Sexy in the City

by Alexia Adams, Galen Rose, Samantha Anne, Carolann Camillo, Nicole Flockton, Iris Leach, Olivia Logan, Nancy Loyan, Stephanie Cage (epub)

  Kate gave Glory a tilted stare. “Wear the black dress you bought yesterday. Can you remember that far back, Glory?” Kate chuckled. “I helped you pick it out.”

  “I was thinking it was too abstemious.”

  “Wear the black dress, Glory and tomorrow I want to hear all the gossip. Okay?”

  She stared out of the window at the cherry tree. A late blossom fell from off the tree touching the ground like the first kiss of snow. “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for being my friend.”

  She smiled. “I’ll always be around if you need someone to talk to, you know that.”

  “Let’s not talk about me.”

  Kate chuckled. “You want us to talk about my favourite subject?”

  Glory grinned. “Yes,” she said lovingly. “Let’s talk about you.”

  With Kate in that small cafe, with the cherry blossoms trembling on the warm breeze, and the afternoon sun shimmering down on to the pavement, filling the cobblestones with rainbow mirrors, Glory spent two lovely hours.

  They were, as they had always been and always would be, the best of friends.

  • • •

  Later that night, the idea of meeting Edoardo’s parents wasn’t easing her state of turbulence. She’d tried every avenue she could think of to get out of the meeting but to no avail. Edoardo was adamant. His parents wanted to meet his girlfriend.

  Okay, she’d admit to herself that she was concerned this meeting the parents wouldn’t go at all well. That somewhere, somehow, some way, something was going to get mixed-up and she would be found wanting.

  For the first time in such a long while, Glory wished her mother alive. She needed the comfort and reassurance of an older woman.

  Whatever made her think of something as dim-witted as that?

  Looking in the mirror, she studied her face. It was pale and rather anxious looking. Like when she was a kid and someone dared her to a feat that only Houdini could accomplish. She could dare herself not to love him, and that was possible, she was not going to love him — ever!

  A current affairs program on TV caught Glory’s attention. Oh, my God, it was about her and Edoardo. She watched assiduously. The press had had a field day. They loved her, and the polls were looking good, they couldn’t stop now. Anyhow it was much too late to back out. The lie that they had begun had developed an existence and alacrity of its own, and there was no stopping it.

  Showered, Glory slipped into a multi-coloured kimono and padded barefoot down the hall to her bedroom.

  As she wiggled into her bra and panties, she looked at the dress she’d brought only yesterday, a classic long-sleeve black dress. The top featured a boat neckline and long slim sleeves that fell to the wrists. The shoulders and waist were trimmed with coordinating black beads and the skirt fell above the knee.

  Since dating Edoardo her wardrobe had exploded. Not that she minded. It was fun searching for the right dress for the right occasion, a pleasure she’d not allowed herself for far too long.

  She worked her long hair into a twist and pinned it up with a large silver hairpin, and then, with a curling iron, coiled the locks that spilt out from the twist. She held up a hand-mirror to admire the back of her hair. She liked the style, it was much more, dare she say it, glamorous than she’d ever worn it.

  She threaded silver shoulder duster dangle earrings through the lobes of her ears, and da dah …

  Okay, so she needed to look good, give an extra-extra boost to her fast dwindling courage. And it wasn’t that she wanted to impress Edoardo, no, sir-ee Bob, she needed to demonstrate for herself that she could look as female as the next woman.

  She twisted around to glance at her back. She wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded or not. “Darn,” she muttered and sighed deeply. “To quote Popeye, I yam what I yam.”

  She left her bedroom, entered the lounge and slumped into an armchair. She could name all the places she’d rather be going to than Edoardo’s parents. Like prison, for instance, or flying in a light aircraft over the Pacific Ocean with an utterly insane, out of control stunt pilot, or climbing Mount Everest dressed in a bikini and tennis shoes.

  Her stomach tightened at the alarming sound of the doorbell. Reluctantly, she pushed herself out of the chair and walked to the front door.

  He was wearing gray slacks and a sweater of pale blue wool that made his complexion appear more tanned. He leaned casually against the doorjamb, one hand thrust deep inside his pocket, a look of mischievous amusement on his handsome features.

  He winked at her. “Are you ready to face the firing squad?”

  “Will I be blindfolded?”

  Beneath the thick brows his eyes regarded her appraisingly. They moved from the top of her head to the toes of her black strappy high heel sandals and back up again. It took all her willpower not to squirm or snap, like what you see?

  Obviously he did because he said, “You look great,” and without hesitation, he leaned over, ran his fingers over the skin of her throat. His touch sizzled her skin. She was on fire. And her love for this man flooded her like a tidal wave. Okay, okay, she never said it’d be easy not loving him, but she was trying and if determination was the key, then she would succeed. And then, in the very next moment, two seconds after self-talking and mustering up determination, she moved towards him, not quite touching. He linked an arm around her and she stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips along the stubble growth of his chin.

  He kissed her, powerfully and lingering. They broke free. Breathing heavily. He wrapped his hands around her waist and dragged her roughly almost violently against his body. His hand boxed the back of her head and his eyes held hers as a wolf mesmerizes a prey.

  He said her name so softly; had she imagined the sound of his voice?

  He didn’t kiss her again, instead he released her and she staggered a few steps back inside her apartment. So her determination had been tested and failed miserably. Oh God, what a wretched mess. She fought to make her voice come out relatively normal.

  “I’ll grab my handbag and coat.” She left him and entered her bedroom.

  For a few needed moments, she leaned against the bedroom door, fighting to bring back her equilibrium, her mind trying to come to terms with the reason behind his kiss.

  How come she’d kissed him back like she’d been starving for his touch? How come her knees reacted as if they had been deboned? How come she’d acted like a gibbering idiot five seconds after seeing him at her front door? Bloody hell, she’d almost attacked him. What had happened to all that self-talk, the pat on the back that she could handle the situation?

  She could blame it on his heartthrob charisma, his strength that glowed from the inside out. How could any woman resist him? How could she resist him?

  Suddenly, she wanted to be far away from Edoardo, so far away that he couldn’t find her. She didn’t want to meet his mother and pretend that she was his girl, both of them clucking around him like mother hens, Glory feigning interest over a knitting pattern for a scarf for him to wear to a football match, smiling indulgently while his mum gave her his favourite recipes.

  She gave an anxious glance in the bedroom mirror. She took a panicky intake of breath. “Everything will be all right.”

  What was wrong with her? She’d never fallen to pieces so quickly before. Okay, she’d had pre-trial nerves, who didn’t? And going to the dentist wasn’t her favourite thing on her to-do list. But she was strong enough to handle Edoardo Pisani and come out a winner.

  Her self-esteem considerably restored, she returned to Edoardo. He was sprawled out in her favourite armchair reading a magazine.

  She stood in front of him. “I’m ready, if you are,” she said.

  He stood, tossing the magazine carelessly onto a small glass-topped coffee table.

  And they
walked, with her slightly in front of him, like prisoner and guard on the way to the gallows, from the apartment, down the elevator and on to the street with barely a word between them.

  Although it was well into summer an unsettling almost eerie wind chilled her.

  She looked down the street. Leaves, old dirty, torn newspapers and dust were blowing in never-ending circles. The day was gray and forbidding, and the street gave an impression of desertion, as if they were the only people left in the world.

  She’d be so glad when all this was over and they could go back to their rightful roles. And what was that? Her wishing with all her might he’d change into her Prince Charming?

  Edoardo dating a new girl every week?

  Her, Kate, and Aiden going every Saturday night to the local movie house and later pizza and ice-cream?

  Edoardo’s hand at her waist, she fought back the ridiculous desire to shake him loose, and tell him that she didn’t want him to touch her ever again.

  He opened the door of a silver Mercedes and she sank inside its luxurious interior. “You have a different car every time we go out,” she said. “How many do you own?”

  “None. I hire different cars.”

  “Don’t like to be bogged down by possessions?” she almost shot the words at him.

  He gave her a quelling look. “Something like that.”

  He leaned over her to click the seat belt she hadn’t yet fastened. He was so close she could easily wind her arms around his neck and drag his lips to crush with hers. She had no desire to kiss Edoardo. She’d kissed him enough to last her a lifetime. He was always kissing her. Didn’t he always have his big hands on some part of her body?

  Well, enough was enough and all that kissing and touching would have to stop. There was absolutely no need for physical contact of any sort. She moved uneasily in her seat.

  As Edoardo slid in beside her, he asked, “How do you feel now about meeting my parents? Are you nervous?”

  “Depends. Are they like you?” she quipped.

  “Me? I hope not.” He laughed. “My father simply adores my mother, always has and always will, and my mother’s not prone to silence. She believes strongly in expressing her every feeling.”

  “Hmm, maybe that’s a good way to be,” she said reflectively.

  His eyes were dark and glittery. “What would the world be like if everyone said what they really thought?” he said. “Like, I know your sister, she’s the one with acute acne or, hey, of course you look great, just drop a few more kilos,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “If we spent our lives being completely honest it’d only mess up the system.”

  “Then the system is safe with us, isn’t it?” she said crisply.

  “Why do you twist everything I say?”

  “I’m not twisting anything, I’m just stating what I think.” She was swamped by the intensity of her emotions.

  His big hands gripped the steering wheel, and he nodded slowly. “Oh, I’m the big bad wolf in all this, am I?”

  She glared at him with burning, fault-finding eyes. “Thanks for absolutely nothing, Edoardo.” She lightly slapped her forehead. “I can’t, for the life of me, understand how I allowed you to ambush me into this situation with your mother.”

  “Ambush you?” His voice lifted an octave. He cleared his throat.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you know what bugs me? I’ll tell you what bugs me. It’s your superior, know-it-all, I’m-the-best attitude.” What was wrong with her? She was spoiling for a fight, or maybe she was mad at him for putting her in this impossible predicament.

  She tried to swallow the painful lump stuck in her throat. It made her voice come out all wobbly. “Like you’re bestowing something wildly wonderful on me that I should be grateful for, ad infinitum.”

  She knew she’d hurt him by the way his head jerked back, but she had considered he was being careless with her, unmindful of her feelings.

  He took a deep breath and composed himself. A brief glance at her. “I’m going to be a nice bloke and pretend you didn’t say that.” He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “You’re smart, beautiful, and you never cease to amaze me.”

  “Wh — ! What?” To cover her confusion, she said, “I’m not one of your conquests, Edoardo. There’s no reward at the end of the evening from me.” Her words were not as tartly spoken as she’d hoped. His compliments were singing through her brain. She’d liked what he’d said, very much. Well, what woman wouldn’t?

  “Sorry, just keeping in practice.” That little remark brought her back to earth with a thud. Why didn’t he use a sledgehammer? It’d be gentler. “Do you fall into bed with the men who flatter you?”

  Now he was being intentionally cruel, and she hated him for that. Hated the feeling of vulnerability she suffered whenever she was with him. Hated that he could thrill or destroy her at will. She decided to protect herself by answering in the same cool tone, and with the same hurtful intent. “Sometimes.”

  “Do they kiss you as I do?” He gave her a slight shake. “Do they, Glory? Do they?”

  He bent his head to grind his lips down on hers. There was anger in his kiss, passion too, but the anger was stronger as was his need to control her, to make her submit to his demands — whatever they were.

  She pushed him away.”That’s none of your damn business.” She took a silent vow that she would die before she would give in to him. “How dare you question my morals when you have your own tainted morals to contend with. You imagine you can do or say anything to me and I’d accept it as part and parcel of our bargain. How wrong you are.”

  She may be wildly in love with him, but she wouldn’t allow him to trespass over the boundaries that she had set for him.

  “Glory, I — ”

  “And what of the many women you’ve loved?” she cried. “How many? Too many to remember, I suspect? Have they all craved for you like some illicit drug that they can’t get enough of?” Her voice trembled. “You have what you want from me, Edoardo. Ask for nothing else.”

  A hint of pain flashed across his handsome face. “What head games are you playing with me?” he growled. “What I want is to get through this and come out sane at the end. When this day is over I’m going home and drink myself into oblivion.”

  He spun out of the line of traffic, passed two cars and swung back into line. The tyres squealed like a cat in pain as he took a corner far too fast. She gripped the safety belt and refrained from screaming. He must have sensed her panic for his driving moderated.

  She dared to glance at him. Edoardo seemed calm although his eyes held a fierce glitter. This was utterly crazy. Fighting with him bought no satisfaction, only an almighty headache.

  She was tired of the argument, and far too stressed to care. She needed to get things back on an even keel. Their argument was superficial and meaningless. She’d started it, now she was sure, to get under his skin because she was so darn nervous about meeting his parents.

  She took a deep breath through her nostrils, exhaled, and said, “I am looking forward to meeting your parents, Edoardo. I’m sure they’re wonderful people.” She hesitated, and then relented, “Like their son.”

  He seemed relieved that the tension had eased. “Thanks. That wasn’t too difficult, was it?” He grinned. “Even if you don’t mean it. They’re excited about meeting you. You’re the first since Sophia.”

  “That’s nice,” she murmured.

  She stared vacantly out of the car window as the enormity of what she was doing overcame her. And, like him, all she wanted was for this day to be over.

  Tears burned. No use crying, her mascara would run and she’d look awful.

  They stopped at a red light. “Are you okay?” he asked her quietly.

  “Yes,” she said throatily.

  “My parents won’t bite
you.” His tone had a touch of warmth and concern.

  Her stomach churned with anxiety and frustration. “I’m not worried,” she lied.

  “It’s not like you to be so quiet,” he continued steadily.

  “Don’t worry. I’m okay.” She pressed her lips together and folded her arms.

  He stared at her, then at the toot of a horn, flung the car into gear and took off.

  They remained silent for the rest of the trip, each with their thoughts.

  The abundant grape vines came into view, thick with luscious green fruit. She knew Edoardo’s father worked a very successful wine-making business. His parents, according to Edoardo, had grown quite wealthy over the years and now enjoyed the fruits of their labour. She smiled at her analogy, wanting to share it with him, but remained silent. Maybe she was a trifle too nervous to share the pun.

  Edoardo drove down a long winding elm-lined gravelled driveway and pulled up outside a large lovely weatherboard white-and-blue shuttered house steeped in the nineteenth century.

  She moved with Edoardo onto the path. The sun shone now, the sky a vivid blue, and, except a cicada burred somewhere in the bush, the silence was serenity itself. It lifted her spirits.

  They moved through the beautifully carved front door with side panels of colourful leadlight patterned in the shape of cockatoos and gum trees.

  Glory drew in a deep breath and he glanced down at her. “Everything will be all right,” he assured her. Then he called out, “Mamma, Papa, we’re here.”

  He took her across the sitting-room until she was standing in front of an attractive middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair and eyes the same deep blue as her son’s.

  Edoardo’s mother was dressed all in blue. A long-line Jacquard cotton ramie weave jacket and chiffon cropped pants. On the lapel of the jacket sat, in all its magnificence, a transparent green enamel, diamond and pearl studded lizard brooch.

  Mrs Pisani held out her arms and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Glory rushed into them. “Glory at last. Oh, cara bambina, the words will not come. You cannot possibly imagine how much I have been longing for this moment.”