Authors: Melinda De Ross
“Why do all kids have that stoned look?” she asked rhetorically. “I mean, they all look as though they’re lost in space, or have their own world, thinking their weird thoughts. How do their parents know they don’t conspire to kill them in their sleep?”
He burst out laughing, hugging her to his side.
“You don’t like kids much, do you?”
“I don’t dislike them. It’s just…I don’t get them. When I’m around a kid, it looks at me and I look at it and neither of us knows what to make of the other. They stare with those stoned eyes and blabber incomprehensible things, like they expect you to do something. I never know what to do with them.”
He chuckled.
“I feel the same. Isn’t that funny? But I hope to have a bunch of kiddies one day, someone who’ll inherit my empire,” he said jokingly.
They made their way through the walls of people to a pastries stand with a few tables scattered around. They bought a dozen doughnuts and a couple of sodas, for which Giovanni insisted paying, then they sat at one of the tables.
As they ate, she asked, “So, what’s this computer empire business? What are we talking about here? I’ve put a gun in your hands, but I know very little about you.”
He paused, reflexively licking the sugar off his fingers. Watching the motion of his sexy mouth, she swallowed, mesmerized. A sphere of heat and desire burned in her solar plexus, making it hard for her to look him in the eyes when he replied.
“It’s really nothing like that. I told you, I own a company that produces software. I started it over ten years ago, just a friend and me. It took larger proportions, but it’s not an empire. Let’s just say it pays the bills,” he added grinning.
“Aha…and you’re here for your sister’s wedding, you said. When is that?”
“December
fifteenth.”
“Who wants to marry in bloody December? Who wants to marry and why, period?” she demanded, choosing another doughnut with chocolate icing.
One corner of his mouth lifted.
“Oh, I see. Afraid of marriage and children. A woman after my own taste.”
When she smirked, he went on, “In answer to your question, I suppose couples who love each other want to marry any time of the year. Linda and Gerard are very anxious to make their relationship official.”
She stopped, her forehead creasing in concentration.
“Linda…Coriola…the sculptress? Your sister is Linda Coriola, the sculptress? Why didn’t I make the connection sooner?”
“Yes, she’s my baby sister. You know her?”
“Not
know
her, but I’ve heard about her. Who hasn’t? Well, maybe not everybody has, but I’m a news junkie, so it was hard to avoid seeing her on TV now and again. She’s very talented. And I like her art. It’s not like other stuff, too abstract you can’t see anything artistic in it.”
He laughed.
“She would love to hear that.”
“She’s marrying a doctor, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, Gerard Leon. He’s a hell of a guy, a brilliant researcher. As a matter of fact, he is about to put on the market two treatments that could eradicate cancer. But for one reason or another, someone’s always giving him grief about it. If I were paranoid, I’d say someone is sabotaging him,” he said thoughtfully, washing down the doughnuts with some soda.
“Why would anybody want to do that?” she asked, tasting her own drink.
“A sick mind doesn’t need a reason to do something. Gerard believes—and I tend to agree—there’s a worldwide conspiracy to prevent lethal diseases from being cured. Who, what and why? I couldn’t answer that. But this theory is far too popular and logical not to contain a grain of truth. Anyway, I’ve lured you away with doughnuts so I can find out more about you, not to talk about me and mine,” he teased. Supporting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, he stared at her deeply.
“Who are you, Miss Galsworthy?”
Sonia reclined in her chair.
“Are you asking as my trainee?”
He chuckled, amused, but then his smile faded as he said seriously, “I’m asking as a man who wants to know you very well. You’d better tell me now if you’re not interested.”
She let herself be captured in the dark intensity of his gaze. No more games. Here it was—the moment of truth. Was she interested? Hell, yeah! What woman in her right mind wouldn’t be?
“I’m flattered by your interest, Giovanni. And I believe you’re an interesting man yourself. I wouldn’t have shared the doughnut experience with you if I thought otherwise. So, what do you want to know about me?”
“Everything,” he replied simply and his eyes wondered down, focusing on her lips. To his credit, he didn’t stare at her breasts, though she had the feeling it was tremendously hard for him not to. She put down her soda, hoping her nipples weren’t visible. Commodity aside, maybe she should start wearing a bra, even though she hated being constrained by such garments. She returned her thoughts to the matter at hand.
“I’m a twenty-nine-year-old London-born-and-bred girl with a passion for guns and an addiction to fashionable clothes. To my late parents’ dismay, I’ve loved guns and weapons since I was three and got my first water pistol. They always asked themselves where they’d gone wrong with me, why wasn’t I playing with dolls and pink teddy bears like our neighbors’ little girls, etcetera…”
He burst out laughing, running a hand over his face.
“Wow! That was…precise. I gather people often wonder about your career choice. Why is that?”
“I ask myself that every time. I guess most people still believe the lil’ women should be trained to be perfect housewives, raise kiddies and bake cookies all their lives.”
“You don’t agree?”
“Hell, no! Do you?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement and defiance.
“No way. I’m a modern man, Sonia.”
“Modern enough to fear marriage and children?” she scorned playfully.
“Correction—rational enough to…cautiously avoid that sort of thing. At least for now. I don’t have anything against it by principle. Just haven’t felt the need as yet.”
He waited a beat and asked, “Have you?”
She thought it over for a while, chewing slowly the last doughnut.
“No, not seriously. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able or ready to be a good mother. As for marriage, the routine of it scares me. I’m not a party girl, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up next to the same man every day, forever. That’s the word that scares me. Forever. I wouldn’t want to do anything forever. Take motherhood for instance, if it doesn’t work, how the hell can you undo it? You have to stick all your life with someone you don’t know if you want or like.”
“Interesting point of view. I guess I’ve never thought of it like this. I used to be a party boy.” He grinned sheepishly. “But lately I’ve settled down some, bought a house, adopted a dog…”
She looked at him dubiously. “Wow. Looks like you’re all prepared for the next step in this domesticity thing. I got a plant,” she put in brightly. “I nearly killed it, but it’s still green. Maybe I’ll get a puppy. I really love animals. And my job isn’t so time demanding as it used to be.”
“A plant,” he repeated grimly. “I suppose now’s the time to encourage you and say that’s a good start.”
She laughed out loud until tears almost came into her eyes. When she could speak again, she told him, “God, I haven’t had so much fun in…I can’t even remember. You’re a fun guy, Giovanni. I like you.”
He smiled insinuatingly.
“I like you too. Very much.”
He slid his hand across the table to touch hers. When she didn’t protest, he slowly linked his fingers with hers. This apparently innocent touch had shivers of pleasure and lust rippling through her, as she stood lost in the dark depths of his eyes.
“Linda and Gerard are having a party tomorrow,” he said in a low, evocative voice. “An extravagant thing—a masquerade party. I’d really like for you to come.”
She felt as though in a trance, but at his words she blinked.
“A masquerade party? In this century?”
His teeth flashed in a quick smile.
“I told you it was a bit extravagant. I like the idea though.”
She thought it over for a moment, and a feline smile spread across her face.
“I like it too. I’d love to come. I’ve never been to this sort of thing in my life.”
“Neither have I. Should be interesting. It’s a modern sort of thing, not with historical costumes or stuff like that. Give me your address so I can pick you up. The party starts at eight.”
“Forget it,” she said. “I won’t have you driving around London all day to find me, just so you’d end up lost and miss the party. You give me your sister’s address. I’ll drive myself there.”
His brow creased.
“No way. I’m a gentleman, Sonia, and a gentleman collects his date right from her door. Besides, the party isn’t at Linda’s house. They’ve rented a restaurant or club.”
“Impressive! But the bottom line stays. You’ll still be a gentleman if I come alone. No arguments. Or don’t you want me to come?”
His eyelids seemed lazily heavy, but the enticing sparkle in his eyes was very much alert when he replied, “I do want you to come, Sonia. I want it very much.”
Her breath felt like steam in her chest and on her lips when his fingers tightened slightly on hers.
“You speak English very well, don’t you?” she finally said, her voice unusually husky.
“I do my best. In everything.”
The sensual tension increased by all those innuendoes and the mind-blowing effect he had on her only by touching her fingers became suddenly unbearable. She’d
never
been so overwhelmed by a man’s presence. His nearness, the exotic scent of his aftershave, his gorgeous body and face had her blood pumping faster through her veins. She cleared her throat, gently sliding her fingers away from his. She produced a pen and notepad from her handbag and asked him to tell her the address of the club where the party would take place.
As he did, he watched her scrawl untidily.
“You write like a doctor,” he observed, sounding amused.
“Yeah, well, most of the time I don’t understand my own writing. But don’t compare me to doctors. I’m terrified of them.”
“Why’s that?”
“They’re just like bees,” she said, stuffing the writing materials back in her bag. “They just…buzz around you, like bees. And they have needles. I have a needle-phobia,” she went on, shuddering slightly.
“You’re kidding, right? A woman who handles guns like toys is afraid of a little needle?”
She looked at him dead serious.
“Any rational person fears needles and dentists, Giovanni. At least a bullet kills you quickly—it doesn’t slowly scare you to death.”
He let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
“You know, you’re really something, Sonia. I can’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s company so much.”
She smiled one-sidedly, then stood.
“I think we’d better go. It’s late and freezing out there.”
He helped her into her leather coat, his hands lingering on her shoulders as she slipped it on. He pulled on his own jacket and they made their way through the crowds, while Mariah Carey sang cheerfully
All I Want For Christmas Is You.
Outside was indeed freezing and big snowflakes fell lavishly, dancing over the city. She was too cold to enjoy the beauty of the December night. Her teeth chattered as she hugged herself tightly. Giovanni noticed. He unzipped his jacket and, wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her to him, so she was half-covered by his jacket as he held her close with a strong arm. Grateful for the warmth of his body, she cuddled against him, putting her arm around his waist.
“I…really…have to start buying…practical clothes,” she said through shivers.
“I can’t argue there. Though it’s sexy as hell, this coat is fit for spring, not winter.”
They reached her car and she immediately started the engine, waiting for the heater to blast warm air. He sat in the passenger seat, looking at her worriedly.
“Are you okay? You look like a popsicle,” he remarked. “Maybe you caught a cold.”
“Don’t worry. I do this every year,” she assured him. “I never get sick. I suppose my body has adjusted to my fashion sense.”
She drove back to the shooting range and parked next to his car. The parking lot was deserted, as usual for every Saturday night. She turned to him.
“Thanks for inviting me to the party. And for the doughnuts. I’ll see you tomorrow night at eight.”
“Can I have your phone number?” he asked, getting out his own cell phone from his pocket.
Sonia told him her number as he touched the figures on the screen of his iPhone.
“Got it?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she repeated, feeling like an idiot.
“I’ll be expecting you,” he said huskily. He stretched out a hand and brushed her cheek gently, then traced a finger down her lips. His touch was electrifying, his eyes locked on hers with an almost palpable intensity. She laid her head on her seat’s headrest, as her heartbeats drummed in her ears.