Giordanni's Proposal

She glanced across the room to the window. The weather hadn’t changed; it was still a grey, cold, overcast autumn evening, and with a resigned sigh she took her only sophisticated dress out of the wardrobe. She had bought it in July for her graduation ball. A simple black satin slip dress, it had a delicate gold thread shimmering though it, tiny shoestring straps, a scooped neck and back and an A-line skirt that ended a few inches above her knee. She dropped it on the bed and turned back to the wardrobe. The frock was fine, but she would be freezing in today’s weather.

Unlike some young woman of her age, who quite happily went out in all weathers with arms and legs bare, Beth was thoroughly sensible, and not prepared to get pneumonia for the sake of fashion. So reluctantly she dragged from the top shelf of a wardrobe a plain black wool shawl, a purchase from one of the high street chains, and threw it on the bed.

She crossed the room, opened the chest of drawers and withdrew a pair of delicate black lace panties and matching garter belt. Dropping the towel to the floor, she quickly pulled on her underwear, then, lifting the dress from the bed, slid it over her head. Cut on the bias, it was too low at the back to allow the wearing of a bra. But, eyeing her reflection in the mirror, she thought, not bad!

Sitting down at the dressing table, she quickly applied a moisturiser to her fine skin. She took a little longer than usual over her eye make-up, accentuating her large eyes with the merest hint of pale aquamarine eyeshadow at the corners and a fine line of brown kohl around the top lid, finishing off with brown-black mascara to enhance her long thick lashes. A gloss of natural pink for her lips, and she was almost ready.

She picked up her hairbrush and brushed her auburn curls vigorously. Then, with a deft twist, she piled her hair on the top of her head, securing it with a discreetly coloured band, and finished off by pushing a few strategic curls firmly in place.

Satisfied with the result, she stood up, and from the dressing table drawer removed a pair of fine black nylon stockings. Carefully pulling them on one by one, she clipped the small black suspenders in place and, straightening, smoothed her skirt down over her thighs. She turned to look over her shoulder at her image: no bumps or brief line! Good.

She slipped her feet into classic black patent leather pumps with two-and-a-half-inch heels. She needed the height, she reminded herself, before taking a small black patent clutch purse from the dressing table and quickly transferring a few essentials from her everyday shoulder bag.

The doorbell rang, disturbing the silence and panicking Beth. She grabbed the black shawl from the bed and slung it around her shoulders before dashing out of the bedroom to the front door. She pressed the button for the intercom and heard that familiar rich voice.

‘Giordanni, here.’

‘I’ll be right down,’ she responded. For some reason she was not quite ready to ask him into her home.

The elevator deposited her in the foyer, and when she saw him leaning indolently against the porter’s desk, dressed in an immaculately fitting black dinner suit with a white silk shirt and perfectly knotted black velvet bow tie, her heart skipped a beat. Suddenly she had a vivid image of herself untying the bow tie and running her fingers over the broad expanse of chest, and she wished she had asked him up to her apartment. She caught her breath at the uncharacteristic erotic thought.

Consequently she blushed fire-engine red when, straightening to his full height, he strolled across and quite naturally took her arm, and looked down at her.

‘I was right, you look enchanting. Shall we go?’

Her, ‘Hello, Dex,’ was greeted with the briefest of slanting smiles before he was ushering her out of the door and into a chauffeur-driven limousine.

‘I don’t keep a car in London. I am not here that often, and when I am I use a rental service. So I hope you don’t object to a driver this evening, Beth. Plus, I thought we might celebrate our meeting with a few glasses of champagne, and I never drink and drive.’

‘A very laudable resolution,’ she managed to say calmly. She cast him a sidelong glance, almost furtively. He was as devastatingly attractive as she remembered, and, sitting next to him in the close confines of the back seat of the car, with the pressure of his thigh lightly pressing against her own and the soft elusive scent of his aftershave teasing her nostrils—or maybe it was simply the scent of the man himself—she was completely overwhelmed by Dex, the car—everything.

A large hand closed over her small hands, which were clenched in her lap. ‘Beth, really. ‘‘A laudable resolution’’? My knowledge of your language is excellent, but what does that mean?’ he asked with a chuckle, and lifted her hands to his lips so she was forced to look at him, his silver eyes glinting down into hers. ‘Beth, I like you for your openness, your honesty. Don’t go all stuffy on me now.’

The touch of his lips on her hand and the humour in his gaze excited her, but also calmed her nerves. If he wanted honesty he could have it, she thought, secretly pleased. ‘You’re right, Dex, ‘‘laudable’’ was a bit much. But you make me rather nervous. I’ve never been out with a man quite like you before, or sat in a chauffeur-driven limousine. It’s quite awesome.’

He lowered her hands to her lap and gave them a gentle squeeze before letting go. ‘You are not frightened of me, Beth, are you?’ he asked softly, but before she could respond he added, ‘You have no need to be. I have only your best interests at heart, and I am sure you will very soon get used to my great wealth and everything else; women usually do.’

Beth looked up, not all sure she liked his last comment, and thought she caught a flash of something very like cynicism in his eyes. But, realising she was watching him, Dex turned the full force of his megawatt smile on her small face and dropped a brief, swift kiss on her forehead.

‘Don’t look so worried, little one. Tonight we are going to have fun, I promise.’

The brief kiss banished all her doubts, and half an hour later, seated opposite Dex in the most exclusive restaurant in London, she wondered why she had worried. He was the perfect companion. Articulate, charming, Dex ordered the meal with an efficiency and knowledge of fine food Beth marvelled at. But he was not above making her laugh with his description of the waiter.

Very quickly he made her feel completely at ease, though every so often he very gently flirted with her, making her aware by a touch, a glance, of his purely masculine interest in her as a woman. Or maybe not so pure… Beth did not know, and she had not the experience to make a judgement.

They had exchanged snippets of information about themselves. Dex was thirty-three to her twenty-one. He knew she was a graphic artist, and she knew he was extremely wealthy, as he told her in great detail how many companies he owned. In fact, his wealth struck the one discordant note in her otherwise rapt fascination with the man.

‘You’re not one of those bleeding-heart radical types who object to a man being disgustingly rich, are you?’ he asked jokingly.

For a second she felt his humour did not ring true. But, dismissing the uneasy thought with a toss of her head, she aimed for a sophisticated response.

‘Not at all. Someone once said that no woman can be too rich or too thin, or something like that, and I’m inclined to agree.’ She wasn’t sure she meant what she had said, but it seemed to please Dex.

‘Good girl! I knew the moment I saw you you were my type of woman,’ he drawled, watching her with a gleam of satisfaction in his grey eyes.

Beth felt the colour rise in her cheeks. She was delighted he thought she was his type, but not absolutely sure if she had been complimented or insulted.

By the time the main course arrived Beth had just about got her chaotic emotions under control, and was actually beginning to feel as if she had known the man for years.

‘Honestly, Dex, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all this.’ She eyed her duck and cranberry sauce. It looked delicious, but they had started with roasted asparagus salad, followed by a fish course—A trio of smoked fish with beetroot—and now, with the main course before her, she wondered if she would ever get through it all.

‘Eat what you like and leave the rest. For myself, I am a big man with a big appetite. I intend to enjoy…’ His silver eyes gleamed with blatant desire as they caught and held hers, then deliberately dropped to the soft valley of her breasts, delicately exposed by the neckline of her dress. ‘Everything…’ he husked, his gaze lifting to her face. ‘It is the only way to live.’

Beth was not stupid, she knew what he meant, and she could feel the colour rising in her cheeks yet again, as her stomach clenched. She knew it had nothing to do with the food but everything to do with the potent appeal of the man opposite.

‘Eat. I did not mean to embarrass you,’ Dex offered quietly. ‘But you have the most amazing effect on me. I look at you and I want you in my bed.’

Beth gasped out loud, and his eyes narrowed with piercing intensity on her flushed face.

‘You know this is true, and you feel the same; don’t try to deny it,’ he commanded arrogantly, but then in a softer tone he added, ‘But perhaps now is not the time to talk of such matters.’

She wanted to deny it. His supreme confidence was somehow insulting. But she knew what he said was true, so instead she contented herself with fiddling with her fork and asking, ‘Are you always so blunt on a first date?’

‘No,’ he said, and, reaching across the table, he covered the hand holding her fork, ‘Only with you, Beth.’ Suddenly grinning, he added, ‘So, tell me more about yourself. Your friends, parents, whatever. Talk to me, so I can take my mind off your luscious body and get back to my meal, hmm?’

He was impossible, but Beth found herself grinning back and doing exactly as he had said. ‘Family—I don’t have much. I don’t remember my father; he died when I was a baby. I’ve spent most of my life in Devon with my mother. She had aspirations to be a famous singer, but unfortunately also a tendency to get married a lot. She is on her fifth husband now and lives in Australia. I haven’t seen her for three years, though we do write occasionally.’ Beth broke off, raised her glass to her mouth and took a gulp of champagne. She didn’t really like talking about Leanora, and sometimes it still upset her, though she never liked to admit it.

‘That explains a lot,’ Dex murmured.

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Lost in her own thoughts for a moment, she had missed his comment.

‘That must have hurt a lot,’ Dex repeated softly.

‘No, not really,’ she quickly assured him, comforted by the sympathy in his tone. ‘I got used to it, and on the plus side I acquired a stepbrother—Mike. If it hadn’t been for Mike I wouldn’t have met you.’ She stopped. The champagne was going to her head and she was revealing more than she meant to.

Dex, a smile curving his firm mouth, lifted his glass. ‘A toast to a much-married mum and Mike, without whom you and I would never have met.’

Embarrassed, but oddly pleased, Beth lifted her glass and returned the toast. Replacing her glass on the table, she said, ‘No more champagne; I think I’ve had quite enough.’ And, pushing her almost empty plate slightly forward, she continued, ‘No more food, either. It was delicious, but I really can’t eat any more.’

‘I don’t have that problem,’ Dex drawled, clearing his plate and placing the cutlery on it. ‘In fact, I think I’ll have a dessert; I love sweet things.’ And, catching her green eyes with his, he continued throatily, ‘You are the sweetest thing I have met in a long time. Can I have you, Beth?’ Then, tossing his head back, he laughed out loud at her look of confusion.

She wanted to be offended but his laughter was infectious, so she smiled, then laughed as well. ‘You know, I’ve discovered something about you, Dexter Giordanni,’ she finally managed to say pertly. ‘You are an incorrigible flirt.’

‘Only with you, Beth, only ever with you.’

If only she could believe him, she thought, gazing at him as he paid the bill, adding a very generous tip. She had been out with plenty of men—well, not plenty, more like half a dozen. Her last date had been with a young man from the office. She had spent an enjoyable evening in a local wine bar with Dave, but they had both decided without a word being spoken they were destined to be workmates and nothing more. Now, watching Dex, she knew this was different. She could very easily fall in love with him, and it frightened her even as it excited her.

He turned his head and caught her staring, and one dark brow arched enquiringly. ‘Have I got a smudge on my nose?’ he asked, perfectly aware she had been studying him.