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Authors: Melinda De Ross

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BOOK: A French Kiss in London
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Pirata had sprawled on her lap at some point in the middle of the movie, and was sound asleep. She lowered him gently onto the sofa, receiving in exchange a small protesting meow.

She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and undressed, leaving her clothes in her specific disordered style, discarded on the huge bed covered with blue sheets—same color as the walls. She donned a tiny, black bikini, almost new. She grabbed her cell phone and turned on the Radio App, enjoying the pop music, which perfectly suited her mood.

She trotted downstairs and left the back door ajar behind her, as she walked to the pool. She could almost hear the water calling to her when she dropped her phone on a lounge chair. She slowly descended the stone steps, then submerged herself, savoring the prickly liquid coolness. It felt even better than sex—from what she could remember, anyway.

Pirata, awakened by the commotion and music, had come to keep her company. He watched his mistress swimming idly, while he sprawled among the dwarves in the grass.

After she swam several laps, a pleasant fatigue seeped into her muscles. She lay on her back in the water, let herself float and gazed at the dark sky, where no star ever seemed to show itself.

Smog
, she thought melancholically, then started to move her arms and legs to reach the pool’s side, wondering how to kill the long hours of the night to come.

Precisely when she was getting ready to climb out, the radio stopped and the phone started ringing.

“Who the hell is it at this hour?” she asked rhetorically, looking at the cat. He was imitating her, stretching with his belly in the air and scratching with his playful claws at the paint of a poor elf.

Linda rushed out of the pool, quickly dried her hands on a towel and grabbed the phone. She didn’t know the number on the display.

“Hello,” she answered, a tad too briskly.

“Hello, Linda. It’s Gerard Leon. I’m standing in front of your gate, but I don’t know how to get in and it’s kind of difficult to climb over it. Could you open it for me?”

For a few seconds she didn’t manage to utter a sound, even though her mouth was agape.

“Gerard?” she blurted out eventually, not believing her ears. “What the hell are you doing here at this time of night?”

“I’ll explain when you open. Or would you rather I climb over the gate?”

“No, don’t touch it! It’s going to start the alarm and alert the security company. Although maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she muttered under her breath, aggravated. “Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

What the hell is he doing here at this hour?
she asked herself once more, while she hastily wrapped a towel around herself and slid her feet into flip-flops.

The driveway leading to the gate was quite long. With her hair and skin wet, she immediately felt the cold brought by nightfall. However, by the time she reached the gate, the cold was forgotten, replaced by hot, blazing anger. Or so she tried to tell herself as she looked at Gerard through the thick bars. She couldn’t see what he was wearing, but his features were quite distinct in the moonlight. That face was unforgettable.

She was breathing hard when she punched in the code to disable the alarm and demanded furiously, “How do you know my address? What are you doing here?”

Chapter Three

 

 

Gerard couldn’t distinguish much in the deep darkness. Nevertheless, he spotted the white towel, which revealed Linda’s beautiful legs, smooth shoulders and graceful arms. In the moonlight, her skin had a pearly glow. The water dripping from her hair rolled down her bare cleavage and was lost somewhere behind the fist that gathered the towel to her chest.

He clutched hard at one of the gate’s bars, trying to control the incredible reactions triggered in his body and mind by this semi-nude living fantasy, toward whom he felt a magnetic attraction.

“You forgot your sunglasses at the clinic. I took your address from the register and came to return them to you. Along with this.”

He extended his other arm, revealing in the low light the single white rose in his hand.

“Can I come in? I swear my intentions are as innocent as this rose,” he said jokingly.

She appeared hesitant. But considering she was probably half-frozen by now, she pushed back the gate, then stepped aside to make room for him. He knew he was watching her with an almost tangible intensity. The glow of his eyes defied the darkness and he was helpless to tear his gaze away.

He handed her the sunglasses and the flower. She took them with a shaky hand, murmuring, “Thanks, but you shouldn’t have bothered.”

“It was no bother. On the contrary. I was hoping you’d invite me in for coffee. You look like you could use something hot to drink.”

He smiled playfully, though he felt a twinge of unexpected nervousness.

“Alright,” Linda said after a few tense moments. She pointed her chin in the direction of the house and they both headed up the winding driveway.

He continued to watch her discretely from the corner of his eye. As the lights from the windows revealed a clearer image of the woman beside him, it was increasingly hard not to touch her. He felt an acute need to enfold her in his arms, to warm that suave skin with hot kisses. Did she feel the same attraction, or was she as cold and distant as she seemed? He would have given anything to know what she was thinking right in that moment, but she kept walking without sketching any gesture that could reflect her thoughts.

“Do you live alone?” he asked, before he could choose to ignore the voice of reason and do something he wasn’t sure he should.

“No.”

Her answer took him aback, causing him to stare at her inquisitively. According to his sources from the clinic, Linda lived alone. The rest of her family was in Italy, her place of birth.

“With whom, then?” he pressed, seeing she didn’t plan to elaborate in regard to this subject.

But she didn’t reply, making him wonder if it had been a good idea to come here tonight. After all, he didn’t know much about her, and she hadn’t been overly friendly toward him.

They finally reached the front door, which was open. A white cat was waiting on the steps, tail twitching, obviously bothered by the presence of a nocturnal intruder.

“With him,” Linda answered at last, indicating the cat, who always seemed to be winking. “His name is Pirata and he’s my best friend,” she added smiling. Looking more relaxed now, she gestured him inside.

In the living room, she invited him to sit on the sofa.

“Please, wait for me a few minutes. I’m going to change.”

“No problem. If you show me where the kitchen is, I can make some hot chocolate.”

She looked up at him somewhat surprised, then guided him to the tidiest kitchen he’d ever seen.

“You’ll find mugs up in that cabinet. The chocolate is here, on the right,” she explained. “I usually heat water in the microwave.”

“Go and dress,” he said. “And please dry your hair. I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he took a lock of her wet hair between his fingers. With a slow, fluid motion, he lifted it to his lips, deeply inhaling her subtle scent. She smelled of clean water, with a vague trace of chlorine and an exotic floral perfume that drove him crazy.

Linda watched him mesmerized, as though unable to escape his penetrating gaze. After a moment, she looked away and took a deep breath. The motion put a strain on the towel she wore, and on his self-control.

“I think you’ll be fine until I get back,” she said, her voice sounding husky and rushed.

She turned around and walked out, then climbed the stairs quickly, clutching her towel in one hand, the sunglasses and flower in the other.

 

* * * *

 

Once she reached her bedroom, she put the rose in a vase and filled it with water. After that, she started to dry her hair, fully enjoying the hot blast of the hair-drier.

Gerard’s presence in her house made her feel confused. On one hand, she was flattered by his attention. He was a gorgeous man, so sexy that her knees felt weak whenever he watched or touched her. On the other hand, she couldn’t let her guard down so easily.

She knew she was trying to postpone as much as possible the moment she had to go downstairs and face him, sit next to him, find something to talk about. The reasons for her wanting to delay weren’t too clear though.

He’s an extremely attractive guy, fighting for the same cause as you. He’s intelligent, educated and he seems to be an extraordinary man. He can melt you with a single glance. So what’s the damned problem?
she asked herself.

And suddenly, she knew what the problem was: her reluctance toward all the commitments a relationship involved. The fact that she wasn’t willing to give up a single ounce from her so-hard-earned freedom and independence. Above all, she knew if she were to start a relationship with this man, no matter how emotionally detached she’d try to be, it would be impossible not to fall in love with him. And if he didn’t share her feelings, her heart would be broken.

But if he felt the same, surely Gerard would want more. He would want marriage, commitment and all the responsibilities inherent in those—things which she had convinced herself she didn’t want in her life, at least not too soon.

She sighed deeply and began brushing her long hair. When she finished, she put on a black cotton T-shirt and blue sweat pants. With her bare feet engulfed in fluffy pink slippers, she descended the stairs.

Gerard was waiting for her on the sofa in front of the TV, rubbing Pirata’s chin. The cat purred noisily, his nose twitching toward the two mugs on the coffee table.

He spotted her and, with a gesture, invited her to join him.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” she remarked, sitting and taking Pirata in her arms.

Gerard handed her one of the mugs.

“You have a very comfortable house and a really cute companion,” he said, sipping the steaming liquid from his own mug. “How do you like London in summer?”

She sampled the chocolate, which was excellent, then took off her slippers and sat cozily, her feet tucked under her.

“Generally it’s a tad too cloudy and wet. I was used to Italy’s sun, but I adapt quickly.”

“Then how come you moved here?”

“Here I found two art galleries very interested in my works. And as a bonus, I have the chance to get involved in helping the clinic, more than I could manage from a distance. My mother and brother also make donations to a few clinics and hospitals in Italy. My mother gets involved more in these activities, but Giovanni—my brother—doesn’t have time. He just signs the paychecks.”

Gerard gave her a one-cornered smile.

“That is very generous of you all. Now I understand you’re coming from a family of philanthropists. Tell me about them.”

She put her half-empty mug on the table and shifted a bit, making herself more comfortable.

“Well, there’s nothing much to tell. My mother, Giovanna, lives in Rome with her new husband, Fabrizzio Angeli. He’s six years younger than her and has a considerable fortune. I made a bet with Giovanni that in two years she’s going to bleed him white.”

He burst out laughing and she resumed with a smile, “My father, Vincente, is a painter. Currently, he resides on the isle of Crete with Ariadna, a creature with a model’s body and a pigeon’s brain, younger than myself. I could say we’re a family of degenerates,” she joked, “if it weren’t for Giovanni. He is the pride of this family. He’s thirty, has managed to remain unmarried so far, and is the founder of a computers software company in Florence. This is most of the boring saga of the Coriola family.”

While speaking, she twisted around and around on the middle finger of her right hand the only ring she wore—a silver band in the form of a coiled snake with ruby eyes. It was the single piece of jewelry she’d created herself when she was only eighteen, and she was greatly pleased with it.

Gerard took her hand in his, studying the object in question. Then he told her, “Seems to me you have quite an interesting family. Although I don’t know any of the others, I have no doubt you’re the most fascinating of them all.”

He lifted his head to look at her face. In the intimate light coming from the TV screen and from a corner lamp, his eyes looked dark. But the intense, steady sparkle in them was the same that had warmed her entire being from the moment she’d met him.

He slowly took her hand to his lips, kissing her palm, and she felt her whole body begin to vibrate with a primal, magnetic energy—the same kind of reaction that gives birth to sparks and puts into motion all massive bodies in the Universe.

He leaned in closely and she felt his hot breath, then his sensual lips seeking hers, exploring, tasting. Their lips merged into the most seductive kiss she had ever experienced. When he slid his tongue into her mouth, her stomach muscles tightened and she became light-headed with desire.

He pulled her even closer, tightening his hold on her waist. She melted into his arms, feeling his strong, masculine body pressed to hers. Somehow, she knew he was being enveloped by the same intoxicating lust that was flooding her senses.

In that instant, she felt she could risk everything, could give up everything just for a single moment in the arms of this man, who had awakened inside her a latent passion, the intensity of which was unknown even to her. Until now.

Gerard lifted his head slowly, watching her with those fascinating eyes, which she was sure would haunt her dreams.

“I think I should go,” he said, his voice sounding gruff and slightly breathless. “Unless you want me to stay.”

She gazed at him longingly. To her infinite amazement, she contemplated this possibility seriously. However, after a few moments she glanced down, then away.

“I think you’d better go. It’s late.”

A shadow of disappointment crossed over his features, but he got to his feet. Taking her hand, he headed to the door. When they were on the threshold, he said, “Come and see me to the gate.”

Not finding a suitable reply, she followed him outside into the perfect darkness, her hand firmly enclosed in his.

The night was enchanting, the air heavy with entwined scents of flowers, shrubs and trees. All these mixed harmoniously, forming the unmistakable fragrance of a summer night.

Vaguely outlined in the inky dark, the two silhouettes walked quietly, listening to the solitary song of a cricket, which had mysteriously landed on the driveway.

When they reached the gate, Gerard turned toward her. As though trying to dissolve the blackness with his gaze, he looked at her intently and asked, “When will I see you again?”

“Um, I will stop over the clinic one of these days. I’m not sure when,” she answered evasively, almost stuttering.

He watched her for another long moment, then opened the gate. Before exiting, he pulled her swiftly into his arms once more and kissed her deeply, thoroughly. After that, he suddenly released her and stepped back, disappearing into the night without another word.

Stunned, she touched her lips with her tongue, lingering on his taste. She closed the gate, set the alarm and walked to the house in a stupor, feeling limber and loose for the first time in a very long while. The fact that she didn’t want to wake up worried her.

When she reached the house, her cell phone was ringing loudly and Pirata was circling it, irritated, scratching at the screen, which displayed Giovanni’s number. Delighted, she snatched up the phone.


Ciao, mi amato fratello
!” she said, then grabbed the cat and began climbing the stairs, heading to her bedroom. “How are you?”

“Fine,” answered Giovanni in their melodious native language. “I miss you, wanted to know how you are. How are things? What have you been doing?”

“I’m good, loving this house more and more. I feel great here, and so does Pirata.”

“Judging by the pictures you’ve sent me, it seems gorgeous.”

“It really is. And so quiet. Next week, the gallery is opening my art exhibit.”

“Congratulations, my beloved artist!” he said enthusiastically. “I really wish I could come, but I’m working on some projects. I must finish urgently, so I won’t be able to visit you any time soon.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll send you pictures. What have you been up to? Are you okay?”

“Very busy, but productive. I haven’t even had time to go out with a beautiful babe,” he said, chuckling. “Haven’t you met any men good enough to awaken your interest?”

BOOK: A French Kiss in London
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