Free Love Redesigned by Sloane B. Collins Page 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