Picture of Innocence(19)

‘Wake up, Lucy.’

She opened her eyes and snuggled closer to his strong body. ‘You are insatiable,’ she murmured, wrapping her arm around his waist and lightly kissing his chest. They had made love twice already, but even so, pressed against him flesh on flesh, she felt the familiar quiver of desire snake through her body.

‘Sorry, Lucy, I hate to disappoint you, but it really is time I took you home. I have to leave at dawn to drive to London—I’m flying out to New York about noon.’ And, rolling off the bed, he shot her a brief smile and strolled across to the bathroom.

Lucy watched him go, admiring his bronzed body—the broad back, elegant spine, the firm buttocks and long legs—and feeling slightly disappointed. Silly, she knew, but she couldn’t help wondering if this was it.

She slid out of bed and, gathering up her underwear and dress from the floor, slipped them on. Her sandals were by the door, where they had fallen along with her purse, and after slipping her feet into the high heels she straightened up. She caught sight of her face in the dresser mirror and almost groaned. No make-up, and her hair all over the place. Taking a comb from her purse, she mechanically ran it through her hair, sweeping the long mass behind her ears. She didn’t want to think of Lorenzo’s departure.

He reappeared from the bathroom, wearing boxer shorts, and as she watched he slipped on trousers and pulled a sweater over his head. Then, glancing at her, he quipped, ‘You look ready for more … ‘ with a devilishly suggestive arch of a black eyebrow. ‘Come on—before I change my mind.’

Not sure if that was a compliment or not, she smiled and they left.

Sitting in the car five minutes later, as he drove in silence through the country lanes, Lucy cast him a sidelong glance. She tried to tell herself she was worrying over nothing—Lorenzo was a busy man and of course he had to leave—it didn’t mean she would not see him again. She looked at him. His attention was centred on the road ahead, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel as he manoeuvred the car through the narrow roads with ease and speed. At this rate she would be home in a few minutes, she realised.

‘So, when will I see you again?’ she asked, and without thinking rested her hand on his leg.

Lorenzo tensed. Originally he’d had no intention of seeing Lucy again. But as he looked down at her hand, her small soft fingers, then lower to her shapely legs curved towards him, suddenly a picture of those same legs locked around him and her cries of pleasure as he thrust into her hot, tight little body filled his mind. Somehow the weekend affair he had planned didn’t seem such a great idea after all.

He had been without a woman for months, he was a free agent, and the two nights he had spent with Lucy had been incredible. He could not remember ever having such great sex or such fun with a woman, and he was reluctant to give her up. In fact, he mused, keeping Lucy as a lover, quietly tucked away in a corner of England, held a lot of appeal. He visited London occasionally, usually flying in and out in a day, but that could be altered.

He decided to leave his options open.

‘Soon, I hope. But, like you, I do have to work, I’ll try and get back next weekend—if not the week after. But I’ll give you a call.’

Lucy sighed with relief as Lorenzo stopped the car and after walking around the bonnet helped her out. The summer dress she wore was no protection against the cool night air and she shivered. Lorenzo looped an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the front door. Taking the key from her purse she looked up at him. ‘Would you like to come in for a nightcap? ‘ she asked hopefully, reluctant to see him go.

‘I won’t, if you don’t mind,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Because if I do I’ll kiss you, and it won’t stop there.’

‘No … I don’t mind now I know you are coming back again,’ Lucy responded blithely.

‘Good.’ Dropping a brief kiss on the top of her head—he didn’t dare do anything more—he said, ‘Now, lock the door behind you.’

Lorenzo’s arm fell from her shoulders and she turned and put the key in the lock. Then she suddenly remembered why she had met him in the first place, and spun back.

‘Wait a minute, Lorenzo—we never got around to discussing Steadman’s, and we need to before Tuesday.’ Then she remembered something else. ‘You don’t have my number. I’ll give—’

‘No need. The bank will have it,’ Lorenzo stated.

Her words were a timely reminder. He had her number in more ways than one, he thought, his dark eyes narrowing cynically on her face. Her head was turned towards him, her green eyes incredibly large and luminous, the light of the moon making her pale skin almost translucent. Her long hair, swept back behind her small ears, seemed to fall in a shimmering mass down her back. Beautiful, and temptation personified, but not to him … not any more.