A French Kiss in London

by De Ross, Melinda

  “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 sou
nding 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?”

  When she remained silent for a few seconds, groping for an answer, Giovanni whistled.

  “Uh-oh! It’s obvious. Come on, Sis, tell all! Who is he, what’s his name?”

  “But I didn’t say anything,” she protested around a sheepish grin, aware of how well her brother knew her.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I can hear from here how loud and fast your heart is beating. Clearly, there’s a guy involved.”

  “Oh, it…I don’t even know what to say. I met a guy. He’s a biologist at Hope, but...”

  “Interesting. What’s his name?”

  “Gérard Léon,” she drawled, nearly swallowing her tongue in an attempt to give the name its correct pronunciation.

  Giovanni choked out a laugh.

  “French, huh? I heard they’re the best lovers in the world. Is it true?”

  “Giovanni! I’m going to hang up if you don’t cut it out! I’ve barely met him and it’s not what you think.”

  “Why not?” he asked on a sigh, already knowing the answer.

  “You know why. I don’t want a man in my life. I had one and it didn’t work out. I don’t want any more bouts of unjustified jealousy, quarrels and sleepless nights. I’m better off alone and independent, without anybody to demand explanations, and without anybody to take care of.”

  Giovanni blew out a breath.

  “Are you going to give up men for the rest of your life, just ‘cause you stumbled over a wrong one? Tony wasn’t for you, that’s that. But you have to move on, Linda.”

  “I know you’re right, but…” She measured her words carefully. “It’s not all about Tony, although I regret what happened. It’s just that…I don’t need a man to be happy.”

  “Maybe so. But if you find a man who makes you happy, you’re an idiot if you let him walk just because of your stubbornness and overly-feminist ideas!”

  She laughed, knowing he said it all out of love, not malice. And, over all, knowing he was right.

  “If I promise I’ll go out with him, will you stop preaching?”

  “For now. But just because I have to go. I’m going to wake up at six tomorrow morning. Linda, don’t go out with him just to shut me up. If you honestly like the guy, give him a wholehearted chance.”

  “What if I’ll regret it?”

  “Better like that, than to regret all your life you haven’t tried.”

  She smiled wistfully.

  “My wise big brother…I feel so much better for talking to you. You’re the only one who knows how to listen. Thanks!”

  “Don’t mention it, baby. Miss you, love you! I’ll call you one of these days.”

  “Love you too. Good night!”

  She placed the phone on the nightstand, holding it for a few moments longer, as if holding the hand of her brother. She missed him so much. He had been her friend, protector, confidant and advisor, had been there for her since the day she was born. He was the only person to whom she could open her soul, the only one who knew her better than anybody.

  She left the bedroom door open for Pirata, then shimmied into silk pajamas. She experienced a strange sensation as the fabric glided down her body, creating a delicious friction against her skin. As though she was being subjected to a special kind of awakening, she became aware of her breasts and their sensitive peaks. They tightened when she remembered Gerard’s kiss, of his embrace, so strong and passionate. She wanted to hold him, to absorb all the heat and tenderness of a man.

  No, she wanted that man—only him. No one else, not even her ex-husband had awakened in her this acute need for love and lust. Pirata startled her as he jumped on the bed and came to bump his head against her.

  It looked like tonight she would have to content herself with the furry mass of cattish affection. At least she was sure her spoiled and devoted companion would never leave her.

  Chapter Four

  Gerard picked up the insistently ringing phone, while he still studied the stack of papers in front of him.

  “Hello!”

  “Bonjour, copain! How are you?”

  “Ah, Jean-Paul, mon ami! I was about to call you. As we speak, I’m revising my notes, getting ready to make some duplicates. How are you? Progressing? Got any good news for me?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Jean-Paul replied in his raspy smoker’s voice. “Looks like I can’t come to London after all.”

  Just then, Carolina entered and placed a cup of coffee on Gerard’s desk. He inclined his head in a thank you gesture, then resumed his conversation with Jean-Paul.

  “What do you mean you can’t come? I thought we had it settled. I told you I can’t take time off right now to travel to the end of the world!”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to, mon cher. I have two new cases that require my full attention. Besides, you’re younger and more up to travelling. Take pity on your old friend. You’ll love this country. Look at it like a short sightseeing tour,” said the old Frenchman.

  Carolina listened, looking amused, her plump hip braced on a corner
of Gerard’s desk. Clearly, her interest was piqued and she was dying to know what they were talking about. Gerard said into the phone, “I’ll try to work it out somehow. We’ll be in touch then. Keep me posted.”

  He raised his eyes to the nurse, a questioning look on his face.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

  “Yes, there is something wrong.” He frowned. “Looks like I’ll have to take some time off, pretty soon.”

  * * * *

  Linda parked right in front of the gallery. With her usual carelessness, she occupied a parking place and a half. She climbed out of the car, grabbed her purse, and then stood for a moment looking up at the gallery’s display. Although it wasn’t big and imposing like the National Gallery or other such architectural gems, the building had an archaic elegance and prestige.

  She opened the ornate wooden door and entered. The interior was quiet and cool, but lacked the mausoleum atmosphere specific to this kind of places. Her footsteps tapped on the black and white tiles, which were disposed in a chessboard pattern.

  All around, in strategic places, well illuminated and tastefully arranged, were sculptures, paintings and other decorative art objects. In the middle of the room reigned an imposing Apollo. Due to the very light color of the wood and the golden varnish she had used, the statue resembled an angel.

  It was her most impressive project, judging by both the dimension and the quality of the sculpture. She’d made it from a piece of a massive tree, brought from a park in Italy. During a storm, the tree trunk—which couldn’t be encompassed by the linked arms of two men—was struck by lightning. Giovanni had made sure the piece that had remained intact was shipped to her workshop.

  The sculpture had the figure of a warrior, a straight and haughty posture. He held a bow and quiver, its strap stretched over his bare, smooth chest, and he wore the skimpy clothing she imagined would suit the Olympus God of the Sun.

  Studying the statue with different eyes, now she noticed in the motionless features a slight resemblance with Gerard—the strong chin, high cheekbones, straight and perfectly proportioned nose, the firm, sensual lips. Those impassive eyes seemed to transmit to her a secret known only by the two of them.