“I’ll get my coat and bag,” she said.
He moved inside the apartment but stood, as if ready for a quick exit, near the front door. When she returned he said, “My car’s parked around the corner.”
He placed his hand lightly on her back, guiding her out the front door, down the elevator, out the main doors, down the street towards the parked car. In the growing dusk, a wind played leapfrog with his thick thatch of black hair. The warmth of his fingers pressing lightly on her back radiated the length of her spine. It was as if he had fire in his fingertips.
A leopard didn’t change his spots and all the lamenting and hoping that he could be different was only a pipe-dream. He was a man who played the field, same as her dad, one woman wasn’t enough for them and they didn’t care who they hurt in their desire to appease their ego. Men like Edoardo and her dad should never marry, never tie themselves to one woman. It only led to heartache for the woman.
So remember what this is all about. They had made a deal. Edoardo had stuck to his side of the bargain, now she was obliged to stick to hers.
He opened the car door for her. He slid in beside her. With a flick of a key the big engine of the super-smooth pure black BMW purred into life.
Edoardo decisively edged his way into the line of traffic and, within minutes they were at the restaurant. They entered a foyer ablaze with light and colour. A tidal wave of chattering voices and the clinking of glass and silver engulfed them. A waiter, in black evening dress, hurried towards them. “Pisani, for four.”
The waiter gave a small nod. “Your table’s ready, sir.” He led them to a dark and secluded table at the far side of the restaurant.
Glory noted all the women’s eyes followed him. Fascinated by his build, the thickness of his coal black hair and dark blue, meaningful eyes.
The waiter hovered at Edoardo’s side. “Would you care for a drink?”
“What would you like to drink?” Edoardo asked.
“White wine would be nice.”
Without looking at the wine list, Edoardo spoke to the waiter. “A bottle of your best Sauvignon Blanc.” He waited until the waiter had left.
She tried to guess what he was thinking, but his lids were heavy, shading his eyes, and with the muted light of the restaurant, Edoardo seemed far too fascinating for her own sanity.
“Tell me about yourself?”
She shrugged, folding her hands in her lap. “What’s to tell?”
He gave her a careful look. “What do you do in your spare time?”
She feigned shock. “What spare time? You work me to death.”
He chuckled, folded his arms, and focussed his attention on Glory. “Well,” he said, “I know you do a lot of Legal Aid work.”
She eyeballed him. “Don’t be ingenuous, Edoardo, so do you.”
“Touché! Okay, what do you do when you’re not being worked to death?”
Someone was tinkling out a sweet tune on a piano. She recognized the tune but couldn’t put a name to it. She understood him wanting to know about her personal life. After all, she was his girl, and he’d look a right dork if someone asked something about her and he hadn’t a clue how to answer. She wasn’t kidding herself that he really wanted to know about her. Heck, she’d take a bet that he didn’t know a thing about any of his harem except their name, rank and serial number.
“Um, I adore the theatre, and I mean movies too. I love going to the pictures.” She shrugged, screwed the corner of her napkin into a tight wad, and said, “I play a little golf and tennis. I like to lie on the beach and eat chocolate ice cream, and I love the great romantic poets, Tennyson and Wordsworth, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”
“How do I love thee? Let me point the way,” he recited crisply.
Glory hesitated, wondering if he was deliberately misquoting. “It’s count the ways.”
One dark eyebrow shot up and he looked genuinely surprised. “Excuse me?”
Oh My God! He’d actually made a genuine mistake. She was pleased she’d found a flaw, as she was beginning to suspect he was absolutely perfect. “You said point and the correct quote is: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”
He gave a sexy smile and there was a look in his eyes that made her burn inside. Her heart jumped a beat.
“Yes, right, count the ways.”
They laughed and she found herself relaxing in his company.
The waiter returned with their wine and poured a little glittering pale yellow liquid into Edoardo’s glass. He tasted it.
“Hmm, that’s fine,” he said. Edoardo waited while the waiter poured the wine into her glass, top his, and then raising his glass to her, he nodded and said, “Here’s to adventure.”
She raised her glass. “Adventure,” she chorused, and sipped her wine. “It’s delicious.” She twirled the stem of her glass, glanced at him through lowered lashes. There wasn’t anything about this man she didn’t like. She liked his hair, his physique, his eyes — she shifted uncomfortably in her seat — make that she loved his eyes. They were cheeky boy eyes. Eyes that made you forgive the crime before he’d even committed it. If she’d had him especially made to order, he couldn’t be more wonderful. Just what the doctor ordered.
And for all her self-talk and recriminations, she knew that if Edoardo kissed her again she’d kiss him back without caring about the consequences.
She glanced at him just as he was licking his lips from the wine. Fascinated as the tip of his tongue ran the full extent of his upper lip and then along the lower. A quick rush of excitement. Heat flared in her cheeks.
Here she went losing control of her emotions five seconds after being in his company. Shape up, girl. She reached for her glass and tossed down the wine in one long swig. She closed her eyes as the sweet liquid flowed down her throat, and enter her bloodstream. Edoardo topped her glass. She smiled her thanks.
She’d handled some of the toughest cases in Australia and had never as much as been stressed out. She’d argued with high-court judges about rulings, barristers speaking on their client’s behalf and waiters about the price of fish. She’d sat on panels and answered improbable questions from eager young law students. She’d been interviewed on Stark Reality and won the heart of Lew Myers, the hard-hitting news interviewer who, as far as Glory could tell, didn’t like his own mother.
So to allow a man who couldn’t remember the woman he took out last night bedazzle her? No way ho-say.
His mobile phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said as he took the call. “Pisani … Okay … Sure, that’s fine.” He clicked the mobile shut. “That was George. There’s trouble with the babysitter, she couldn’t make it. They’ve rung an agency and another should be there in an hour or so. He said for us to eat and they’ll meet us here for coffee and drinks.” The waiter placed a menu in front of him. “Is there anything you especially like?”
“I like all Italian food,” she enthused.
“Would you like me to order or would that offend your feminine principles?”
“I’ll give way to your male ego.” At his frown, she grinned. Reaching for her glass, she took a deep gulp of wine and her head spun. If she kept attacking her wine in this way she’d be tipsy, and she wanted to be in full control of her mind. She pushed the glass a little way from her. Only sips from now on.
He gave the waiter their order, and handed him back the menu. “And some bruschetta,” he added quickly. “Were you born in Melbourne, Glory?”
“New South Wales, in Bateman’s Bay. It’s a pretty holiday town at the mouth of the Clyde River, and the closest beach resort to Canberra.”
“I’d like to go there one day.”
She’d like to take him there. “The bay is renowned for its crayfish and oysters.”
He gave her a steady look. Glory blew out a breath. He was totally hot. “W
hy did you leave Bateman’s Bay?”
She pulled her head back, studying him. “Are you grilling me, Edoardo? I feel like I’m in the witness box.” She laughed and continued. “My mother came to Melbourne when I was fifteen.”
The waiter placed plates of steaming food in front of them. Linguini with clam sauce. One of her favourite dishes. She toyed with her food. Thinking of her mother made all earlier traces of hunger evaporate.
As they reached over for bread, his fingers lightly brushed her hand, and a shock of electricity raced up her arm and pierced her heart. An image, so vivid of his mouth on hers, flashed into her mind. She blushed hot and long, her stomach churning.
“More wine?” he asked. She shook her head, studying the strength of his hands as he poured wine into his glass. “You’re not eating.”
“I ate too much lunch.”
His eyes scrutinized her and she knew that look, had seen it a thousand times in court. The look just before the criminal confessed and threw himself on the mercy of the court.
“You’re not on one of those perpetual diets, are you? That drives me crazy.”
She grinned. “No, just naturally thin.”
He placed one elbow on the table, cupping his chin in his hand, leaning towards her, ever so close. My God, his eyes are so blue. She swallowed harshly.
“Hmmm, I wonder.”
“Hey, I’ll put on weight.”
He smiled that lethal smile. Surely there was a police warrant out on it? “Not too much.”
“No, not too much.” She enjoyed the gentle sparring as much as he did. His eyes shone with good humour. “I intend to finish up with strawberry cheesecake and chocolate ice cream. Calories are my best friend.”
He threw back his dark head and laughed. It was a lovely deep chuckle that warmed her heart. An odd aching pain built up inside her, and she realized she was out of her emotional depth with a man like Edoardo, that his sheer sexuality swamped her until she couldn’t tell her left foot from her right.
Their conversation became light and easy. The Bellows arrived with apologies and laughter on their lips. Glory instantly liked George and Beth Bellows. After introductions, George said, “I’ve followed your career, Glory. You’re one of our best.”
“Thanks, George.”
“Ever thought about taking up politics?” he asked. “Lady prime ministers is in vogue these days.” They all laughed politely. “I’m just the man to get you started.”
Edoardo interrupted with. “Hey, George, back off,” he growled. “She works with me.”
George fell back against the chair, a wide grin spread over his face. “And you don’t want to lose the best lawyer you’ve ever had.”
“Too right, I don’t,” Edoardo said.
“You’ve got yourself a lovely girl, Edoardo,” George said, raising his glass and tilting it towards Glory. “She’s something else.”
“Thanks, George,” Edoardo said.
She didn’t like being treated like the little woman and opened her mouth to tell them so when she caught the wink and nod George gave Edoardo signalling that he approved of the nice girl he’d chosen and the smug I-knew-I-could-do-it way Edoardo returned the grin.
So darn sure of himself and so darn handsome he made her toes curl inside her shoes.
“Glory, you must have dinner with us soon,” Beth suggested pleasantly.
“Love to,” Glory answered and they made plans to have dinner at the Bellows’ home in Brighton the following Sunday evening.
The women fell into easy conversation and the night flew by.
Before she knew it they were on their way to her home. Edoardo pulled up outside her apartment. She hesitated, bit her bottom lip, and then said, “Would you care to come in for coffee?”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” he said. “I’ve an extra early start in the morning. Martins case.”
“Oh, yes, I remember,” she said. “Embezzlement isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “And he’s been framed for the crime and I know who did it and I’ve got proof. Tomorrow I’ll drop the bombshell.”
“Martins will walk free.”
“Oh, yes, and his partner Smithers will hear the clank of steel as they lock him up — ”
“And throw away the key,” she finished for him.
His hand moved to cup her neck beneath her hairline. Gently, oh so gently, he drew her face towards him. The smell of him was spicy, woodsy. It enveloped her, swirled around her, an aromatic tang that left her breathless.
He smiled and her heart grappled with its moorings, and as she stared into the startling blue of his eyes, her heart jerked and went out of control.
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, counted to three, drew in a breath and said quickly, “I’d better not.” Her voice came out low and husky.
He bent his dark head forward and his nose pressed against hers Eskimo-style. Her heart took up such an irregular beat she wondered if it would ever beat normally again. “Why not?”
“I burn easily.”
He laughed. His lips brushed hers. “Kiss me, please,” he urged.
Experimentally, she pressed her mouth against his. Was that a small earthquake or maybe the car had exploded? She pulled back, but only as far as his restraining hand allowed her.
“Call that a kiss?” he persuaded.
Weak after the heat of his kiss and totally, utterly in love with him, she murmured, “It’s the best I can do.”
“Doubt that.”
His tongue glided over her lower lip and now her heart raced out of control. A warm tingling sensation flowed through her.
Her mind numbed as his mouth claimed hers. He made a nuzzling movement as he sucked her lower lip. His tongue gently circled inside her mouth.
Goosebumps erupted on her arms. She wound her arms around his neck as the kiss intensified into pure passion. Her body became weightless as if she would float away into the atmosphere and become lost in the stars.
She tightened her arms around his neck, and surrendered to his kiss until nothing in the world existed outside of Edoardo and his mouth pressed hard against her own.
Their kiss held, deepened until, breathless, they broke apart.
He looked as shaken as she. “Now that’s what I call a kiss.”
She was shocked by her reaction to the kiss. She really had lost control. Weak fool. She had to get out of here. She groped for the door handle.
He held her back by gently holding her arm. “See you tomorrow.”
All her feelings for him had gone into that kiss.
Her utter need of him.
Her wanting him.
And her undying love for him.
There’d never be a Prince Charming because Edoardo was her Prince Charming.
There simply was no other man for her and she loved him so deeply it hurt to think about it.
He would never return her love, not totally, the way she wanted him to.
So what did all this mean? That she would never marry, never have children?
How sad was that?
“Sure,” she mumbled, wishing she never had to face him again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Friday night and Glory was excited. They were to attend a fundraising dinner at the town hall where they would also meet the residing Lord Mayor, his wife, and members of the Melbourne City Council. All pomp and circumstances, she knew, but it’d been so long since she’d gone on a date and she was really looking forward to it.
They were leaving after work because the fundraiser started with cocktails at six. Glory had freshened up and was reasonably presentable. She looked up as Edoardo came into her office.
“Ready?”
“And able.”
“Let’s go.” He held out his arm, she threaded hers through his. Nice. As they made their way down the corridor towards the elevators, Glory had the oddest thought that this was how she’d always like it to be. Being Edoardo’s girl was, well, wonderful.
She knew she wouldn’t see him over the weekend, that there weren’t any functions until mid-next-week. So she wouldn’t see him again until Monday morning when she returned to the office.
Funny, but that didn’t sit well with Glory at all.
• • •
Glory, by habit and desire was an early riser. By six she was working in her back garden.
She had decided, after going to the ABC Gardening Expo, on a Chinese garden. A friend of Kate’s, Chu Lee, a landscape gardener, had designed it for Glory, saying bamboo represented a strong but resilient character. So characteristic of you, Kate had added. Pine was used to represent longevity, persistence, tenacity, and dignity. Again Kate interrupted, saying, definitely the real you, Glory.
And the lotus symbolised purity. Peonies, wealth and riches.
She loved it and, weather permitting, spent hours in the garden reading or working at the rattan table, keeping up her strength and vitality by drinking her favourite, iced coffee with heaps of vanilla ice cream, until the daylight disappeared and dusk descended.
Not a good cook by any stretch of the imagination, Glory usually sent out for take-away from the local Indian restaurant or whizzed down to the local McDonald’s for a double cheeseburger and fries.
And when her conscious pricked her and warned her she needed veggies, she’d buy heaps from the local greengrocer’s and steaming them, would mash them all together with a large dollop of butter and plenty of milk. The only way she could get them down her throat.
Of course, there was the occasional dinner at Kate’s. Glory looked forward to these dinners with great expectations. Kate was a superb cook and her chilli con carne was to die for.
She stood and, with a slight groan, stretched her aching muscles. Throwing down her small trowel and removing her garden gloves, she left them on top of the table and made her way inside the house.
Sexy in the City Page 100