The Middle-Aged Virgin_A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel_Newly Single And Seeking Spine-Tingles...

by Olivia Spring

  Fran was literally chomping at the bit. I think even she was surprised about the amount of information she’d managed to coax out of Erica about Lorenzo the lothario.

  ‘So is that why he’s breaking up with his girlfriend, then?’ asked Fran. ‘Because he can’t keep it in his pants?’

  ‘Ah. Like I say,’ continued Erica sheepishly, ‘things with Lorenzo are complicated, and I said already too much. He told me last night they have broken up, but who knows how long they will stay apart or if they will get back together? I give up,’ she replied dismissively.

  Fran was still trying and failing to suppress how widely her eyes were expanding.

  ‘He sounds like a horny little devil!’ said Fran. ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t tried it on with you, Sophia, seeing as you’re young, hot and single!’

  Well, he’d have to not hate me first, Fran, I thought. But I’ll admit, this insight I was getting was making my vivid imagination go into overdrive. If he offered himself to me, I wouldn’t say no, but I wasn’t about to tell them that.

  ‘Who, me?’ I said, feigning innocence. ‘I’m a sensible girl…’

  ‘Yes, Sophia,’ warned Erica. ‘Stay away from Italian men. They are cani: dogs. You are newly single. Best you spend time on your own. Don’t get involved with these stupid uomini,’ she insisted.

  Uh-oh. If there’s one thing that’s sure to make me determined to do something, it’s being told not to. As we drove back to the villa, I started to evaluate everything I had now heard about Lorenzo.

  So, he was a sex addict, who had previously slept with guests, was an equal opportunities womaniser who didn’t discriminate in terms of age, looks or size and was quite literally happy to shag anything that moved.

  Hmm. This is interesting. I wondered if his services extended to guests that were rubbish at rolling out pasta thinly, had initially found achieving the correct sponge-and-cream ratio for making tiramisu a challenge and hadn’t yet mastered the art of producing glossy dough.

  As I was still relatively young and in good shape, surely that would give me an advantage—no? I started to weigh it up in my head. What if I were to take control and proposition him? The chances of rejection must be quite slim, seeing as he was a sex addict and all. And even if he rejected me, we would only be at the villa for a few hours tomorrow before being driven to the airport, so he should be easy enough to avoid and then I’d never have to see him again.

  Hmm. Maybe, just maybe I was still in with a chance of sampling some hot Italian arse after all…

  Chapter Twelve

  The more I thought about it, the more I was warming to the idea. I’d always been a proactive, go-getting person who hadn’t waited for things to fall in my lap, and the whole essence of MAP was about seizing the day and living life. So if I fancied Lorenzo, I should just go for it.

  Just think, if I did, and assuming he didn’t laugh in my face, I’d also be able to tick goal number three, ‘experience passion’, off my list.

  The slight spanner in the works was that, for some reason, he didn’t seem to like me. But let’s think positively: if he could like all of those other women, I must be able to persuade him. Yes, yes, I know ordinarily, you shouldn’t have to persuade a guy to like you. But I had a goal which I was determined to achieve, so this was purely a means to an end…

  My job was all about promoting people and products and convincing men and women of different ages and backgrounds to buy into something. So with all my experience, whipping up a mini I’m going to fall madly in lust with Sophia and snog her face off campaign in the next few hours should be a walk in the park.

  Well, in life there are no guarantees, but as Roxy so eloquently put it the other day, in order to score a goal, you must first be on the pitch. Therefore tonight, I would act like I’d been firmly and unequivocally superglued to the grounds at Old Trafford.

  I had half an hour until we were due back downstairs for the final cookery lesson. So firstly, I’d dial the glamour up a notch. We already discussed as a group that we weren’t getting changed for dinner, so I wouldn’t put on anything new, but I would reapply my make-up, zhush up my hair, and spritz on my favourite perfume—and I would prepare a plan of action.

  When I went downstairs, I would be bubbly, I would be outgoing, I would lavish Lorenzo with attention and even though I couldn’t entirely remember how to, I would flirt. What’s more, if he gave me steely, stern, mean looks, I would kill him with kindness by smiling and fluttering my eyelashes.

  I would be so irresistible and charming that he would feel ridiculous and silly to be frowning at someone who was so lovely and warm to him.

  Pep talk over. Let’s do this.

  By the time I had to head down to re-join the group, I was pumped full of energy and ready and raring to put my plan into place. Setting my sights on a man and being determined to make him mine for the night felt a little naughty, but why shouldn’t I try? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  I picked my phone up off the wooden bedside table, as I wanted to take lots of photos tonight. Not just of the food we were making which I’d been doing constantly since we’d arrived, but it would also be great to get some more nice pics of Grace, Fran, Dan and me altogether, and somehow, I also had to get some snaps of Lorenzo so I could show Roxy and Bella how hot he was.

  I arrived at the kitchen, where Lorenzo was preparing some bowls of ingredients for our lesson.

  ‘Hello, Lorenzo,’ I said warmly.

  He looked up, his eyes widening as they had done this morning and he smirked a little.

  ‘Buonasera.’

  Well, well. I actually got a reply this time. That’s progress.

  ‘So how was your day?’ I said, flirtatiously cocking my head to one side. He seemed a little surprised that I was engaging in conversation with him, but he answered anyway.

  ‘Was good, thanks,’ he said in his gorgeous accent. ‘And you?’

  ‘Very nice, thank you. Or should I say bene?’ I said, pleased that I was able to remember a whole word in Italian. ‘I enjoyed visiting Florence. I’m really looking forward to this cookery lesson tonight, though. Can’t believe we’ll be going home tomorrow as I’m having so much fun. You’ve been really patient with me and are teaching us so many amazing dishes, so thank you.’

  Hold up…he actually cracked a smile. He’s even blushing a bit…

  ‘Grazie,’ he replied, his smile widening further. ‘You are a nice group. I enjoy cooking with you too.’

  And just as I was getting warmed up, Fran, Grace and Dan spilled into the kitchen. Dammit. I smiled again, gave him another breezy flutter of the eyelashes and headed to the other corner of the room.

  Erica then came in from outside.

  ‘Okay, so our lesson starts in five minutes,’ she announced.

  ‘That’s great, actually. I thought maybe we could take some pictures now, whilst we’re all still standing,’ I said, reaching for my phone. ‘I’m imagining as it’s our last night, the prosecco will be in full flow, so we won’t be looking as photogenic later!’

  ‘Great idea!’ enthused Fran. With that, I flicked left on my iPhone to bring up the camera screen and encouraged Fran, Grace and Dan to huddle together so I could take a shot of the three of them. Perfect. Now, I needed a group shot.

  ‘Erica, would you mind taking a photo of the four of us together, please?’

  ‘No problem,’ she said, holding her hand out to take my phone.

  I handed her my mobile, then joined the group as she snapped away. I had a quick flick through the pictures on the screen. Yep, there were some good’uns in there.

  Now I needed a photo of the chef. Gotta play it cool, so I’d suggest a photo of him with Erica.

  ‘Now we need a photo of our wonderful hosts. Erica, would you mind posing with Lorenzo for a picture?’ I asked.

  Is the Pope a Catholic? Of course she bloody wouldn’t.

  She blushed and then also tried to act casual. She wasn’t fooling me, though. �
��Oh, okay, yes,’ she said, feigning nonchalance.

  She snuggled up to Lorenzo, who pulled various faces and struck different poses in front of the camera as I snapped away. Ah, I see. This is a man who clearly knows how good-looking he is, has practised in front of the mirror for hours and likes having his photo taken. Note to self.

  Right. I needed a picture with him too. On my own would be too suspect, though. One with the girls would be a good idea.

  ‘Fran and Grace,’ I said, calling out to them. ‘Let’s have a picture with Lorenzo too.’

  Didn’t need to ask them twice.

  I handed the phone to Dan to do the photo-taking honours, then positioned myself on Lorenzo’s right-hand side at the end, and Fran made a beeline for his left whilst Grace stood next to Fran. We also seized the opportunity to wrap our arms around his waist as Dan snapped away.

  Pictures mission accomplished.

  ‘Do you want to have a look at my handiwork?’ said Dan, referring to the photos he’d taken. As he repositioned his hand around the phone, he clicked on the lock screen button on the side by mistake. When he tried to touch it again, my screensaver wallpaper flashed up.

  ‘Wowzers! Is that you?’ he said, eyes widening. ‘That’s a bit of a racy dress! You look hot! Look at those abs!’

  Everyone looked over curiously, desperate to know what Dan was gawping at.

  Ah, yes. My screensaver was a photo of me in the daring black mesh dress, posing with my dad at my birthday dinner.

  ‘Let’s have a look!’ said Fran.

  Dan held the phone up so everyone could see.

  ‘Che bella donna!’ said a startled Erica. God bless her.

  He then held it up in Lorenzo’s direction.

  ‘Look at that, mate,’ said Dan. ‘I would!’ he added cheekily as if I wasn’t even in the room.

  ‘Damn right!’ added Fran.

  ‘Nathan!’ exclaimed Grace. ‘You cheeky little thing!’

  I glanced slyly over at Lorenzo to gauge his reaction and was pleased to see his eyes were wide once again and he was smiling and nodding vigorously in approval. Nice one, Dan.

  ‘That was at my birthday celebration a few days ago,’ I explained.

  ‘Well, you look gorgeous, my darling. Is that your dad with you?’ asked Fran.

  ‘It is indeed,’ I confirmed.

  ‘Oh, he looks lovely too,’ Fran added. ‘There’s no doubt about it: you are hot stuff. This lady won’t be single for long, that’s for sure. The men are going to be hunting you down. Look at that body. Wow! I’ll have to set you up with some of my friends when we’re back in England.’

  I felt myself blushing.

  Lorenzo looked over at me and smiled. He was thawing, I could feel it…

  We made more delicious dishes, all whilst sipping on prosecco. A Tuscan beans and pulses soup (or zuppa—yep, the Italian vocab was building nicely…) and guinea fowl with mushrooms. Then for me, the pièce de résistance (yes, I know that’s French rather than Italian) was that we were making one of my absolute favourite things: cake. I’m convinced it’s all my mum ate when she was pregnant with me, causing me to develop some kind of sponge addiction.

  Not only had we made a crushed Florentine cake, which I could already tell was going to taste delicious, but also tonight, a major miracle had happened as there was zero criticism from Lorenzo during the lesson. In fact, I think I even got a molto bene.

  Once Lorenzo popped that in the oven, it was time to be seated at the table as the other courses had been cooking whilst we were making dessert. He started transferring the soup into six bowls, and we each carried them into the dining room.

  I took my normal seat at the end of the table nearest the door. Suddenly the chair beside me was pulled out and Lorenzo sat down, giving me another cheeky smirk in the process.

  Wonders will never cease. More miracles were happening: a) he’d chosen to sit next to me, b) he’d smiled at me (again), and c) something told me that he was starting to like me. So far, so good…

  I gave him a flirty smile, playing with my hair as I did so and tilting my head to one side seductively. This felt sooo weird. I wasn’t used to all of this coquettish behaviour, but it appeared to be having the desired effect. He smiled back again.

  ‘So, where are you from?’ he asked, turning to face me.

  ‘London,’ I replied, surprised that he was actually making conversation. ‘Have you ever been?’

  ‘Ah yes, many years ago. To meet a girl,’ he said, smiling mischievously.

  ‘To meet a girl, eh?’ I said, returning the smile. ‘How did that work out?’

  ‘Long story,’ he said, smirking again.

  ‘Oh, I bet. You seem like a very mysterious man,’ I said flirtatiously. ‘Full of surprises…’

  ‘Mmm, maybe,’ he added suggestively whilst holding my gaze.

  ‘Well, maybe later you’ll tell me more…’ Eyelash flutter, more smiling, hair playing and head tilting. I was throwing everything at this. Then the alarm on the oven went off for the cake. Dammit.

  ‘I will be back,’ he said. ‘I will just check the cake and get the fowl.’ He grinned again and headed to the kitchen.

  My imagination was already running wild, thinking about how the evening could end if things continued in this direction. By now, thanks to the drinking I’d been doing whilst cooking, I was already on my third glass of prosecco, hence why I was more than a little relaxed, but I still had to maintain some focus if I was going to see this through.

  He returned to the table with the plates of food. When he did, everyone was deep in discussion, and it felt awkward to continue a private conversation on our own. After the main course, he returned to the kitchen to get the dish I’d been waiting for: the cake.

  In honour of Dan’s birthday tomorrow, he’d made it into a birthday cake adorned with candles. So kind. We sang ‘Happy Birthday’ in English (our vocab didn’t stretch to the Italian version), and then it was time to cut the cake.

  ‘Can’t wait to taste this,’ I said enthusiastically. ‘I absolutely adore cake.’

  Lorenzo smiled, then cut off an extra-large slice and transferred it straight to my plate. Could this be miracle number five? I was losing count. Either way, by feeding me big portions of cake, he was shaping up to be my kind of man.

  ‘Thank you, Lorenzo. You certainly know how to make a woman happy,’ I said flirtatiously. Go, Soph.

  He smiled and then licked his lips.

  Oh dear God…

  Once everyone had devoured their cake, he pulled the remains towards him. He cut himself a slice, stared deeply into my eyes again and then reached back over to the cake, cut me another generous slice and then placed it on my plate, still holding my gaze seductively.

  Something might be brewing here…

  I needed to move this to the next level. Tricky as we were at a table with four other people, so if I said anything too suggestive, they’d hear.

  Roxy’s and Monique’s words buzzed around my brain: Get out there. Flirt. Practise. You need to practise. They were right. I seemed to be doing fine on the flirting side of things, so now I just had to move it on a little. He seemed like he liked me a bit, but what if I pushed it too much and he said no? Nobody enjoys rejection. Least of all when it’s their first time dipping their toes back in the man-waters after so many years.

  Fuck it. Was I going to go back home filled with if onlys and what ifs, or was I going to grab this opportunity by the balls (quite literally) and just go for it?

  I’m going to go for it, dammit.

  I started to brainstorm. I couldn’t make suggestions verbally, but what if I typed something on my phone and showed it to him subtly without the others seeing?

  Yes. That could work.

  Okay. I needed to think of what to say. I was now on prosecco number five and limoncello number two, so my copywriting skills were likely to be a little cloudy…

  Well, the objective was to practise, right? He was a chef who had been
teaching us to cook, but now I wanted him to teach me how to feel passion again. So I kind of wanted extra lessons.

  Got it.

  I started typing on my phone under the table.

  I need help with something later when the others have gone to bed. Would you like to help me?

  I gently touched his thigh and pointed to the message on my phone, which I was holding to the right-hand side of my leg, in between our chairs.

  He read it, then looked up at me, eyes wide like a kid that’s just walked into Hamley’s for the first time, and started nodding eagerly.

  Great! He’s up for it…

  I started typing slyly on my phone again.

  But you don’t even know what I need help with yet.

  He turned to me and mouthed seductively, I will do whatever you want.

  He licked his lips again.

  Fuck…

  I carried on typing:

  Well, as you know, I’m newly single, so I need some practice as it’s been a while since I’ve been with a man. Do you think you could give me some extra lessons…?

  I can’t believe I just wrote that… I showed him the screen.

  His eyes widened, and he was now grinning so much I thought his face was going to shatter.

  He leant over to me, his thigh now brushing against mine, and whispered in my ear, ‘I am very good teacher.’

  Oh, Jesus. My body began to tingle. He was really starting to turn me on…

  Suddenly the rest of the table seemed to sense that we were having our own private conversation. Fran, ever Mrs Perceptive, did a false stretch and completely overexaggerated yawn.

  ‘Oh, I’m sooo tired,’ she said. ‘I think it’s time to go to bed. Don’t you, Dan and Grace? I think we should be heading to our rooms now.’

  Dan frowned, looking confused, then Fran subtly tilted her head in our direction as if to say, I think these two have some private business to attend to.