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was her firstaudience and she desperately wanted his approval. Sliding the dress over her shoulders she pushed her feet into a pair of high-heeled shoes. A final smoothing of her skirt, a shake of her head to loosen her hair, and she was ready.
    Amadeo stared at her as she posed in front of the silvery sheen of the old apricot velvet curtain. The gray silk slashed in one uncompromising straight line across the widened shoulders, skimming the waist to a narrow zigzagged hem that ended two inches above Paris’s elegant knees. Bands and diamonds of soft suede angled the skirt diagonally. Paris swung around slowly for him to see the back, where the silk swooped in a low, bloused V almost to her waist. She was right. It was a wonderful dress. But the admiration in Amadeo’s eyes was for the girl. He’d been wrong in thinking she was too lean; there were curves all right, in fact all the curves were in the right places. He rose and walked toward her. He needed to touch her, to feel what she was like. Her nipples jutted beneath the gray silk and her parted lips smiled at him tentatively.
    “It’s wonderful,
cara
, wonderful,” he murmured, taking her hand and drawing her toward him. “You were right, you have the touch.”
    “Really, Amadeo, you really like it?”
    Amadeo leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. “I love it,
cara
, and on you it looks beautiful.”
    Paris gazed into his eyes so close to hers. A tingle of excitement ran through her body. He
loved
her designs. Amadeo’s hands were on her naked back and he pulled her closer, kissing her gently on the neck, tiny kisses, light and undemanding, but she could feel the tremor of desire as he pulled her closer.
    “Tell me,” she whispered, “tell me, Amadeo, how you like this dress … it’s a sexy dress, isn’t it, Amadeo? All my designs are like that, that’s why they’ll be so successful.”
    Amadeo slid his hand across her gray silk breast. She was still talking about her designs, about this damned dress, when all he wanted to do was rip it off her. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, not even Olympe had done this to him lately. His erection was hard as a rock and throbbing as if it couldn’t wait.
    Paris laughed when he pressed himself against her; she felt high on excitement, turned on by the promise of the dazzling future that awaited her now that Amadeo approved her designs and would give her credit. Perhaps he’d do more; she might even persuade him to become her business partner. Amadeo’s fingers tempted her nipples through the silk and his mouth came down hard on hers. There was no doubt what Amadeo Vitrazzi wanted in return. Paris leaned back a little to allow the dress to slide from her shoulders, watching with detachment as his dark head sank onto her breast, feeling the first blast of sexual excitement hit her as his tongue found her nipples. And why not? she thought. If this is what he wants in return, then he’ll have it—and it’ll be the best he’s had in a long time. You’re not going to forget this, Amadeo. Pulling herself from his embrace she stepped back from him, smiling.
    Amadeo tugged off his jacket.
    “Wait,” commanded Paris.
    Amadeo waited eagerly as Paris stepped out of the pale green satin French knickers. My God, look at her, wasn’t she the most sexily elegant woman alive, posing there naked but for her high-heeled shoes? My God, if he didn’t have her quickly this might turn out to be a disaster instead of a success.… What now? She was walking slowly toward him, her hands caressing her own body, hesitating on her nipples, drifting lightly over the dark inviting triangle of hair. Amadeo unfastened his belt.
    “Wait.” Paris took his hand and placed it there, on thesoft springy dark triangle, smiling at him while his fingers curved between her legs.
    He couldn’t stand it, he had to have her. Amadeo tugged at his zipper once more, hearing Paris’s teasing laughter as she leaned closer and