by Miranda Lee
‘I can’t order you to wait for me, Violet,’ he bit out. ‘All I can do is ask you to.’
‘If I do that, then I will want to tell other people about my relationship with you. Joy especially. She’ll wonder why I’m not out there dating, like I said I would this year. Then there’s my family. I promised my mother to go home at Easter. I’ll need a damned good reason not to. Last but not least, there’s Henry...’
‘Not Henry,’ Leo snapped. ‘The others you can tell, but not Henry.’
‘Why? Are you still ashamed of sleeping with me?’
‘I was never ashamed, Violet.’
‘Guilty, then.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘Then explain it to me.’
‘I thought I had. Henry would not approve of us. It would make your situation untenable at work if you told him we’d become lovers.’
As much as it annoyed her, Violet could see Leo was right. ‘Okay. I won’t tell Henry. But I’m going to tell Joy at some stage, and then closer to Easter I’ll tell my family that I can’t come home because I’ve met a handsome movie producer who’s taking me to Paris for a romantic getaway.’
‘And will you tell them that I’m a forty-year-old divorcee?’
‘Yes. Why not?’
‘They won’t approve.’
‘I don’t care if they approve or not. It’s my life, Leo, and I intend to live it. No more Shrinking Violet for me.’
He groaned. ‘And you asked me why I wanted you. Hell on earth, girl, it’ll be a darned miracle if I last till Easter without jumping on a plane headed for Sydney. Meanwhile, in an attempt to stop myself going AWOL from location, I’m going to have to talk to you every single day. Or text you endlessly. Or both. Would you mind?’
‘I’ll do my best to stand it.’
‘Sarcasm now. A few days ago you were such a shy little thing.’
‘We all have to grow up some time.’
‘Just not too quickly, my darling. Bye now. Sleep well.’
Violet stared into the dead phone, trying to get her head around Leo calling her his darling. Was she his darling? Or was that just a generic form of endearment that he used with women once he’d ensnared them with his charms? Did he call all his girlfriends darling? His two wives? That Mandy woman?
Possibly. Probably. She shouldn’t let it worry her. But it was difficult not to feel jealous of Leo’s other women. He didn’t have to feel jealous; she hadn’t had any other man. Not that she wanted to: silly to want beer when you could have champagne.
‘Paris in the spring,’ she whispered aloud.
Paris, the city of love, and of fashion. It sent a thrill through Violet just thinking about it.
‘I’ll have to make sure I have some decent clothes by then,’ she told herself aloud. ‘Elegantly fitted garments to highlight my wonderfully toned and buffed body.’
Violet jumped off the bed with a spurt of high energy. She’d get herself signed up with a new gym first thing tomorrow morning, one which had a personal trainer who’d work her flabby butt off. And she’d find a beauty salon to visit regularly, one which did everything, not just hair—facials. Waxing. The works!
‘You certainly had a nice long chat,’ Joy said when she rejoined her friend in the living room.
For one brief moment, Violet contemplated telling Joy everything, but quickly decided the time wasn’t right. Joy had a lot on her mind just now. The last thing she needed was to worry about her. But she would worry, Violet suspected. And she wouldn’t approve. Leo was right about that.
Maybe she’d tell her later. And maybe she wouldn’t. After all, in three months’ time, Joy would most likely have sold the house and moved to America.
‘We had a lot to talk about with the screenplay,’ Violet explained. ‘He wants to ring me again about it after the writer’s made some changes I suggested.’ She had to have some excuse for the phone calls he’d promised to make.
‘Shouldn’t he be paying you for your advice? Those movie people work on big budgets.’
‘He did offer but I said no.’
‘Silly girl.’
‘I said he could buy me a return ticket to London instead,’ Violet invented suddenly. ‘And he said yes.’
‘Ooh, smart girl. That’s probably worth more than a consultancy fee. And you won’t have to pay tax.’
‘I never thought of that. I’ll have to get a passport, of course. I don’t have one.’
‘That’ll take a while. When were you thinking of going?’
‘Maybe during the Easter break?’
‘No point in going all that way for just a few days, love. Ask Henry for some extra time off.’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll do that.’
‘I dare say you’ll be a bit nervous, going on a plane again.’
It was testament to Violet’s obsession with Leo that she’d temporarily forgotten about that. No doubt she would be nervous, flying again. ‘Probably,’ she admitted. ‘But I can’t let that stop me, can I? You’re the one who said a life lived in fear is no life at all.’
‘True. Heavens, but you have come a long way in a short time, haven’t you?’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Easter Thursday morning, three months later.
VIOLET’S FIRST THOUGHT when the flight attendant woke her for breakfast was surprise. She hadn’t expected to sleep at all, let alone so well. She’d anticipated that nervous tension over being in a plane again would keep her awake. But she’d been wrong; she’d slept like a baby. Admittedly, flying first class was an extremely comfortable experience, a far cry from the cramped seats you had to endure in economy. Violet could just imagine what it would be like to go from Sydney to Paris squashed into one of those!
When Leo had first told her she would be flying first class, she’d protested, saying it was an unnecessary expense. But he’d brushed aside any objection with the argument that he didn’t want her arriving in a state of exhaustion.
‘Suffering jet-lag is bad enough, Violet,’ he’d told her with the voice of experience, ‘without you being dead on your feet at the same time. We only have five days together. I don’t want to spend the first two days watching you sleep.’
And neither had she, so she’d ignored the momentary feeling that it wasn’t right and accepted his overly generous offer. Now, at last, the long wait was over and the moment was at hand. Breakfast was done, Violet was refreshed, dressed and sitting up once more, thinking to herself that soon she would see Leo again.
But first she had to face the dreaded landing, the captain having just announced their descent into Charles De Gaulle airport. It was impossible not to tense up as the plane slowly descended, her hands gripping the armrests with whitened knuckles. But there were no last-minute dramas. Despite letting out a huge sigh of relief after their very smooth touch-down, Violet still wasn’t totally relaxed, her stomach muscles remaining tight with a different type of tension.
Sexual frustration was something Violet had come to know well. There hadn’t been a day during the last three months when she hadn’t at some stage been overwhelmed with desire for Leo. Understandable, given she’d been in contact with him every single day either by phone, text or email. Mostly by phone. Just the sound of his voice turned her on.
Not that he ever talked about sex. Their conversations always involved their day-to-day lives and their work. Leo would tell her all about that day’s shoot and she’d tell him what had been going on in her life.
Which was quite a bit; Joy had sold her house, complete with all the furniture, for well over the reserve back in late January. By mid-March, Joy had jetted off to Florida, taking nothing with her but her clothes, having given all her bits and pieces, including her precious gravy boats, to charity shops. She’d given her car to a very touched Violet who’d wept buckets at her dear friend’s departure from her life.
Violet had originally planned on finding some shared accommodation, till Leo had advised her not to rush moving in with a virtual
stranger, but to take Henry up on his offer to let her use his other apartment till she found a place—and a flatmate—that she really liked. Which she’d done.
Leo often gave her good advice. In truth, if anyone had overheard them talking, they would have thought they were business associates or best friends, certainly not lovers.
Only Joy had twigged to the real nature of their relationship. No flies on Joy!
It had taken her intuitive old friend no longer than a fortnight to confront Violet with her suspicions that the excessive phone calls from Leo could mean only one thing: something was going on between them other than chit-chat about silly screenplays!
So Violet had told her—everything. She hadn’t meant to, but she just couldn’t bring herself to tell Joy more lies, or even half-truths. Besides, it had been reassuring to confide in someone older and wiser than herself. She’d been somewhat surprised by Joy’s lack of shock, not to mention her lack of disapproval. In fact, Joy had stunned Violet with a couple of her initial comments.
‘What a lucky girl you are to have had such a wonderful introduction to sex!’
‘Of course you should go to Paris, though I dare say you won’t see too much of the city!’
They’d both laughed over that one.
But not all of Joy’s remarks had found favour with Violet. One little homily still stuck in her mind.
‘Henry’s son is obviously a ladies’ man, my dear, so don’t expect anything to come of your relationship. Try to accept it for what it is—an experience to be enjoyed. An education. Fall in love, by all means. Being in love always makes sex better for girls. Just don’t pretend to yourself that he loves you back, or that it will last.’
But she had started pretending just that, hadn’t she?
No, no, it wasn’t a pretence. It was a belief. He loved her; she was sure of it. Not that he’d ever said as much. But why else would he have gone without sex for three whole months if not for feelings much deeper than lust?
Perhaps he just didn’t realise how much he cared for her. But he would. One day. It was just a question of time.
Time...
Violet glanced at her watch again. Only two minutes had passed since they’d landed. Why was it that time went so slowly when you didn’t want it to? The last three months had seemed like an eternity. Violet suspected that the time it would take to disembark and go through customs would drag even more...
* * *
Patience was not one of Leo’s virtues. Which was why he’d chosen not to wait for Violet at the hotel, despite saying that he would. Instead, he’d ridden to the airport in the limousine he’d booked to pick Violet up, then stayed sitting in the spacious back seat whilst the chauffeur went inside the terminal to collect Violet.
He would have gone in there to collect her himself except for the possibility that some eagle-eyed member of the paparazzi might spot him. International airports—especially Charles De Gaulle—were a favourite haunt of the paparazzi. They hung around the exit gates, hopeful of getting a money-making picture of some celebrity doing something which would make copy in the tabloids.
The last thing Leo wanted was for Henry to see some picture of himself and Violet in the press. Leo wanted to enjoy the next five days with Violet without having to worry about a single thing. The movie had been a wrap last week—thank God—with post-production not starting till after Easter, leaving him a few days to do what he’d been dying to do for the last three months.
Be with Violet once more.
And not before time, Leo thought ruefully as he glanced down at the state he was in.
Damn it, where was the girl? The plane had landed ages ago. Customs, he supposed. Flying anywhere these days was a pain. Still, at least he could afford for Violet to go first class. Hopefully, she’d had some sleep overnight. He hadn’t had much, tossing and turning in that outrageously large four-poster bed all by himself. Yet, when the alarm on his phone had woken him at five-thirty, he’d jumped up immediately, feeling more alive than he had for ages.
For today he would see Violet again. Be with Violet again. Just the thought had sent the blood charging round his body, unfortunately a lot of it ending up in his groin.
Grimacing, he glared fixedly through the heavily tinted window at the path she would come along. He spotted the driver first, striding ahead, pulling a black case with one hand and carrying a suit bag draped over his other.
Several steps behind him came Violet, looking stunning in a white suit, which was as dazzling as it was fashionable. The skirt was slimline and finished just above the knee. The lapelled jacket was simple and buttonless, falling straight to mid-thigh and swishing sexily around her hips as she walked. Underneath the jacket was a silky white shirt which had a deep V-neckline, showing more than a hint of cleavage.
Her hair was up in an elegantly sleek French roll, which suited her, but made her look older than twenty-five. Her face was very well made up, Leo noted, her lips a bright red gloss. Unlike most of the male species, he knew a lot about female make-up. Her eyebrows definitely looked different, thinner and more arched. But her eyes were just the same. Lovely, warm and glittering at that moment with undisguised happiness.
Still no artifice in his Snow White, he saw with a sense of relief. No pretence. She might look more groomed in her appearance but she was still the same sweet Violet who had enchanted him.
Not the sort of girl that a gentleman seduced in the back of a limousine!
And he was a gentleman. Or hoped he was.
The driver, who by then had stowed the luggage away, hurried round to open the car door for Violet. At the same time, Leo slid to the far side of the seat, putting himself at a safe, non-seducing distance.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed on sighting him, her face breaking into a wide smile. ‘You came to meet me. How lovely!’ She sat down, not far enough away for Leo’s liking, but he could hardly complain.
‘You’re the one who’s lovely,’ he complimented her, and bent over to give her a welcoming peck on her cheek before quickly sitting back again. ‘I like your hair up. It suits you. I see you also went back to that sales girl you told me about. That outfit you’ve got on is even better than your little black dress.’
She beamed at him. ‘I’ll have you know I chose this suit all by myself! Of course, I didn’t wear it onto the plane. I didn’t think white was a good idea for travelling, so I carried it on and put it on this morning after breakfast.’
Leo’s mind was already racing ahead to when he could take it off her. But he could hardly say that, could he?
‘I do that sometimes when I travel,’ he said instead. ‘Wear casual clothes for the flight and carry a suit with me. So, what was your flight like? Did you get any sleep?’
Keep talking, Leo. Because, if you don’t, you’re going to kiss her, and then you won’t be able to stop.
‘I did, surprisingly. I thought I wouldn’t because I was so excited.’
Oh, God. The last thing he wanted to think about was her being excited.
The limousine moved off, Leo in two minds now whether to slide up the privacy screen or not. Even as he surrendered to temptation and pressed the button he tried telling himself it was just so that they could talk without being overheard by the driver. Nothing more.
Yeah, right, Leo, came the brutal voice of honesty. And what’s your excuse for dressing the way you did this morning? He was not in a suit and tie, but in loosely fitted trousers and a soft-to-touch mohair sweater. This is what you had in mind all along, and nothing is going to stop you, certainly not some last-minute appeal to your conscience. What you feel for Violet is way beyond your conscience. Way beyond common sense. To fight it is ridiculous, and not what she wants at all. She’s come here to be seduced.
So seduce her, you fool, and stop hiding behind your gentlemanly image of yourself!
A decision reached, Leo refused to battle with his qualms any longer, settling back into the leather seat to watch Violet’s reaction as the screen slid int
o place. Her eyes blinked wide for a second and there was a definite quickening of her breathing. But no visible panic in her face. Or alarm.
He was right. This was what she wanted: excitement. Adventure. Sex!
And so did he. But, despite the intensity of his arousal, he was determined not to hurry things. It would take at least forty minutes to make it from the airport to the hotel at this time of the day, Paris suffering from similar traffic problems to London. Time enough for more than a quickie.
‘Here. Let me help you with your jacket,’ he said smoothly. ‘It’s quite warm in here and it’ll take a while to get to the hotel.’
There was no suspicion in her eyes before she twisted round on the seat and let him ease the jacket off her shoulders. He tossed it across to the seat opposite before turning her back round to face him, noting that a pinkness had crept into her cheeks. Maybe she did know what he had in mind after all. If she did, she made no protest.
To undress her totally seemed beyond the pale, but he wanted that blouse off. And her bra. All her underwear, actually. His heartbeat slammed into overdrive at the thought of her sitting there with him, naked to her waist and underneath her skirt. No, not sitting with him, sitting astride him, with him inside her, one of her breasts in his mouth. She liked having her nipples sucked, he recalled.
One glance at her chest confirmed that her nipples were already erect, their outlines visible against the silky material of her blouse. Seeing the evidence of her arousal soothed what was left of his conscience. Wanting no further delay, he reached out to cradle her flushed cheeks with his hands and bent his mouth to hers.
He tried to take his time. Tried to be gentle at first. But her moans derailed him and soon he was kissing her and stripping off her clothes at the same time. First the blouse and then the bra.
By then kissing her wasn’t nearly enough. He wrenched his mouth away and ordered her to lie back on the seat. She obeyed without question, lying there panting whilst he stripped her entirely. Every single stitch: shoes. Skirt. Stockings. Panties. His loins throbbed as he touched her naked body all over: breasts. Stomach. Legs. Between her legs.