Secret Match

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Paris Fashion Week…

Somehow, everyone loved her shoes.

Everyone.

The press had actually cheered for her bright yellow platforms with daffodil-painted heels as the models strutted the catwalk.

Kiwi Washington used her phone to track the location from her hotel room near Notre Dame and the Seine, to the after-party where her boss, Victoria Morgan, and her coworker, Caro Morgan, were holding court.

Paris was nothing like Detroit, or Miami Springs, where she’d lived for the past few months. The shining white pavement showed care in every step whereas Miami had the created-and-loved fifty years ago feel. The spark in her veins after the show tonight meant nothing could go wrong.

For once, everything was perfect.

Without a care in the world, it was her night to just smile and party in paradise. Her phone directed her to the building across the street.

Kiwi straightened her knee- length purple dress from the House of Morgan that she’d matched with her black and purple daisy shoes. As she passed a mirror in the lobby, Kiwi fluffed her curly hair that reminded her of Halle Barry when the actress had played Catwoman way back in the day.

Done, Kiwi headed inside and checked the text with the apartment number. How did anyone survive without a cell phone? The question flitted through her mind as her feet bounced in excitement.

Naturally, it was the penthouse suite. Kiwi walked into the elevator and pressed the button. The House of Morgan never partied like peasants in a regular apartment.

She exited into a hall and knocked on the door. Caro, who had recently married Luke Morgan, answered and kissed her on both cheeks. “You were amazing, Kiwi.”

Kiwi hugged the talented dark-haired designer whose clothes were also the talk of Paris, and then scanned the room.

The acceptance of the French was absolute. White and black mixed and smiled with each other as though color wasn’t even noticed. This was so different than Detroit or even her new home in Miami where your zip code still segregated everyone. Here all that mattered was that the champagne flowed.

Caro didn’t seem to even notice the differences, but then Caro had more money than most of the free world—her circle was different than Kiwi’s day-to-day life.

The Morgans could probably live on a different planet, but that was okay. She had a job that made her happy—designing shoes. “Thank you,” she said and slipped into the party

“Go. Mingle.” Blonde, blue-eyed, Victoria Morgan was on the phone in the corner of the room and signaled for Caro to join her. Caro winked at Kiwi. “Victoria is dealing with some trademark issue with the House of Morgan. Look, I’ll find you soon.”

Kiwi instantly caught the gaze of an olive-skinned man who could double as an ancient god or at the least a movie star. He probably wasn’t into dark skinned girls—then again, his perusal warmed her skin. Instead of leaving she said, “I should help you and Victoria.”

Caro had no idea of Kiwi’s intense interest in the man across the room as she said, “No. You should enjoy yourself. Your shoes were amazing on the runway today. Everyone loved them.”

“Thanks.” Kiwi hugged her coworker one more time. If only she truly was confident and sassy, but despite the stereotypes that she should be strong, Kiwi was in her heart a bit of a nerdy girl who also loved fashion.

Kiwi resisted the urge to tug her purple dress a little higher over her plunging cleavage and strode toward the bar where she picked up a glass of white wine from a tray.

A masculine hand settled next to hers on the bar counter as the man took a glass for himself. “Hi, gorgeous.”

The energy of Paris buzzed through her veins combined with the success of her show—she laughed and decided to erect a shield of confidence. She smiled flirtatiously up at the man who had to be well over six feet with broad shoulders stretching the white silk of his shirt. His accent wasn’t French. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet a man with good taste.”

Seriously, that hadn’t even sounded like her.

But it was.

She sipped her wine as the man’s strong arm slid sensually against her bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “And a woman who so easily smiles? You must be American.”

Her eyes had to be sparkling. She drank and pretended to be sophisticated as she laughed softly. “My smile gave me away?”

“Yes.” He guided her to a quieter corner of the dazzling main room. Outside the balcony door, the Champs de Elysee shone in the distance. He didn’t seem to notice the brilliance of the city as he leaned close to her and she smelled his woodsy cologne. “It’s entirely too bright,” he cautioned, “and everyone can see your happiness.”

As happy as she was, her smile was nothing like Paris, the city of lights. She held her wine glass next to her cheek, deciding her best tactic was to ignore the jibe at her country. “Well, I’ve had a good day.” Stellar was closer to the truth. “My shoes-”

“Don’t tell me more.” He interrupted her and took a sip of his wine. Her spine straightened defensively when he said, “I don’t want to be able to guess who you are.”

She’d clearly misread the situation. Perhaps he’d been bored and saw her as a challenge? She’d get over it. Kiwi lifted her shoulders, ready to leave. “Then you don’t want to know me?”

He quickly placed his hand on her wrist and a spark raced through her. He clarified his intent as he said, “I don’t want you to tell me your name—you are easily the prettiest woman in the room. Let us discover things about each other slowly.”

Her previous serious relationship had been with Martin. She’d almost thrown away her career to stay home and marry that man, but he’d ended up cheating on her and destroying her trust. Kiwi had learned her lesson and now said with more calm than she expected, “No names then. Can I ask where you are from? You are so smooth with flirting—what is your accent?”

“Italia,” he said with a cocky grin.

A huge smile grew on her face. Italian men had the reputation as relentless flirts. The tension left her instantly as she shook her head and sipped her wine. “I should have guessed.”

His brown eyes had a glimmer that made her knees weak, but she stood tall and gave nothing away as he said, “So, what are your plans while in Paris?”

Work. She’d love to actually see Paris as a tourist. This was her first time in any European country and she’d love to wander and get a warm beignet in the early morning without having to rush around in preparation for the next show, but that wasn’t going to be this trip.

Next time she’d come here on vacation. The view outside the window moved Paris up on her list. “I’m going to a different fashion show tomorrow—it is fashion week.”

“Boring.” He playfully elbowed her.

That might be, but she was being paid well enough that she’d work all night and save her pennies for her own vacation later. Kiwi sipped her wine and pretended she was calm and sophisticated as she said, “It’s why the company flew me out here.”

He had a devil-may-care attitude and his full lips made her ache for more than just playful banter. “Let’s take the day off from fashion and tour Paris together.”

If only. Her heart whispered that she skip her responsibilities and actually visit places she’d only ever seen photos of—even just one ride up the Eiffel Tower at night should be on her agenda, but she shook her head and sipped her champagne. “You’re joking.”

He placed his hand on her lower back and leaned closer. “I never joke about wanting to spend time with a beautiful woman.”

Shoot me now. He was handsome. Seriously. She let out sigh and lowered her glass. “I can’t. I’m here to work.”

He took the glass from her and left both his and hers on an empty side table as he guided her out on the balcony. The whiff of fresh air from the gentle breeze reinvigorated her as he said, “That’s so American of you.”

The Avenue des Champs Elysee came into view as she neared the railing and she understood why it was known as the world’s most beautiful avenue. The street lights made it almost magical with luminous sparkles, which probably sounded silly to someone as sophisticated as the man by her side. She tilted her head and smiled at the handsome stranger she was going to call Sexy; he was sexy as sin, even on a Sunday when she should be Church all day. Well, she’d think of him as Sexy until she figured out more about him. “We’ve already established my nationality.”

He leaned close enough that she could feel his hard muscles and hot skin. “We haven’t established how we kiss yet.”

Her face heated but she playfully pushed him back as she shook her head. “We’re not going to do that right now.”

His infectious laugh and that wink of his somehow made her want nothing more than to kiss him. Instead, she studied the white streets and lights that sparkled under the moonlight.

“Embarrassed with me already?” he asked.

If only she was that kind of girl, or that her decisions never had consequences. Kiwi Washington wasn’t about to let a man ruin her dreams, not now, now when she was so close to being the It girl she’d wanted to be since she was big enough to dream.

She turned her back to the avenue and studied the party-goers inside through the glass—the fashion industry had a high percentage of men interested in other men which made her Mr. Sexy even more appealing. He was sexier than the models inside, so perhaps he worked for one of the other houses. “No. You’re the hottest man I’ve seen here. But I don’t have time for romance.”

He offered his arm. “We can skip the romance if you like then and I’ll take you back to my room, alone. Two consenting adults.”

Part of her wanted to be that girl who didn’t care, who would just take him back to her hotel room and rip off all his clothes. His body seemed sculpted to perfection and she’d love a peek. However, she put her hand on her hip. “Now that sounds dangerous, but I can’t.” She dropped her hand to her side and held still as she gazed up at him. “I am willing to go on an evening stroll.”

If he chose to leave now and go find someone else for an easy hookup, she’d have to live with that. She fluffed her curly hair and waited. He surprised her when he tucked her hand on his arm, her fingers at his elbow, and led her back inside and through the party. “It would be my honor. I’ll give you a tour.”

“Sounds perfect,” she murmured and stayed beside him. No man had ever protected her, but on his arm, she felt as if nothing might harm her, ever again.

She so wanted to believe in the fairy tale of love, but she didn’t dare. He was a stranger.

Caro and Victoria were talking about business, styled heads together, though Caro waved goodbye as she watched Kiwi leave.

For a second Kiwi wished her best friend Serenity was nearby, then again, Serenity might stop her from leaving with this handsome stranger. He held the door for her as more party-goers headed into the penthouse with its dim lights and soft music perfectly pitched for the loud conversations.

They made it to the elevator, alone, where it seemed especially quiet after the party noise. The moment the doors closed, she looked up at the Italian god that somehow stood next to her and asked, “What were you doing at the party?”

His brown eyes flashed with emotion but he quickly reverted to the dazzling man who made her heart quicken. “I was invited by a fashion magazine owner who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

She elbowed his abdomen playfully but could tell instantly he was a wall of muscles. “You tell women no?”

His hand went to her lower back as they walked out of the building and onto the dazzling white boulevard across from the Champs de Elysee. “Not the beautiful ones.”

“Flirting really is in your nature,” she joked and waved for them to cross the street.

He directed her to the pedestrian walkway and pressed the button to wait for the “walk” signal. “It’s only natural to want to kiss the prettiest woman around. Your eyes are a deep chocolate, accentuating the perfect bow of your lips, which beckon me closer with your smile.”

Her pulse quickened. Kissing him might be the most fun she’d had in years. His regal nose and chiseled jaw made her long to touch him.

Pedestrians passed them and she glanced beyond his shoulder and realized the sign had turned. He walked beside her as she took a breath and asked, “And what if you don’t like what happens after we kiss? What if I turn into some crazy stalker?”

They reached the sidewalk on the other side and he pressed that warm, hard body of his against her side. “And what if I turned out to be married or some criminal?”

“Wait.” She pushed away and crossed her arms. The last thing she needed in her life was trouble. “Are you?”

“No.” His hand brushed against her hip and she dropped her arms as warm goosebumps followed where he touched her. “I was just pointing out the dangers of kissing strangers.”

Toe to toe, she looked up as her eyelids fluttered closed. She hadn’t known that was really a thing. “Which is probably why we shouldn’t.”

Her mouth parted and in a flash his hot, hard lips met hers--something inside her soul melted.

The kiss ended and all she could do was sigh. He pushed her thick curls behind her ear as he peered down at her. His shoulders were so strong, like he could hold all her problems without a worry. “I’m glad we did. I now know for a fact you’re sweet and probably more innocent than I’d hoped for.”

Her hands brushed against his chest. “And I know you qualify as a bad idea.”

He leaned down like he’d kiss her again, but their eyes met as he asked, “How is that?”

“You smell too good.” She closed her eyes, puckering her lips.

His hand traced her neck and back. “What?”

Wow. Her insides fluttered too. Her arms wrapped around his neck. “You smell too good. You taste sweet and act like the world is yours for the taking. It’s attractive, but dangerous—so, being with you is a bad idea.”

He continued to kiss her beneath the lights of the Champs de Elysee. Every part of her felt lit up just from his kiss.

If only this could last forever…when the kiss ended he asked, “Why deny yourself?”

She didn’t want to let go. Her hands hugged his waist as she said, “I fly back to Mia…” If she said Miami, she broke the rule of revealing too much about herself and mystery felt like a game tonight. She swallowed and changed her sentence, “the States this weekend. We’ll probably never see each other again.”

He whispered into her ear and awareness zipped through her. “Then let’s make the most of the time we have.”

She met his gaze. He wasn’t on her plan, or schedule, not even one of her to-do lists, but she never really made time for romance or men. She took a breath and nodded. “Okay. No one will ever know about this.”

“Si, bella.” He kissed her again.

One night in Paris might be all they’d ever have, but there was nothing more that she wanted right now. Her show was a success. Models and photographers had cheered her shoes on the catwalk. So tonight, maybe she could have a little magic too. Here, even romance seemed possible.