SEDUCED BY THE ITALIAN
Joanna stared at the dress in the w indow, wishing she had the guts – and the body – to wear something like that. The black number had tiny straps that held up a bodice cut in a deep vee down to the breastline and a hemline that would probably brush mid-thi gh. It was bold and daring – something Joanna had never been.
Catching sight of her reflection in the glass fronted window, she pushed her blond e hair away from her face. It was her best feature, hanging in silky waves to just below her shoulders. Some of her friends had hinted that she should have it cut shorter. One in particular had bluntly told her that at her age, she shouldn’t have long hair.
For Joanna, it was a personal choice. As much as she loved her friend, she disagreed that everyone over forty sho uld have short hair.
Forty.
She stared at her reflection, noting the small lines around her eyes and mouth that seemed to have appeared overnight. It was hard to believe she was forty years old and divorced. Two things she’d never imagined.
She sighed.
She was forty and frumpy.
Sometimes it felt like only yesterd ay that she’d graduated law school an d started work at the small firm where she was now a partner. S he’d met her husband, Bill, there and he was a partner now as well. The divorce six months ago hadn’t been ugly, but it wasn’t amicable either. How could a woman be amicable when she’d g iven the best years of her life to a man only to find out he’d been banging his much younger secretary on the very desk she’d bought him when he’d made partner?
S he’d t hought they had a good marriage; that like every marriage after a time, they had become ‘settled . ’ Not that being settled in your marriage was a bad thing. She’d simply allowed him to become complacent in their relationship. Bill had actually u sed the word bored . And yes, it was partly her fault for going along and not making an issue out of what she’d like and the way she’d like things to be.
Especially in the bedroom.
In the last year of their marriage, any type of sex life had been non-existent. He gave her a quick peck in the morning on his way out the door – when she reminded him, of course. And that was basically it. She thought he was tired, working too hard at work. Joanna shook her head. She should have seen the writing on the wall much sooner. But she’d buried her head in the sand.
With a last longing look at the beautiful dress, she moved on down the mall. She’d made the two and half hour drive to Knoxville hoping that the trip would get her out of the doldrums she’d been in since the divorce. It wasn’t that she was still pining after Bill. Truth be told, she’d begun to wonder in the last couple of months if their love hadn’t died a long time ago. That maybe she’d just stayed because it was so comfortable. She’d never been one for change, liking things pre-arranged, neat , and orderly.
Maybe Bill had been right. She was boring.
“Miss? Excuse me, miss?”
Joanna stopped and looked back. A beautiful young man, no more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine was striding toward her, a wide smile on his handsome face. He was tall and slender, well-built, with dark skin and eyes. His manner w as both hesitant and practiced.
“Can I show you something?”
Joanna hesitated, looking around her. Maybe he was talking to someone else.
“Please?” He beckoned for her to follow him.
“ You wa nt to show me something?” She wasn’t sure why she followed him. Maybe it was the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous with his swarthy skin and flashing white smile. Or maybe it was his accent. She wasn’t quite sure about his nationality but his voice was deep and melodic, the accent so thick that she found herself leaning toward him as he spoke.
She allowed him to take her hand and seat her on a high stool at one of the salon stations situated in that part of the mall. A small mirror sat on a table in front of
Joanna stared at the dress in the w indow, wishing she had the guts – and the body – to wear something like that. The black number had tiny straps that held up a bodice cut in a deep vee down to the breastline and a hemline that would probably brush mid-thi gh. It was bold and daring – something Joanna had never been.
Catching sight of her reflection in the glass fronted window, she pushed her blond e hair away from her face. It was her best feature, hanging in silky waves to just below her shoulders. Some of her friends had hinted that she should have it cut shorter. One in particular had bluntly told her that at her age, she shouldn’t have long hair.
For Joanna, it was a personal choice. As much as she loved her friend, she disagreed that everyone over forty sho uld have short hair.
Forty.
She stared at her reflection, noting the small lines around her eyes and mouth that seemed to have appeared overnight. It was hard to believe she was forty years old and divorced. Two things she’d never imagined.
She sighed.
She was forty and frumpy.
Sometimes it felt like only yesterd ay that she’d graduated law school an d started work at the small firm where she was now a partner. S he’d met her husband, Bill, there and he was a partner now as well. The divorce six months ago hadn’t been ugly, but it wasn’t amicable either. How could a woman be amicable when she’d g iven the best years of her life to a man only to find out he’d been banging his much younger secretary on the very desk she’d bought him when he’d made partner?
S he’d t hought they had a good marriage; that like every marriage after a time, they had become ‘settled . ’ Not that being settled in your marriage was a bad thing. She’d simply allowed him to become complacent in their relationship. Bill had actually u sed the word bored . And yes, it was partly her fault for going along and not making an issue out of what she’d like and the way she’d like things to be.
Especially in the bedroom.
In the last year of their marriage, any type of sex life had been non-existent. He gave her a quick peck in the morning on his way out the door – when she reminded him, of course. And that was basically it. She thought he was tired, working too hard at work. Joanna shook her head. She should have seen the writing on the wall much sooner. But she’d buried her head in the sand.
With a last longing look at the beautiful dress, she moved on down the mall. She’d made the two and half hour drive to Knoxville hoping that the trip would get her out of the doldrums she’d been in since the divorce. It wasn’t that she was still pining after Bill. Truth be told, she’d begun to wonder in the last couple of months if their love hadn’t died a long time ago. That maybe she’d just stayed because it was so comfortable. She’d never been one for change, liking things pre-arranged, neat , and orderly.
Maybe Bill had been right. She was boring.
“Miss? Excuse me, miss?”
Joanna stopped and looked back. A beautiful young man, no more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine was striding toward her, a wide smile on his handsome face. He was tall and slender, well-built, with dark skin and eyes. His manner w as both hesitant and practiced.
“Can I show you something?”
Joanna hesitated, looking around her. Maybe he was talking to someone else.
“Please?” He beckoned for her to follow him.
“ You wa nt to show me something?” She wasn’t sure why she followed him. Maybe it was the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous with his swarthy skin and flashing white smile. Or maybe it was his accent. She wasn’t quite sure about his nationality but his voice was deep and melodic, the accent so thick that she found herself leaning toward him as he spoke.
She allowed him to take her hand and seat her on a high stool at one of the salon stations situated in that part of the mall. A small mirror sat on a table in front of
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