mouth to say something, but the flight steward walked up to them.

“
S’il vous plait attachez vos ceintures
.” He picked up their glasses. “Please, to fasten the seat belts. We land in a few moments.” He bowed and backed away.

She fastened her seat belt. “Much faster than driving to Paris, isn’t it?”

“
Oui
. I am lucky Francois decided to purchase the jet for the winery business, and that he put it at my disposal.”

She leaned back in the cushioned leather seat. She had originally assumed it was a puddle jumper, but this was a luxury jet, with multiple seating areas, wooden paneling, and plush carpeting. “Yeah, I meant to say something. I hadn’t realized it belongs to your cousin. I’m impressed.”

He picked her hand up and squeezed. “I am very happy you agreed to accompany me tonight. It will be a nice break from wedding frenzy. I have a car waiting for us, and it will take us straight to the hotel. The event begins at eight o’clock, and is being held at the same hotel, so you will have plenty of time to prepare for the evening.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Not that you will need extra time. You are stunning no matter what you wear.”

Tingles raced up her arm. She looked at their joined hands. Just sitting next to him on the short plane ride had set her hormones dancing. She had to maintain her resolve not to get involved.

It would be too hard leaving him again.

She raised her eyes to his, searched their depths.

He met her gaze, and she thought he might kiss her. The jet touched down and broke the spell they were cocooned in.

They rode to the hotel in the back of a limousine, her nose practically pressed against the window. She wanted to see it all again. So many of the sights familiar to her. How she’d loved living in Paris, everyday bringing a new adventure.

And Roman had been the best adventure of all.

“You’ve missed Paris, haven’t you?” he asked.

“I didn’t realize how much until now,” she murmured, catching sight of the Arch de Triumph glowing in the dusky evening lights.

“You should come back after the wedding and spend a few days here. I’d be willing to play host.”

She turned around to find him sitting closer to her. He sat silent, his face not revealing what he was thinking.

“I’d love to, but . . . I have to get home.”

He sat back in the seat, turned his head away from her. “Just keep it in mind. The offer stands.”

Is he hurt? Does he really still care for me after all this time?

They reached the Hotel Ritz, and the privileges of Roman’s fame and fortune had them whisked straight to a luxurious suite. While he tipped the concierge, she walked around the room, marveling at the extravagant furnishings. The living room was large, filled with antiques. Floor to ceiling windows lined the corner room, overlooking the city.

She drifted to the bank of windows and looked out over the city she had once loved being a part of. The sky was on fire with the sun just setting, and it cast a russet glow on the Eiffel Tower.

He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her close. “See anything you like?”

She nodded. “There’s no other place like it on earth.” She relaxed into his strong arms and leaned against his warmth. How many times had they stood just this way on the balcony of his tiny garret?

He touched his cheek to hers, his beard tickling her skin. “Paris has missed you.
I
have missed you. There is no one else like you. I’ve searched for someone to fill the hole in my heart, but have not found her.” He kissed the side of her neck, rested his chin on her shoulder. “Have you found anyone to love over the years?”

“No,” she whispered, cleared her throat. She paused. Loneliness filled her, and she said, wistful, “No. I’ve dated some, but never found anyone I wanted to be with. Frankly, I was too busy working to pay off our hospital bills.”

His arms tensed around her. “
Our
hospital bills?”

She caught herself, stepped out of his arms, out of his reach. “I mean Dad’s hospital bills, and the expenses related to his illness, then his funeral. So I never really had the energy to meet people or date after working two jobs.”
Oh my God, that was close.

“I wish I had known you were going through those troubled times. I would have done anything to help you.”

She turned around and tried to smile at him. “Thanks. But I’m doing okay now.”

“Let me show you to your room.” He led her to a closed door.

She turned the handle and walked into a fairyland of pink roses and candlelight. “Oh,” she sighed. “You remembered pink roses are my favorite.” She breathed deeply, inhaling the delicate scent of the exquisite flowers and scented candles.

She turned to look at him.

He looked away, ran a hand over his eyes, down his face.

“What is it?”

“I remember everything about you. I’ve never forgotten you. You were the first woman I loved, the first person who, I thought, loved me?”

“You loved me? You never said anything.” Young and inexperienced, he’d been her first love, her first lover. She’d been afraid, too scared to find out if he returned her love.

“What can I say? I was young and stupid. I was desperately in love with you, but so afraid of telling you. I feared you would reject me. Then Patrice told me why you left—”

She walked to him, put her fingertips on his lips to silence his words. His lips were soft and warm.

“Let’s not bring her here. This is our place, and you’ve made it so special for me. For us,” she said.

He reached up and gently held her fingers, kissing the tips of each one. Heat pooled low in her belly, spread throughout her body.

His deep brown eyes searched her face, so intense it made her shiver.

He pulled an oblong black box out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“Open it. I hoped you might like to wear it this evening, for old time’s sake.”

Hands trembling, she slid the ribbon off the box and opened it to reveal a charm bracelet lying on red velvet. She gasped, and slowly pulled it out of the box. The tiny charms tinkled like music.

“I bought the bracelet for you and started collecting charms while we were together. I was going to give it to you for your graduation from
Le Cordon Bleu
. But I never had the chance.”

She examined each of the charms. There were so many of them. Her throat closed, and tears threatened at his insightfulness. He’d lived a frugal life in Paris, and money had been tight for him back then. He must have scrimped and saved to buy each one.

“I wanted you to know how special each memory was to me. The Eiffel tower is for our first visit there together. The rolling pin was for when you passed your fondant test. The umbrella because you loved the rain. The heart, because I wanted you to know you would always have mine.”

Her throat closed, and her eyes pricked with tears. “It’s beautiful, Roman. Thank you so much. I can’t believe you kept it all these years.”

“I think deep down inside, I always hoped I would someday see you again. That I would find you some way, somehow. But I was afraid to try . . .”

She searched his face, wanted to see her answers there.

His eyes smoldered, and she wondered if he sensed the same need skittering through her.

Can I do this? Should I do this? What’s going to happen when I go home and never see him again?
She never did anything like this. Every step of her life was planned down to the minute. It had to be in order for her to achieve her goals, her dreams.

It was sink or swim time, and her body was urging her to dive deep, and take him with her.

Forget tomorrow, live for today
.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, softly at first. She was surprised he did not deepen the kiss, kept his hands to himself. She braced her hands on his broad shoulders, tilted her head. She licked the seam of his lips, and he opened, allowing her in.

He still hadn’t touched her, and she realized he was keeping his promise, letting her set the pace, deciding how far to go. In that moment, she decided she wanted him, had to have him.

Carpe diem
. Seize the day.
Seize this minute, dammit, and live for once.
Feel alive again!

They might never have this chance again, and she was going for the brass ring.

“Touch me,” she murmured against his lips. “Make love with me.”

He groaned, and his arms swept around her, pulling her flush against his body. He held her so close they seemed melded together.

His heart thudded against her breast, and hers answered, matching it beat for thundering beat.

“Are you sure?” He leaned back and met her eyes.

Unable to wait a moment longer, she unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers trembling. She pushed it off his shoulders, slid her fingers slowly through the smattering of dark chest hair. She traced the faint arrow of hair to his belt buckle, and his stomach muscles quivered.

He stopped her hands before she could unsnap his pants. “I need to touch you, love. Turn around.”

She turned around to let him unzip her red dress, trembled as it whispered down her body to puddle on the floor. He stopped her before she could face him again, and unhooked her black lace bra, dropped it to land on her dress. His arms slid around her, hands cupping her breasts, pulling her back to lean against him.