Dark wood bookcases cover every wall except one corner where there is a small window. The shelves are packed with books and some even sit on the floor. A large desk dominates one side of the room, with papers strewn everywhere. Open books lie in wait for their reader to return. A huge chair sits in the opposite corner from the desk, easily big enough for two people. I can instantly imagine myself curled up in it drinking a nice, hot cuppa.
I cross the room and run my hands over the smooth wood of the bookcase, gazing at the professor’s impressive collection. High up, I see a shelf full of very old books and I long to touch them. The room has a scent. Sexy and manly - just like its owner. I could live in here. It’s the complete opposite of the other rooms I saw and exactly what I pictured the professor’s space to look like.
“Londyn?”
I swing around, startled by the professor’s voice. “I, um, excuse me. I just wanted to come in here.”
“It’s okay,” he says moving towards me. “I can see why. It’s my favorite place.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s my sanctuary.”
“Rightfully so.”
“I’m glad you like it. This is where we’ll be working.”
Oh Lord. I get to spend time in here. It’s like a dream come true for a book nerd like myself.
“I put some pasta on to boil. I’ll make a quick sauce of olive oil and garlic if that’s pleasing to you.”
“It is.”
“Good. Have a seat.”
He motions to the big comfy chair and I have to make myself hold down the giggle of joy that rises to the top of my throat. I plop down in it and grin. I’m sure I look like a fool, but I couldn’t care less.
“Would you like to know what my book is about?” he asks.
“Oh, yes. Very much so.”
“Romance. Love. Passion. Sex.”
I feel my cheeks blushing. Bloody hell. I wasn’t anticipating discussing such topics with the professor.
“That very well may be the title,” he adds.
“That’s very provocative.”
“Yes. Intentionally.” He sits across from me at his desk. “We need to get a few things out of the way first.”
“Yes?”
“I’d like you to call me Luca, at least while we’re here and I’d like to call you by your first name. Would that be alright with you?”
“Yes. I would like that.”
“Good. Also, while we’re here, we can remove some of the normal formality between us. You can relax. The work we do here is completely separate from Harvard.”
“I understand.”
“Excellent.”
“Back to your title. Are those terms independent of each other to you?” I ask bravely.
“Not necessarily. Ideally, it would be nice to have them simultaneously, no? In my experience, that is not always the case.”
“Nor mine.”
“Have you been in a romantic relationship?”
“Ever?”
“Yes, ever.”
What does he think? That I’m a bloody virgin?! “If you’re asking if I’ve been intimate with a man before I don’t see how that is relevant to your research.”
The professor’s eyes widen. “No, excuse me. That’s not what I meant. I was asking if you’ve been in love.”
“No.”
“Have I offended you?”
“No.”
“I should check on the pasta. I’ll be right back.” Luca rushes from the room.
Seriously? Ugh. I don’t know how my love life has anything to do with our discussion. I sit back in the chair and pick up a book lying nearby. It’s a collection of famous Italians and their contributions. I flip through the pages wondering how the rest of the evening will go. The professor is gone for some time and I have the sudden urge to peek in his bedroom. I’m simply dying to know what the room he sleeps in looks like. I mustn’t though. If he wanted me to see it, he would show me around. I must remember my manners.
“Ready?” I look up to see the professor carrying two steaming plates of pasta. He sets them down on his desk and leaves, quickly returning with two glasses of wine. “Do you drink?”
“I do.”
“My poorly phrased question earlier was not an attempt to invade your privacy.” He sits at his desk and pushes his pasta around with his fork. “I was trying to engage you in the topic of love and romance.”
“That’s okay. I’m always asking personal questions of you.”
“Yes, you do. Do you write stories about me in your boodle?”
Grinning sheepishly, I reply. “Perhaps.”
“Ah, playing coy. I may just get my hands on it one day.”
“Over my dead body.” I smile and slurp some pasta into my mouth.
“Hmm, protective. There must be some good stuff in there.”
“If you think the musings of a silly girl is good stuff, then yes.”
“You’re not silly, Londyn. You are the farthest thing from it. I very much admire your sensibilities.”
“Coming from you, that is an amazing compliment. Thank you.”
He smiles before his next question. “Do you miss home?”
“Sometimes.” I take a sip of wine, trying to avoid the intense gaze fixed on me.
“Do you visit often?” he asks.
“No. I think my parents may come out here this year for Thanksgiving. They find it amusing to celebrate it.”
“I suppose that would be funny. It doesn’t feel awkward for them?”
“No. It was ages ago, obviously, and they adore turkey and parades. What’s not to like?”
Luca laughs and it brings a smile to my face. I take another drink of wine. I thought I would feel nervous being here, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more comfortable.
“What are you thinking, Londyn?”
“I’d like to see your bedroom.” As soon as the words escape my lips, I cover my mouth in shock. I was only supposed to think that, not say it. Shit.
“Why is that?” he asks, clearly amused.
“Your home is beautiful. I just assume that room would be, too.”
Luca shrugs. “It’s an okay room. I’d like to do more with it when the upstairs is finished. It needs a woman.” He smiles. “The proverbial woman’s touch.”
Inside my head, I’m swooning. Why does this simple discussion about décor feel like so much more? “Did you have the rest of your home decorated?”
“No, I did it. I just got stuck when I got to my bedroom. Come on. Let’s go get it out of your system.”
“We can finish eating.”
“Would you rather see it now before we spend the evening talking about the history of passion and sex in Italy?”
His comment nearly causes me to choke on my pasta. “Yes, that’s probably a good idea.” I set my bowl down and walk towards Luca who waits by the door for me. We walk down the hall and I linger behind him while he opens a sliding pocket door, revealing his room.
Walking in, the light flicks on behind me. I stand somewhat centered, taking in every detail with my eyes. It’s a spacious room by New England standards, with large ornate furniture filling it.
“Antiques?” I ask.
“From Italy,” Luca responds.
“Beautiful.”
I walk, hesitantly, towards his bed. I want to feel the texture of the creamy linens that cover it. Reaching out, I grasp the duvet cover between my fingers and rub it gently. It’s luxurious and I imagine how delightful it must be to immerse oneself in them on a cold, snowy day. I look back at Luca, who stands alarmingly close to me.
“I just wanted to feel it,” I explain.
“Did you like it?”
I suddenly feel as though I can barely breathe. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Thank you. I bought it at a linen shop in Sicily. Taormina, to be more precise.”
“It’s lovely.” I run my hands along one of the wooden columns of his heavy four-poster bed. I want nothing more
than to climb in it and sleep away the day.
Luca steps closer and leans against the column near my hand. I remove it before I’m tempted to touch him with it instead. “What do you think of the room? Does it match your idea of me or not?”
My idea of him? I think he is powerful, intelligent, masculine, and dare I even think it? Sexy.
“Yes.”
“Well, since you like the room I’ll take that as a compliment,” Luca says, filling his face with his amazing smile. He should use it more often.
“As you should.”
We stand staring at each other for a moment. I need to get the bloody hell out of this room as suddenly I cannot stop imagining Luca without his clothing.
“Thank you for showing me your bedroom.”
“My pleasure, Londyn.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Shall we get to work?”
“Yes. Good idea.” We walk back to the study and I have a brief moment to breathe.
WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? I am saying things to this girl that are blurring the professional lines. Why does she make me think such thoughts? Furthermore, why did I invite her here? She does something to me I can’t explain. I want to be near her. All. The. Time.
For Christ’s sake, I told her she makes me happy and asked her if she liked my bedroom. Why don’t I just ask if she would humor a heartless jerk like me and let me make love to her? Oh God. I’m losing my mind. I don’t want to make love to her. It’s not like that. Is it?
When she accepted my invite tonight, I felt…excited. I need to keep a clear head, though. Surely, it’s just the company I seek. My feelings towards her are not romantic. She is a friend and a colleague. Nothing more. But dammit, she looks at me with those big eyes the color of greenish-blue marbles and I get distracted. Her sweet pink lips curl up in a smile and I feel just a little more human than I did before.
I watch her take her place in my favorite chair. It’s the chair where I do the majority of my reading, and I like the sight very much. She belongs in that chair. She belongs in this house. How do I get her to stay? She swallows the remainder of her wine and I’m tempted to pour her another glass. Who knows what she might say under the influence of a little alcohol.
“Would you like another glass, Londyn?”
“No, I best not. I don’t do well with too much.”
“We should work.”
“Yes, we should.” She smiles at me. “So, passion, love, sex, and romance throughout the ages. What is your synopsis?”
“I got this idea a few years ago. I think it would be amazing to start as early back as I can go with the written word and build a story about how the views reflected in literature mirrored the cultural values of the time it was written.”
“Sounds good. Are you making a point or is it more of a history of sort of thing?”
I really love her accent. Focus, man! “I haven’t decided. I only have a few pages. Would you like to read what I have so far?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
I hand her the sheets I printed out last night and leave her to them while I clean up our dinner dishes. I don’t know if it was a good idea to invite her here. Apparently, I no longer know how to be professional once I get a woman in my lair. Admittedly, it’s been far too long. Even if I wanted to seduce her, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
As I load the dishwasher, it hits me where the attraction is coming from. Londyn gets me. She not only understands my interests, she shares them. She sees beyond my sometimes difficult demeanor to the man inside. Just like… I pause as I realize what I was thinking.
I never thought it would be possible to have a connection like the one I lost. I may have just found my soul mate. The thought is jolting, causing me to drop the dish I’m holding and watch as it crashes to the ground.
“Is everything alright?” Londyn calls out from the study.
“Yes, fine.” I sweep up the broken ceramic, absorbing the feelings I just had. She’s my perfect match and she fucking works for me.
After cleaning up my mess, I walk slowly back to my study. I want to tell her that her very presence is healing my bitter and broken heart. I won’t. I’m not prepared for her response.
Entering the room, I see her sitting there, engrossed in my written words. She looks up with tears in her eyes and wipes them away.
“Luca, you are absolutely brilliant.”
AS LUCA ENTERS THE ROOM, I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes. He probably thinks I’m such a silly mouse, crying over the words meant for a research book, but it’s not my fault he is an amazing writer.
“Brilliant?” he asks.
“Absolutely.”
“You’re crying?” Luca asks.
“Just moved. I love what you have so far.”
“Thank you, Londyn.”
The way he says my name tugs at my heart a bit. No, wait. I don’t believe that is my heart attempting to gain my attention. I do believe it’s my lady bits calling out in hopes they’ll be heard.
I don’t know how to interpret what is happening between us. His words are full of entendre, but there is no way he could be flirting with me. Right? Those moments in his bedroom made me want to rip my bodice open like one of those romance novels I see at the market. The look in his eyes suggested he would be open to it.
Now I sit here whilst the most breathtaking prose caresses me from the page. His written words match the intensity of his spoken ones. I am staggered.
“I’m honored you think so.” Luca walks towards me and sits on the ottoman at my feet. “What is your favorite romantic literature piece? From any period or country.”
“Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. Or Romeo and Juliet.”
“Romeo and Juliet? I don’t see that as a love story. I see it as the horrible result of feuding families.”
“Well, yes, but they were in love. Passionately so. Enough to die for one another. Have you ever felt so much love for someone you would die for them, Luca?”
Luca’s eyes fall to the floor and I wonder what I said that upset him. Obviously, I’ve hit a nerve.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I say, softly. Reaching out, I just barely touch his hair before quickly pulling my hand back.
“You didn’t. I have felt that once, but it was a long time ago.”
“What happened?”
He looks up at me with those stunning brown eyes. “Perhaps I’ll tell you some day. You have a way of making me want to share things with you.”
I’m surprised at his admission, but it warms my heart. “Do I?”
“Yes. It’s unnerving.” He looks down then back up again quickly and smiles. “But I like it.” I am stunned speechless. How does one respond to such a statement? I sit quietly, looking back at the pages he gave me.
We talk more about the book for a while before Luca says, “I should get you home.” He stands. “Would you be interested in coming here with me again? To work on the book.”
“Yes. I would be honored.”
He smiles and gets his keys. “I’ll drive you home. I don’t want you taking the T after dark.”
“I do it all the time.”
“Not anymore.” He smiles again as I get my handbag. The mood between us is more intimate than I ever expected. I don’t want to leave. Ever.
We walk round back and he opens a small one-car garage, revealing a modest sedan inside. I would have imagined something luxurious and foreign to match his taste, but maybe cars just aren’t important to him. He holds the passenger side door open for me as I get in.
“I remember how to get there,” he says. “When do you think you can come over again?”
“When do you want me to?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Great.”
We arrive at my place and once again, he opens my door like a true gentleman.
“Thank you, Luca. For dinner and for allowing me to read your work.”
“The pleasure was mine.”
&nb
sp; We stand awkwardly for a moment and I feel as though I am on a date waiting for my kiss, which is clearly ridiculous. Still he makes no move to leave.
“Londyn…” Luca starts then stops, running his fingers through his hair. Lord how I want to do that too.
I look up into his eyes and feel myself holding my breath. “Yes, Luca?”
“Sleep well.”
“You as well.”
Luca finally backs away slightly, allowing me to pass and walk up the stairs to my flat. I turn back and wave before taking the stairs two at a time to get to Madeleine. Opening the door, the house is dead silent. Dammit, she’s not home. Ah well, it will have to be me, a bubble bath, and my boodle. As I run the hot bath, I scribble my day in the pages. I quickly undress and sink into the steamy water. Closing my eyes, I run my hands over my body, wishing they were Luca’s. A gush of internal heat spreads through my body. I giggle as I sink below the suds thinking of the final line of today’s entry.
Note to self: I rather like working for Professor Sexy Pants.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M going to do. I am experiencing the most unexpected reaction to Londyn. I want to know her better. I want to talk to her forever. And twenty minutes ago, I wanted to kiss her. This is not good.
I start my shower since the pipes in this old house always take a few minutes to warm up. The thought hits me that I could probably benefit from a cold shower. Damn. I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt turned on like this. Maybe it was two years ago with Rebecca. I wanted to love her and I definitely wanted to sleep with her so I did. I always hoped the connection would follow, but all we had in common was physical attraction. Rebecca turned out to be dumb as a rock. I can’t believe that I haven’t touched a woman since. I walk into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of scotch. I need it to calm my nerves.
Tomorrow I have to see her again. I have to work with her and be professional. I have to look in those eyes of hers and act like a man who sees her only as his assistant. I step into the shower. Right now, I wonder what she is doing. Is she asleep? Is she thinking about me? I feel like a teenage boy with his first crush.
I run the soap over my body, wishing my hands were Londyn’s instead. Oh shit. This is worse than I thought.
Londyn Falls Page 15
