by Miranda Lee
Carly wasn’t sure how long she slept, but she woke to find Lorenzo on one elbow at her side, looking down at her. He brushed the tangles of hair from her face.
‘I enjoy watching you sleep.’
She made a sound of contentment. ‘I don’t know how you’re still awake when every inch of me is exhausted. Where do you find the strength?’
‘You’re my inspiration?’ he said dryly.
But there was a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. ‘What are you thinking about, Lorenzo?’
‘I heard you talking to your mother in the kitchen. I have good hearing and plenty of practice at speaking while I listen. I heard her ask you if you might be pregnant.’
‘Well, I’m not.’
‘Can you be sure?’
They’d just made love unprotected, so, no, she couldn’t be sure.
‘Would you be disappointed if you found that you were not pregnant?’ Lorenzo asked her.
She didn’t want children … of course, she didn’t. The only thing she had ever wanted before Lorenzo came along was a career … All her mother had ever wanted for her was a career, Carly amended silently. She had a major rethink on her hands.
Lorenzo pressed her for an answer.
‘I’d be disappointed,’ she admitted softly.
‘You can have it all,’ he said. ‘You do know that, don’t you? Career, family—’
She gave herself a warning, knowing she couldn’t even begin to face the pain if she talked herself into believing Lorenzo wanted a family with her.
‘Yes, but as I’m not pregnant—’
‘We can soon put that right—’
‘Lorenzo—’
‘Are you complaining?’
‘No,’ she gasped.
‘Happy Christmas, baby …’
It took everything she’d got to open one eye, and then Carly saw that Lorenzo was not only up and about, he was shaved, dressed, and ready to hit the road.
‘Half an hour and the driver will be here,’ he reminded her. ‘You’d better get up.’
‘Must I?’ She brushed the hair out of her eyes to look at him.
‘Unfortunately, yes.’
She swung her reluctant limbs over the side of the bed. ‘Merry Christmas, Lorenzo …’ She had barely enough strength left to form the words. ‘I think you drained every ounce of energy out of me last night.’
‘I’m sure there’s plenty more where that came from. I only wish we could stay longer and find out,’ he said, folding her in his arms, ‘but we have a take-off slot to fill.’
‘Okay,’ Carly murmured reluctantly, snuggling close. Winding her arms around his neck, she turned her face up for a kiss, and then complained when Lorenzo lifted her out of bed and steered her towards the bathroom.
‘It’s lucky that one of us has some self-control,’ he said.
‘Yours wasn’t so hot last night.’
‘That was a one-off,’ he assured her. ‘Go on,’ he urged, ‘I won’t relent.’
Good, Carly thought with satisfaction, leaning back against the closed door. And wasn’t that what she loved about him, the challenge, the wall to kick against? But what if her mother was proved right? What if Lorenzo was just using her for sex? No. He loved her. She firmed her jaw. Lorenzo loved her.
‘Don’t take too long,’ he called through the door. ‘We can’t miss that slot.’
‘Move in here,’ Lorenzo suggested when they got back to his apartment.
‘Are you serious?’ Carly stared at him.
‘Why not? What’s the point in keeping a room at Louisa’s when you’re going to be here with me? I’m going to have to put a lot of time and effort into satisfying your demands, and I’ll need you on site for that.’
The way Lorenzo was talking made living together sound like a building project. But maybe it was a project to him, something to carry out with his usual efficiency before finishing it and walking away … Giving him chance to start again on a fresh project. Carly’s heart squeezed tight as she thought about it. ‘You mean like a temporary arrangement?’
‘Carly …’ Lorenzo’s lips tugged up at one corner as he shook his head. His thumbs were lodged in his belt loops with his fingers pointing the way to an impressive bulge, which took her mind off … everything.
As they ripped clothes off she couldn’t help noticing his socks were covered in rabbits. ‘Are these prophetic?’ she said, laughing as she tugged them off.
‘What do you think?’ Lorenzo demanded, throwing her down onto the bed.
‘I think you’d better show me.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said.
‘Mine,’ Carly argued with a gasp.
‘You have a real talent for making me forget everything,’ she said much later, turning her head on the pillows to look at Lorenzo.
‘I’ve had years of practice in court—but I haven’t succeeded in making you forget everything, have I, Carly?’
She sighed as he stroked her breasts.
‘There’s still all this hurt inside you …’
‘Hurt?’ Capturing his hand, she held it in place. ‘If you mean that visit home, I’m over it. I’m made of stronger stuff than you seem to think.’ His face assumed the masklike quality she recognised from court. ‘I can’t thank you enough for flying me up there.’
‘You don’t need to thank me.’
‘And I’m not hurting,’ she assured him.
He had only done what anyone with the means would do for someone they loved. Had no one ever made a gesture to Carly before that wasn’t connected to the advancement of her career? Perhaps her father and sister were frightened to. The treats and surprises his parents had heaped on him made him realise how lucky he’d been and he wanted that for Carly. ‘Let’s get up and take a shower,’ he suggested, ‘and then we’ll open our Christmas presents.’
‘Presents plural?’ she said, already sounding worried. ‘But I only got you one—’ Her cheeks reddened.
‘You’re my present; the only present I want.’ He would drum that guilt out of her however long it took. He raced her to the shower, giving her a head start, and she shrieked with excitement as he closed in. Her eyes were already darkening in anticipation as he shut the doors. She was in his arms with her legs locked around his waist before the water had turned warm, and this time her shrieks came fast and furious and had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.
‘And you call me insatiable,’ he said.
‘The more I get, the more I want,’ she admitted.
‘Love can do that to you,’ he said.
‘Love …’
‘Don’t tell me you’re just using me for sex,’ he teased her.
Her anxiety dissolved into a cheeky smile. ‘Now there’s an idea …’
It was some time before they emerged from the bathroom swaddled in warmed towelling robes. He had to carry Carly, because his spare robe was far too big for her. He had to carry her anyway, because he wanted to. ‘We’ll get dressed, and then have presents,’ he said, ignoring her complaint. If they didn’t get dressed soon, Christmas would never happen. ‘And if we don’t hurry up we’ll miss supper—’
‘Supper out on Christmas Day?’
‘A friend of mine has opened a restaurant. It’s open, and he’s saving us a table.’
‘You were pretty confident I’d come back here with you.’
‘You should know from court I always plan ahead.’ He dipped his head to look her in the eyes. ‘And I never doubted it …’
Carly gulped when she saw how many carrier bags Lorenzo had hidden behind the sofa. ‘These can’t all be for me!’
‘I wasn’t hanging around to edit the contents. Half an hour in that place was enough for me.’
Lorenzo shopping? Now she understood. ‘So where do I start?’
‘With the underwear—that’s usual, isn’t it?’
The ribbon-trimmed box from her favourite store was unmistakable, the contents racier and more expensive than she would
ever have dared choose. Plus Lorenzo seemed to have taken one of everything—in pink, in aquamarine, and in … gulp!
‘For when you’re feeling frisky. Shall we move on to the outer casing?’
Which just happened to be the softest cashmere dress in pale caramel, which he’d teamed with knee-high suede boots in a slightly darker shade. The heels could most safely be described in polite society as wicked in the extreme. ‘Oh, Lorenzo, they’re fabulous,’ Carly exclaimed, trying them on.
‘And there’s a jacket.’ He angled his chin towards the remaining carrier bag.
‘You shouldn’t have bought me all this. It must have cost you a fortune.’
‘Won’t you try it on?’
Carly was speechless. She had never bought clothes of this quality for herself.
‘If you don’t like anything you can change it. I won’t be offended,’ Lorenzo assured her.
‘I don’t want to change a thing,’ she said, finding her voice. Everything was just perfect, and in the classic styles with a quirky edge she looked almost fashionable.
‘You’d look beautiful in a sack,’ Lorenzo argued.
‘If you don’t mind I’ll pass on the sack and stick with the clothes you bought me.’ She leaned back against him and sighed. ‘Honestly, Lorenzo, I don’t know what to say … I’m overwhelmed.’
‘Say you’re happy; say you believe me when I tell you you’re beautiful …’ Clasping her shoulders in his warm hands, he nuzzled her hair out of the way and planted a kiss on her neck.
‘But—’
‘No buts …’ Turning her to face him, he silenced any remaining doubts she might have had with a kiss.
Lorenzo was wonderful, and she loved him with all her heart, but what would he say when she told him her dreams for the future?
‘You’re doing it again,’ he said.
‘What am I doing?’
‘Thinking too much …’ He looked at her seriously for a moment and then his lips tugged up. ‘Do I get my present now?’
He’d taken the parcel out of his mailbox and it was sitting on the coffee-table. ‘It’s nothing compared to all this,’ she said, gesturing around.
‘If you chose it I’ll love it, just as I love you …’ He kissed her hand as he spoke, and then, turning it, kissed her palm too.
He loved her. She would never get used to it. Did he love her? In her head her mother huffed.
Lorenzo ripped the paper off her gift and then sat staring at the book she’d bought him.
‘How did you know?’ he said at last. ‘How did you know that Frank Frazetta is one of my all-time favourite artists?’
‘Call it an educated guess.’ But it was more than that. Frank Frazetta was a famous American artist who drew fantasy heroes and larger-than-life battle scenes. He idealised the fight for right, and celebrated heroes and heroic principles, and in her opinion every one of Lorenzo’s dragon-slaying qualities existed between the pages of that book.
She looked over Lorenzo’s shoulder as he turned the pages depicting another man’s incredible flights of imagination. Some people might think the images off the wall, but Frazetta had been a student of anatomy, and was an impressive artist in every way. His work seemed a perfect match for Lorenzo. Wasn’t he off the wall with his austere front, his sensual nature, and his crazy-coloured socks?
‘It’s a perfect gift,’ he said in a way that made her heart clench.
But it was more than that for him, Lorenzo realised as he stared into Carly’s eyes. She had reached into his soul and plucked something out of there. In a way he wasn’t even surprised she’d bought him the book of illustrations; they were like two sides of the same coin. Frank Frazetta had been his late father’s favourite artist too. ‘While there are men like this around,’ he used to say, stabbing a work-worn finger at one of the illustrations, ‘everything will be okay. You gotta be like them, Lorenzo. In here …’ He’d thump his chest at that point. It was a regular Sunday night routine to prepare them both for the rigours of the week ahead—his at the private school, and his father at the meat factory where he worked to pay the fees.
‘Do you really like it?’ she said.
He realised Carly must think him distant, when nothing could be further from the truth. ‘You have no idea what this little book means to me,’ he assured her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘I LOVE IT.’ Lorenzo put the book in pride of place on the coffee-table. ‘You couldn’t have bought me anything I’d like more.’
When he’d stopped kissing her Carly asked what time they had to be at the restaurant. ‘Soon, but first I want to know what you’ve decided about the future.’
‘You’ll think me silly …’
‘Try me …’
She gazed at his socks, sombre blue, decorated with the scales of justice. Somehow that made it harder to tell him, but she couldn’t put it off for ever. ‘Not law,’ she said.
She waited, but Lorenzo didn’t cut in as she had expected him to. ‘I’ve had a wonderful training and a wonderful time at chambers. And it’s all been worthwhile, because I wouldn’t have met you if I’d chosen another path. So I have a lot to thank my mother for …’
He let that one pass. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What’s it to be?’
‘I’m going to be an event planner …’
Not, I want to be; I’m going to be. For once in his life he couldn’t keep his mask in position. He knew she would eventually realize what he’d wanted her to. ‘Carly, I’m delighted!’ He swept her into his arms.
‘You are?’
She looked amazed, but whatever the rest of the world thought of him he was a simple man with simple goals. He wanted to make a difference and raise a family, and to do that Carly had to be happy. What she’d just told him would finally bring her the sense of personal achievement that had proved so elusive in the past. ‘I know you’ll be fantastic. And if you get cards printed and circulate them amongst all the people who attended your Christmas party I’m sure you’ll be snowed under with enquiries.’
‘You really mean that, don’t you?’
‘I never say anything I don’t mean. Now, come on, or we’ll be late for Father Christmas—’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a believer?’
‘Of course I am.’
As she laughed he made a silent pledge to fight each one of her demons in turn until there were no shadows left.
The restaurant Lorenzo took her to was a surprise. It was situated in something that looked more like an aircraft hangar than a glamorous eatery, and it was only when they walked inside and Carly smelled the food she realised why the huge space was packed out.
The smiling host had been waiting for them at the door, a man of similar age to Lorenzo, but with more dream than scheme in his dark blue eyes. He led the way for them through the tables.
‘Don’t be misled,’ Lorenzo whispered discreetly in Carly’s ear as they headed towards a generous-sized table overlooking the river. ‘Tre’s dreamy expression comes from his eternal quest for that coveted third Michelin star.’
‘Can you read all my thoughts?’ Carly challenged him softly.
‘Most of them,’ he admitted. ‘That’s why I know we’ll make such a good team.’
She had to try very hard not to read anything into that. ‘This is really lovely,’ she said as Lorenzo attracted the attention of the wine waiter.
‘I thought it would make a nice change from Greasy Jo’s,’ he teased her.
‘Don’t remind me,’ she protested, laughing. ‘I’m never going to live that one down, am I?’
‘Never,’ Lorenzo assured her.
They both laughed.
He ordered champagne. ‘You’ll need a glass to toast Father Christmas,’ he explained. ‘And look … Here he is, right on cue …’
The celebrations allowed everyone to shed their inhibitions, Carly thought as Father Christmas wove his way through the tables; even she was excited.
The wine wai
ter filled her champagne flute to the brim, and reaching across the table, Lorenzo found her hand and linked their fingers together. ‘I just hope you like your gift.’
‘I’m sure I will.’ She had seen some of the other women opening packages that contained a beautiful orchid in a tiny glass vase. The men’s gifts appeared to be miniature tins of coffee beans, which she knew Lorenzo would love. ‘But mine’s different to everyone else’s gift.’ It was a lot smaller, and Lorenzo had a different gift too.
‘I get a personal gift from Tre because we’ve known each other so many years,’ he explained. ‘He can never resist his annual dig at my fashion sense.’
‘So you get socks?’ Carly guessed.
‘That’s right,’ Lorenzo confirmed. ‘And what do you make of this one?’ he said as Father Christmas left the smaller gift in front of Carly.
‘Why would Tre buy me something when we don’t even know each other?’
‘Who said Tre bought it for you?’
‘You said—No, you didn’t,’ Carly amended.
‘For a moment there I really thought all those years of legal training had been wasted,’ Lorenzo said dryly.
‘Can I open it?’
‘After me.’ He was already ripping the Christmas paper off his socks.
‘Reindeer socks with bells on?’ Carly laughed. ‘At least I’ll hear you coming.’
‘Why don’t you open yours now?’
There was a tiny jewellery box beneath the Christmas paper. Possibilities raced through Carly’s mind—collar studs? This was embarrassing. She had only just told Lorenzo about her intention to leave law and now it looked as if he had bought her something she would use in court: collar studs, or cufflinks engraved with the crest of her inn of court, perhaps—they were very popular. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ she said awkwardly.
‘How do you know what it is until you open it?’ he pointed out.
Maybe it was a joke present. She went hot and cold at the thought that she might have made a fool of herself confessing her love for Lorenzo, just as her mother had predicted. But he’d said he loved her. He did love her. She firmed her resolve, and, pressing the catch, released the lid.