Designed by Desire. Pamela Yaye

shared a laugh as he took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. Brianna was so overcome with emotion she felt her heart swoon. It was amazing that such a simple gesture could make her feel so special, so cared for.

      Every time Collin touched her, Brianna had to remind herself to breathe.

      Brianna heard music playing and spotted a guitar player sitting under a lamppost. Collin stopped and tossed fifty euros into the man’s tattered plaid cap placed by his feet for tips. A small crowd had gathered around the musician, and although he sang off-key in a hoarse, throaty tone, Brianna recognized the Beatles tune and hummed along. She was singing to herself when it happened.

      Collin slipped his hands around her waist, lowered his mouth and kissed her.

      It was a moment Brianna would never forget as long as she lived. It wasn’t his technique that blew her away or even how damn good his mouth tasted; it was the urgency behind each kiss, the passion, the hot, scorching desire. His lips were made for kissing, for pleasing, and Brianna just couldn’t get enough. She leaned into him, pressed her body flat against his and matched him kiss for kiss, lick for lick, stroke for stroke. A church bell chimed in the distance, but Brianna’s thunderous heartbeat drowned out the noise. The kiss ended much too soon, and when Collin pulled away, Brianna felt a profound sense of disappointment.

      “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day.”

      “Then what took you so long?” she asked, breathless.

      Wearing a rueful smile, Collin leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. “We better go. Our ride is here, and I don’t want our driver to take off without us.”

      Dozens of taxi cabs were parked alongside the curb, but Collin bypassed the queue and strode over to a red double-decker bus flashing its lights. “Have you ever been on a night tour through the streets of downtown Paris?”

      Brianna laughed and shook her head. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

      “Then climb aboard, Brianna, because we have much to see and do tonight.” Stepping aside, Collin bowed chivalrously at the waist and extended a hand toward the bus doors. “After you, Mademoiselle.”

      Seconds later they were off on their private tour. Sitting on the open deck provided a striking view of the city, one Brianna had never experienced before. They sat together, holding hands, as Collin pointed out the Musée d’Orsay, the Pont Alexandre III and the Arc de Triomphe. Brianna showed him the best cafés for people watching, boutiques that carried her designs and her favorite chocolatiers.

      When traffic crawled to a stop, Brianna noticed a large, young crowd and pointed at the sleek, modern nightclub at the end of the block. “Wow, look at the line outside of Nouveau. It’s down the street and around the corner.”

      “I’m not surprised,” Collin said. “Rashad J always draws a huge crowd wherever he goes, and tonight’s his one and only show in Paris.”

      “I wish I had known. I would have loved to see him perform.”

      Collin raised an eyebrow. “You like Rashad J?”

      “Of course I do. He’s incredibly talented.”

      “Most women I know think his music is raunchy.”

      “I don’t. I was so anxious to get my hands on his latest, The Bedroom Maestro, that I harassed my friend at Billboard until she sent me an advanced copy!”

      “Do you like his single, ‘Between Your Thighs’?”

      Brianna leaned into him and brushed her lips against the curve of his ear. “I love it,” she whispered, resting a hand on his leg. “In fact, it’s my favorite track.”

      Collin surged to his feet. “We’re going to that concert,” he announced. “I’ll get the driver to drop us off in front of the club.”

      “There are already hundreds of people waiting in line. There’s no way we’ll get in.”

      “Don’t worry. We will.”

      “How can you be so sure?”

      “I know people,” he said, winking at her. “And, they’d never dare turn me away.”

      Brianna stared down at her ruffled scarf, fitted sweater and boot-cut blue jeans. “The bouncers aren’t going to let me in like this,” she said, shaking her head. “Paris nightclubs have a strict dress code.”

      “You’re stunning, Brianna, and I couldn’t be more proud to have you on my arm.”

      His words floored her. All night Collin had been showering her with compliments, and even though Brianna knew she’d never be permitted inside in her casual attire, his praise made her confidence soar.

      “Let’s get going. I don’t want you to miss the show.”

      But Collin didn’t lead her off the bus. He kissed her hard on the lips with such heat and passion Brianna felt her body tingle in a hundred different places. He stroked her cheeks, the length of her neck, her shoulders. And when he cradled her tightly to his chest in a passionate lover’s embrace, Brianna knew.

      Tonight, when she returned to her cozy seventh-floor suite at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, she wouldn’t be returning alone.