Sexy in the City
Page 109
“Am I in key?”
“Practically.”
He chuckled. “Then let’s be grateful for small mercies.”
Laughter filled the room.
Glory lay contentedly back in the large, soft couch next to papa and gazed at the two people singing, relishing in how much she loved them.
Edoardo, Mamma and Papa.
Such beautiful, wonderful words. Words like love and respect, commitment and honour, covenant and vows. Words she wanted to share with Edoardo.
She looked over at him and their eyes held for a brief moment before she lowered hers.
He was so dazzling, so physically powerful, and so resplendent, he took her very breath away. And yet, there was gentleness about him that she had recognized from the very beginning.
This time when she met his eyes she held them, a smile trembling on her lips and he returned her smile coming to sit beside her, draping his arm casually around her shoulders.
Leaning back against his solid chest, loving the feel of his fingers idly playing with the loose curls of her hair.
She closed her eyes.
She wanted this day to go on forever.
She wanted the magic of this day to live in her heart for always.
She wanted desperately to belong to these people for as long as she lived.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Glory stood by Edoardo as they counted the votes. Her heart was in her mouth. She glanced at Edoardo. He looked relaxed, quite at ease, as if the whole affair didn’t faze him. She admired his ability to remain calm, on the outside at least.
Then as the votes were counted and the announcement made, he reached across and took her hand.
Edoardo had won the race for Mayor of Melbourne hands-down. Her heart swelled with pride. There had been no contest as he’d won on popular demand. And now he had achieved his dream and tonight would be his night at his inaugural ball. A momentous occasion. An honour bestowed on an honourable man. And Glory wished with all her might that she could really be part of the new life he was bound for.
• • •
Edoardo arrived around six-thirty. “I thought you said eight,” she said. “I’m not ready.”
He shrugged. “I said the ball started at eight. I got here early to make sure you’d be ready in time.” Plausible but somehow it didn’t ring quite true.
He placed a bottle of Campbeltown whisky he’d brought with him on the table, and unscrewing the cap poured out a scotch and added a splash of soda.
“My feet are killing me,” she moaned. “Your mother wanted to go shopping. I think we went to every department store in the CBD.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
She glanced at him, surprised. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “I drank enough tea today to keep China in business for the next hundred years. But I’d like one of what you’re having.”
“No sooner said than done,” he said pleasantly, reaching for another glass.
“You’re not planning to poison me, are you?” she said light-heartedly.
He flashed a frown, “Can’t I pour you a drink without you putting dire connotations. on it?”
“I meant it only as a joke.”
“I didn’t think it funny.”
“I apologise.”
“Hell, Glory.” He threw ice into the glass and it tinkled merrily. Grabbing the scotch, he poured her a generous amount. He placed the glass under the soda siphon and pressed the lever with such force that soda splashed over the sleeve of his shirt. “Bugger,” he muttered grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the offending spots.
Glory took the proffered glass, and sipped the fiery liquid. It was far too strong for her taste. She gave a shudder.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. It’s perfect.”
“No, it’s not perfect.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this drink.” She drank deeply. “It’s delicious. Yum, yum,” she said. “I’ve never tasted whisky like this. It’s pure nectar. I can’t wait to have another one.”
A suggestion of annoyance hovered in his eyes. “You can be so damn irritating.”
“Takes practice.”
• • •
Edoardo didn’t know why he’d reacted badly at her crack about the whisky. She simply got under his skin, annoyed the hell out of him.
He knew he’d never fully understand her, and if only he could fathom for one moment what went on behind those beautiful eyes, if only he knew the truth, then he could make his move.
A tiny sting of shock. Hey, wait up. What was he thinking about? Make a move?
Yet, he had to admit she fascinated him. She was so strong willed, so self-sufficient. He liked that in a woman, very much. And he liked the way her mouth moved when she laughed, and the wonderful fascinating fragrance of roses and lavender that lingered in her apartment.
Did this kissing-Glory-senseless urge go much deeper than he imagined?
He didn’t want marriage. For Pete’s sake, remember what it was like with Sophia. The constant harping about other women, the endless telephone calls checking up on him, the suspicion, the furtive searching of his trouser pockets for evidence of God knows what. He hadn’t known half of what Sophia did or why she did it.
Edoardo only had to recall the heartache and utter despair, to make him marriage-proof. He looked over at Glory. And yet …
An expression of satisfaction showed in her eyes as if she knew something he didn’t know. And that unsettled him more. Was he nervous about the inauguration? He doubted this to be so. Yet he had this odd feeling of something going wrong.
He knew that once the inaugural ceremony was over their deal was over, and they would go back to being just colleagues.
That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?
Then back to the good old days when the hardest thing he had to do was choose which women he wanted to take out that night.
Glory seemed pleased with herself. “Are we picking your parents up?”
Her extraordinary rose brown gaze met his. “Papa rang just before I left work,” he explained. “Mamma isn’t feeling well.”
Glory sat upright. “She was all right today. What happened to her and so quickly?”
“Upset tummy, he said. “May have been something she ate. She’ll be okay.”
A slight hesitation. “I’ll get ready.”
Her proud, erect back as she walked into the bedroom, completely at a loss how to handle her.
Standing, he walked to the window and gazed out at the night. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass and muttered, “Madre di Dio.”
• • •
Glory entered the bathroom. She carried the constant craving to touch him, embrace him, molest him in a nice way. He exuded a disturbing mix of danger, melancholy and tomfoolery.
An intense excitement swirled through her. A certain knowledge that Edoardo loved her. Loved her enough for them to marry and bring their lives together in a warm explosion of love and contentment.
She whirled around the room, arms spread wide out, humming a joyful tune.
Slightly out of breath, she turned on the shower, stripped and stepped under the hot needles.
Towel-dried, she pampered herself with expensive body spray.
Wrapped in a silk bathrobe, she left the bathroom and entered her bedroom.
Here Glory dressed in a floor-length dress of the palest pink floral of silk chiffon with a soft deep V-neckline, and a much deeper pink, silk-lined velvet coat and deep red velvet shoes.
She wanted to look sexy and feminine and she knew she’d succeeded. She swept her hair into a style that knew no bounds. Complete with smudged, iridescent eyes and lip liner pencil in red under glossy lipstick in sheer tuli
p, she looked youthful and lovely.
She moved from the bedroom to where he sat in the lounge. “I’m ready.”
His eyes deepened into wild violet as he said, casually. “Wow, you’re really something else, do you know that?”
She was like a seventeen-year-old on a first date. She was grateful she had taken time to get ready. Since dating Edoardo she’d splurged on clothes. This dress was her most expensive and daring outfit. “It’s nothing,” she said. “An old thing.”
He stood and moved in on her, taking her hands between his own. He stared deeply into her eyes. “Your eyes are lovely.” He drew up one of her hands and placed a gentle kiss in the middle of the palm. “You’re special to me,” he murmured.
Heat soared through her body, and she resisted the urge to fall into his arms and kiss him senseless.
Her heart beat fast and hard.
Desperately needing air, she moved to the door and he followed her, not speaking until he parked the car in the Ambassador Hotel car park where the inaugural ball was taking place. They took the elevator to the top floor.
The clink of glasses and sounds of soft music came to her as they entered the foyer. Edoardo helped her off with her coat and handed it to the coat-check girl.
He steered her across a room that gave off a feeling of warmth and comfort. There was a cluster of about twenty or thirty tables in blackbean with matching blackbean and maple straight-back chairs with each table adorned with a floral arrangement of white orchids, tea-roses and baby breath, antique silver cutlery and matching candlesticks, crisp white serviettes and deep cut crystal glasses.
A three-piece band was playing mood music and an area had been cordoned off for dancing. It was all very classy.
He ushered her towards a group of people. “Paul,” he said cheerfully, “I’d like you to meet Glory Sandrin. Glory, Paul Ostermann. Paul is the chairman of one of the biggest banks in Australia.”
Paul caught her proffered hand in a tight grip shaking it up and down like a pepper pot. “Glad to meet you,” he gushed. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you and it seems to me to be all true.”
“Thanks. Edoardo has nothing but high praise for you,” she said earnestly although she hadn’t heard his name mentioned before this evening.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Paul turned to a tiny woman with steel gray hair and bright brown eyes standing quietly by his side. “And this is my wife, Cynthia. Cynthia, Glory.”
The women shook hands and engaged in idle chatter about life in general and Cynthia said how much she would like Glory to have coffee and cake with her one day when she was free.
The band started up dance music and the next thing she knew she was in Paul Ostermann’s arms and tangoing around the dance floor like they had been dancing partners for many years.
Paul returned her to Edoardo. “You’ve picked yourself a lovely girl, Edoardo. You take care of her now,” he said, slightly out of breath. “We’re giving a small dinner party Saturday week. Want you and Glory to come. Around eight. Nothing special, completely informal.”
“We’d love to,” Glory gushed as Paul moved away to take his wife on to the dance floor.
He held Glory’s chair while she sat, and took a seat opposite her. The lamps made his face appear more alive, pronounced the sensual curve of his mouth, and made his eyes glow a fascinating blue.
Hmmm, what a man.
Edoardo leaned over and laid his hand lightly on top of hers. “An invitation to his home? Have you made an impression. I’ve known him for years and never got past a beer at the club.”
Glory was caught off-guard by the sudden effervescence of his voice. “So this invitation to his home is, umm, unusual?”
“Rare, Glory, rare. Paul’s a very private person and his personal life is just that.” Edoardo stood, came to her side, and held out his hand to her. “Dance with me.”
She took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. He slid his arm lightly around her waist. Light-headed, she resisted the impulse to lay her head on his shoulder.
He bent his head and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. “Relax,” he whispered. “You’re all tensed up.”
He may as well have suggested she pull out all her toenails, which would have been simple compared to relaxing while being in his arms. He fastened his grip, bringing her body into closer contact with his.
“Edoardo, please, I can’t handle this at all — ”
He boxed his fingers around the back of her neck pressing her cheek against the warmth of his chest. She liked it.
“Don’t say anything. Not yet. Let’s just have this moment.”
Glory, unsettled again, sensing the vulnerability in this man. Lightly closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the music and the man; enveloped in his now familiar smell of cedar wood.
She was so close to him that every part of her body was touching his. She almost breathed a sigh of contentment. It was so good.
Raising her hands, she clasped them around his neck. He lowered his head and nuzzled at her neck. Unwittingly she murmured, “Oh, Edoardo.”
His mouth moved to the lobe of her ear as his tongue flicked across it, her pulse quickened and the blood roared in her ears. She was gripped by an excitement that she could scarcely contain.
The way he gently held her as if she was made from air and he was afraid she would float away and disappear. Then he was crushing her to him as if he wanted to never let her go.
He loved her.
She would be his wife …
His eyes upon her, she raised her face, his mouth coming closer and closer. No one existed, but Edoardo. No sound in the whole world, except their hearts thudding in harmony. Excitement, so intense, as their mouths touched in a kiss of sweet passion and tenderness.
Heedless of where they were, she returned his kiss with equal passion. She wanted to give herself to the man she loved beyond life, for all time.
She loved him, to Glory it was that simple. It would always be that simple.
All she wanted was to stay with him and make her life with him and, here at this moment, she truly believed that he wanted the same.
At the mild applause of Paul and his wife, they pulled apart. Still holding hands, they walked back to their table. Edoardo held a chair for Glory and took his place opposite her.
He filled her wine glass and then his. “You’ve completely bewitched my parents. They adore you. Thanks for that.”
“Pleasure,” she murmured.
He stared into her eyes. “You’ve made a big hit here at the ball.”
“No problem. They’re nice people.”
“You’re nice people.” Edoardo emphasised the second word.
“Edoardo, I — ” Her voice trailed off, as a tall, slim woman glided to a stop at their table.
A husky voice spoke, “Darh-ling, how simply wonderful to see you. I looked for you as soon as I came through the door and there you were doing a light fantastic on the floor. I was impressed, I can tell you.”
Edoardo came to his feet a look of absolute pleasure crossing his handsome features. “Bunny, what a wonderful surprise.”
Bunny? As in Bugs? The corner of Glory’s mouth pulled downward. She studied the platinum blonde with a wonderful slender figure, tall and imperial. Her eyes were jewel-green. The wide-lapelled jacket was a knockout in turquoise, while her clinging mini dress was perfect for cocktails in black satin.
How did she put it on? With a spray gun?
With her magazine cover looks she makes it all look so easy, Glory decided ungraciously.
She squirmed in her chair. Bunny was a sexy woman who obviously lived on celery sticks and raw carrot strips, with the occasional sip of extra dry white wine. Glory took a silent vow to give up fish and chips from this da
y forward and definitely no more ice coffee with the extra dollop of ice-cream, no matter what.
“What are you doing here?” Edoardo said. “You’re the last person I expected to see.”
Bunny laughed softly giving an almost tinkling sound. “I’d read where you’d made Lord Mayor, and I was totally impressed. Max Hadwell and his wife, Glenys, asked me to join them. Naturally I eagerly accepted.” A quick, bored to tears glance had Glory closing her eyes and tilting her head back to stare at the magnificent crystal chandelier.
She idly wondered how the cleaners could get so high to dust it. What a strange thought.
Bunny didn’t take a seat but remained standing, folding her arms across her tiny pert breasts. “Are you glad I came, Edoardo?”
His Adam apple played see-saw with his tonsils. Glad to see Bunny, ecstatic, almost drooling at the mouth. Glory wanted to reach out and take hold of his arm, but she knew that in all probability it wasn’t a good idea.
“I had no idea you were home. How long have you been back from UK?” he asked.
“Two weeks,” she kept her tone even. “I’ve been as busy as all hell.”
“Two weeks,” he repeated.
Bunny gave a bleak sigh. “I telephoned to make arrangements to go with you to the ball, but you never returned my calls.”
“Sorry about that.” Edoardo tightened the knot of his pure silk tie. “Been busy too and haven’t been in the office much.”
She smiled indulgently. “I rang your mobile several times.”
He hesitated measuring her for a moment. “Yes, right,” he said.
Bunny pursed her mouth into a rather petulant childlike shape and without being completely aware Glory parodied Bunny’s facial expression.
Edoardo and Bunny acted like old friends who, knowing each other intimately needed only the fewest of words to communicate, the slightest touch to know how the other was feeling, and the familiarity of woven pasts.
Glory’s heart ached, helpless as Edoardo smiled compassionately at Bunny.
His low voice was a little awkward. “I feel I’ve let you down.”