by MARTIN, KC
But Tina was right, too. A beautiful hope wasn’t enough to subsist on. A delicious memory was still just a memory. If she wanted more from life she’d have to take some risks. Like sending an email to a stranger. Was it really such a risk? It seemed so silly to be afraid of writing down a few words, of reaching out, of asking for an answer to her wondering.
She would do it. She had to, because even if she had something more than nothing to lose, she would never gain anything new if she didn’t buck up her courage and try.
First she had to send her boss, Mark her latest report on the Italian acquisition. It was highly unusual that she would get to pick this one up in person. Everything was professionally shipped or handled by international physical couriers usually, but the Italian estate donating the painting (a small, obscure Botticelli) had been adamant about meeting a museum coalition representative in person before making the donation. Laine thought for sure Mark would go, but he’d tapped her instead. She felt so lucky. She wrote him a quick email, including a little thanks at the bottom for his faith in her as rep for the coalition, and then she attached the report file. She waited for the whooshing sound to confirm it had sent but she didn’t hear it. She realized the sound was off. She turned it back on and then clicked on her sent file to make sure it had gone through. She saw Mark Foster at the top of the list. Then her eyes bugged and she choked on her own inbreath. The name Colin Ellington was second on the list.
Panicking, Laine clicked on the sent message and saw what she feared: Tina’s partially composed message to ‘Colin Baby’.
Oh god.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.
Laine frantically hit New Message, put OMG in the subject line, and composed the second hardest email she’d ever tried to write as fast as her fingers could fly.
Chapter 2
Colin
“Bollocks,” said Colin seeing his dart hit the rim of the board and fall to the floor.
“Twenty quid, Ellington,” said Rudi.
Colin shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a note. He chucked it over to Rudi.
“Winner buys the loser a pint, remember.” Rudi nodded and headed toward the bar.
Colin checked his phone. Work had been slow the last few months. His collectors were getting more picky, but he’d recently heard about a few estate collections getting ready to go to auction, which might mean he’d be traveling again soon. Since Paris, he’d been to Greece, Turkey, Budapest and Dublin but only managed to secure two new pieces for his main buyer, Mihail Coone. He was courting a new buyer now, a recent widow whose wealthy husband had favored real estate over art but now that he was gone, Lady Madeline Allbright, was free to spend his money as she pleased, and art was her pleasure. Colin was waiting to hear back from her assistant to see if they wanted him to broker for them at auctions and private estate sales.
“Got a new tail to shake?” said Rudi nodding to Colin’s phone as he sloshed two pints on the already sticky table.
“It’s work, Mate. Got no time for play.”
“Bollocks to that. What about that Grecian goddess in Athens?”
Colin had made that one up, for Rudi’s sake. Actually, he hadn’t made her up entirely. She existed. They’d kissed, he’d pawed her small breasts, but he hadn’t felt the urge to take things further. Truth was, he hadn’t been himself since Paris. Since the American. He felt like a fool now. He’d left her his email address but she’d never written. He’d unlocked his spam folder and everything, just so he wouldn’t accidentally miss a missive, and for three months he’d been fielding relentless ads for cock rings and timeshares in India. At first he’d given her three days to make contact, and then three weeks, and then, for his own sake, to keep his own hope afloat, he’d extended the deadline for three months, in which time he’d actually bought a cock ring (still unwrapped and tucked in a drawer in his flat) and was dangerously close to signing up for a timeshare in Goa. Tomorrow, May fifteenth, marked the end of the three month period. He checked his email hopefully, feeling the hopelessness sitting at the sidelines waiting to move in.
“Yes,” he muttered triumphantly when he saw the email from Lady Allbright’s assistant, Keenan. The subject line, “It’s a go”, was all he needed to see.
“Looks I’ll be going to Italy next week,” he said to Rudi as the other emails loaded.
“Oh, dude. Italian tits are priceless.”
Colin glanced around. “Watch your language, Mate.”
A couple of legal assistant types had wandered into the pub and ordered two glasses of white wine. It was the after-work cocktail hour and the bars were filling up with the young, hip, and single of Shoreditch.
“And for that, I’m glad,” said Rudi, surveying the two wine-sipping lasses. “I can be couth when called for,” he added. “Especially if it can get me under those tight skirts.” He slurped suggestively on his lager.
Colin rolled his eyes at his friend. Habitually, he cast an appraising gaze at the ladies’ long legs until his phone dinged to say the final emails had downloaded.
He sat forward, alert, when he saw not one, but two emails from [email protected]. The buzz of the pub faded into the background…
The first email, seemingly unfinished, got his heart beating erratically. The second made him smile.
Colin, if this reaches you, I want to say sorry for the previous email. It was a joke. I mean, not from me. My assistant — my friend — Tina did that. It wasn’t me. I’ve been meaning to write and I just… Well, I just hadn’t gotten around to it.
This part made Colin frown. Hadn’t gotten around to it? That made him feel like chopped liver. Those blasted Americans always made themselves seem so busy. As if that’s what made them important.
I really wanted to. Don’t get me wrong.
Colin’s smile was back.
I just didn’t know where to begin. I mean, we had a good time, right? I didn’t want to spoil it by being needy.
Colin furrowed his brow. Needy? A morning-after email, or even week-after, would have been nice. What was needy about that? Clearly this woman wasn’t needy if she’d waited three months to contact him. And she might have waited longer if her assistant friend hadn’t fired off that email that she felt compelled to apologize for. (Colin rather liked it and wished it had gone on a bit longer.)
Anyway, I thought I should let you know that I’ll be in Italy next week for work. Florence to be exact.
Colin’s heart started beating erratically again. What were the chances of that?
I know that’s still far from London and we really hardly know each other, but…
Maybe they didn’t know each other in the conventional sense, but Colin remembered the freckles on her thighs and the small mole under her right arm and the way the sound of her aroused panting made his insides melt. He didn’t know her, but he knew her. And he’d been waiting three months for more.
You probably won’t be anywhere near there, but on the off chance… Actually, you probably won’t get either of these emails, since I don’t even know if this is a true email address. If it is, then you have my apology for the inappropriate first email, and maybe you’ll write back. And if not, at least I know I tried.
Colin wasn’t sure what that last bit meant, but as for writing back to her, it was a matter of how many deep breaths he had to take first so he didn’t look too enthusiastic, or worse, desperate.
He quickly opened Keenan’s email to confirm the dates they wanted him in Italy. Florence to be exact. Yes! They’d be there at the same time. It had to be Fate.
“What’s up?” said Rudi. “I’ve never seen you look that excited about work.”
Colin looked up at him and grinned. “Looks like there might be a little play time after all.”
He quaffed his ale. Then his phone dinged again with another downloaded email. Rudi raised an eyebrow as Colin swiped his screen. After three months of waiting he was getting three emails in three minutes? But this one wasn’t from Laine. It was fro
m [email protected].
Colin Baby,
If you do anything to hurt Laine I will track you down in London and stuff a Molotov cocktail down your breeches. Tina
Colin laughed. And then he smiled. Unlike Laine’s email, Tina’s work signature was at the bottom of the page. If they worked in the same office, that phone number probably led to Laine, too. Colin glanced at his watch and then said to Rudi, “I’m going to step outside for just a minute.”
Rudi shrugged. “When you get back, I challenge you to round two, and I’m going to whip your ruddy arse.”
Chapter 3
Laine
“I sent the email,” Laine called through her open door.
“Give me an L! give me an A! give me an I!”
“Quit it, Tina.” Surprisingly, she did.
Laine peeked through the door and saw her busily tapping at her keyboard. A few minutes later, Laine heard Tina humming That’s Amore.
The tune made Laine hungry for pasta. It was past her normal lunch hour. Maybe she’d step out and grab something. She had to pick up a couple of travel items as well, particularly, a outlet adapter. Or maybe a few. With computers, phones, and hair straighteners to tote, one adapter was never enough.
As Laine slipped on her denim jacket, her desk phone rang. She didn’t think her boss, Mark was yet back from his two hour lunch, and usually Tina announced which calls she was putting through.
“Laine Dixon.”
There was long pause on the other end and a strange clicking.
“Hello?”
“Laine? Do I have the write number?”
Laine froze. The man’s voice, deep and confident, pronounced the word ‘num—bah’. From the corner of her eye she saw Tina standing just outside her doorway. Laine gesticulated for her to shut the door. Tina grinned and pulled the door mostly shut.
Laine cleared her throat and said, “Yes, this is Laine.”
“Hello. This is Colin. Colin Ellington?”
She looked at her computer. She had sent the emails less than ten minutes ago.
“What time is it there?”
“Half ten or thereabouts. Listen, I just got your emails and I just had to ring and tell you, it’s the oddest thing really, but I actually will be in Italy the same week.”
Laine sat down. “In Florence?”
“Yes, and Rome.” He cleared his throat. “It would be lovely to see you.”
Lovely. Yes, it would be. Very. More than. But all Laine said was,
“Only if it’s convenient for you.”
“Oh, yes. For you, too,” said Colin. “Will you be quite busy?”
“A bit. But I’m sure I can make time for coffee. Or dinner.” She put her hand to her forehead. Why was she being so awkward?
Colin paused before saying, “Sure. I’ll look forward to it.”
“Okay. Me too.” This was awful. For months she’d imagined talking to him again and now that she had the chance she sounded flat and dull and could think of nothing to say.
Colin said, “I have your email now so I’ll send you my particulars. Where are you staying?”
“Uh, um…” Laine pushed a few papers around. “I don’t remember. I’ll have to ask my assistant.” Gosh that sounded pompous.
“Do, and then let me know. I haven’t booked yet so maybe I can aim for the same nieghborhood. You know, to make things more convenient.”
“Okay.”
“All right.”
“Well. See you next week then.”
“Yes.”
“Laine?”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember our night in Paris?”
“Of course!”
“Good.” His voice grew quiet. “You know, I’ve thought about you every day since then. I’m glad you got in touch.”
His words slid around her like a warm breeze. “Me too.”
They hung up. Laine turned slowly in her desk chair, replaying his voice in her head, until there was a knock at her door. Her dreamy fog lifted.
“Is it safe to come in?” Tina peered around the corner. “How did it go?”
Laine blinked. “I sounded like an absolute idiot.”
“Of course you did. But you’re meeting him there?”
Laine smiled. “As Fate would have it. Yes.”
Tina grinned. “Then you can make up for your idiocy with sexy lingerie. Let’s go for lunch.”
Colin
Colin hung up. He hesitated before stepping back into the pub. He looked up at the London sky. Only a handful of the brightest stars could penetrate the aura of city lights. Then there was the moon, or rather half of it, on the wax, which meant it would be full next week. In Florence.
He had felt a strange burst of energy hearing Laine’s voice, and then that rising energy had been thwarted somehow. Had she been happy to hear from him? He couldn’t tell. Had her assistant goaded her into sending an email she might have gone on not sending? Colin furrowed his brow at the sky. What was he to make of it? She’d be happy to see him if it was convenient? Not the romantic reunion he’d been fantasizing about all these months. But that’s just it, he chided himself. You’ve been fantasizing. This is reality. Awkward stumbling reality. And what did he really know about her? Nothing. For all he knew, she had a bloke and this was just a business trip and she’d rifled through her contacts to see who she knew in Europe and maybe thought, oh, there was that bloke from Paris, what was his name…
Colin frowned and looked down at his feet. She hadn’t written for three months. Maybe to her it was just a matter of convenience. He kicked himself for jumping so high so fast. That’s not the way he was with women. He was cool, calm, collected. He took what he came for and always offered something in return, but he rarely lingered. What had been different about Laine? He didn’t even much care for Americans. It had been one night of fun for them both, a sexy spontaneous romp. He’d had many such nights in his travels and remembered them fondly, when he remembered them at all. Why had she stayed with him so long? He’d thought about her every day since they’d met, and dammit, he’d just told her that on the phone. He might as well have hung his cock on the line and said, there, take a jab, why don’t you. What a wanker he was.
He scuffed his foot along the pavement wishing he’d handled it all quite differently. The pub door opened. One of the long-legged legal assistant types stepped out and put a cigarette to her lips.
“Got a light?” she said hopefully. Colin, who’d mostly given up smoking about a year ago, still carried a Zippo for just these occasions. Real smokers always carried their own lights and flirts-with-props always asked for one because usually it wasn’t a light they were asking for but an invitation they were offering.
She took a long drag and then offered Colin her open pack. “Want one?”
He took one. An actor taking his prop, just on these occasions.
“My friend Amanda’s in there talking to your friend.”
Colin nodded, inhaled as he lit his cigarette, exhaled. “Rudi.”
“Yeah, Rudi. He seems nice. Is he? Do you vouch for him? Is she in good hands?”
“Sure. ‘Course. He’s one of the best.” At what, Colin chose not to specify.
“And how ‘bout you,” she said, tilting her bare shoulder toward him, letting her strap slip a little. Are you one of the best?”
He flicked his cigarette, gave her a charming smile and held her gaze for a longer than usual beat.
“You’re welcome to find out.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Buy me a drink?”
“Why not?”
Florence and the full moon was still a week away.
Chapter 4
Laine
Laine laid out the racy lingerie on the end of her bed and then sorted through her mail. A thick, creamy envelope caught her attention. Her name was written in calligraphy by a hand she didn’t recognize. When she opened the card, she felt sick to her stomach and had to sit down. It was an invitation to Richard’s
end-of-summer wedding. There was a Post-it attached to the embossed gold details.
“I hope we’re still friends. I’d love for you to be there.”
She hated the fact that she could still decipher his sloppy handwriting. But really, this was in poor taste. His new girlfriend, his fiancée, must be pretty open minded. Maybe it was even her idea. Or maybe they just wanted as big an audience as possible. Laine wanted to burn the invitation right then and there, but she’d set off the alarm the last time she’d burned toast, so she’d have to do any ritual burnings out on the balcony. She stepped out there now for a breath of fresh air. She was over Richard. She really was. Her trip to Paris last March had been the turning point. She had Colin to thank for that.
Colin.
She had been such a dork on the phone earlier today. Dull, dour librarian. So boring. What would he possibly see in her? Sure, they’d shared one incredible night, but the thought of seeing him again made her felt absurdly shy, and she was still 8,000 miles away and not even picturing him with his clothes off! Which, for some reason, she couldn’t seem to do ever since she’d heard his voice this afternoon. For the last three months she’d pictured him naked and erect hovering over her in bed until he…
But now.
Hearing his voice had made it all real. For three months he’d been a delicious, perfect memory. Colin Ellington, healer of her fractured heart. Her green-eyed angel in Paris.
She sighed and looked up at the clear sky, a rare sight in San Francisco. She wished on a star. She wished she’d have the courage to take a risk in Florence and not stumble about shyly and make a mess of things. He’d called her back after all. He’d received her email he hadn’t just emailed back, he’d called her. That meant something, didn’t it? At the very least it meant he hadn’t forgotten her. And Laine didn’t want to be forgotten. She was determined to create another perfect, delicious memory. That’s why she’d let Tina go wild in Victoria’s Secret at lunch time. Laine had actually bought herself a garter, something she’d never worn before, and a very sheer bra and panties set, plus a long, slitted negligée.