Confessions of an Italian Marriage Page 16

  The next morning, as they were about to climb aboard the van, the same official pulled him aside.

  Damn. That was never a good sign, but Everett kept an unbothered expression on his face.

  A Korean woman offered him a small package and a silk scarf with cherry blossoms embroidered on it. The scarf was delicate and seemed valuable, but the woman motioned that this was to protect his still raw throat.

  He got the message and put it on, bowing his thanks.

  The official inspected the tea, sniffed it, and allowed him to board the bus.

  When he gave Freja the scarf she cried into it, but for once Giovanni didn’t scold him for interfering.

  * * *

  Captivated by Confessions of an Italian Marriage?

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  One Night on the Virgin’s Terms

  by Melanie Milburne

  CHAPTER ONE

  IVY KENNEDY WAS at the hairdresser’s when she found a solution to her virginity problem. The answer was in the very first gossip magazine she flicked through. Truth be told, the answer had been under her nose for years, but it hadn’t been until now that she’d had her Aha! moment.

  Louis Charpentier—the king of one-night stands and her older brother’s best friend. Her problem solved. Who knew that getting highlights could be the highlight of your week? Your month? Your year?

  Sarina, the hairstylist, glanced over Ivy’s shoulder at the magazine article and whistled through her teeth. ‘Gosh, isn’t Louis Charpentier enough to stop your heart? I swear that man should come with a warning. He’s so gorgeous, I’m getting a hot flash just looking at his photo. I hear he’s won Hottest Bachelor of the Year again. How many times is that now? Three?’

  ‘Four.’

  Ivy turned the page over but surreptitiously used her left thumb as a bookmark. She wanted another look at Louis without the hairdresser drooling over her shoulder.

  She gave what she hoped would pass as an indifferent shrug and added, ‘He’s okay, I guess.’

  For years Louis had been nothing more than her brother Ronan’s best friend. Handsome enough, but not enough to ‘tempt her,’ to borrow a phrase from Jane Austen. But, with her thirtieth birthday rapidly approaching, and her status as a virgin unchanged, she had to do something—and soon.

  How was she ever going to find a partner in life unless she did something about her embarrassing intimacy issues? She’d spent most of her adult life finding any excuse she could to avoid dating, out of fear. Fear of being naked with a man and him finding her not good enough. Fear of being hurt. Fear of falling in love with someone only for them to dump her.

  But she was about to turn thirty, and she had to push past this road block in her life. Thirty. Eek! Who’d ever heard of a thirty-year-old virgin these days?

  And who better to fix her little problem than Louis, who was super-experienced at seduction. How could her inhibitions around sex be solved any other way? It would be awkward and cringe-worthy, asking him, but she couldn’t bear the thought of asking anyone else.

  She wanted someone she knew and trusted to help her, not some casual hook-up who might laugh at her or mock her for still being a virgin at her age. Or make rude comments about her body, like one of her erstwhile dates. Louis wasn’t a stranger, he was a friend... Well, perhaps a ‘friend,’ inverted commas, would be more accurate.

  Now that her brother had emigrated to Australia to be with his partner Ricky, Ivy only saw Louis for a coffee or lunch now and again. And she’d had to cancel the last time due to a large shipment of antiques arriving from France at the store where she worked as a curator.

  Ivy knew that if she didn’t act on her decision this very afternoon she might lose her courage and not act at all. She only had a month until she turned the big Three O, but she wanted to experience the Big O well before then. The birthday clock was ticking like a bomb.

  She took a deep breath, opened the magazine again and studied Louis’ distinctive features. Tall and dark, with his smoky blue-grey gaze brooding in an I-don’t-quite-know-what-he’s-thinking kind of way, he was the epitome of heart-stopping gorgeousness. She traced the firm line of his mouth in the photo and began to imagine how it would feel pressed to her own. Her eyes went further down the photo to his strongly muscled thighs and a soft flutter of nerves wafted through her belly.

  She closed the magazine with a definitive snap. Yep. He was The One. Not as in a happily-ever-after The One, but the perfect solution to her embarrassing problem.

  All she had to do was convince him.

  * * *

  Louis Charpentier was doing the final drafts of a major architectural project in his London office when his secretary buzzed him on the intercom.

  ‘Louis? There’s—’ she began.

  ‘I said no interruptions this afternoon, Maureen.’ He injected his tone with stern authority. Why couldn’t his temporary secretary obey his simple instructions, for God’s sake? He was on a tight deadline and the client was difficult and demanding. Story of his life. What was it about him that attracted the most demanding clients? No doubt the same bad-luck fairy that had given him difficult and demanding parents.

  ‘I’m sorry, but there’s a Miss Ivy Kennedy here to see you. She hasn’t made an appointment but she insists it’s important she sees you as soon as possible. She says she’s the sister of a close friend of yours. Will I send her in or tell her to come back some other time?’

  Louis pushed his computer mouse to one side and scraped a hand through his hair. What could be wrong? Ivy had cancelled the last time he’d suggested they have lunch. Her brother Ronan had asked him to keep an eye on her when he’d emigrated to Australia. Louis enjoyed his occasional catch-ups with Ivy, but he tried not to notice her in any way that could be even loosely described as sexual. Not easy to do when she looked so damn sexy without even trying. But messing with his best mate’s kid sister was a no-go zone. Ivy was the hanging out for the fairy tale, the forever love. She was the wanting-to-have-babies type. He was the sleep-with-them-once-and-move-on-without-looking-back type. They had zilch in common other than her brother Ronan. Besides, his best mate had experienced enough trouble coming out to his family without Louis adding more to the mix.

  Louis pressed the button on the intercom. ‘Send her in. And hold all my calls until she leaves. Understood?’

  ‘Got it.’

  The door opened and Louis rose from behind his desk, his eyes scanning the pint-sized whirlwind that came in. With almost waist-length wavy red-gold hair, periwinkle-blue eyes, Celtic alabaster skin and a full-lipped mouth, Ivy Kennedy looked as if she had stepped out of another era—apart from her clothes, of course. He tried not to stare too long at her slim legs encased in blindingly white jeans, and the way her black V-neck cashmere sweater outlined the firm up-thrust of her small but perfect breasts. She was wearing burgundy heeled, pointy-toed ankle boots that highlighted the daintiness of her ankles. But even with the boost of her heels she still didn’t make it up to his shoulder.

  ‘Hello Ivy.’ His voice came out a little huskier than he’d intended, and he was conscious of the effort it took to keep his gaze away from the ripe, plump curve of her mouth. ‘What can I do for you?’
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  ‘Louis, I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you like this, but I have a problem and I think you’re the only one who can help me.’ Her voice was breathless and twin circles of colour formed on her cheeks.

  Louis was never sure whether to greet her with a kiss on the cheek or a hug but, given the way his groin was stirring just now, a hug was very definitely out.

  Maybe his self-imposed celibacy was a mistake. Mr Amazing One-Night Stand was taking a much-needed sabbatical. How long had it been? Three, or was it four, months? He stayed behind his desk and waved a hand to the chair in front of the desk reserved for clients. ‘Please, sit down.’

  ‘Thanks. I won’t take up too much of your time.’ Ivy plonked herself down on the chair, her dangling silver costume-earrings swaying against her heart-shaped face. He caught a whiff of her perfume—white lilacs and lily-of-the-valley—which danced around his nostrils in an intoxicating vapor. Her small, neat hands were clasped around a rectangular bag only big enough to carry a mobile phone and the bare essentials. She ran the tip of her tongue across her cherry-red lips and then gave him a dimpled smile that almost knocked him off his feet. Small white teeth with an adorable overbite and those luscious lips were a bewitching combination that sent his pulse up another notch. ‘It’s good to see you, Louis. Sorry I had to take a rain check last time.’

  Stop staring at her mouth. And don’t even think about looking at her breasts.

  ‘That’s okay. I had a lot on that week anyway.’ He cleared his throat and sat down, resting his forearms on the desk. ‘So, what can I help you with?’ He used his let’s-get-down-to-business tone, but he was aware of a strange energy in the air—a subtle tightening of the atmosphere that made the black hairs on his arms tingle at the roots.

  She rolled her lips together, her gaze lowering to the Windsor knot of his tie as if she found it the most fascinating thing in the world. ‘Erm... Well, it’s kind of difficult to explain...’ Her cheeks went two shades darker and her fingers picked at the stitching on her bag as if she was determined to dismantle it then and there. He automatically checked her left hand for rings. Nothing.

  He let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He lived in silent dread of her getting involved with the wrong man. It would be just his luck to have her fall for some totally unsuitable guy on his watch. Her brother had told him she’d been dreaming about getting married since she’d been given her first doll. He’d also heard she’d been unlucky in the dating game, no doubt because she was way too generous and trusting and not at all street-smart.

  Louis leaned back in his chair and reached up to loosen the knot of his tie. ‘Would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?’

  Ivy glanced at him, her small white teeth snagging her bottom lip. ‘Do you have any brandy?’

  He frowned. ‘Since when do you drink brandy? I thought you only drank white wine or champagne.’

  Her lips twitched in a self-deprecating smile, her cute dimples appearing. ‘This is kind of a brandy situation.’

  ‘Now you’ve got me intrigued.’ Louis rose from his chair, walked over to his drinks cabinet and poured a small measure of brandy into a tumbler. He came over to where she was sitting and handed the brandy to her. Her fingers brushed his in the exchange and a current of electricity shot from her fingers to his and straight to his groin with lightning-bolt speed. What was going on with him today? He was acting like a hormone-mad teenager. Maybe his sex sabbatical wasn’t such a great idea. It was messing with his head, messing with his morals, messing with his boundaries.

  Louis perched on the corner of his desk in front of her chair rather than go back behind his desk. He told himself it would make her feel more at ease, less intimidated without the barrier of his huge desk between them, but deep down he knew it had more to do with wanting to be close enough to study every nuance of her face. He watched her lips move against the rim of the crystal tumbler, imagined them closing around him and a wave of heat swept through his body.

  Yep, he really needed to break his sex drought. Getting the hots for his best friend’s sister would be crossing a line he had sworn he would never cross. Ronan had issued him with the task of keeping an eye on her. Nothing else. Eyes on. Hands off. What else could there be between them? He wasn’t her type in any shape or form. Ivy was the sweet, homespun type who couldn’t walk past a jewellery-shop window without gazing at diamond engagement rings and wedding rings. The type of woman who tried on wedding dresses in her lunch hour. The type of woman who drooled over prams and puppies and dreamed of promises of forever love. He had no faith in that kind of love. How could he when he had watched his parents’ forever love turn into forever fighting over the years?

  Ivy took three eye-watering sips, coughed twice and then leaned forward to put the glass on Louis’ desk with a grimace. ‘Gosh, how do people drink this stuff? I’m not sure I can finish it.’

  ‘Probably a good thing.’

  She hunted up her sleeve for a tissue and, taking one out, mopped at her eyes, giving him a sheepish look from beneath eyelashes as long and spiky as spiders’ legs. ‘I’m sorry for interrupting you when you’re so busy. Is that a new secretary? She seems awfully nice.’

  It was typical of Ivy to see the best in everybody. It was an endearing quality but not one he possessed. Maybe he was more like his father than he realised. Shoot me now. ‘Yes, she’s only been here a couple of months. My usual secretary, Natalie, is on maternity leave.’

  Ivy leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner and continued in a stage whisper. ‘I think she’s a little bit in love with you.’

  Louis coughed out a laugh and pushed himself off the desk with his hands. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to sit so close to her. Her perfume was doing strange things to his senses—not to mention the glimpse he got of her delightful cleavage when she leaned forward. He moved back around behind his desk, sat on the chair and crossed one ankle over his bent knee in a casual pose he was far from feeling.

  ‘I never mix business with pleasure, and dating staff is a recipe for disaster.’ Dating anyone for longer than twenty-four hours these days was a disaster. He’d once been fine with a week or two with someone, even a month, but that was before his most recent lover, who’d had trouble accepting the end of their three-week fling. Being stalked for weeks on end by a woman who’d fancied herself madly in love with him had been no fun. His new rule was one night and one night only. It gave no time for feelings to develop on either side.

  Ivy rolled her lips together, her eyes briefly dipping to his mouth. ‘Are you...seeing anyone at the moment?’ Her voice had a tentative, breathless quality to it and the pink in her cheeks darkened.

  Louis swivelled his chair in slow sideways movements, his gaze holding hers. ‘Not at the moment. Why?’

  She gave a one-shoulder shrug, her eyes skittering away from his. ‘Just asking...’

  He lowered his crossed ankle to the floor and leaned his arms on the desk again. ‘Ivy.’ He used his parent-to-child tone, because right then he was having way too much trouble seeing her as his mate’s sister. He was seeing her naked in his bed, those gorgeous breasts in his hands, his mouth on hers, his...

  Stop. Do not go any further. Just stop.

  Ivy slow-blinked like a little owl. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  Louis sat back again and rubbed a hand over his late-in-the-day stubble. ‘Yeah, sure. Go for it.’

  She gave an audible swallow, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to deposit a layer of moisture on her lips. Lips he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing, to see if they were as soft and pliable as they looked. To see what they tasted like—sweet or salty or a sexy combination of the two? ‘Louis...what do you find most attractive in a woman? I mean, you date a lot, so I guess you’d know what’s hot and what’s not, right?’

  What was hot was sitting right in front of him, with her small whi
te teeth pulling at her lower lip. What was hot was thinking about peeling those skin-tight jeans and sweater off her and planting kisses on every inch of her body. What was hot was thinking about her legs wrapped around his hips while he drove them both to oblivion.

  Louis suppressed a shudder and gave himself a vigorous mental shake. Anyone would think he was the one who’d drunk that brandy. ‘Confidence is enormously attractive in a woman.’

  Ivy slapped one of her thighs and sprang to her feet; her bag dropped to the floor with a thud but she didn’t even seem to notice. ‘I knew it. That’s exactly what I think and it’s why I’m here to ask for your help to gain some.’

  Louis raised his brows a fraction. ‘Me?’

  She came around to his side of the desk, standing close enough for him to touch her. Do. Not. Touch. Her. The temptation to do so was painfully difficult to resist. Her hair was a red-gold cloud around her neck and shoulders, and every time she moved her head he could smell the fruity fragrance of her shampoo. Her eyes were so bright they could have auditioned for a position in the Milky Way. And her lips... Dear God, her lips were plump and shimmering with lip-gloss, and it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss her.

  ‘Yes. You,’ Ivy said, her smile triggering those cute dimples again. ‘I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else. I need someone I know and trust. It would be too hard for me to do this with a stranger.’

  Do what with a stranger? And why did she trust him? Louis wasn’t so sure he deserved her trust, given where his mind was leading him—straight into the gutter. He pushed his chair back and stood, putting a little more distance between them. He went over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a neat whisky. He wasn’t a heavy drinker—thankfully that was one way in which he was different from his father—but right then he could have drained the bottle and followed it with a brandy chaser.