Hold On to Me (12 page)

Stella tried not to let the sound of someone else saying his name have any affect on her whatsoever. ‘Is what?'

‘I know I'm a married woman … but that young man is sexy as hell.'

Stella knew there was no point denying what was blindingly obvious to any straight woman or gay man. She could think about him that way with a distance, with an objective eye. ‘Yes. He is.'

‘I hear he's a swinging single. Any chance you two might …?'

Stella shook her head determinedly. ‘Not a snowball's chance in hell.'

‘Thank you, Mr Maher. I'll see you in a fortnight.' Summer ushered her customer out the door and then she turned to the two women with narrowed eyes. ‘While I've been in there dealing with his spasming glute, you've been gossiping, haven't you?'

‘Yes,' said Julia.

‘No,' said Stella.

‘We're talking about Luca Morelli.'

‘
You
were talking about Luca Morelli,' Stella told Julia. ‘Not me.'

‘She's pent up. Tense. Loaded with sexual frustration.' Summer nodded knowingly.

‘There's a cure for that, you know,' Julia said with a grin.

‘Yes,' Stella said with a huff. ‘It's called a reality check.'

By late afternoon, Summer had seen her last client of the day and Stella was on her way to her shop to check out the day's progress.

As she approached, she saw that a crowd had gathered on the footpath. Five or six high-school students, all girls, with uniforms way too short, and big, heavily laden bags, were staring through her front window. She quickened her pace, hoping there hadn't been some fresh disaster on top of everything else that had happened.

The giggling was enough to tip her off. Every one of them had her phone out and was aiming it at the window. She was in no doubt what the object of their attention was. Or rather, who. She swore to herself.
Please don't tell me he's taken off his shirt.

‘Afternoon, girls. How about we make a bit of room here?' Stella reached into the pocket of her Capri pants for the whiteboard marker she'd borrowed from Summer.

There was more giggling. ‘I've just posted it,' one girl said with a squeal and then the others joined in. Stella shook her head at the brazenness of these young women, pulled the cap off the marker and lifted it to the glass. She wrote, in big, expressive handwriting:

While we renovate, come see me at Summer's Studio.

Lots of lovely things! Fifty metres up The Strand.

Stella xxx

As she finished with a flourish and her signature three kisses, Stella turned to find there was only one girl left looking at the window. In fact, she seemed to be reading the message intently rather than staring inside at Luca.

Perhaps fifteen years old or so, she'd styled pink tinges in her long hair and had well-worn Converse sneakers on her feet.

‘I was really sorry to hear about what happened,' she said with a shy smile. ‘It's great you're going to reopen.

‘Thank you. That's lovely of you to say.'

With a final glance at the window, the girl turned and jogged to catch up with her friends. When Stella turned back to the window, Luca's face appeared behind the words on the other side. A fine layer of plaster dust, the colour of snow, had coated his arms and his black work shirt. It was in his dark hair and there was a smattering on his face, coating his eyelashes.

He waved then pushed open the door and beckoned her in. ‘I wondered where you'd been today.'

‘Thought I should stay out of your way until I can be useful. I've set up a pop-up shop at Summer's.'

‘So it says.' Luca nodded to her message on the window. ‘That's a good idea. You don't want your customers to forget about you. Although who could?'

She tried not to respond to his grin.

‘So. Do you want to see what we've done?'

‘Sure.' She followed him to the centre of the shop and they looked up in unison. Where yesterday there had been a hole in the roof and open frames, today there was a tunnel to the sky. It was lined with Gyprock, but not plastered yet, and already Stella could see how effective it would be in lighting up the space.

‘You work fast.'

‘I did have some help but Bruno's on his way back to Adelaide already. What do you think?'

‘It looks great,' Stella said.

‘Wait until it's painted white and there's a clear dome up there. It'll bounce the light around here like it's a nightclub.'

A nightclub. She hadn't been to one for five years.

‘Thanks, Luca. That's great work.' Stella clasped her hands together behind her back, and tried to remain businesslike and serious, like the boss she was. ‘I've been meaning to ask you about invoices. There's the glazier, this Bruno guy, and all the materials you've had to purchase already. We didn't get around to sorting that out.'

He brushed it off. ‘I'll email some paperwork to you by the end of the week. If that's all right with you.'

‘That'll be fine.'

‘You heading off home?' he asked.

‘Yes.'

‘I've done all I can do here today.' Luca rubbed a hand over his hair and then shook out some of the dust. There was a playfulness about the gesture that Stella loved. He had an enthusiasm that would have been infectious if she'd let herself loosen up around him.

‘Listen, Stella. I'm filthy and I need a shower. But I was wondering if, after that, you'd have a drink with me tonight?'

Stella was looking at him like he'd just suggested they tear off each other's clothes and fuck. Right there in the shop window.

‘A drink with you?' She increased the distance between them with a backwards step.

‘Yeah.'

‘I don't think so.' She smiled ruefully and shook her head.

‘Why not? One beer isn't going to hurt anybody. Or are you more of a Champagne kind of woman?'

‘While I am partial to the fizz, I don't think so.'

Luca wondered if she realised she'd wrapped her arms around herself like a shield.

‘C'mon. One drink. There's shop stuff we need to talk about and it's already late.'

‘Probably time we both went home then.'

Luca scratched his head. Had he done something to piss her off? Where had the flirting gone? He tried to read what was there in her mysterious expression, but all he was getting was a blank. He didn't know what she did with her emotions but they sure as hell weren't on display. In his family, feelings were front and centre all the time. No one ever put them away or saved them till later. She was clearly saving hers till later and, in his experience, that was never a good thing.

What the hell. He decided to ask her. ‘Are you going to tell me why you're pissed off at me?'

‘Who says I'm pissed off at you?' Her voice was tight and controlled. He was so damn sure about that self control that he could taste it. And that made him wonder what she'd be like when she let go.

‘Please. I grew up with two sisters. I know when a woman is angry. And I know when it's my fault.'

‘Look, Luca, we can't let … personal … things get in the way. This is a job and so far you're doing everything I've asked you to. I have no complaints on that score.'

Luca rubbed the ache at the back of his neck. It had nothing to do with being up a ladder all day and everything to do with the knot of tension in his back and across his shoulders that had her name on it. Not to mention the surges of blood to his shorts he'd had just thinking about her in her low-cut swimsuit. He could still see it: he was jealous of the way the Lycra hugged her breasts and dipped low in front. He wondered how those breasts would feel in his hands—heavy and smooth; he considered how she would react if he tugged at one of her nipples with his teeth. He wondered how it would feel to have her legs wrapped around him, to be inside her.

Holy fuck. He wanted her. ‘I'm not going to do this alone, Stella.'

She looked taken aback at his declaration. And for a weird moment, he wondered if he meant the job at hand or the hand job he'd inevitably have to give himself later to burn off the blazing sexual energy she'd lit in him. He felt like he was sitting on a bonfire.

‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘I don't want to work like this. I took on the job because I figured I'd be working
with
you, not
for
you. I've got ideas for this place that I don't want to discuss by email. And … you and me … working together? I think I can learn a lot from you, with all you know about style and design. And I want to do all that face to face.'

She dropped her gaze to the floor. Looked at her watch and then lifted her eyes to his.

‘Unless, of course, you have a thing about drinking with the hired help.'

Her gaze grew steely. ‘Middle Point pub. One hour from now. One drink.'

She turned and walked out and he watched her arse sway as she left.

Luca got there ten minutes early and snagged a seat at a table with a perfect view of the front door. He'd showered in about three minutes and changed into dark denim jeans and a white polo shirt, slipped his feet into a pair of thongs and made it to the pub with time to spare. He'd rushed because he wanted to be there when Stella walked in. He wanted to watch her before she saw him, see how she acted when she was unaware of his presence. He wanted Stella in her natural state. Unmasked. He knew she was always putting on a show for him—or, rather, a front. And he wanted to see behind it. He wanted to get a glimpse of who Stella really was behind the picky and the bossy and the holding on too tight.

Every time the door opened, he lifted his chin. The first time, it was a grey-haired older woman with a handbag clutched so tightly in the crook of her arm that she looked as if she was expecting to be robbed at knifepoint. The second time it was a group of young guys straight off the beach, hair matted and blonde from the sun, thongs slapping on their feet.

The third time, it was Stella, and she walked into the place like a goddess. Her long silk dress skimmed the floor and was almost the colour of her skin. It hugged her breasts but then flared out and shimmered in waves as she walked. Her bare arms looked cool in the heat of the evening and there was a crease of frustration between her eyebrows as she scanned the room. Looking for him.

He let out a breath. She looked about ten kinds of fuckable. His eyes drifted down her body, and as they did he noted the curve of her hips under her dress and then her feet. She was wearing flat tan leather sandals and her toenails were painted a subtle pink. When he lifted his eyes, after a long slow trawl up her body, Stella was looking at him, her eyebrows raised.

He stood and nodded to her. She slowly came over to the table. ‘Luca.'

‘Stella. You look … That's a beautiful dress.' He wanted to reach out for her, take her by the shoulders and kiss her cheeks. Hell, he wanted to do more than that but they were in a public place and she seemed to have a thing about being his boss.

‘Thank you.'

‘You're not Style by Stella for nothing, right?'

She smiled. ‘It's what I do.'

‘Can I get you a glass of anything? Bubbles?'

She cocked her head at him. ‘Thank you.'

When Luca returned from the bar and set their drinks on the table, Stella was taking in the view across Middle Point beach in the fading light. He didn't give it any attention. His view across the table was so much better.

She lifted her glass to clink with his. ‘Here's cheers.' She sipped it, licked her top lip, and looked him right in the eye. ‘So, Luca Morelli. Talk.'

If all the blood hadn't rushed to his dick, he would have. Instead, Luca tried not to think about tugging that shimmering dress up her thighs and what, if anything, she was wearing underneath. He took a good gulp of his beer.

‘We need to map out where you want the power points, if any of them need shifting. You might want to move the counter, let's say, and we'll need to accommodate that. Did you want different lighting in the change rooms? Where do you want the change rooms and do you want to add more? Drop lights or LED? Shelving—fixed or freestanding? Hanging racks—suspended from the ceiling or on wheels?'

‘Oh.' He'd stunned her into near silence. She blinked. ‘You do want to talk about work.'

‘Of course I do.' And then he waited. Held the moment while she stared at him. He lowered his voice and leant in. ‘Why else would I have asked you out for a drink?'

Well well. Was the picky and the bossy and the holding-on-too-tight Stella Ryan actually blushing? From chin to hairline, in fact. The colour matched her bright red lipstick.

‘Right,' she said. She sucked in a deep breath, which tightened her dress across her breasts. She began ticking things off on her fingers.

‘Power points? Yes, I want to move them. For years I've had to tape an extension cord across the floor because the socket was so far away from the counter. Speaking of the counter, I'd like to move it to the front of the shop so I can see who's coming and going. I want two more change rooms—there's always a queue in summer. I want more subtle lighting in the change rooms, so LEDs could work. I changed the bulbs to lower the wattage but it's still too bright. Maybe floor lamps? I don't want women to freak out when they're buying swimsuits. Fixed shelving but racks on wheels so I can move stock around when I feel like things need a shake-up.'

Stella lifted her glass to her lips. Luca rested an elbow on the table, propped his chin in his hand and stared at her. He liked the way her brain worked. Kind of like his did. Lists. Ticking things off. Getting things done, one by one, methodically and logically.

And he also still really wanted to have sex with her. Just sayin'.

‘Did you get that all down?' she asked. ‘I didn't see you taking notes.'