ONE NIGHT WITH MORELLI

by Kim Lawrence

  Ten minutes later she replaced it.

  She was shaking.

  The deal was closed, and it was only now she could admit that there had been moments, though she had never said it out loud, when she had doubted the wisdom of her Australian trip. But the groundwork had paid off, and the exclusive department store chain with outlets all over the southern hemisphere was going to take her line.

  This was the moment she had been working towards, pushing herself towards, the moment she had dreamed about.

  A tiny furrow appeared between her brows. So where was the high…the euphoria…the glow of achievement? Instead it was almost an anticlimax, but that, she told herself, was only to be expected. To be really appreciated this was the sort of good news that deserved to be shared, and a line in Charlie Latimer’s wedding speech came back to her: Success means nothing unless you have someone to share it with—I have the best person in the world: my wife.

  Eve had not tasted the wine in her glass or joined in with the spontaneous ripple of applause and her eyes had remained dry but, his insincerity aside, didn’t he have a point?

  Who would be happy for her? Her mother was on her honeymoon and her best friend was busy being a pregnant princess.

  She pushed away the sudden sharp stab of something she refused to recognise as self-pity, and thought, Buy a cat, Eve.

  Or take a new lover.

  There was still some mileage in the one she had, she thought wryly…or did she still have him? The situation was so far out of her comfort zone that she was still feeling her way…all over his warm satiny textured skin.

  She looked down and saw her fingers stroking the desk. The dreamy expression clouding her eyes vanished and the furrow between her brows twitched back into life as a comment Draco had made came back to her.

  She had no idea what time it had been when she’d woken, not in her own bed, but in a strange bed held down by the weight of a man’s thigh thrown across her hips, his head between her breasts. The initial adrenaline-fed panic surge had made her struggle for a split second but then she’d realised where she was and relaxed against his warm chest.

  He’d unconsciously voiced her inner doubts out loud. What are you doing? Stop analysing—just enjoy. There’s no tomorrow, just here and now, you and me. I don’t want you to reach me emotionally. I just want you to touch me…please.

  The tortured plea had made her feel empowered, hot and out of control.

  She laughed softly as she got to her feet. She wasn’t even a little jealous of her friend; the last thing she wanted was a baby. She was far too busy with her career right now, but perhaps in a few years’ time…? Her body clock had barely started ticking and she’d only just discovered sex.

  She straightened the row of pencils on her desk one last time and, humming softly under her breath, headed for the interconnecting door to her PA’s office. Shelley had really put in the extra hours on this one; actually, not just her PA, but everyone had, and though friends and family would say well done it was only the small team who really understood what this success meant to her.

  Perhaps, she mused, she could take them for lunch at that new Italian everyone was raving about. Her stomach growled at the thought of food—toast and cereal had not been on the breakfast menu this morning and she had refused to sample what was!

  ‘How do you feel about Italian, Shelley?’ Eve asked as she opened the door to the outer office. She was used to the terrible clutter on the younger girl’s desk but this was the first time she had found a man there.

  And the man was Draco. His back was to her but there was no mistaking the identity of the tall figure who sat casually there. Him being here like this was wrong on so many levels.

  ‘Steady!’

  She was conscious of him unfolding his long length from the desk and then towering over her as she struggled to regain first her balance and then her composure. She grabbed hold of it in both hands and enclosed herself in a shell of rigid formality.

  Shell or not, it didn’t protect her from the waves of whatever it was he exuded, and her jangling nerves made civility impossible. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Draco?’

  She sensed rather than saw her PA’s wide eyes.

  ‘There, didn’t I tell you she’d be delighted to see me, Shelley Ann?’

  Her assistant laughed, not her usual raucous giggle but a low sexy chuckle. The woman had a boyfriend whom she said she adored, so what was she doing? Eve slung her an exasperated look. Shelley could not be more obvious had she been salivating—but for Eve’s interruption she’d probably be ripping off her top and screaming Take me!

  Eve’s generous lips tightened. She was all for women taking the initiative but there was such a thing as too eager. Not that she expected this view to be shared by a man like Draco. Her eyes made a scornful sweep over the tall, lean figure now propped casually back against the end of the desk. She had no doubt he enjoyed having women fawn all over him—in fact, he probably expected it and she was one in a long line of those who had helped build his belief in his irresistibility.

  ‘I came to take you to lunch.’ One corner of his mouth curled up in a slow intimate smile as his warm brown eyes moved over her face.

  ‘How did you know where to find me?’

  He produced a gilt-edged business card. ‘You left it behind.’ And the smell of her perfume.

  Eve swallowed and hissed under her breath. ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘Actually the supplier emailed to cancel your meeting.’

  ‘Thank you, Shelley Ann.’ His smile made the younger girl blush and thrust out her not inconsiderable chest. ‘So, you see, you’re free, cara.’

  Instead of asking him just what he was playing at Eve found her eyes drawn to his mouth. Free was the last thing she felt; she felt compelled! Willing her heart to slow, Eve brought her lashes down in a protective curtain.

  ‘Did I hear you say that you liked Italian?’ he asked.

  ‘She adores Italian,’ the younger girl cut back.

  Eve winced, her jaw clenched, embarrassed for her assistant. ‘It’s not my favourite,’ she lied.

  ‘She loves it.’

  Eve slung her another exasperated look and Shelley winked and directed a lascivious leer at Draco’s back, mouthing an exaggerated, He’s gorgeous—go for it!

  I already did, Eve thought, and felt the colour staining her cheeks flame even brighter. ‘I really am a little pushed for time today.’

  He gave an exaggerated sigh and shrugged. ‘Oh, well, if you can’t make lunch, I suppose,’ he conceded, ‘we could discuss it here.’

  Discuss…it…? Panic slid through Eve. Shelley was a great PA and totally discreet about work but when it came to less professional gossip…!

  ‘Oh, no, take her to lunch.’ Shelley pressed her palms together and rested her chin on her fingertips. Batting her eyes at Draco, she confided, ‘It’s her birthday.’ She met her boss’s glare with an innocent look. ‘Well, he doesn’t work here, does he?’

  Thank God for small mercies!

  ‘You said don’t tell anyone in the office,’ Shelley pointed out.

  ‘Your birthday? Oh, well, that settles it,’ Draco announced with satisfaction. ‘I’m taking you to lunch.’

  Eve would have loved to assure him that it settled nothing except the fact that he obviously couldn’t comprehend a situation when a person wouldn’t do what he wanted, but decided it was better to appear at least to give in gracefully than risk having her personal life discussed in front of an audience. The horror of this thought actually made her shudder.

  Outside the building and away from the prying eyes of her assistant, Eve pulled away from the light touch of the hand he had placed between her shoulder blades as he guided her out of the building—as if she didn’t know her own way.

  ‘I am more
than capable of—’ She broke off, taking a sideways step to avoid being knocked over by a middle-aged man whose eyes were glued to his phone. Luckily the heavy line of traffic had ground to a standstill so all she did was step into a puddle, though Draco took the opportunity to haul her back to the pavement.

  ‘We had sex.’ Eve cleared her throat, privately congratulating herself on how matter of fact she had sounded when that statement sounded weird on so many levels.

  He did not blink, just held her eyes with a stare that made her stomach muscles quiver with the same tension that shimmered in the air.

  ‘I had not forgotten.’ Though once he had felt her cool little hands on his skin he had forgotten almost everything else, but that he would never forget, if only for the reason Draco had never totally lost control with a woman before. He had always stayed in control of his passion, his lust. Ironically when he had lost it the woman who had disintegrated his control had been a virgin.

  It turned out his initial suspicion regarding her innocence had been right after all. The shock had lessened but the sense of total mystification lingered. She was so sensual and so sweetly responsive that it made no sense she hadn’t tried sex before, but the fact remained he was her first lover. In moments of honesty he admitted that he was not a worthy recipient of that gift, but in return he would teach her how to enjoy her own body.

  Eve struggled to hold onto her antagonism. His deep voice had a tactile quality and his heavy-lidded stare did dangerous things to her as the busy street around them receded; it was scarily easy for the world to vanish when she looked into his eyes.

  ‘That does not give you the right to stroll into my place of work and flirt with my staff.’ Somehow her comment made it sound as though the latter was the worst sin. ‘I don’t suppose you can help yourself,’ she muttered.

  ‘Lighten up, Eve.’

  She compressed her lips, irritated by his amused response. ‘I’m perfectly light, thank you.’

  His eyes widened as if in sudden comprehension. ‘Or is it one of those birthdays,’ he commiserated.

  Her expression froze. ‘I’m not thirty for ages yet.’

  He grinned and chalked up an invisible point in the air. ‘It’s reassuring to know that you have some of the normal vanities.’ His dark gaze grew warmer and more intent as he touched a finger to her chin, tilting her face up to his. ‘You look about eighteen, which can be a little disconcerting, especially when half the time you act as though you’re middle-aged.’

  He gives and then he takes away she thought, snatching her chin from his grip and rubbing angrily with the heel of her hand at the tingling area of skin where there had been contact. ‘You say the n-nicest things,’ she said with an insincere smile.

  ‘You do take life seriously.’

  Her jaw tautened as she tossed back a scornful response. ‘That’s the difference between you and me; I think life is serious.’

  He gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement. ‘Life is also sad and funny…’ He stopped as his car drew up beside them at the kerbside and, nodding to the driver, he opened the rear passenger door for Eve. As she got in he wondered why the hell he was discussing the meaning of life with this woman. He could have asked himself why he was here with her at all, but that question was more easily answered, though no less strange.

  He wanted her, not in itself strange but the compulsive nature of it was. If he had thought about it too deeply Draco might have been troubled, but he didn’t; he mentally categorised it as an appetite like any other, and like any man when it came to sex Draco enjoyed the pursuit.

  But when was the last time he’d actually rearranged his schedule to pursue any woman…?

  Dismissing the question, he reminded himself that, no matter how intense the attraction between them or how seemingly insatiable the hunger this woman aroused in him, history would inevitably repeat itself and he would lose interest. He was unable to exactly recall his sister’s recent exasperated assessment of his love life, but he did remember that she’d likened him to a child in a sweet shop.

  All that instant gratification, Draco, but one of these days, brother, you’ll lose your taste for sugar and realise that what you need is something with a bit more bite.

  * * *

  ‘It’s a matter of balance, cara,’ he mused out loud as he slid into the limo beside her. ‘The tough times in life are made bearable only if you don’t waste the good ones.’ He leaned forward and gave the driver instructions, speaking in Italian. The man, who was as big as a bear, replied in the same language.

  ‘What self-help book did you get that little gem from or was it a Christmas cracker?’

  ‘My father died unexpectedly, and it was devastating for those of us left behind, especially my mother, but the thing she clung to and still does is that there was not a single day in his life that he didn’t live to the full. Not that he did spectacular things—it was the little things he took pleasure from, be it a great bottle of wine or his grandchild’s first step.’

  She was instantly remorseful for her snappy retort. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘As my father would have said, bad stuff happens but until it does laugh a little.’

  She shifted uneasily in her seat under the directness of his penetrating stare. ‘I get the feeling that you don’t laugh a lot, which is a shame as you have a nice laugh. It sounds like your hair feels on my skin… Speaking of which, do you put it up because you like me taking it down?’

  She swallowed and lowered her gaze in confusion. All it took from him was a couple of husky-voiced compliments and her heart was tripping like a steam hammer. ‘I p-put it up because it gets in the way.’

  He leaned back in his seat, crossing one ankle over the other. ‘And you like things neat.’

  ‘Is that a crime?’ she flared.

  ‘Do you want to know what I think…?’

  ‘No!’ she blurted, leaning forward in her seat and shouting. ‘We’re here!’ The man ignored her. She turned to round to face Draco. ‘Is he deaf?’

  ‘I think you mean hearing-impaired, cara, and he wasn’t deaf, but after you yelled down his ear like that it’s certainly possible. There is parking around the rear.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’

  The car pulled into one of the parking spaces Draco had referred to and came to a standstill. Draco said something in Italian to the driver, who laughed.

  ‘Are you talking about me?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Not everything is about you, cara. Do you really want to eat?’

  Eve stared at him. ‘Wasn’t that the idea?’

  He looked at her for a moment and then gave one of his inimitable shrugs. ‘It is an option certainly.’ This time when he spoke to the driver it was in English. ‘Thank you, Carl, we’ll get a cab back.’

  The restaurant was busy; people were waiting for tables. Eve felt relief that there was absolutely no way they were going to get one.

  CHAPTER NINE

  FIVE MINUTES LATER they were being shown to their table by an attentive Italian waiter who at Draco’s request conversed in English.

  ‘In case you thought we were talking about you.’

  ‘Very funny. Is that man really your driver…?’

  Draco looked at her curiously. ‘Carl…? What do you think he is?’

  ‘A bodyguard?’

  Draco’s throaty laugh caused several heads to turn. She covered her glass with her hand. ‘I’m working.’

  ‘It’s your birthday.’

  The battle was short, as the constant bickering was tiring. It might be better, she decided, to save her energy for the important points…and anyway a glass of wine might help soothe her jangling nerves.

  She tipped her head. ‘All right, just a small one.’ Actually there were worse ways to spend your birthday than sitting in a reall
y good restaurant with a man whom every woman in the room had stared at when he walked in, though she imagined that the novelty would wear thin pretty quickly and it might even cause the odd jealous twinge to be with a man so universally lusted after. She angled a glance at his face. Was he really as oblivious as he seemed to all the lustful stares…?

  ‘No, Carl is my driver.’

  ‘So you don’t have a bodyguard?’ she probed, unable to hide her curiosity.

  ‘The best sort of security is the sort people don’t see.’

  She put down her fork and leaned back in her seat, cradling her glass. ‘That’s not an answer.’

  His response to her indignation was a slow, lazy grin. ‘It is the only one I am giving.’ He sat back in his chair and watched her make serious inroads into the rustic pasta dish she had chosen.

  ‘This is really good.’ Eve took another sip of her wine, determined to make it last. She glanced at his plate. ‘Steak is a bit safe.’ He had only eaten half of it. ‘How did we get this table anyway?’

  ‘I know the owner.’

  She had suspected it must be something like that. ‘The one who owns the entire chain?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘They’re everywhere now but when I was in Paris last year it had just opened, and the place was heaving.’

  She broke off as the manager approached.

  ‘Sir…’ he tipped his head to include Eve ‘…miss, I hope the meal was satisfactory?’

  ‘It was delicious,’ she said.

  ‘We’re happy customers,’ Draco added.

  There was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the manager’s manner when he spoke to Draco and Draco’s manner when he replied…and then it came to her.

  She waited until the older man had gone before testing her theory.

  ‘Are you the owner?’

  He didn’t even blink. ‘For the past two years.’

  Her dark brows knitted as she straightened her cutlery, once, twice and then once more. She was bewildered by her inability to hold eye contact with him without feeling shivery and self-conscious.