needed to sleep, but then I remembered you told me Sunday was one of your busiest days in the tourist season, and you open at ten. So I decided to leave before anyone turns up.’
‘What time is it?’ Lucy demanded, panicking. Her head had cleared of the sensual haze Lorenzo’s presence seemed to cause.
‘Nine—you have plenty of time.’ And, standing up, he looked down at her, his expression suddenly serious.‘I hope you don’t mind but I had a look around. It is a nice place you have here—living accommodation upstairs and the gallery on the ground floor. But I couldn’t help noticing you only have one lock on the front door. Your security is very poor—especially for a woman living on her own.’
Lucy drained her mug of coffee and placed it on the table. There was nothing wrong with her security, but she was thrilled by the thought that he was concerned for her safety. It had to mean he cared. She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with humour. ‘Lorenzo, you are beginning to sound like a stuffy banker again.’
‘If we had time I would show you I am not.’ He chuckled, and reached down to clasp her head between his strong hands and kiss her senseless. ‘Unfortunately we don’t have time.’ He straightened up. ‘But I’ll come back this evening and take you out to dinner. What time do you close?’
Breathless, Lucy said, ‘I close at four—but if we are going out.’
‘I’ll see you at seven,’ he husked and, planting a swift kiss on her head, he left.
Lucy watched him leave with a beaming smile on her face. Lorenzo didn’t just want sex. He was actually taking her on a date. That had to be a good sign.
CHAPTER FOUR
T HE doorbell rang, and Lucy, with one last glance at her reflection in the mirror, adjusted the spaghetti straps of the bright blue summer dress she wore, picked up her purse and ran downstairs to open the door.
‘You look fabulous,’ Lorenzo said, and Lucy simply looked.
She had never seen him wear anything but a perfectly tailored suit—the uniform of choice for a seriously powerful conservative male. But now, casually dressed in pale trousers and a white shirt, with a cashmere sweater draped across his wide shoulders, his black hair dishevelled by the breeze and with a smile of wickedly masculine appreciation curving his lips, he could have been a latter-day pirate. She tilted back her head to look into his eyes and saw banked-down desire in the dark depths. Her own widened in instant response.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Lucy, or we will never get to dinner,’ he said ruefully and, slipping an arm around her waist, he lowered his mouth down to hers as though he could not help himself.
At the first gentle brush of his lips Lucy’s parted eagerly beneath his and she melted against him, her knees going weak as he kissed her with a subtle promise of passion.
‘We have to go now,’ he said huskily, and, keeping a hand on her back, took her key and urged her out of the house, locking the door behind them.
Right at that moment Lucy realised she would quite happily go to the end of the earth with Lorenzo, and suddenly the confusion, the butterflies in her stomach whenever she saw him, and the incredible joy she had felt when they made love all made sense. For the first time in her adult life she was experiencing the magic of overwhelming sexual attraction to a man. She had only ever read about it before, and never been able even to imagine it, but now she could—and maybe more!
Later, sitting opposite him at the table in dining room of the country house hotel where he was staying, she fell even deeper under his spell if that was possible.
Over the meal, with some prompting from him, she told him more about her business and the three fellow artists who displayed their wares in her gallery. Leon was a brilliant woodcarver, Sid was a potter, and his wife Elaine—who worked in the gallery on a permanent basis—had a talent for tapestry and quilting. She was
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