A French Kiss in London

by De Ross, Melinda

  She lifted her eyes to meet his inquiring gaze.

  “I don’t regret what happened,” she emphasized. “It’s just…I don’t know how to act. It’s the first time this has happened to me. I mean, my ex-husband was the first and only man I had ever…made love to,” she ended in a whisper, ducking her head again, without noticing the satisfied and tender expression in his eyes.

  He buried his face in her hair and kissed her forehead, trying to find an appropriate way to voice his feelings. Finally, he said, “You have no idea how happy I am for being here with you. I’m proud because you offered me the privilege of touching you, of having you and proving to you all the feelings you stir in my soul. This is new for me too. I’ve never felt for any woman what I feel for you, Linda. I’ve never fallen in love with a woman from the first second I met her. Never, until I met you.”

  He almost felt her heart contracting in surprise and pleasure, but a shadow of doubt crossed over her beautiful features. She watched him intensely, as though searching for something. He hoped she would find the simple sincerity in the depths of his eyes.

  As he’d expected, she didn’t dare to admit yet that her feelings matched his. Instead, she kissed him with all the infinite passion she’d told him only he could inspire in her.

  Gerard returned her kiss, trying to ignore the painful twinge caused by the lack of any declaration from her. Though he hadn’t expected to break down all her barriers so soon, he still experienced the bitter taste of disappointment.

  You’ll have to be very patient, buddy, he told himself. Then all thoughts left him, as he abandoned himself into her arms. He covered her body with hot kisses, and clothes were thrown once more on the floor.

  * * * *

  After he left, Linda got back to work. She dedicated herself to each of her projects with absolute abnegation. However, this particular sculpture meant so much more to her than just two wooden hands.

  While she adjusted and polished, using the chisel to trace lines and curves known only by her, recollections of the past night occupied her thoughts completely. If she hadn’t had the tangible proof of those hands, she would’ve thought everything had been a dream, some figment of her imagination. But it had been real. Each moment spent beside him had been real.

  She smiled abashed, remembering how timid and reserved she’d been at first, not knowing exactly what he expected from her. Then Gerard had chased away her unease by using tenderness and sensuality, mind-blowing caresses and kisses more intense than she’d ever imagined could exist.

  Of course, she had never been that intimate with anyone. The sexual relationship she’d had with Tony couldn’t even compare with the sensational night she and Gerard had shared.

  Obviously, he was an expert in bed, a master at offering satisfaction and indescribable pleasure to a woman. The thought of all the women who had probably lain in his bed provoked in her an almost physical pain, like a knife to the heart.

  She recalled his words, his astonishing declaration from that morning, and doubts seized her again. Had he spoken those words to all his lovers, or were they true? Was he genuinely in love with her? He seemed a noble, honest man, but one could never be sure.

  One thing was clear: she had indeed fallen for him—irredeemably and so quickly even she hadn’t realized it until now.

  For a moment, she deeply regretted she hadn’t confessed her feelings to him. However, she consoled herself by thinking that time wasn’t lost. There will be other occasions. It was still too soon.

  ****

  Gerard reached his office just in time to hear the phone ringing. He grabbed the receiver and answered, “Hello.”

  “How are you, mon cher? I tried your cell phone, but it’s turned off.”

  “Sorry, Maman. I forgot to recharge it. My battery ran out last night.”

  While my other batteries functioned at full power, he thought with a wicked, smug grin.

  “How are you?” he asked cheerfully. “How’s Aunt Sophie?”

  “Fine, we’re both fine, but we miss you terribly, so I called to inform you that you’re coming to visit tomorrow. I bet you haven’t had a healthy meal since you’ve been here last.”

  He chuckled.

  “Oh, so you’re informing, not inviting me. Yes, Ma’am! Orders are to be executed, not disputed. Anyway, I planned to come see you. I’ve something to tell you.”

  Driven by a momentary impulse, he added, “Do you mind if I bring a girlfriend?”

  Chantalle Leon remained silent for a beat, most certainly taken by surprise by this unprecedented situation. Then she said, “Well! You’ve finally found one good enough to bring and introduce her to me?”

  He laughed lightly.

  “Something like that. You’ll meet her. See you tomorrow around lunch, okay? Maybe you could make some strawberry pie—you know, your special recipe.”

  “I planned to, in any case. We’re expecting you. Love you, mon fills!”

  “Love you too, Mom. Bye!”

  If Linda almost had a heart attack when I told her I was in love with her, she’ll surely faint when she’ll hear I’m taking her to meet my mother.

  He let out a profound sigh and grabbed his white lab coat, preparing to visit his patients. The progress of his experimental treatment had given him hope, renewed energy and a motivation that was stronger than ever.

  * * * *

  Linda worked almost all day long, losing track of time. That happened whenever she focused very hard on work. Only after dusk had settled in and she could no longer see well did she realize the evening sun had retired to its secret sanctuary. She was starving.

  She applied a final layer of varnish to the finished carving, then stepped back to admire her creation. It truly held a special significance for her. She decided on going to the gallery the next day to hand it to Francesco. Abandoning in the mudroom her clothes full of sawdust, varnish, sweat and other substances, she went upstairs to take a hot shower. Afterward, she pulled on a thin robe, went to the kitchen and dug in the fridge. She ate some leftover spaghetti, sitting at the counter. Then she took a glass of milk and a box of cookies and cozied up in front of the TV with Pirata.

  Before she could grab the remote, her cell phone started ringing. It was Gerard.

  “Hi.”

  “How are you, beautiful? Do you miss me?”

  Only his deep, masculine voice spiced with that sexy French accent sent exquisite shivers through her system.

  “Honestly? Yes, I do miss you,” she admitted. “Even though it’s been just a few hours since we’ve seen one another.”

  “It’s been a century! I called to invite you to lunch tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she repeated, a trace of disappointment in her voice. “Aren’t you coming tonight? I mean, don’t you want to go out somewhere tonight?”

  “I would really love to, baby. But I still have a lot of work here at the clinic—both in the lab and in the office. I want to put everything together, to prepare the file I intend to give to Jean-Paul. Besides, tonight I have an unexpected guest, a friend from college who’s visiting London. We haven’t seen each other in over ten years.”

  “I see…Okay then, have fun with your friend! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I can’t wait to see you,” he whispered huskily, his words seeming to melt on the soft skin of her ear and neck. “Oh, I almost forgot. We’re having lunch at my mom’s.”

  “What?” Linda jumped as though the sofa had bitten her butt. “Where? How? What do you mean? Why?”

  He laughed, overly amused by her reaction.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll like her. She’s a very nice woman. I was ordered to come to lunch tomorrow and I said I’d bring you along.”

  “B-but…I don’t know if I can make it. I have to go to Francesco,” she stuttered, alarmed, without even knowing why or from where this stupid panic had appeared.

  “You can handle it, I have no doubt. I’ll come and pick you up around twelve. Dress casually. It�
��s going to take us some time to get there. My mother lives in the suburbs. Miss you, my love. Dream about me tonight!”

  “How could I not?” she mumbled and put down the phone. An icy bundle of unknown origins had begun to form in her stomach. Why did he want her to meet his mother? And why the hell was she so panicked by this thought?

  Without finding any answers to these questions, she buried herself deeper into the cushions, changing channels without actually seeing anything in front of her eyes. She didn’t even notice that Pirata was tremendously enjoying her milk and cookies.

  * * * *

  After taking a quick shower, Gerard lay on the bed, exhausted, and relaxed his naked body between the cool sheets. Each of his muscles was aching due to an entire night of fantastic sex, an extremely long but satisfying workday and two hours in his old friend’s company. Christian was a nice guy, but so talkative that Gerard had whispered a thankful prayer when the guy finally left, promising they will keep in touch.

  His thoughts flew to Linda, who was never far from his mind and soul. He wondered what she was doing, if she yearned for his presence in her bed, if she wanted him as much as he wanted her right in that moment. He fell asleep in the imaginary arms of his lover, not knowing if she was doing the same. For tonight, at least in dreams they were together.

  Chapter Seven

  Linda woke with an odd feeling of hangover and a dull headache. She opened her eyes, but immediately closed them again in defense against the cheerful sunrays that were invading her bedroom. She’d forgotten to lower the shutters. She vaguely asked herself why the hell it was necessary to wake up at sunrise. Then she remembered Francesco. She had to take the sculpture to him, and then have lunch with Gerard and his mother…

  She stood up suddenly, but grabbed her head with both hands, moaning. It was threatening to roll on the floor because of the abrupt, intense pain.

  This cannot be happening. This day is a disaster! she told herself. If I really have to meet Mrs. Leon—was that her name?—why can’t it be on a day when I’m well rested?

  She hated waking up early. However, since she’d met Gerard it seemed she did only that.

  “I doubt he’s worth the effort,” she muttered, addressing Pirata, who had come to give her a morning kiss. Then she smiled, stretching languorously.

  “Hell, the guy’s worth any effort!”

  She winked at the cat, then dragged herself into the bathroom, beneath the showerhead, and ruthlessly turned on the cold water.

  Pirata sat on the toilet lid, washing his paws, listening with the habit’s indifference the curses and unidentifiable noises coming from under the freezing spray.

  She got out of the bath still frowning, but feeling a little more alive. She went downstairs into the kitchen, fed the cat and made herself a strong cup of coffee. Usually, she didn’t even have coffee in the house, because she didn’t drink it. But Mrs. Adams did, so…Seeing as desperate situations demanded desperate measures, she mentally thanked Mrs. Adams and sipped away.

  Taking her mug into the bedroom, she faced the closet, trying to imagine what she should wear for her first encounter with the mother of a man with whom she had a more or less sexual affair.

  Who are you trying to fool? You’re in love with him, head over heels. By all appearances, he’s fallen for you too.

  After a long analysis, she decided on a blue cotton dress, with a bow tied around the waist. The skirt was wavy, reaching a few inches below her knees. It resembled a bit the notorious dress that Marilyn Monroe had worn in the movie Seven Year Itch, where the diva had stood atop an air duct and let her dress flutter up, exposing her underwear. That scene had made history.

  Linda smiled wickedly.

  The dress made her look respectable and serious, but not excessively conservative.

  “Only the color is different,” she said to her other self in the mirror. “And the cup size.”

  Sighing, she changed into jeans and a black tank top, and carefully placed the dress on a chair. She put on a pair of sunglasses that covered half of her face, then went downstairs.

  From where she’d set it in the hallway, she retrieved the woodcarving she intended to take to Francesco and walked down the hall, into the garage. She placed the artwork, wrapped in butcher-paper, on the passenger seat of her car. Following a short debate, she fastened the seatbelt over it, laughing by herself.

  “It’s like I’m transporting the Crown Jewels,” she said amused, as she drove to the gallery.

  “You are a treasure, bella mia!” exclaimed Francesco, analyzing ecstatically the small wood piece. Did you make this in a single day?”

  “Yes. I had inspiration,” she answered, staring at the sculpture of Apollo, which dominated the room. Indeed, the features she had carved herself on the Apollo’s wooden face did resemble those of Gerard’s. The statue reigned in the middle of the room, imposing, as though defying the entire human kind with insolent superiority. “I was afraid you would have nowhere to put it,” she went on.

  “Ah, bella mia, there’s always room for brilliant works,” he said in his rich voice. “Annarita, come here, my dear!”

  From the shadows of a sideway corridor appeared a stunningly beautiful young woman. She was tall, graceful, with long black hair that reached her waist and a pair of dark eyes, which exuded charm. Francesco introduced her to Linda.

  “My dear, this is Annarita, my assistant. I’ve imported her straight from our birth land, because I believe that only the compatriots of the great Michelangelo Buonarotti know how to create and appreciate true art. This is Ms. Linda Coriola—the jewel of our humble gallery,” he said, turning to the young-woman.

  Annarita inclined her head a fraction and spoke in Italian.

  “It’s an honor for me to meet you, Ms. Coriola. I have admired your works ever since I first saw them. You have an extraordinary talent.”

  Linda smiled and offered her hand, replying in the same language, “It’s very nice to meet you, Annarita! Please call me Linda. I don’t think I’m very much older than yourself. Thank you for your compliments.”

  “Annarita is going to become a great sculptress as well. She is a student at the Art University,” Francesco intervened. “She will follow into your footsteps, cara mia.”

  “I wish you the best of luck. It’s a beautiful career choice,” Linda told the girl. “And now, please excuse me, but I must go.”

  Francesco gesticulated in protest, the woodcarving still in his hand.

  “Won’t you stay, to see where we’ll arrange your new work?”

  “I’m sure you and Annarita will find the ideal spot. Take care of it. It has a special significance to me. And this one isn’t for sale—display only,” she emphasized. “See you on Saturday!”

  Smiling, she threw another glance at the statue of Apollo, then said goodbye to the two.

  Since she had enough free time until twelve o’clock, when Gerard had promised to pick her up, she wandered through the city, indulging in some shopping. She intended to dust off her rusty culinary expertise by preparing delicious meals for her lover, now and again.

  Now and again?

  She was just loading the bags into the trunk of her car, when this thought struck her, making her freeze with her hands in the air.

  This sounds like we’ll have a long-term relationship. Why the hell am I so alarmed by this prospect? Maybe I should go see a shrink.

  She shrugged, letting out a gust of breath. Then she arranged the bags, locked the trunk and headed home.

  Once she got there, she munched on an apple and some biscuits, as she began to fix herself for the lunch visit.

  She did her makeup carefully, using only black eye-liner and mascara to contour her blue cat-eyes. They made a flattering contrast with her slightly tanned skin. She applied some pale-pink lipstick and considered the makeup thing done.

  She put on her blue dress, almost the same shade as her eyes, and searched for a matching purse. She slipped her feet into black sanda
ls. Finally, she brushed her long hair and twisted it into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, elegant but casual at the same time.

  She was just glancing one last time in the mirror when the intercom buzzed, indicating Gerard’s arrival.

  She rushed downstairs and pressed the button to open the gate. She unlocked the front door, then went again into the bedroom to retrieve her purse. As she descended the stairs for the second time, Gerard was just letting himself in. He stopped in the doorway, looking up at her, his gaze lingering on her body in a way that made her feel hot—both literally and figuratively.

  “You look gorgeous, my love!” he said, reaching out a hand to help her descend the last steps.

  “You don’t look half bad yourself,” she replied, studying his simple attire. He wore light-blue jeans that fitted perfectly in all the right places, and a white, short-sleeved T-shirt, which highlighted the excellent muscle tone of his chest, shoulders and arms.

  When he pulled her in his arms and tightened his hold, bending to kiss her, she stepped back a little. Gerard, not understanding her gesture of apparent rejection, asked irritated, “What’s wrong?”

  “I just put on lipstick. I want to make a good impression to your mom. I didn’t want you to wipe off…”

  She wasn’t able to finish the sentence, because his mouth slanted over hers in a deep, stormy kiss, while he pressed her close to his body with untamed passion.

  “All night I’ve dreamed only about this—your lips, your naked body next to mine,” he whispered against her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Linda, but I’m addicted to you like air. I want you more than you can imagine.”

  “I feel the same way, and you have no idea how much that scares me,” she replied, breathless. Then she rested her cheek against his solid chest, where it seemed the very center of her universe had taken residence.

  He lifted her chin with strong fingers and gazed into her eyes.