Full Moon in Florence (4 page)

Colin’s smile was back.

I just didn’t know where to begin. I mean, we had a good time, right? I didn’t want to spoil it by being needy.

Colin furrowed his brow. Needy? A morning-after email, or even week-after, would have been nice. What was needy about that? Clearly this woman wasn’t needy if she’d waited three months to contact him. And she might have waited longer if her assistant friend hadn’t fired off that email that she felt compelled to apologize for. (Colin rather liked it and wished it had gone on a bit longer.)

Anyway, I thought I should let you know that I’ll be in Italy next week for work. Florence to be exact.

Colin’s heart started beating erratically again. What were the chances of that?

I know that’s still far from London and we really hardly know each other, but…

Maybe they didn’t know each other in the conventional sense, but Colin remembered the freckles on her thighs and the small mole under her right arm and the way the sound of her aroused panting made his insides melt. He didn’t know her, but he
knew
her. And he’d been waiting three months for more.

You probably won’t be anywhere near there, but on the off chance… Actually, you probably won’t get either of these emails, since I don’t even know if this is a true email address. If it is, then you have my apology for the inappropriate first email, and maybe you’ll write back. And if not, at least I know I tried.

Colin wasn’t sure what that last bit meant, but as for writing back to her, it was a matter of how many deep breaths he had to take first so he didn’t look too enthusiastic, or worse, desperate.

He quickly opened Keenan’s email to confirm the dates they wanted him in Italy. Florence to be exact. Yes! They’d be there at the same time. It had to be Fate.

“What’s up?” said Rudi. “I’ve never seen you look that excited about work.”

Colin looked up at him and grinned. “Looks like there might be a little play time after all.”

He quaffed his ale. Then his phone dinged again with another downloaded email. Rudi raised an eyebrow as Colin swiped his screen. After three months of waiting he was getting three emails in three minutes? But this one wasn’t from Laine. It was from [email protected]

Colin Baby,

If you do anything to hurt Laine I will track you down in London and stuff a Molotov cocktail down your breeches. Tina

Colin laughed. And then he smiled. Unlike Laine’s email, Tina’s work signature was at the bottom of the page. If they worked in the same office, that phone number probably led to Laine, too. Colin glanced at his watch and then said to Rudi, “I’m going to step outside for just a minute.”

Rudi shrugged. “When you get back, I challenge you to round two, and I’m going to whip your ruddy arse.”

Laine

“I sent the email,” Laine called through her open door.

“Give me an L! give me an A! give me an I!”

“Quit it, Tina.” Surprisingly, she did.

Laine peeked through the door and saw her busily tapping at her keyboard. A few minutes later, Laine heard Tina humming
That’s Amore
.

The tune made Laine hungry for pasta. It was past her normal lunch hour. Maybe she’d step out and grab something. She had to pick up a couple of travel items as well, particularly, a outlet adapter. Or maybe a few. With computers, phones, and hair straighteners to tote, one adapter was never enough.

As Laine slipped on her denim jacket, her desk phone rang. She didn’t think her boss, Mark was yet back from his two hour lunch, and usually Tina announced which calls she was putting through.

“Laine Dixon.”

There was long pause on the other end and a strange clicking.

“Hello?”

“Laine? Do I have the write number?”

Laine froze. The man’s voice, deep and confident, pronounced the word ‘
num—bah
’. From the corner of her eye she saw Tina standing just outside her doorway. Laine gesticulated for her to shut the door. Tina grinned and pulled the door mostly shut.

Laine cleared her throat and said, “Yes, this is Laine.”

“Hello. This is Colin. Colin Ellington?”

She looked at her computer. She had sent the emails less than ten minutes ago.

“What time is it there?”

“Half ten or thereabouts. Listen, I just got your emails and I just had to ring and tell you, it’s the oddest thing really, but I actually will be in Italy the same week.”

Laine sat down. “In Florence?”

“Yes, and Rome.” He cleared his throat. “It would be lovely to see you.”

Lovely. Yes, it would be. Very. More than. But all Laine said was,

“Only if it’s convenient for you.”

“Oh, yes. For you, too,” said Colin. “Will you be quite busy?”

“A bit. But I’m sure I can make time for coffee. Or dinner.” She put her hand to her forehead. Why was she being so awkward?

Colin paused before saying, “Sure. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Okay. Me too.” This was awful. For months she’d imagined talking to him again and now that she had the chance she sounded flat and dull and could think of nothing to say.

Colin said, “I have your email now so I’ll send you my particulars. Where are you staying?”

“Uh, um…” Laine pushed a few papers around. “I don’t remember. I’ll have to ask my assistant.” Gosh that sounded pompous.

“Do, and then let me know. I haven’t booked yet so maybe I can aim for the same nieghborhood. You know, to make things more convenient.”

“Okay.”

“All right.”

“Well. See you next week then.”

“Yes.”

“Laine?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember our night in Paris?”

“Of course!”

“Good.” His voice grew quiet. “You know, I’ve thought about you every day since then. I’m glad you got in touch.”

His words slid around her like a warm breeze. “Me too.”

They hung up. Laine turned slowly in her desk chair, replaying his voice in her head, until there was a knock at her door. Her dreamy fog lifted.

“Is it safe to come in?” Tina peered around the corner. “How did it go?”

Laine blinked. “I sounded like an absolute idiot.”

“Of course you did. But you’re meeting him there?”

Laine smiled. “As Fate would have it. Yes.”

Tina grinned. “Then you can make up for your idiocy with sexy lingerie. Let’s go for lunch.”

Colin

Colin hung up. He hesitated before stepping back into the pub. He looked up at the London sky. Only a handful of the brightest stars could penetrate the aura of city lights. Then there was the moon, or rather half of it, on the wax, which meant it would be full next week. In Florence.

He had felt a strange burst of energy hearing Laine’s voice, and then that rising energy had been thwarted somehow. Had she been happy to hear from him? He couldn’t tell. Had her assistant goaded her into sending an email she might have gone on not sending? Colin furrowed his brow at the sky. What was he to make of it? She’d be happy to see him if it was
convenient
? Not the romantic reunion he’d been fantasizing about all these months. But that’s just it, he chided himself. You’ve been fantasizing. This is reality. Awkward stumbling reality. And what did he really know about her? Nothing. For all he knew, she had a bloke and this was just a business trip and she’d rifled through her contacts to see who she knew in Europe and maybe thought, oh, there was that bloke from Paris, what was his name…

Colin frowned and looked down at his feet. She hadn’t written for three months. Maybe to her it
was
just a matter of convenience. He kicked himself for jumping so high so fast. That’s not the way he was with women. He was cool, calm, collected. He took what he came for and always offered something in return, but he rarely lingered. What had been different about Laine? He didn’t even much care for Americans. It had been one night of fun for them both, a sexy spontaneous romp. He’d had many such nights in his travels and remembered them fondly, when he remembered them at all. Why had
she
stayed with him so long? He’d thought about her every day since they’d met, and dammit, he’d just t
old
her that on the phone. He might as well have hung his cock on the line and said, there, take a jab, why don’t you. What a wanker he was.

He scuffed his foot along the pavement wishing he’d handled it all quite differently. The pub door opened. One of the long-legged legal assistant types stepped out and put a cigarette to her lips.

“Got a light?” she said hopefully. Colin, who’d mostly given up smoking about a year ago, still carried a Zippo for just these occasions. Real smokers always carried their own lights and flirts-with-props always asked for one because usually it wasn’t a light they were asking for but an invitation they were offering.

She took a long drag and then offered Colin her open pack. “Want one?”

He took one. An actor taking his prop, just on these occasions.

“My friend Amanda’s in there talking to your friend.”

Colin nodded, inhaled as he lit his cigarette, exhaled. “Rudi.”

“Yeah, Rudi. He seems nice. Is he? Do you vouch for him? Is she in good hands?”

“Sure. ‘Course. He’s one of the best.” At what, Colin chose not to specify.

“And how ‘bout you,” she said, tilting her bare shoulder toward him, letting her strap slip a little. Are you one of the best?”

He flicked his cigarette, gave her a charming smile and held her gaze for a longer than usual beat.

“You’re welcome to find out.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Buy me a drink?”

“Why not?”

Florence and the full moon was still a week away.

Laine

Laine laid out the racy lingerie on the end of her bed and then sorted through her mail. A thick, creamy envelope caught her attention. Her name was written in calligraphy by a hand she didn’t recognize. When she opened the card, she felt sick to her stomach and had to sit down. It was an invitation to Richard’s end-of-summer wedding. There was a Post-it attached to the embossed gold details.

“
I hope we’re still friends. I’d love for you to be there
.”

She hated the fact that she could still decipher his sloppy handwriting. But really, this was in poor taste. His new girlfriend, his
fiancée
, must be pretty open minded. Maybe it was even her idea. Or maybe they just wanted as big an audience as possible. Laine wanted to burn the invitation right then and there, but she’d set off the alarm the last time she’d burned toast, so she’d have to do any ritual burnings out on the balcony. She stepped out there now for a breath of fresh air. She was over Richard. She really was. Her trip to Paris last March had been the turning point. She had Colin to thank for that.

Colin.

She had been such a dork on the phone earlier today. Dull, dour librarian. So boring. What would he possibly see in her? Sure, they’d shared one incredible night, but the thought of seeing him again made her felt absurdly shy, and she was still 8,000 miles away and not even picturing him with his clothes off! Which, for some reason, she couldn’t seem to do ever since she’d heard his voice this afternoon. For the last three months she’d pictured him naked and erect hovering over her in bed until he…

But
now
.

Hearing his voice had made it all real. For three months he’d been a delicious, perfect memory. Colin Ellington, healer of her fractured heart. Her green-eyed angel in Paris.

She sighed and looked up at the clear sky, a rare sight in San Francisco. She wished on a star. She wished she’d have the courage to take a risk in Florence and not stumble about shyly and make a mess of things. He’d called her back after all. He’d received her email he hadn’t just emailed back, he’d
called her
. That meant something, didn’t it? At the very least it meant he hadn’t forgotten her. And Laine didn’t want to be forgotten. She was determined to create another perfect, delicious memory. That’s why she’d let Tina go wild in Victoria’s Secret at lunch time. Laine had actually bought herself a garter, something she’d never worn before, and a very sheer bra and panties set, plus a long, slitted negligée.

Laine knew sexy lingerie wouldn’t be quite enough. What was under the lace and silk would make the moment, and she didn’t just mean her body, but her spirit inside, her confidence, her desire. Would Colin still want that?

Maybe she’d play it cool, or be friendly and business-like. She didn’t want him to know she’d been thinking about him incessantly and writing everything she was afraid to say in emails in her diary instead. She couldn’t let him know how much she missed him, dreamt about him, fantasized about them being together. She felt fifteen again sometimes. She had to stop herself from writing her initials along with his inside a big heart on her office notepad.

She looked up at the star she’d wished on and thanked it for its luck in bringing him to Florence the same week she was going to be there. It was more than luck. It had to be Fate.

The moon hovered over the Golden Gate Bridge. It would be full by next week. A full moon in Florence. What could be more romantic?

Laine tucked Richard’s wedding invitation into a copy of Do or Die, A Practical Guide to Single Life, and started packing.

* * *

The next morning, Mark peeked into her office.

“Monday’s the big day?”

“Come on in, Mark.”

“Came to say bon voyage — or bene voyaggio or whatever they say in Italian.”

Laine smiled. She’d known Mark a long time and sensed he had more to say than that.

He closed the door, crossed her small but windowed office, and plopped down in the chair across from her desk. Holding his forehead in one hand, he moaned.

“Too many martinis at lunch yesterday,” he mumbled.

“You took a long one. And I hear you’re out of the office next week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That’s why I’m here. To tell you.” He looked around as if others might be eavesdropping in Laine’s private office. “Ostensibly, I’m going to that day-long conference in LA and then taking a few mental health days, but really I’m flying out to New York.”