Bride By Choice

CHAPTER SIX

THERE was a queue at the desk of the New Orleans Elroy. Helen, shifting from one foot to the other, fanned herself against the heat and looked around the reception area, wondering if she’d been wise to arrive without warning.

She’d endured six weeks without Lorenzo, her loneliness broken only by his lively emails and a call when he could tear himself away from business. Again she was seeing the hard-working man who lived beneath the merry surface. She admired him for that, except when he had to hang up on her because a customer was trying to get through.

As he crossed the country she thought of him in city after city. When he reached Los Angeles she pictured him on the beach, his broad shoulders and handsome face drawing admiring female glances. There must have been plenty of those wherever he went, and the fact that he never mentioned women was somehow ominous. The truth was clear. He was enjoying a frenzied orgy of decadence, and the sooner she found out the sooner she could recover her sense of proportion about him.

That was how she was explaining things to herself these days.

Now here she was in New Orleans. The idea had been taking up space in her mind for some days, and yesterday she had abruptly told Erik she needed some leave, and caught the first flight out. And as the queue shuffled forward she desperately wished she hadn’t.

Then she saw Lorenzo.

The reality was so much like her imaginings that she briefly thought she was still dreaming. He was emerging from the interior of the hotel, his skin more tanned than ever, his look of vivid masculinity sharply emphasised.

With him was a young girl, of about eighteen. She was blazingly beautiful in a brash, flaunting manner. Her lush red hair hung to her waist, her hips wiggled, her young breasts were high and perky. Helen, who had slept on the plane in sensible travelling clothes, felt crumpled, rumpled and a hundred years old.

They looked as though they had come from the hotel pool. Lorenzo wore trunks and a short-sleeved shirt, open to the waist. The girl was dressed-sort of-in a wraparound garment transparent enough to reveal the mini bikini beneath. And she was clinging onto to Lorenzo’s arm as though planning to claim it as a souvenir.

Helen looked around wildly for somewhere to hide. He mustn’t know that she’d turned up and discovered the truth like this. She couldn’t bear him to know that she’d been such a fool. But he was so close now that any movement would attract his attention.

A middle-aged couple, immediately behind Lorenzo, were talking to him.

‘Hey, Lorenzo,’ yelled the man, ‘we old folk are going to put our feet up. Why don’t you and Calypso take that little shopping trip?’

And now Helen noticed that Lorenzo looked uncomfortable. ‘I really have to be working, Mr Baxter,’ he said, trying to disentangle himself from Calypso without actually pushing her away. He failed.

‘I’ve told you, call me Dagwood.’

‘I have to work, Dagwood.’

‘Hey, what the hell! You’ve already taken a million off me. Relax. Have fun.’

‘My girlfriend will be arriving any minute.’ There was a desperate edge on Lorenzo’s voice that made the sun come out for Helen.

‘I don’t believe you have a girlfriend,’ Calypso teased. ‘You’re just playing hard to get.’ She giggled. ‘I like that in a man.’

‘I promise,’ Lorenzo said, ‘Helen is real. And she’ll be here.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Dagwood bellowed cheerfully. ‘Anyway, who needs her? A young guy should know how to enjoy himself, know what I mean?’ He gave an ugly wink. ‘Call her and put her off.’

‘I think I will just-make a call.’ Lorenzo freed his arm at last, and turned away from them into a corner, frantically pulling his mobile from his bag. Calypso shrugged and sauntered to the bar.

Helen inched close enough to Lorenzo hear the ensuing conversation.

‘Elroys? Is Miss Angolini back yet?-You said that last time-but she hasn’t called me-no, no, you don’t understand, she can’t be on leave-Why? Because I have to talk to her. It’s a matter of life and death-no, it’s more important than that-’

‘Then you’d better tell me now,’ Helen said, amused.

He nearly fainted.

‘How did you get there?’ he whispered, looking as though he’d seen a ghost.

Helen put her palms together, genie style. ‘You rubbed the lamp, master, and here I am.’ She became herself again. ‘What is it that’s more important than life and death or-’ she cast a speaking glance at the Baxters ‘-can I guess?’

‘Helen, you’ve got to save me. That girl’s a piranha and she’s got me lined as the next meal. I can’t just tell her to get lost because her father is Dagwood Baxter of Baxter Consumables, and he’s given me a huge order. So I have to evade her subtly.’

‘Subtly? You?’

‘All right. Save the funnies! I have an order that’s going to make me look awfully good to Renato, but my virtue is under threat. I’m trying to protect them both.’

‘Which one is more important?’

He gave her a baleful look.

Helen was enjoying this more every minute, but she concealed her amusement to say, ‘She’s little more than a child. What’s her father doing?’

‘Everything he can to push us together. She’s the oldest eighteen you ever saw. She already has one divorce behind her. But to Dagwood Baxter she’s still his “little girl”. What Calypso wants, Calypso gets.’

‘And Calypso wants you, hmm?’

‘I’ve been dropping broad hints about my girlfriend, and calling you since last night, but you weren’t there.’ He sounded ill used.

‘I wasn’t there because I was on my way here,’ Helen pointed out.

‘You knew I needed you,’ he said, deeply moved. ‘And you came.’

‘I didn’t know, I-something made me come.’ The air seemed to be singing in her ears. It was coincidence, of course.

Then irresistible temptation made her say, ‘I just can’t see you as a blushing violet. She’s a beautiful girl. Why not enjoy the situation?’

For the first time she saw him angry. ‘That’s a stupid question,’ he flashed. ‘A really stupid, stupid question.’

They regarded each other.

‘I guess it was,’ she said at last.

‘I’m glad we got that clear.’ He was still offended.

‘He’s coming over.’ Helen had seen Dagwood Baxter from the corner of her eye.

‘Then it’s time for action,’ Lorenzo muttered, and the next moment she was being enveloped in a crushing embrace. ‘Darling, how wonderful to see you.’

His lips against hers made it impossible to answer. It was a practical kiss, given in answer to a desperate situation, and deliberately theatrical, to make a point. But underlying the theatrics was a serious intent that it would interesting to pursue later.

He released her slowly, muttered, ‘Play up,’ and immediately switched on a brilliant smile. ‘Darling, let me introduce you to Dagwood Baxter, his wife Margaret and his daughter Calypso.’

Helen mechanically made a suitable response, aware that she was being looked over by the Baxter family. Calypso greeted her sulkily, while her father seemed taken by surprise. Margaret Baxter’s manner was one of weary tolerance, as though her husband and daughter had become too much for her.

It was she who, seeing the storm on Calypso’s face, suggested that the five of them have dinner together that evening.

‘I’d have preferred to be alone with you,’ Lorenzo confessed as they escaped afterwards, ‘but at least it’s better than being alone with that budding vampire.’

‘You’re scared,’ Helen chuckled.

‘You bet I am. I’m just a sweet old-fashioned boy. Mamma never taught me about girls like that.’

‘I’ll bet you found out for yourself, though.’

‘I’m going to rely on your protection,’ he said, sidestepping this.

‘She won’t be impressed by me.’

‘She will if you do it right. At dinner tonight, can you manage “clinging and possessive”?’

‘With an effort.’

‘Don’t take your eyes off me except to look daggers at your rival. Act like I’m a lord of creation.’

‘You’re pushing your luck,’ she told him frostily. ‘I’ll try, but frankly you don’t convince me as a lord of creation.’

‘That’s right. Kick a man when he’s down.’

‘Don’t tempt me. Anything else?’

‘Yes. Dress sexy.’

‘What kind of sexy?’

‘Sexy sexy. So that she’ll get the message and realise it’s hopeless.’

‘You conceited jerk,’ she exploded. ‘You impossible, self-centred, big-headed, puffed up, full of yourself-’

‘Will you do it?’

‘Yes!’

She had a lot of fun picking out her dress from the hotel’s boutique. Her taste was excellent but tonight taste was out, and ‘blatant’ was in, so she chose a neckline that plunged in a deep V between her breasts and made a bra impossible.

It was cream silk with a skirt that came to just above her knees, showing her long, elegant legs. Gold belt, gold earrings and matching gilt sandals completed the ensemble. She knew a brief qualm as she saw herself in the mirror, but what the heck!

Lorenzo wanted sexy. She’d give him sexy.

She was braced for his reaction when he saw her, but not for her own reaction at the sight of him in casual evening gear. Lorenzo liked to live well and dress well, and he too had been exploring the hotel boutiques. Now he wore a beautiful white silk, embroidered evening shirt, open at the throat, just far enough to reveal a hint of smooth brown chest. It wouldn’t be hard to see him as a lord of creation, she thought. But hell would freeze over before she let him suspect that.

‘Will I do?’ she asked lightly.

He drew a deep breath. ‘I think-you’ll do.’

She was glad now that she’d taken the chance. It was worth anything to see the awed look in his eyes as he regarded her.

‘Then let’s go into action, O lord of creation.’

Hand in hand they strolled through the hotel and out to the poolside restaurant where they were to eat. Their hosts were already there, and Dagwood immediately rose and took firm hold of Helen’s hand, declaring that she must sit with him. As there was only one chair beside him this left Lorenzo no choice but to sit beside Calypso.

Helen had no problem sizing up Dagwood. He’d started with a small fortune and he’d built it up to a huge one, as he lost no time in telling her, then telling her again, and again. He was used to being able to buy anything and he expected things to continue that way.

His wife was more interesting. With no influence on either her husband or daughter she centred her life on her hobby, which was words. The precise definition of words, and the proper use of apostrophes, occupied her whole attention, and she had been known to stop a conversation dead in its tracks by expatiating on the subject. Her husband habitually bullied her to conceal his awe of her.

Helen had thought her own dress daring until she saw Calypso’s which plunged low at the top and high at the hem, until the two plunges came perilously close to meeting in the middle. Lorenzo, she was glad to note, was conscientiously averting his eyes, despite Calypso’s attempts to make this impossible.

Dagwood worked hard to divert Helen’s attention from Lorenzo. He talked about himself, he made her talk about herself, he made her talk about Elroys, which she did dutifully until Maggie asked her whether that was Elroys with or without an apostrophe. After that it took a while for the talk to get started again. Lorenzo addressed a remark to Helen and Dagwood promptly demanded how long they’d known each other.

‘Since January,’ Lorenzo said. ‘We met under very unusual circumstances.’ He nudged Helen. ‘Why don’t you tell them how we were discussing marriage in the first ten minutes?’

‘I don’t think that’s a story for anyone else’s ears,’ she simpered, divining his intention at once.

Calypso was briefly diverted from her self absorption. ‘You guys got the hots for each other that bad?’

Lorenzo couldn’t meet Helen’s eyes.

She controlled her amusement long enough to murmur, ‘That bad. It caused a lot of problems.’

‘OK, OK,’ bawled Dagwood, not pleased with these reminiscences. ‘Let’s have some more to drink.’

Helen made another effort. ‘Lorenzo’s been telling me all about his trip-’

‘I bet he hasn’t told you everything,’ Calypso giggled, snuggling against Lorenzo.

It occurred to Helen that she disliked Calypso very much indeed.

‘I doubt I’d have been interested in everything,’ she said coolly.

‘In fact, I bet he ain’t told you nothing,’ Calypso said triumphantly. ‘What?’ This was addressed to her mother who’d muttered something in her ear. ‘For Pete’s sake, Mom! Who cares if it’s a double negative? What’s a double negative, anyway? We ain’t feeling negative, are we, honey?’ She was walking her fingertips over Lorenzo’s chest.

That did it! Without altering her smile a fraction Helen leaned over to Calypso and said clearly, ‘If you don’t want to end up in the pool, take your hands off my man.’

‘Daddy!’ Calypso’s wail almost parted the pool water.

Dagwood rose to his feet, almost frothing with rage. ‘What’s the matter with you people? You’re animals. I don’t have to take this. You!’ He pointed at Lorenzo. ‘You’d better get smart, right now.’

Lorenzo regarded him, his eyes sparkling with pure Sicilian anger. But his voice had a calm silkiness. ‘And just what do you mean by “get smart”, Mr. Baxter?’

Dagwood jabbed a finger in Helen’s direction. ‘She just insulted my daughter.’

‘Actually, she didn’t,’ Maggie observed mildly. ‘She said she’d throw her in the pool. That wasn’t an insult, it was a threat.’

‘Does it matter?’ Dagwood was beside himself.

‘Well, strictly speaking, if you-’

‘Dammit, Maggie, this isn’t the moment to start picking holes.’

‘I was only trying to help, dear.’

Dagwood tried again. ‘She insul-threatened my daughter. What are you going to do about it?’

Lorenzo rose, and there was something in his eyes that made Dagwood take a step backwards.

‘I’m going to marry her,’ he said flatly. ‘That’s what I’m going to do.’

‘Then you can forget about selling your carrots to Dagwood C. Baxter. Yes, sir.’

Lorenzo’s smile was full of soft menace. ‘Mr Baxter-stuff your order.’

Dagwood snorted, gathered up his belongings, plus his family, and retreated with as much dignity as he could muster. At the last moment he flung back a look of loathing and was further affronted by the sight of Helen in gales of laughter.

When they were alone Lorenzo eyed her warily.

‘You were marvellous,’ she choked at last. ‘The first man who’s ever prized my hand in marriage over a million dollars.’

‘Helen-’

‘It’s all right, I know you didn’t mean it.’

‘Of course I didn’t mean it,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m not ready to die.’

‘But I still think you’re marvellous.’

‘Yeah, marvellous,’ he muttered. ‘And a coward as well.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Let’s dance.’

A band had struck up and dancers were whirling by the pool, now filled with the reflections of colourful shapes. Lorenzo took her hand and led her to where they could vanish into the crowd and be private in each other’s arms.

He blew out his cheeks. ‘Oh, boy, what an evening!’

‘How are you going to explain to Renato that you lost a million dollar order?’

‘I’ll tell him to come out and try the lion’s den for himself. Now forget Renato. I want to concentrate on that dress. It’s been giving me problems. It’s giving me problems right now.’

‘I can see that,’ she said, following his gaze down to her cleavage. ‘You’re behaving most improperly, and I think you should stop.’

‘How the hell am I supposed to stop?’ he said through gritted teeth.

She considered the matter seriously. ‘If you were to draw me closer you wouldn’t be able to see down that far.’

He tightened his arm. ‘Like that?’

‘That’s better.’

It was getting late and the music had developed a more melancholy, reflective character, conducive to dancing closely. She shouldn’t be doing this, she thought. She enjoyed the feel of Lorenzo’s body more than she ought, and his mouth was dangerously close to hers, filling her with longing.

‘How long before you have to go?’ she murmured.

‘I can stay here a couple more days. Can you stay?’

‘Two days, yes.’

And then-nothing. For the rest of her life.

‘I’ll come back,’ he said, reading her thoughts. ‘And you can visit Sicily.’

‘I don’t think I should do that. People might get the wrong idea.’

‘They’d think we were in love.’ His mouth brushed hers as he spoke.

She tried to speak but his lips silenced her, and she knew that she’d longed for this since the first night, the first stolen kiss. The sensation was so ravishing that it almost stunned her.

At last she looked around and realised that they were alone on the floor. People were watching them, smiling. ‘The music has stopped,’ she said in wonder.

‘Yes, and we’re providing the entertainment. Let’s get out of here.’ He seized her hand and they hurried from the floor, to the accompaniment of applause.

At her door they stopped. ‘Elena-’

‘Don’t,’ she begged. ‘Just-go to bed.’ She opened her door and half moved inside.

His whispered ‘Goodnight,’ was almost inaudible, but it stopped her. She stood for long moment, her head lowered, looking at his hand, resting in hers. She stepped backwards, still holding him, enticing him to follow her. He took a step, then paused, watching her face until she drew him after her and closed the door.

He reached a tentative hand to the light switch but she stopped him, and they stood in the semi darkness, listening to each other’s soft breathing.

‘Elena,’ he said again, and she didn’t try to make him say Helen. At this moment it seemed quite natural to be Elena, feeling her fierce Sicilian blood pounding in her veins and all her senses leaping towards him.

When he laid his lips on hers she leaned close, and suddenly the barriers were down and they were kissing each other with all the urgency they had tried to deny. It seemed such a long time since their meeting, and yet this kiss was only a continuation of that first one, as though they had been kissing ever since.

‘We said we mustn’t do this,’ he murmured.

‘We were wrong-so wrong-’ She was kissing him madly, already wrought to an unbearable pitch of excitement just by touching him. ‘This is something we-must-do-’

‘Yes,’ he said as his lips moved down her neck. ‘I guess-we always knew that.’

She was distantly aware that his hands were moving, causing her clothes to slip away, one by one. She didn’t know where her dress went, but without it she was wearing hardly anything.

‘I must have been crazy asking you to wear that thing,’ he gasped. ‘It’s been torturing me all evening.’ He was tearing off his clothes.

She could barely see him in the semi dark, but she knew the width of his shoulders, and she enjoyed drawing her fingers over the hard muscles. ‘Life guard,’ Dilys had called him, making a joke of it, but as Helen savoured his power and beauty all laughter died in her, replaced by thrilling anticipation.

She had been so full of doubt, but now her doubts were fading to nothing, overcome by the magic of his caresses. This was Lorenzo, whose touch excited her as no other man’s had ever done.

He drew her down onto the bed and eased off her panties, then looked at her for a long time, his eyes full of delight, a little smile of appreciation on his lips. Slowly he drew his fingertips down the side of her face and across her lips. It was the lightest movement but it filled her with fire, and she let out her breath slowly, relishing the feelings that were taking possession of her. He dropped his head to let his lips take over, touching her mouth softly, teasing it with intent.

Thus distracted, she didn’t realise at first that his hands were on the move again, finding her breasts, caressing them with skilful movements that sent the warmth rushing through her. When he laid his lips against them it was almost a gesture of reverence, but it set off a tempest within her that blew away the last of her caution. She opened her mouth, luring him in and challenging him so that his own excitement mounted.

Her mouth, her face, her breasts all came to new life under his kisses, and she responded eagerly to the demands of his lips and hands. He had the body of a man who lived an active outdoor life, lean, muscular, honed to vigorous perfection. She could feel his strength but also his control and tenderness, his consideration and generosity, and her love flowed out to encompass him. This was right. This was how it was always meant to be.

She knew that at any moment he would move over her, and she was ready for him, eager. Wanting him with all her being, she reached for him…

The bedside phone shrilled.

‘Oh, no!’ she cried. ‘Let’s ignore it, until it stops.’

‘Cara, I’m not a man of iron,’ Lorenzo groaned. ‘You’ll have to answer it.’

‘But who could want me at this hour?’ she wailed in frustration.

‘Find out, and get rid of them quickly.’

Helen snatched up the phone. ‘Hello.’

‘I must speak to Lorenzo Martelli urgently,’ said a female voice. ‘He’s not in his room. Please, do you know where he is?’

‘He’s here,’ Helen said reluctantly, and passed the receiver to Lorenzo while she slid off the bed.

She took her silk wrap from the wardrobe, pulled it on and went into the bathroom to give him some privacy. But she couldn’t avoid hearing him say ‘Carissima!’ into the phone. She closed the door, muttering Sicilian curses under her breath, mostly directed at the receptionist who had seen them together earlier, and must have directed the caller to her room.

As she splashed water on her face and tried to calm her shattered nerves Helen thought of the voice on the phone, with its soft, feminine vibrancy. It was a sweet, charming voice, and Lorenzo had said ‘Carissima!’ with an affectionate urgency that revealed a lot. One moment he’d been tense at the interruption to his love-making. The next instant this strange woman had claimed all his attention.

‘Stop this!’ she told her reflection firmly. ‘You’re thinking nonsense!’

But her blood was still pounding in her veins with the heated anticipation that his touch had induced. Her whole body wanted him wildly, and ‘Carissima’ had come between them.

When she heard the click of the receiver being replaced she went out, and what she saw wiped her own problems from her mind.

‘Darling, what is it?’ she asked anxiously, taking hold of his arms. ‘Whatever’s happened to make you like this?’

She would never have believed that Lorenzo could look so distraught, so ill. When he spoke he sounded as though he were forcing the words out through a daze of shock.

‘That was Heather, my sister-in-law. Mamma has been taken ill.’

‘Oh, no! How?’

‘She has a weak heart and she’s had a bad turn. She’s had them before, but they’re worried about this one. I have to go home.’

He shook his head as though trying to clear it, and Helen put her arms right around him, holding him in a wordless message of comfort. He held her back, very tightly.

‘She’s been frail for years,’ he said, ‘but somehow she always came through, and you get to take it for granted that she always will. But Heather’s worried. She’s so old-’

‘Then the sooner you get home, the better. Get packed while I arrange your flight.’

‘Helen,’ he said suddenly, ‘come with me.’

‘What?’

He looked searchingly into her face. ‘Come to Sicily with me. I’ll need you there if-’

‘Hush, it won’t happen.’ She kissed him lightly. ‘But of course I’ll come.’

He began to pull on his clothes while she picked up the phone to call the desk. But before she could speak Lorenzo reached out and cut her off.

‘No,’ he said, ‘you mustn’t come. Forget I said it?’

She looked at him in shock. ‘You don’t want me?’

‘Of course I want you, but you have your job to get back to. What was I thinking of, asking you go half way around the world just to suit me? Forgive me.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘If you want me with you, that’s where I’m going to be.’

‘But your job, you’ve worked so hard and this is no time to be taking risks-’

‘To hell with the risk. I’ll talk to Erik, he’ll help us.’

‘You’re wonderful,’ he said simply.

Irrationally she felt tears start to her eyes. She brushed them away and called the reception desk. In a few minutes they were booked to New York, where they would connect with a flight to Sicily. Then she called Erik. As she had hoped, he was glad to help her.

‘You’ll need your passport,’ he said. ‘I’ll get Dilys to take it to JFK.’

When she’d finished the call Helen sat still, trying to understand what had happened to her. Lorenzo was right. She should be concentrating on the job that had always been so vital to her. But all she could think of was him, and the anguished look on his face, and her need to comfort him.