Giorganni's Proposal

by Jacqueline Baird

  She couldn't help it. Her green eyes widened in fascinated appraisal of the man in front of her. 'Dark and dangerous' flashed through her mind. She had only seen him wearing a formal suit before, but this morning he was dressed in a black roll-neck sweater, and a black leather blouson jacket sloped off his broad shoulders. His faded blue jeans were verging on the indecent, slung low on his hips, with a leather belt threaded through the loops that Beth was sure was not necessary to hold them up. They fitted him like a second skin, hugging his long, long legs, with a tell-tale lighter patch in a more intimate place. Flushing furiously, she raised her eyes to his and went even redder.

  His grey eyes gleamed with a mocking, sensuous delight. He knew exactly how his overt masculinity affected her. 'Are you going to ask me in, Beth, or am I supposed to stay here all day?'

  'No, no. . .of course. Yes, yes, come in. . .' she prattled like a demented fool, stepping back and signalling with her hand for him to enter. His husky laugh simply added to her confusion.

  He stood in the middle of her sitting room and slowly looked around. "This is not at all what I expected,' he said, with a wry shake of his dark head.

  It was her home, and immediately Beth was on the defensive. 'I've only lived here a couple of months, and it takes time and money to buy furniture and things.'

  Beth looked around her living room, trying to see it through Dex's eyes. It was small—one corner was completely taken up with her computer and a large drawing board, another with the television and CD player. On the walls she had pinned a few of her favourite posters. Her one and only armchair, in battered black leather, stood next to an old wooden chest she had bought on the Portobello Road to use as a coffee table. The rest of the furniture consisted of three cheap and cheerful scarlet bean bags.

  Dex stepped towards her, and, tilting her face up to his, with a finger under her chin, said, 'I did not mean to offend you. I love your decor. It is like you—bright and colourful.'

  'Yes, well.' With his grey eyes smiling down into hers, she was almost lost for words.

  'I was surprised by the drawing board; you really do work as a graphic artist and obviously take your job seriously if you bring work home.'

  'Not so much bring work home; I like to experiment with ideas on the computer and then transfer them to the bigger, more traditional board. I find I get a better view that way,' she replied, finally managing to string a reasonable sentence or two together.

  'A better view.' Dex's hand fell from her chin and he glanced around the room again. 'That is a good idea; I must remember that,' he said enigmatically.

  Beth watched him, an odd breathlessness afflicting her as his grey gaze captured hers. His dark head bent towards her, and for a second she had the impression he was going to kiss her. But, instead, he lifted his hand and brushed a stray wisp of her hair behind her ear.

  'Unless you want to give me a guided tour of your bedroom, Î suggest we leave.'

  There was no mistaking the teasing gleam in his eyes, and Beth reciprocated in kind. 'I am quite sure you've never needed to be guided around any lady's bedroom in your life. Your type are born knowing the way.'

  Dex chuckled, and then laughed out loud. 'You know me too well already. That makes you a dangerous lady,' he drawled in genuine amusement, and he was still grinning when they left the building and he helped her into the front passenger seat of a black BMW car.

  The shared humour lasted. As he drove Dex regaled her with stories of some of the more colourful gamblers he had met at his casinos. She howled with laughter when he described an elderly lady tourist who had holidayed on one of his luxury liners cruising around the Mediterranean. Apparently, after visiting the island of Sicily, the lady, on returning to the ship, had been most indignant and insisted on complaining to the captain, because she had been told the volcano, Mount Etna was live, but it had not erupted while she was there.

  Listening to him talk, Beth also realised he took his work very seriously. His head office was in Rome, where he spent most of the time, but he also made a point of trying to visit every hotel, cruise liner and casino he owned at least once a year. At present he was staying at his London hotel until his business in London was completed. He had an apartment in New York, but he preferred Italy, and Beth surmised his real home was Rome.

  The information he freely offered about his lifestyle should have reassured her. But in fact it only underlined what she already knew. He was a sophisticated, dynamic business tycoon, and way out of the reach of a struggling graphic artist.

  But, glancing sideways at him as the car sped out of the city and into the open countryside, Beth hoped she was wrong. She noted the slight frown lines between his eyes as he tried to read a signpost, and somehow he looked younger, not quite so self-assured. Maybe it was the casual clothes he wore, she mused. For a long moment she stared at him in pure feminine appreciation of his virile male form, the fast-becoming familiar feelings exploding inside her.

  To get her mind off his sexy body, and under control, she asked, 'Where are we going? You never said.'

  He flashed her a grin. 'All the way,' he drawled, and paused until he saw the colour flood her cheeks. 'Relax. To the New Forest, I hope.'

  'You do know the way?' Beth queried.

  'Don't worry, I have a picnic hamper in the back. We can eat in the car if we have to.'

  But they did not have to. Dex soon parked along a forest trail at the edge of a clearing. Beth got out of the car and looked around in delight: a more perfect destination would be hard to find. The New Forest in October, with its deciduous trees a blaze of red, yellow and gold, in stark contrast to the deep dark green of the pines, was a feast for the eyes.

  Roaming through the woods hand in hand, they spotted red squirrels, dozens of rabbits, and of course the wild ponies the forest was famous for, along with the unexpected pleasure of seeing a small deer. Returning to the car, Dex collected a hamper and blanket from the trunk. He spread the tartan rug on the ground beneath the branches of a massive oak tree and placed the hamper in the middle.

  A hamper from the best department store in London, what else! Beth thought with a wry grin, but nothing could spoil her enjoyment of the afternoon and her companion. The unusual warmth of the autumn day saw them both shed their jackets and lounge on the blanket, the hamper between them. They investigated its contents and nibbled caviar and pâté, washed down with champagne. Then they dined on chicken and French bread, along with various cheeses, with fresh exotic fruits to finish. Finally, Beth collapsed flat on her back and fell asleep.

  She stirred and turned her head; something was biting her ear, something else was crawling up her arm. Her eyes slowly opened. Not something but someone, she realised, with a leap of her heart.

  'You look so irresistible when you sleep,' Dex's seductive voice rumbled in her ear.

  Supporting himself on one elbow, his long body was hovering over her and his free hand was stroking gently up her arm while his mouth nuzzled her ear.

  'Dex,' she murmured, 'where has the hamper gone?'

  She had fallen asleep with the picnic basket acting as a barrier between them and had awakened to find herself almost joined with him from the hip down, the heat of his body burning through the fine fabric of her trousers.

  'So practical and yet so perfect,' he opined softly, trailing a string of tiny kisses down from her ear to her mouth and gently back to the tip of her nose, his grey eyes smiling lazily down into hers.

  Beth was totally captivated. She drank in the tangy masculine scent of his cologne, along with the exquisite frisson of excitement that tingled through her body as he moved his hard, muscular thigh restlessly against her, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

  'I moved the damn thing because I thought you were never going to wake up, and I had a much more pressing appetite. I needed quite desperately to hold you, to kiss you.' And he did.

  His mouth covered hers in a kiss of achingly tender passion, and Beth closed her eyes and gave herself up to the kale
idoscope of hitherto unknown sensations rioting within her.

  'You drive me crazy, Beth.' He whispered the words against her throat, then, raising his head, he demanded huskily, 'Look at me, Beth. You will be mine?'

  She opened her eyes, but his kiss had stolen her breath away and she could not speak. Instead, her body now shaken with unfamiliar feeling, she stared up at him, unconscious of the fact that her huge green eyes, under their thick lashes, and the soft, swollen fullness of her mouth combined with her aura of innocence were tantalising challenges to a man like Dex.

  He smiled a soft, slow predatory grin. 'No answer, my sweet? Then let me persuade you.'

  Shockingly, she knew she wanted him too. Heat surged from the centre of her body to every part of her as she recognized the power he had over her.

  'But—' They were lying on a blanket in broad daylight; anyone could walk past, she meant to say. The words caught in her throat as his hand slid slowly across her breast and his head descended. His tongue flicked teasingly around her mouth, enticing a response she was helpless to withhold—did not want to!

  With devastating intent, Dex carried on kissing her, parting her swollen lips, his tongue delving deep, and any lingering inhibitions Beth might have felt were vanquished by his sexual expertise. She ardently returned his kisses, her small hand curving around his neck to hold his head down to hers.

  'At last,' he growled against her parted lips, 'you want me.' And, lifting his head, his silver eyes staring down into hers, he added, 'And God knows I want you. I ache.'

  Beth lay immobile, trapped by the long leg he had moved over hers, the hard, masculine length of him making her vitally aware of exactly how much he wanted her, while her pulse-rate shot off the Richter scale. She made no objection when, with a deftness that underlined his vast experience, his long fingers unbuttoned her blouse. But when he deliberately drew back she could not hold back the soft sigh of regret that escaped her.

  'Ah, shame,' he teased her, 'today you're wearing a bra.' In a second the front fastening was flicked open and he had peeled back both shirt and bra. 'If that was meant to deter me, Beth, it didn't work,' he mocked softly, his glittering gaze studying her naked breasts with lazy pleasure. 'You are so beautiful, and so perfect.'

  Beth felt her whole body blush, the blood rushing through her veins like quicksilver. Her green eyes roamed, helpless with longing, over his handsome face—noting the darkening flush across his high cheekbones, the sensuous twist to his full lips, and she shivered in anticipation as his dark head lowered slowly, not to her mouth, but to the rosy tip of her breast.

  She had never allowed any other man such intimacy, but she was helpless where Dex was concerned. What she had feared was true: she could not deny him anything. Her hands tangled in the black silk curls of his head while her slender body arched involuntarily towards the source of its pleasure. He slowly sucked her taut nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the rigid peak until she moaned out loud. When he moved to give the same treatment to her other breast, she thought she would faint with the pleasure.

  She made no demur when his hard-muscled thigh gently nudged her trembling legs apart, or when he swiftly unzipped her trousers and eased one large hand down over her flat stomach. She felt an instant of loss when his mouth deserted her breast and he reared up. But his passion-darkened eyes, glittering with a ferocious need, told her he was not deserting her, and then, once more, his mouth sought hers in a possessive, hungry kiss.

  Beth traced his broad shoulders with trembling hands, moving them down to slide them up beneath his sweater. The feel of his satin flesh was an aphrodisiac all on its own. She felt his great body shudder, and gloried in his hard-muscled flesh. Moist heat flooded her loins as a teasing finger eased beneath her scanty briefs and found the secret part of her. It was only when he rolled over her, covering her completely, and she could feel the rigid length of his masculine arousal hard against her, that she panicked like the frightened virgin she was.

  Her eyes flew wide open. She saw the swaying branches of the tree and the blue sky above. What was she inviting? 'No! No, Dex.' She squirmed beneath him, her small hand closing over his strong wrist. 'I can't!' Though every nerve in her body was crying out with need, her fear of the unknown, ultimate intimacy was greater, and she began to struggle in earnest.

  'No? You can't say no—not now, Beth.' His throaty voice grated on her taut nerves, his fingers flexing as though to throw off her hold on his wrist.

  'Please stop.' For a long moment she thought Dex was going to ignore her plea. His full weight pinned her down and he buried his head in the blanket over her shoulder. She felt his long body shudder and heard him groan, and then suddenly he rolled off her to lie on his back.

  'I'm sorry,' she whispered, her body still pulsing with aching desire. Though she wasn't exactly sure what she was apologising for.

  'Not half as sorry as I am,' he snarled, jumping to his feet to tower over her. 'I despise women who play games.'

  She gazed up at him in disbelief. The lover of a moment ago was gone, replaced by a furiously angry man. His grey eyes narrowed contemptuously on her half- naked, dishevelled form. 'Get dressed, before I forget I am a gentleman and take what you are so obviously begging for but haven't the guts to admit.'

  The contempt in his tone, the ice in his eyes, cut her to the heart. She lowered her own eyes and was forcibly reminded of his aroused state, which he made no attempt to hide. Bending her head, she hastily fastened her clothes. He was right; she did want him. But not like this, under a tree in the open where all could see, with no commitment on his part other than a desire for sex.

  With that thought uppermost in her mind, some of Beth's pride and common sense surfaced. It was not all her fault. Dex was just as guilty as she was; after all, it was Dex who had started making love to her, not the other way around. The frustration seething in her overheated body, and a strong sense of pique at his attitude, gave her the determination to get to her feet, and, tilting her head back, she looked him straight in the eye.

  'If you were a gentleman you would not have tried to seduce me in a public place anyway,' she said flatly.

  'If—if. . . ' he repeated furiously. 'God knows, I should have learnt my lesson by now. You are just like my—' He stopped, and as she watched a subtle change came over his features. 'Forget it. I have,' Dex finished tightly, and, swinging on his heel, he snatched up the hamper that had been cast to one side and headed for the car.

  But Beth was intrigued, as well as stubborn. 'You can't just walk away, Dex.' But she was talking to his back. Hurrying after him, she caught his arm. 'Who am I like?' she demanded.

  Dex turned, brushing her hand from his arm, and he stared at down at her. For a long moment the silence stretched between them, and Beth thought he was not going to answer. Then, suddenly, he spoke.

  'You are totally unique, Beth, and I am a frustrated jerk. And I should have had more sense than to make love out in the open like a callow youth.' He smiled with a twist of his firm lips. 'You would probably prefer an older man with more restraint than I possess, I think.'

  She should have been satisfied. His earlier anger had gone and he was actually smiling at her. But the smile did not reach his eyes, and why the cynical crack about an older man? For a fleeting moment Beth recalled the episode in the casino, and wondered again if he was jealous of Paul. No, Dex couldn't be; maybe it was just his possessive Latin nature. Or maybe, she realised suddenly, he was simply trying to change the subject. He hadn't answered her question, and Beth could not let it go—

  'And I think you're avoiding my question. You said I was just like someone. Who?'

  'Tenacious little thing, aren't you?' Moving closer, he linked his hands loosely around Beth's back in a non- threatening embrace. 'I was going to say my sister. You are exactly like her. Sweet, and certainly not the type to have sex with a man without some form of commitment, like a ring on your finger. I am right? No?' he queried.

  His grey eyes c
aught and held Beth's, the intensity of his gaze leaving her in no doubt of his sincerity. He understood. . . She heaved a deep sigh of relief, a broad grin lighting up her lovely face.

  'You know me so well,' she said, with a toss of her auburn curls.

  'Not as well as I would like, though I have a very strong feeling that will be remedied eventually. But I promise not to rush you.'

  But rush her he did, though surprisingly not in a sexual way. Which was why, five days later, Beth stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom eyeing her reflection and chewing nervously on her bottom lip. The exquisitely tailored cashmere coat in palest cream, was a perfect fit. Designed by a top Italian fashion house and purchased by Dex.

  She had seen him every day since their picnic on Sunday. They had dined out every night. Dex had a tal- ent for finding the most intimate little restaurants. They'd also driven out into the country and visited quaint pubs. They'd talked about their likes and dislikes. Beth loved Elton John and opera, and Dex—a typical Italian—loved opera too, knew every aria ever written by heart. But when he'd tried to sing, Beth had burst into fits of laughter. Surprisingly, he was totally tone deaf.

  When Beth had tried to explain that, as a working girl, she needed to stay home some nights, he had overruled her objections, but had been considerate enough to make sure she was home by about eleven. They usually parted on the doorstep with a chaste goodnight kiss. In fact, Dex had behaved as a perfect gentleman: no sexual advances. But in every other respect he always got his own way, Beth ruefully admitted to herself.

  The coat was a case in point. Dex had insisted on buying it for her when they had met for lunch the day before. At first he had wanted to buy her a mink coat, and when she had flatly refused he had compromised with the cashmere, overriding all her objections, by finally saying, 'You're a beautiful woman and you deserve beautiful clothes. I love England, but not even the English like the climate. You are my woman and I have no intention of letting you catch cold.'

  His high-handed attitude rankled, but his 'my woman' had secretly thrilled her. So she had accepted the coat.