Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas (Mills & Boon M&B) (Mills & Boon Special Releases)

by Miranda Lee

  ‘What will you wear?’ Madeline gave her the quick up and down.

  She wasn’t falling for that one again. ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ Carly replied vaguely, her mind on other things—like the tirade of anger due from Lorenzo.

  ‘Don’t you think you should?’ Madeline demanded with a frown, taking a large bite out of a succulent Krispie Kreme. ‘Want one?’ she offered, holding out the box. She didn’t just offer, she held the box stuffed with freshly-baked doughnuts right under Carly’s nose. ‘I didn’t have time to stop for breakfast,’ Madeline explained as the mouth-wateringly sugary smell invaded Carly’s quivering nostrils.

  Carly’s stomach growled in disappointment as she refused the offer. But what could she do? She had nine hours to drop a dress size, and no intention of squandering a single minute. ‘I had breakfast before I left the flat, thank you,’ she lied glibly. ‘And now, if you will excuse me, Madeline, I really should be getting on …’

  ‘Of course …’ Madeline looked curiously at the hefty brief beneath Carly’s arm, tied ostentatiously as all briefs were supposed to be with bright pink ribbon. The sight of it didn’t have quite the same effect on Madeline as the box of Krispy Kremes had had on Carly, but at least it made Madeline’s predatory gaze narrow, which was something.

  ‘Lorenzo entrusts you with his briefs?’

  ‘I’m looking this one over for him, actually,’ Carly said, excusing her fib on the grounds of extreme provocation. The truth was Lorenzo had left the papers behind in the flat, and she thought he might need them. And returning them was as good an excuse to see him again and beg for his mercy.

  ‘What about your dress for tonight, Carly?’ Madeline pressed.

  ‘Who said anything about a dress?’

  ‘You surely can’t be thinking of turning up in trousers?’ Madeline looked fit to faint.

  ‘Now, Madeline, you know that everything about the Christmas party is supposed to be a surprise.’

  ‘A surprise, not a shock,’ Madeline pointed out, taking another monster bite from her doughnut. ‘But if you should need any help …’

  And see you coming? I’ll run a mile, Carly thought, smiling sweetly as she pressed the elevator call button. She had enough trouble on her hands as it was.

  ‘Only I saw this dress, and it’s just you—’

  Carly breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator doors closed right on cue.

  Carly smiled with satisfaction. She was ready. She had arranged for everything to be delivered at least two hours before it would be needed for the party, and so far her plan was running like clockwork. Everyone else had gone home at lunchtime to prepare. She hadn’t managed to see Lorenzo, which she told herself was a good thing as she plonked the brief down on his desk. Actually, it was; she was anxious enough. She had warned the security guard at Reception that no one, apart from her suppliers, was to come anywhere near the main hall. If she was going down, she was going down with the most spectacular bang.

  How could you go without food for a whole day and still not lose weight? Having raced back to the flat, Carly was now struggling with the skirt she had planned to wear for the party—black lace over a flesh-coloured skirt. If you didn’t look too closely, it gave the illusion of lace over naked skin—though whatever had possessed her to imagine anyone would want to see her naked flesh escaped her now. Tugging it off, she discarded it on top of the ever-growing clothes mountain at the foot of her bed.

  She was getting desperate, but then she noticed the snow drifting past the window. Snow was good news, because snow made it possible to pile on layers which, hopefully, would conceal everything underneath. Plus, if she transformed herself into something shapeless and sexless, no one would care how much she ate. Brilliant. When she wasn’t handing out food she could be eating it.

  There was a far bigger turnout than Carly had expected, and everyone was in party mood, including Madeline.

  ‘Carly, you’re a star!’ Madeline enthused, managing at the same time to frown with incredulity that Carly could have achieved something so enjoyable. ‘Everyone’s saying that no one but you would have had the nerve to put on a Northern night.’

  ‘Really?’ Was that good, or bad? Carly wondered. And where was Lorenzo? She gazed around nervously. The sooner they could have their confrontation and get it over with, the better. She knew she was finished. She just didn’t know the mode of execution Lorenzo would choose to despatch her with yet.

  ‘I can see now why you didn’t need my fashion advice,’ Madeline commented with a critical gaze. ‘How clever of you to get that grunge outfit exactly right.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Carly said, trying not to chip her teeth in the process of grinding her jaw into the approximation of a smile.

  ‘I’m having such fun,’ Madeline confided. ‘Beer and skittles! Who’d have thought you could come up with such an original idea?’

  ‘Have you seen Lorenzo?’

  ‘Oh …’ Madeline’s face took on a concerned look. ‘Did I forget to say? He asked to see you in his office the moment you showed your face …’

  The moment she showed her face? This was bad. ‘So he’s here?’ It was too late to hide her feelings from Madeline. Her guard was down, and everything she felt about him, all the longing and apprehension, was on her face for everyone to see.

  ‘He’s been here for some time … monitoring the situation,’ Madeline said ominously. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about. You just have to accept that a man like Lorenzo isn’t used to this kind of entertainment. I’m sure he’ll get over it.’

  ‘Is he very angry?’

  ‘Who knows? Lorenzo never shows his feelings. Surely you’ve learned that by now?’

  If nothing else? Carly wondered, maintaining a neutral expression as she crunched on Madeline’s barb.

  Madeline shrugged. ‘But never mind. At least I’m enjoying your party …’ She gave Carly a consoling hug, dropping a greasy sausage-and-onion kiss on the cheek for good measure. ‘Can’t stop!’ she exclaimed happily, having wrought the appropriate level of havoc on Carly’s nerves. ‘Must go and sign up for the snooker tournament.’

  Carly’s insides were lashing about like crazy, but there was no escape. Whatever anyone thought there was only one person who mattered, and he was waiting to see her in his office.

  She should have known Lorenzo would be here from the start. She should have known he wouldn’t like this sort of casual, rowdy party. And on top of everything else that had happened it was the final straw; the straw that proved she had made a complete hash of things.

  Carly elbowed her way across a crowded dance floor as she attempted to reach the corridor where the seniors’ offices were located. She gleaned some comfort from the fact that the dance floor was crowded with judges and QCs, all jiggling about. At least they were having fun. She hadn’t been able to afford a DJ and so she had hired a beat-up jukebox from a friend of Madame Xandra’s. The skittles had been thrown in along with a dartboard and a snooker table, as well as several boxes of dominoes and Shove Halfpenny boards, which were being fought over this very minute. When she had queried the minuscule cost of so much entertainment, Madame Xandra had explained that retro was finished. Maybe it was, but the legal world was centuries behind, meaning that for most of her guests retro had barely arrived.

  As she walked briskly down the corridor towards her fate she tried to picture Lorenzo in his sober three-piece suit throwing darts … It wasn’t easy; in fact, she failed.

  What had she been thinking?

  She hesitated briefly, and then rapped firmly on Lorenzo’s door.

  ‘Come in.’

  Seated behind his desk he looked suitably stern.

  ‘Before you say anything—’

  ‘I’d like to congratulate you,’ he said, ignoring her. ‘Your party’s a huge success.’

  There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere; there had to be. His face gave nothing away. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

  ‘I’d be happier if
it weren’t for this.’ He held out the list.

  ‘I can only apologise …’ Not prepared to give up yet, she sidled up to his desk and tried to take it.

  He lifted it out of her reach. ‘Shut the door, please,’ he said briskly.

  A sense of failure swept over her as she closed the door. A black cloud sat on her head as she thought about her parents and the disappointment that was about to envelop them.

  Lorenzo remained seated, remained stern. She bit her lip and then bit back tears. However hard she tried, she always let people down. ‘I’m sorry,’ she started, but then, just as she began to speak she had a vision of Madeline Du Pre gloating. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself and defend her corner. ‘I did my best,’ she said robustly, ‘and if you don’t like it—’

  ‘I can what?’ Lorenzo challenged in a lazy voice, unfolding from his chair.

  She swayed back. How could she have forgotten how big he was? Was every bit of him in proportion? She reddened as her thoughts ran riot. He towered over her. Ominously.

  ‘What are you wearing?’ He came a step closer.

  Did it matter? Did he care? Would anyone notice what she was wearing when she left the building? And at least she was warm, which was something! ‘It was snowing outside when I left the flat—’

  ‘But that’s hardly a party outfit,’ Lorenzo commented, viewing it disparagingly. ‘You’re hot,’ he said.

  Obviously! But then she noticed the look in his eyes and blushed. Did he mean what she thought he meant? ‘Really?’ she said in a different voice.

  ‘Absolutely. Now, I think we should make a start by removing some of these layers … This shawl, for instance,’ he said, unwinding it, ‘is quite unnecessary in a centrally heated building.’

  ‘I didn’t have time to take it off,’ she stuttered as he tossed it aside. ‘Look, I know I’m not hot on fashion, but—’

  ‘But what?’ he said. ‘You’ve cornered the market in cardigans?’

  Okay, maybe she had added one too many. She gasped as first one cardigan and then another hit the floor.

  ‘Or caftans, perhaps?’ he said, fingering the heavy cloth of the garment she was wearing underneath.

  ‘This isn’t a caftan,’ she said with affront. ‘This is a genuine beaded abaya from the souk. I only bought it last year—’

  ‘Well, it looks like a Bedouin tent to me. Are you sure you bought it from a clothes stall?’

  ‘Quite sure …’ She gasped as he lifted it over her head.

  ‘This won’t do, Ms Tate. Apart from your rotten taste in clothes, you’ve broken the first rule on your list. Or was it the second?’ Rasping the stubble on his chin, he thought about it. ‘You do remember the rule to which I’m referring?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ She drew with relief upon her flawless memory bank, which unlike her social skills and doodling, never let her down. ‘“Arrive early,”’ she quoted, ‘“and make a point of speaking to your immediate superior—”’

  ‘But you didn’t make a point of speaking to your immediate superior. I was waiting here to see you.’

  Her breath rushed out in shock as Lorenzo started undoing the laces at the neck of the traditional shirt she was wearing underneath her abaya.

  ‘Now this is an ugly thing,’ he said, ‘so we’ll discard it.’

  ‘I’m really, really sorry.’ She glanced anxiously at the growing mound of clothes. ‘I’ll get some help—a personal shopper … a full make-over—’

  ‘Let’s forget your fashion crisis for now,’ Lorenzo soothed, ‘and concentrate on your rules.’ He referred to the list again, while she could think of nothing other than the lurid activities her matchstick people had indulged in.

  ‘I like this rule,’ he said, looking up. Lorenzo’s eyes were so dark they were almost black. ‘You must remain visible and maintain a pleasant and interested smile on your face at all times … Well?’ he prompted softly. ‘What do you have to say about that, Ms Tate?’

  She gasped again as the first of her vests hit the floor.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘I WROTE THOSE GUIDELINES at your instruction,’ Carly reminded Lorenzo in a voice that refused to stop trembling. ‘Just like you said, they’re meant to help the less experienced members of chambers in stressful party conditions—’

  ‘And are they helping you?’ he said in a murmur as he peeled off another vest.

  ‘Lorenzo … what are you doing?’ She eased her neck, subconsciously presenting it for his attention …

  ‘You don’t know?’

  Lorenzo’s face was very close to her ear. His warm breath was making it tingle, and she gave a little groan.

  ‘Are you cooler yet?’

  Was he joking?

  He was so close now the harsh cut of his beard grazed her skin, and before she had chance to recover from that he licked her ear.

  ‘Shall I stop?’ he said when she trembled.

  Only if you want to, she wanted to say, but her lips moved and no sound came out—other than a ragged sigh that was half a moan. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she managed to force out.

  He backed her up against the door, taking it slowly, crossing the room step by inevitable step, until she could feel the cool wood against her back and he could reach the lock.

  ‘Exactly how many garments are you wearing?’ he murmured, perusing them.

  ‘Quite a few yet …’ Suddenly all those layers seemed more of a blessing than a curse; the unwrapping process made her wish she’d put on more.

  ‘You must be steaming,’ Lorenzo growled against her ear.

  He had no idea!

  ‘The best thing we can do,’ he said, ‘is remove everything …’

  ‘What about the party?’

  ‘The best parties run themselves … and you have put on an excellent party.’

  ‘What a relief …’

  ‘Indeed. Now … is this a thermal vest?’

  ‘One of two,’ she admitted.

  ‘Will you take it off, or shall I?’

  Reaching up, she hesitated a second, and then instead of taking her vest off she loosened his tie.

  Lorenzo cocked his head to one side with a slow smile burning. ‘Why, Ms Tate, that’s very forward of you …’

  ‘I think I’m beginning to get the hang of this.’

  ‘I always knew you were a good student.’ He whipped off her vest as she pushed his jacket from his shoulders.

  ‘Now, this is very nice,’ Lorenzo approved, discovering another of her lucky sale finds in silk, lace and satin.

  Teasing him, she crossed her arms over her décolletage. The aquamarine camisole, which was her very last top, thank goodness, was so fine it hid nothing.

  ‘How interesting,’ Lorenzo observed softly, ‘that in spite of wearing everything else you possess you have forgotten to put on a bra.’

  ‘They’re so confining.’

  ‘At last, we agree—’ his lips tugged at one corner and his eyes lit with humour as he gazed down at her ‘—but I should warn you that inappropriate behaviour at the Christmas party can seriously limit your career.’

  ‘While expert schmoozing without resorting to being a creep helps you to move up the ladder,’ Carly retorted with a look that was almost as wicked as Lorenzo’s.

  Taking hold of her arms, he removed them gently but firmly from her chest and placed them at her side, drawing a soft moan from her lips as he ran the tips of his nails very lightly down them. ‘That list was an excellent piece of work,’ he commended huskily. ‘It gave me all sorts of pointers as to what you might like—’

  ‘Did you need them?’

  Lorenzo was concentrating on stroking her breasts beneath the filmy fabric and didn’t welcome her interruption. ‘Not really,’ he murmured, without looking up. She groaned as he moved on to tease the tip of her nipples with his thumbnails.

  ‘Watch out for horns,’ he reminded her when she reached up to lace her fingers through his hair.

  ‘You read the wrong
list,’ she complained.

  ‘I read every list,’ Lorenzo husked against her lips. ‘Surely you know by now how very thorough I am?’

  ‘I’m counting on it …’

  He backed her up towards an intricately inlaid Linley table, positioned at a convenient height against the wall. He lifted her onto it. ‘My only complaint—’

  ‘Yes?’ she said anxiously.

  ‘Is that I can think of a much better use for a table than dancing on top of it.’

  ‘Merry nights make sad mornings …’ Carly warned.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Lorenzo countered, his hands running down her torso to her thighs.

  Her fingers flew down his shirt studs and sent them flying, and while he was otherwise occupied she ripped his shirt off too. He teased her with almost kisses, making suggestions based on her doodles in between, while she pulled down his zip. His low, husky voice had made her wild for him, as did the expression in his eyes. And his chest … she explored it greedily. It was like polished bronze, like a statue by Michelangelo, and his body was made for sin …

  As her camisole floated to the floor they fell on each other like starving men at a banquet. Lorenzo tasted great, and she did too, judging by the way his kisses were migrating down her neck. The kiss in the bar had been nothing compared to this; she’d been constrained by convention when they were in public, but now, when she was alone with him—

  Carly gasped with disappointment when Lorenzo stopped touching her abruptly to rip open a foil packet.

  ‘So you’re …’

  ‘Not a virgin,’ she confirmed happily, shrieking with excitement when his warm hands cupped her buttocks. ‘But you were a Boy Scout,’ she asserted as he settled her in position.

  ‘A Boy Scout?’

  ‘Be prepared?’ she reminded him.

  ‘I would certainly recommend it,’ he advised, nudging his way between her thighs.

  Lovely desk, wonderful desk, perfect desk, it was just the right height. She was completely at his mercy now, naked, available, and panting for release. ‘Oh …!’ she breathed in a long-drawn-out ecstatic sigh.