Designed by Desire. Pamela Yaye

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