He didn’t offer to meet her for lunch, either. But she shoved it out of her mind and just got on with work, staying late to help Sally lock up the Charlotte Street café.
When she opened his front door she discovered what Gio’s mysterious plans were. Something smelled fantastic, and explained the little bistro table in the living-room alcove set with a white damask table cloth and proper silver; there were scented tea-light candles in the middle of the table and the tablecloth was scattered with rose petals.
Gio came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms round her, resting his cheek against hers. ‘Good day?’
She nodded. ‘And everything’s ticking over fine, so you don’t need to worry about anything.’ She indicated the table. ‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.’
‘Well, you’ve done nearly all the cooking while you’ve been staying here. I thought it was time to even up the balance a little.’ He nuzzled the curve of her neck. ‘Go and sit on the sofa. I’ll bring you a glass of wine.’
Perfectly chilled pinot grigio. Then he fetched one of his guitars and played her some of the pretty Italian divertimenti he knew she liked.
‘I feel thoroughly spoiled,’ she said with a smile.
And the food was even better. Grilled scamorza, followed by grilled salmon on a bed of garlicky spinach with polenta, and then the most fantastic white chocolate cheesecake.
‘This,’ Fran said, ‘is to die for.’
‘I had a rather more, um, interesting reward in mind,’ Gio said. She grinned. ‘Oh, really?’
‘Uh-huh. Food of love. I’ve played to you, I’ve fed you, we’re going to ignore the washing up, and you’re going to have to wait for your coffee.’ He took her hand and tugged her to her feet, then drew her into the bedroom.
Fran’s eyes widened when she saw the rose petals scattered on the bed.
‘I told you I had plans,’ Gio said, sliding his fingertips under the hem of her top and drawing tiny circles against her skin.
It took him a long, long time to undress her. Every inch of skin he uncovered had to be stroked. Kissed. Licked. And by the time he finally laid her down on his bed of rose petals, Fran was shivering.
‘Now. Please, now,’ she whispered. Begged. She needed him inside her—right here, right now.
Gio shook his head. ‘Tonight,’ he told her, his eyes a sultry deep blue, ‘we’re taking it slowly.’
So slowly that she thought she was going to go crazy. Time and again, Gio brought her just to the edge of climax—then paused for just long enough to keep her on the brink. Her whole body had turned into a mass of sensation, aware of his tiniest movement.
And when he finally entered her—still keeping the pace slow and measured—she came instantly.
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘And neither have you.’
She didn’t believe him. But when the aftershocks had died away, he began to move again. Stoking her pleasure higher and higher.
‘This—’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t…I’ve never come twice. It’s not poss…Oh-h-h.’
He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘Something you should know, tesoro. I’m aiming for three.’
Fran’s look of shock mingled with disbelief and sheer pleasure gave Gio a real kick. He’d thought it would be good between them, but this was something else. He loved the way she responded to him. The way her body was so in tune with his. The flare of passion in her eyes. The scent of the roses mingled with the musky scent of her arousal. The sound of her little sighs of pleasure. And when his own climax rippled through him, he felt Fran’s body quiver in answer. Each beat of her heart matched his own. Two as one.
He wasn’t ready to say the words.
But he hoped to hell she knew exactly what his body was telling her.
And that she felt the same way.
‘Can I speak to Fran Marsden, please?’ the breezy voice asked when Gio answered the phone.
‘Sorry, she’s not available at the moment.’ Jude had annexed her for lunch. Which was how come Gio was left with a panini, a chocolate brownie and a sense of disappointment. Weird how he’d got used to actually taking a proper break. Going for a stroll with Fran in Regent’s Park at lunchtime and enjoying the sunshine he hadn’t really noticed in years; sitting by the lake, watching the swans and the squirrels with his arm round his girl. Perfect.
‘Can I help?’ he asked.
‘It’s London Lets. Can you tell her that the flat’s finished? The repairs have been done and checked, the utilities have all been tested, there’s a new carpet down and she can move back in again whenever she likes.’