by Miranda Lee
‘Okay, so if you don’t want me to join you—’
‘What, on my hunt for kissable men?’
Lorenzo refused to take offence. ‘Kissing men has never been my style,’ he said dryly.
She felt so miserable she snapped back, ‘Well, I don’t make a habit of it either.’
‘In that case I’m glad you made an exception last night.’
Right. Lorenzo had only been trying to save her from embarrassment. He would have done the same for any of his female students. Lorenzo gave kisses easily, because kisses came easily to him; they had rarity value where she was concerned.
‘Stop frowning,’ he instructed, slanting a glance her way. ‘Your face might stick that way. We’re off duty, and even lawyers can’t take themselves seriously all the time.’
Says the inquisitor-in-chief! ‘So where are you heading?’
‘Back to the flat. I’m going to make some supper. You can have some too. You have to eat, don’t you?’ he said, responding to her surprised look.
‘I didn’t think you could cook.’
‘How many Italians do you know who don’t cook?’
‘I don’t know many Italians.’
‘Then you don’t know what you’re missing.’
Her cheeks blazed red on cue.
When they arrived, he suggested she take off her suit and relax. It was exactly what he planned to do. It was just unfortunate as he said it that the bits of lace she kept stored in her bedroom flew into his mind. He quickly prescribed an outfit: ‘Jeans and a top—something you don’t mind spilling food down.’ He wanted to take her to bed and it should have been straightforward, but, as he’d told his inner self before, nothing was straightforward with Carly Tate. ‘My food is messy,’ he said when she looked at him.
Someone had hurt her; he could see it in her eyes. So much for seduction! How could he when that same someone was putting roadblocks in his way? But the anger that surged inside him came from longing to bring her detractor to account.
‘I won’t be long,’ she said, walking off.
Who the hell had done that to her? His work made him acutely aware of body language and she couldn’t hide the strain on her face.
He went to his bedroom and took his clothes off. Hanging up his suit, he made for the bathroom. He needed a shower to clean away everything he’d seen and heard that day. Working as a criminal lawyer was all he’d ever wanted to do, but the cases he handled were real-life dramas and he could never relax until he’d washed the day away.
He felt refreshed by the time he reached the kitchen. Women loved it when he cooked. It always threw them—usually in the direction of his bed. He was a perfectionist in cooking, advocacy and sex, and knew better than most that practice made perfect. But this wasn’t a cynical exercise. He was right to have doubts about Carly’s future. Confidence was a prerequisite for a successful career at the bar, and it took more than a sharp brain and dedication for a student to achieve their potential. Carly carried a load of expectation on her shoulders, but what did she want?
‘Hungry?’ he said, forced to break off his cogitations when she walked into the kitchen.
‘Starving,’ she admitted, but then her cheeks flamed red as if she’d said something wrong.
‘I promise not to poison you.’
‘No need to go to any trouble—I’m not that hungry.’
‘You said you were starving.’
‘Are you cross-examining me, my learned friend?’ She was only half joking.
‘If I make it, you eat it, is that understood?’ This time he was only half joking.
She blushed and looked away. To spare her the spotlight he started making a home-made salad dressing. ‘To go with the pasta,’ he explained, feeling pleased when she came a little closer to see what he was doing. ‘Food allergies?’ he queried without looking up as he added seasoning.
‘None.’
‘And you’re not on a diet?’
Her cheeks pinked up. ‘What makes you say that? Do you think I should be?’
The tone of her voice shocked him. ‘No, I don’t. You work long hours and you need your strength.’
Like a sumo warrior? Carly thought, watching Lorenzo wield his wooden spoon. Truthfully, she was ravenous, and this already smelled good.
‘I’m going to put the dressing in the fridge,’ he said, moving past her, ‘and start on the tomato sauce for the pasta.’
She pressed back against the work surface. It was torture being this close to him. The jeans he’d changed into hugged his hips, and the heavy-duty belt he’d threaded through the denim loops drew her attention to things she shouldn’t be sneaking looks at. Then there was the top clinging tenaciously to his hard-muscled arms.
‘Taste?’ he said, having beaten his sauce into submission.
She did an instant calorie calculation and agreed: tomato, chilli and onion were safe. ‘And is this your idea of a simple pasta?’ It was simply delicious, that was for sure.
The look he gave her confirmed nothing was simple where Lorenzo was concerned. And then, looking for an indication of his mood, she glanced at his feet and saw they were bare. For some reason that gave her a sexual charge, which took her by surprise. Was she so desperate she was finding feet sexy now? But Lorenzo’s feet were sexy. Tanned, with a fabulous pedicure, her eyes reported. And his hair was still damp from the shower, which she found incredibly arousing too. In fact—
‘Try this now I’ve seasoned it again,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts.
She opened her mouth as he touched the spoon to her lips.
‘Better?’ he said.
She licked her kiss-bruised lips, and hummed approval.
‘Take a bigger mouthful. Unless you’re afraid of food, of course.’ He’d meant it as a joke. ‘You’re not, are you? Why, that’s ridiculous. While I live here you’re going to eat properly.’
Her stomach growled on cue, making them both laugh and relaxing the tension.
They sat down to eat. Lorenzo’s ragu was rich and perfectly seasoned, and as she slowly dropped her inhibitions Carly found her tension unravelling as fast as a piece of loosely-knit cotton. ‘Ice cream?’ she asked, after Lorenzo had cleared their plates away and returned with dessert. She felt a moment of guilt, but only a moment. ‘Oh, no, you’re spoiling me.’
‘It’s a special Zabaglione … my own recipe. Open wide …’
It was the most indescribably delicious spoonful of food she had eaten in her life.
‘The alcohol content makes the mixture soft, and so—’
She didn’t listen to the rest, because Lorenzo’s sleepy gaze was soothing, and the brush of his minty breath on her face was making her tender lips tingle.
‘And like many things it must be eaten without delay,’ he went on. ‘Carly? Are you still with me?’
Barely, and yet never more so, she thought as Lorenzo dipped his head to stare her in the eyes.
‘Has someone said something to upset you?’
The telephone conversation with her parents was still fresh in her mind, and the concern in Lorenzo’s voice was the last straw for her tear ducts. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Then why are there tears in your eyes?’
‘Don’t be silly, there aren’t any,’ she said, sniffing violently. She wasn’t about to reveal her weaknesses to him.
He let it go and made coffee. He put his questions down to professional interest, but it was more than that. It was new to him, this impulse to nurture. It certainly got in the way of sex for recreation. The trouble with Carly was she made him want things he couldn’t have, things he didn’t have time for. ‘Tell me more about yourself …’ He wanted to hear her speak; her voice soothed him, and right now he badly needed soothing.
‘What can I tell you? I’m boring,’ she said.
‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’
‘Another test? I thought we were off duty?’
‘These are scholarship questions,’ he lied.
‘How am I doing?’ Her eyes fired.
He didn’t want to answer that. He wasn’t prepared to commit himself either way. Carly was a strong candidate. On paper, at least. Or was that being unfair to her, because he wanted her in his bed?
It was more than that, Lorenzo reflected. He doubted Carly’s commitment to the scholarship programme. She had allowed herself to believe she wanted nothing more on earth than the Unicorn scholarship, but in his view her motives were wrong. The scholarship was a prize she’d take home for her parents like an eager puppy might take a ball. He doubted she’d thought further than the winner’s name being announced. Where the Unicorn would take her was immaterial, it was where it would take her parents that obsessed Carly. ‘So, what’s the boyfriend situation?’ he said to distract them both. And, yes, because he wanted to know. He had an obsession too—the thought of sex with Carly, and right now it was driving him hard.
‘There isn’t one,’ she said, turning on a frank stare. ‘I don’t have time.’
Should that answer please him quite so much? ‘So you won’t be leaving anyone behind if you’re awarded the scholarship?’
Only you … With a head and heart full of Lorenzo it wasn’t easy to stare straight at him and convince them both there was no one she cared about. ‘No one,’ she repeated, avoiding his gaze.
‘Surely your parents have someone lined up for you?’
‘Maybe, but I didn’t approve of their selection.’
‘You make them sound like a box of chocolates.’
‘That’s just what they were,’ she agreed. ‘But they were all strawberry creams, when I was looking for—’
‘Bitter chocolate and a hard nut?’ he suggested dryly.
‘Exactly …’ She looked at him, wishing the comparison between men with grey socks and darkly, dangerous Lorenzo could have been a little less extreme. ‘Anyway—’
‘Anyway?’
‘Like I said before, I don’t have time for men.’ It was a useful lie. ‘The speed-dating fiasco was a mistake. I found myself in the right place at the wrong time, and then I just got swept away by the prospect of—’
‘Sharing a man’s bed with countless others?’
‘No!’
He hummed sceptically as he might have done in court. ‘Are you sure your parents don’t know what’s best for you?’
He poured coffee, but she wondered at the tense line of his jaw. ‘I’m positive.’ She passed the cream. ‘So-called society can be incredibly dull.’
He sat back. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘Bores who think their stories are irresistible, and when you try to get to know them, you wonder why you—’
He cut in. ‘I didn’t mean tell me literally, I was agreeing with you.’
‘You were?’
‘Yes, I was, Carly.’
Well, that had to be a first! The way Lorenzo was looking at her now was unfathomable. The only thing she could say for sure was that it made her heart melt.
She would get over him and get on with her life, Carly told herself firmly. This little chat was nothing more than a fishing expedition on Lorenzo’s part so he could write a proper report. ‘Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.’ She was just congratulating herself on a great exit line when she missed her footing and landed in his arms.
‘Bed?’ he suggested.
She stared into his eyes, hardly daring to breathe.
‘I need you back working full tilt tomorrow.’
Ah.
He steadied her back on her feet and said goodnight. She’d almost made it out of the room when he added, ‘Your parents must be very proud of you.’
‘Yes, of course they are.’ She stiffened.
‘And this scholarship would mean a lot to them?’
‘Of course …’
‘And to you?’
When she didn’t reply immediately, he added, ‘I should think they’re already proud of you. You don’t need the Unicorn scholarship on top of everything else.’
Her stomach clenched. Was Lorenzo trying to tell her something? If he was she’d rather he just came out and say it. ‘Lorenzo, please don’t mess me about—I’d rather know.’
‘And you know I can’t tell you my decision.’
She gripped the door handle for a moment and then left the room. He fought the urge to go after her. He had been trying to let her down lightly and he’d messed up. He waited until she shut her bedroom door and then only managed to stop himself punching the wall because it wasn’t his wall to punch.
He was suspended between business and pleasure with a bridge of lust in between. If he had been searching for a recipe for disaster, he couldn’t have found a better one.
CHAPTER NINE
ONLY ONE MORE NIGHT until Carly’s Christmas party. That was her second thought as she woke up. The first—since it contained Lorenzo—was censored.
There was a street lamp outside the window shedding a grudging light inside the room. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, telling herself she was stealing the last few moments in a warm bed before getting up, when really she was listening for Lorenzo. And fretting. He had dug and dug last night until she’d given up who knew what innermost secrets. One thing was for sure: he’d read more into what she’d said than anyone who wasn’t a top-flight barrister might. She wasn’t fooled for a minute by his cosy chit-chat; he’d been using his tried-and-tested courtroom technique to find out everything he could about her. So had she blown her scholarship chances out of the water? Only Lorenzo knew that, and he wasn’t telling.
It shouldn’t be hard to avoid him today she’d be so busy, but it was when they were both home like this and the apartment hummed with his energy she found it so difficult to relax. How long would it take to fix a leak at his flat? When would she be rid of him?
Who was she trying to kid? She was aching for sex; aching for Lorenzo.
Burying her head under the pillows, she tried to shut out the sound of his shower running. The thought of him naked beneath the spray was nothing short of torment, but, short of a miracle, aching for sex was how she was going to stay. Lorenzo Domenico might be the hottest thing on two hard-muscled legs, but he wasn’t interested in her.
The bathroom grew silent again. Sitting up in bed, she hugged her knees, resting her chin. The best thing to do was work twice as hard to prove to Lorenzo that her parents’ expectations weren’t the only thing driving her.
Lifting the envelope containing Carly’s lists, he picked up the phone and summoned her. Minutes later she was in his office.
He eased back in his chair, acting as if the sight of her had no effect on his libido. ‘Let’s go over these lists,’ he said, handing her the copies.
Lists plural? He had both her lists?
‘Lists?’ she squeaked, delving frantically through her memory bank. She distinctly remembered stuffing Lorenzo’s list inside an envelope and popping it inside his pigeon-hole. She knew it was his envelope because she had marked it For Your Eyes Only. For one look into Lorenzo’s eyes she would do a lot of things … but not, surely, mix up her lists?
‘You put an envelope into my pigeon-hole, didn’t you?’ he said, confirming it was all right to relax. But then a suspicious curve tugged at his lips. ‘And I picked this list up when you dropped it …’
He’d got the wrong envelope! It wasn’t just a list she’d dropped, it was the bottom out of her world!
‘Is it getting too hot for you?’ Lorenzo murmured as she eased the neck of her shirt. ‘I can easily turn the central heating down.’
He could turn the air-conditioning up and it wouldn’t impact on her discomfort. Toughing it out was the only way left to her. She played it cool. ‘Oh, that list. I still have one or two additions to make, so if you wouldn’t mind …’ She held out her hand in a way that would make any normal person act immediately.
‘Additions?’ Lorenzo said dryly. ‘Can it be possible you’ve left something out?’
Her cheeks fired as she thought about
it. Her cravings, her fantasies of everything she’d like Lorenzo to do to her—all of them written down in note form, some with explicit doodles …
‘No, I didn’t think so,’ he said. ‘I think you’d better explain yourself, Carly.’
Inwardly, she shrank. Explain what? That she wanted to go to bed with Lorenzo—and not once, but many times, and each of those times was going to be more inventive than the last—
‘I hope you haven’t circulated this list to your colleagues,’ he said, showing a distinct absence of humour.
‘No, of course not!’ That was the one thing she could be sure about. The list Lorenzo had just placed on the desk in front of him was one of a kind.
‘Good,’ he said evenly. ‘It could corrupt in the wrong hands …’
Forget toughing it out! ‘Sorry.’ Snatching the list off his desk, she ran out. If she was going down she was going down with all guns blazing!
Back home that night, wanting to take her mind off Lorenzo, and inspired by his prowess in the kitchen, Carly baked a cake. And not just any cake. A cake decorated with emerald-green icing. The bottle of colouring had been tiny, the bowl large—who knew you were supposed to put in a drop of green colouring and not the whole bottle?
In spite of this small setback she decided stubbornly that it would make an excellent centrepiece for the buffet table at the Christmas party.
‘Emerald-green icing?’ Madeline stared.
‘It’s festive,’ Carly pointed out. She had drawn quite a crowd on her arrival in chambers, and was prepared to defend the first cake she had ever baked to hell and back again.
‘It will brighten up the buffet table no end,’ one of the clerks agreed. ‘You could use it for a centrepiece.’
‘That’s the plan …’ She was smiling again by the time she replaced the lid on the tin.
‘You have got everything ready for tonight, haven’t you, Carly?’ Madeline asked anxiously as everyone peeled away. ‘Only Lorenzo went off to court like a bear with a sore head—’
‘Did he …?’ she asked, trying to sound indifferent while she inwardly groaned. This was it. She was finished. After the encounter in his office and the wretched list she should have expected it. ‘Of course I’m ready.’ She changed track quickly, seeing Madeline’s suspicious nose was already twitching at the thought of something juicy to spread around.