London Falling (19 page)

“Beautiful blond, suit, pregnant?”

“She’s pregnant? Oh that’s amazing. She doesn’t look it at all. Yes, she’s incredibly gorgeous.” Cami offered happily. Probably not something a receptionist should share with just anyone but the more she spoke the more I wanted to get to know her.

“That’s my sister. Tell you what, take a message. Tell Hank I need to talk to him when he finishes with Aspen. Tell my sister I’ll see her at one, as planned. Got it?”

The woman was quiet, then finally responded. “I have a message for Mr. Jensen to call London Kelley and the message is urgent. I have a message for Ms. Reynolds that you will meet her at one, as planned.”

“You’re good. How do you like the job so far?”

“Thank you. I love it. Everyone is so nice and Mr. Jensen is a gentleman. Asked me if I’d like a cup of coffee and had a muffin on my desk as a welcome when I started this morning. Meeting Oliver and getting this job is my dream come true,” she whispered.

Oliver. Of course. Ollie would find a sweet little thing who only wants to work. He’s the only other person I know who seems to have a keen sense about people. He can fetter out the bullshit people try to sell regularly.

“I look forward to meeting you, Cami. I think you’ll enjoy working for Hank. Plus, he’s good eye-candy, isn’t he? But hands off. My sister looks like an angel but brings out the claws when it comes to her man.” I laughed.

“Oh my. I’d never!”

“Relax. I’m just kidding. It was great talking to you, Cami. I look forward to meeting you in person someday.”

“Me, too, Ms. Kelley. I’ll give Mr. Jensen and Ms. Reynolds your messages. Goodbye.”

She hung up and I got ready to meet with the contractors for the day. Hank called thirty minutes later and agreed to release a couple guys for the week to help finish the renovation more quickly. He said his guys would be happy for the extra weekend work; if they did well, I’d move some of my business to Jensen Construction. Having close connections to a builder is a decorator’s dream come true.

The renovation was planned and all the furniture would show up in a few days, along with the special art piece and the new entertainment center. Flat screen, surround sound, six disc changer, the works was being put in. A jetted tub and shower would be installed, big enough for a several bodies. Not that Dylan was going to go man-whore style like Tripp would. Having the option to have some acrobatic sex was a good thing for a bachelor.

The plan with Dylan was to give him a bachelor pad that was sexy enough to awe the ladies yet not make his family balk. I’d purchased a set of dark gray leather couches that fit his lifestyle and age. My client loved fast cars and that was the one thing he splurged on, until my contract of course.

An artist I knew designed a glass top table that had a square see-through stand that highlighted different car ornaments within it, such as the leaping jaguar, a BMW license plate and several other choice trinkets, including the steering wheel from a winning Indie 500 racecar and a checkered flag. I’d seen the table’s design and decided it was tasteful and would be a real show piece. I couldn’t wait for Dylan to see the final product.

His bedroom was going to be a three-hundred and sixty-degree job. Everything in it needed to go. Currently, he had a treadmill and weight bench, white walls and boring bed and nightstand. The picture of a race car framed over the bed did not say, ‘Hey hottie, want to stay the night?’ It said, ‘I’m still sixteen and I don’t know how to be an adult.’

I’d ordered him a huge new bed that sat atop a low cappuccino colored platform, a very minimal Asian inspired design. A large tapestry in rich colors and shapes would hang behind the bed. Very gender neutral. The back wall would be painted a rich mocha to add warmth and would be a nice backdrop for the hanging. The work out equipment would be moved into an in-home gym, complete with all new equipment, flat screens and a sound system. He had two more bedrooms in the apartment. One would be a game room and the other his guest room.

The plans were in place, including the weekend which included a night out with the boys for Dylan, a night for me with Collier.

Shivers of excitement filled the space around me. Collier and I had only spent one full night together, but oh, what a night. A repeat was definitely in order. Now that we’d cleared the air, I looked forward to spending time with him.

Anticipation ran high for the physical aspects of our time together. Being with Collier the other night, letting go, him taking me against the wall, pushed every button I had. I wanted,
needed
to be with him again. When our bodies connected, a fire ignited. One so bright it was impossible to ignore. For now, I was willingly going in, planning to get burned.

***

The earth fell beneath my feet as I took in her form. Thick, black hair tumbled in curls around her shoulders. An aqua blue cashmere sweater, the pure blue amethyst color mimicking the Caribbean ocean, set off her eyes and molded to her breasts like a second skin. Her hips were encased in a dark gray, almost black, pencil skirt, that ended just above her knees. Tall, suede, come-shag-me boots, covered an incredible set of gams. London was mouthwateringly stunning and it took everything I had not to push her into the wall behind her door and take her. Right here. Right now.

“Hey Colly.” She used the childhood nickname my family had given me. I grimaced. “What? You don’t like being called Colly?” she asked with a wicked grin.

I slid a hand around her neck and caressed her cheek. “I prefer other names.” I stepped closer, crowding her, letting our bodies barely graze. The familiar crackle and sizzle filled the air surrounding us and the rest of the world faded away into nothing but London. Her lips, her eyes, just…her.

Slowly, I dragged my lips along the cheek I wasn’t holding, pressing our chests together.

She gasped. “And what would those names be?” Her vibrations sluiced down my chest, hardening my cock.

With my thumb I tilted her neck up and to the side, so I could nuzzle the silky skin. Christ, she smelled amazing. Cinnamon and spice and everything nice. I wanted to drown in it. Sink my teeth into it. Mark her perfect skin so that everyone knew where I’d been. Where I’d always want to be. What would be mine for as long as she’d have me.

She inhaled slowly while I licked the tender patch that made her knees shake. I gripped her hip, digging my fingers into her willing flesh. Her heart beat and her breasts mashed against my chest as she tried to press closer.

Nibbling the delicate skin of her ear, I reminded her of the words that haunted my fantasies, “Lover.”

She groaned.

I trailed my tongue around the edge of her ear. “Oh-God-Fuck-Me,” I whispered the words she used the last time we were together. I kissed and licked a trail down the sweet column of her neck until I reached her clavicle.

“Sexy Englishman,” she said on a trembling exhale.

I hummed deep in my throat, kissing my way back up her neck until I reached her lips. They were slightly parted as I slid just the tip of my tongue around the swollen flesh.

“Collier…“ she breathed against my mouth. Her hands held me around my neck, trying to bring me toward her.

I pulled back and her eyes shot open. Confusion, mixed with desire and lust, swirled in her gaze.

“Later, Beauty. By the end of the night, you’ll be begging to be shagged.”

Those eyes of hers squinted at the confirmation I was going to make her wait and shite, it was hard. Sod all. I had to have just a taste. “But here’s something to hold onto…“ I slanted my lips over hers and pressed her deep into my body. Every part of me felt like it was touching every part of her. Pure bliss.

She sighed into the kiss and I took that opportunity to lick into her mouth and let our tongues dance, mingling and twirling in endless loops.

Mint and tea burst over my taste buds, reminding me of London…the woman and my home. Time ebbed and moved languorously until I knew if I didn’t pull away, we wouldn’t make it out. She deserved more than a quick bonk against another wall. Wooing
then
fucking was on the menu for tonight. I planned on courting this woman to within an inch of her life.

She didn’t date? I planned on being the first and possibly the last if what I was starting to feel for this woman was accurate. Only time would tell, but in order to do that, I had to forcefully pull away from heaven.

Her lips chased mine and her finger nails dug into my shoulders. She tugged on my bottom lip with her teeth. “You know, dates are overrated.” She pulled away and the look in her eye almost broke my control. Almost.

“That’s because you haven’t been on any worth rating. Time to go.”

London smiled and bit her lip, finally untangling her luscious limbs from her death grip on mine. She shook her head and pulled on the handle of her small carry-on sized suitcase. “You know, you surprise me. Not many men would push me away when they want me. And believe me--” Her hand came out and cupped my rock solid erection through my jeans. I groaned and tipped my head back offering my neck as she slid her hand up and down the hard length between my thighs. “--I know when a man wants me.” I brought my head down and gazed into the depths of her clear-blue eyes. “Maybe by the end of the night, you’ll be begging
me
to get fucked.” Her voice rose on the “k”, punctuating her point nicely, bringing me to boiling hot for her, instead of the other way around.

I had no chance of surviving this woman. Everything I ever knew or thought I knew about how women acted and reacted flew out the window. London Kelley was the exception to all rules.

Finally, she removed her hand after one last teasing squeeze of my rigid cock. Christ, the woman would test the reserve of a celibate monk.

“Alright lover.” Her eyebrows rose into pristine triangles. “I’m all yours.”

“Not now, but you will be.” I grinned and grabbed the handle of her bag in one hand and her hand in the other.

After the twenty minute drive in an easy, comfortable silence, I pulled up to Ma Limbardi’s. It was a hole in the wall pizzeria that specialized in thin-crust, melt in your mouth bites of nirvana. All ingredients were fresh, produce bought daily and Ma’s sauce was to die for.

“A pizza parlor?” London smiled as I placed a hand to her lower back and led her into the brick building.

A young girl with dark skin, hair, and eyes welcomed us. Her name tag said “Jo” which I’d bet a few quid was short for Josephine. Her Italian heritage was prevalent in her coloring and her small stature. When I gave her my name, her eyes widened and she led us through the throng of patrons, past the bustling kitchen where you could hear a woman shouting in Italian and a male shouting back, then to a door leading to a small patio alcove.

A brick oven sat in one corner. The fire within was bright and crackling. Two heat lamps warmed the outside area, even in the late Fall in New York City. Twinkling lanterns lit and lined the perfect square. In the center was a lone table, complete with a red and white checkered table cloth.

“Collier, this is…it’s magnificent?”

“Simple elegance.” I smiled and held out her chair. She sat and looked up into the sky. We were surrounded by skyscrapers but the windows didn’t face our little space in the universe. We had a clear view of the stars above, glittering the night sky with light.

“It’s amazing,” she whispered.

“Stunning,” I said, but was looking at her, watching her, soaking up her beauty. Her gaze came down and she noticed I wasn’t talking about the sky. A rosy hue flooded her cheeks. “You’re lovely when you blush.”

London rolled her eyes and leaned her head on her hand, elbow on the table. The candle light from the centerpiece bounced off her eyes, accentuating their unique color. In that moment I knew, I just knew, she was going to break me, ruin me for other women. She licked her lips and was about to say something when we were interrupted by the waiter.

“Tonight, you will start with vino, yes?” said the older waiter with a thick Italian accent, a round belly and a jolly smile.

“Yes, thank you,” I agreed.

“This is Villa Sandi Prosecco from my hometown in Italy. It is magnifico with my wife’s pies. You will try, yes?” His accent was heavy but easy to understand. Then again, I wasn’t one to throw stones. Even my own staff had trouble with my English accent.

“I am Anthony.” He pronounced it ’An-toe-knee.’ “And I will be providing you eccellente service. You need. I get for you, yes?”

“Yes,” we both said and smiled.

“Tonight, you will be choosing your own condimente…eh, you say, toppings.”

“That’s what I had planned. Do you have a list?”

“No, no, no, no, no. “ The man shook his head. “You tell me what you like to taste, I make for you. And I make even better. We add a little of this, a little of that…“ He pinched his fingers together and kissed it, pulling it away with a flourish. “Perfecto! Yes?”

London looked at me, eyes bright, lips smiling. We both shrugged and nodded.

“Signora, what you normally like on shifoso, eh? How you say, lousy pizza?”

London’s head fell back as she laughed. “Pepperoni, cheese, veggies, but no onions!” She crinkled her nose and grimaced.

“Si, si. And Signore? For you?”

“Same. Surprise me. But no onions.” I nodded to the pretty woman across the table and blew a kiss.

“Good,” Anthony winked. “I make for you best pie ever. Yes?”

We both said, “Si,” in unison, then laughed.

The waiter, which I’m pretty sure was the owner, waddled away, his round belly leading him.

I lifted my glass of wine in cheers and London clinked our glasses. “To the best pizza ever.”

“To the best date, ever.” London surprised me with her words. We both sipped. The berry and plum notes burst in my mouth. London nodded. “Amazing wine. So light and fruity.”

“Tell me more about you.” I was dying to glean more information from the sexy enigma.

“Well, you already know the deep, dark part about why I’m a widow. What else do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your job. I want to understand why you feel you need to move in with your clients. Why that unconventional approach?”