Free A French Kiss in London by Melinda De Ross Page A

shadows of a sideway corridor appeared a stunningly beautiful young woman. She was tall, graceful, with long black hair that reached her waist and a pair of dark eyes, which exuded charm. Francesco introduced her to Linda.
    “My dear, this is Annarita, my assistant. I’ve imported her straight from our birth land, because I believe that only the compatriots of the great Michelangelo Buonarotti know how to create and appreciate true art. This is Ms. Linda Coriola—the jewel of our humble gallery,” he said, turning to the young-woman.
    Annarita inclined her head a fraction and spoke in Italian.
    “It’s an honor for me to meet you, Ms. Coriola. I have admired your works ever since I first saw them. You have an extraordinary talent.”
    Linda smiled and offered her hand, replying in the same language, “It’s very nice to meet you, Annarita! Please call me Linda. I don’t think I’m very much older than yourself. Thank you for your compliments.”
    “Annarita is going to become a great sculptress as well. She is a student at the Art University,” Francesco intervened. “She will follow into your footsteps, cara mia .”
    “I wish you the best of luck. It’s a beautiful career choice,” Linda told the girl. “And now, please excuse me, but I must go.”
    Francesco gesticulated in protest, the woodcarving still in his hand.
    “Won’t you stay, to see where we’ll arrange your new work?”
    “I’m sure you and Annarita will find the ideal spot. Take care of it. It has a special significance to me. And this one isn’t for sale—display only,” she emphasized. “See you on Saturday!”
    Smiling, she threw another glance at the statue of Apollo, then said goodbye to the two.
    Since she had enough free time until twelve o’clock, when Gerard had promised to pick her up, she wandered through the city, indulging in some shopping. She intended to dust off her rusty culinary expertise by preparing delicious meals for her lover, now and again.
    Now and again?
    She was just loading the bags into the trunk of her car, when this thought struck her, making her freeze with her hands in the air.
    This sounds like we’ll have a long-term relationship. Why the hell am I so alarmed by this prospect? Maybe I should go see a shrink.
    She shrugged, letting out a gust of breath. Then she arranged the bags, locked the trunk and headed home.
    Once she got there, she munched on an apple and some biscuits, as she began to fix herself for the lunch visit.
    She did her makeup carefully, using only black eye-liner and mascara to contour her blue cat-eyes. They made a flattering contrast with her slightly tanned skin. She applied some pale-pink lipstick and considered the makeup thing done.
    She put on her blue dress, almost the same shade as her eyes, and searched for a matching purse. She slipped her feet into black sandals. Finally, she brushed her long hair and twisted it into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, elegant but casual at the same time.
    She was just glancing one last time in the mirror when the intercom buzzed, indicating Gerard’s arrival.
    She rushed downstairs and pressed the button to open the gate. She unlocked the front door, then went again into the bedroom to retrieve her purse. As she descended the stairs for the second time, Gerard was just letting himself in. He stopped in the doorway, looking up at her, his gaze lingering on her body in a way that made her feel hot—both literally and figuratively.
    “You look gorgeous, my love!” he said, reaching out a hand to help her descend the last steps.
    “You don’t look half bad yourself,” she replied, studying his simple attire. He wore light-blue jeans that fitted perfectly in all the right places, and a white, short-sleeved T-shirt, which highlighted the excellent muscle tone of his chest, shoulders and arms.
    When he pulled her in his arms and tightened his hold, bending to kiss her, she stepped back a little. Gerard, not understanding her gesture