Page 47 of London
It wasI love youin Italian. He’d wanted to make the moment he declared his love memorable, something she could hold onto forever.
Her breath caught. Would the significance of his words be more powerful spoken in her native language? He pulled her away and glanced at her face.
Her brilliant smile told him the sole tear, a diamond drop against her cheek, was one of happiness.
“Anch’io ti amo, mio caro. I love you too, Gerard.”
She kissed him gently, and held him tighter than she ever had before. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.
“We’ve become addicted to each other in a very short time,” he said, knowing he was echoing her thoughts. “Does it scare you?”
“A little. Doesn’t it scare you?”
“No. On the contrary, it’s the most extraordinary feeling I’ve ever had,” he confessed, his eyes closed, his cheek rubbing against hers.
He could’ve stayed like this forever, holding her close, listening to their synchronized heartbeats. The ticking alarm clock burst their bubble of joy. He jumped to his feet, dragging her up with him.
“Come on, you shower while I shave. We’re running out of time.”
Just like that, stumbling, chuckling, and crashing into each other in the small flat, they were officially a couple in love. Their interactions were as natural as those of a husband and wife who’d been together for years.
Half an hour later, Gerard, impeccably dressed for the occasion, raced recklessly through London’s streets, as he headed north to her home. He glanced at his watch for what was surely the tenth time in as many minutes.
“With a bit of luck, we’ll only be fashionably late, as long as you don’t take forever to pick out your outfit or do your hair.”
She turned in the seat, arching an eyebrow. “For your information, I’ve already selected my outfit, chosen my jewelry, and decided how I’ll do my hair.”
“I’m impressed. Do you plan everything ahead of time?”
“Everything.”
He glanced at her. “Really? You didn’t plan on meeting me.”
“Well, almost everything,” she amended, smiling.
Dusk had fallen and the air had cooled considerably, but beads of sweat slid down Gerard’s temples. The day had been a crazy one. Adrenaline still pumped through his veins. While he waited for Linda to get ready, he sat in the car, doors open, taking deep, steady breaths. The evening breeze calmed and soothed him.
When Linda stepped out of the house wearing a little black dress, her hair in a French twist, her lips fire red to match her shoes and bag, he wolf-whistled.
“Wow! Are you sure this isn’t an event for supermodels?”
She laughed and got into the car. A whiff of her perfume filled the air. Like her, it was an elegant, fresh scent, with a touch of spiciness.
“You like?” she asked, her tone flirtatious.
“Oh, yeah. As tired as I am, I can’t wait to get back here and rip that dress off you,” he said, winking.
Linda smiled. “Me, too. And although you look fabulous, I’m sorry you had to dress up and face a boring evening instead of staying home relaxing.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m the one who should be apologizing. It’s my fault you almost missed your exhibit.”
“Now, you’re the one being silly. And it’s not my exhibit. Other artists have work on display, too.”
“But you’re the best and the most famous one, right?”
“If you want to put it like that… I suppose so,” she scoffed, trying to make light of it.
“Thank God those burglars didn’t touch my suit,” he said, putting the car in gear and heading back into the city.
