He laughed and shook his head at Cleo. ‘Who’d have thought I’d ever come across a woman who was turned off by a Ferrari?’
Clearly the dog was perfectly content to ride in one. But then Angelina’s precious darling was used to the best of everything, as was everyone attached to the Moretti family. Nic readily acknowledged he and Serena had very different backgrounds, but he wasn’t about to let anything deter him from having more of a woman who was…unique in his experience.
Tantalising.
Intriguing.
Challenging.
He didn’t even mind waiting until Friday for her. She was worth the wait. He liked the fact that she didn’t kowtow to wealth, made choices that felt right to her, spoke her mind without regard to fear or favour. No artifice. He looked forward to viewing an art exhibition with her, sure she’d give him natural, honest opinions, not the pseudo-intellectual arty stuff he usually heard at fashionable gallery gatherings.
‘I really like her, Cleo,’ he confided to the little terrier, who returned an appropriate look of soulful understanding. Nic took a hand off the driving wheel to ruffle the silky hair behind the pointed ears. ‘You like her, too, don’t you?’
There was no yap of disagreement.
Remembering Cleo’s hostility to Justine, Nic felt fully justified in declaring, ‘Trust a dog to know the heart of a person. We’re definitely on the right track with Serena Fleming.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
STRANGELY enough, over the next few days Nic didn’t even feel sexually frustrated by the wait. He threw himself into work with a zest that seemed to bubble through everything he did. It was as if Serena had somehow rejuvenated him, given him a new lease on life. When Friday evening finally came and he was driving the Cherokee to Holgate, he felt almost light-headed with happiness.
Serena must have been watching out for him to arrive. He’d no sooner stepped out of the Cherokee in the parking area adjacent to Michelle’s salon, than he saw her stepping onto the path from the front verandah of the house. No waiting. She lived up to her own maxim of punctuality being a courtesy. Another first amongst the women he’d dated.
She looked beautiful, elegant, and incredibly sexy in a one shoulder cocktail dress that shimmered in shades of blue and hugged every feminine curve of her body. Her hair fell in a shiny swathe over her bare shoulder but was swept back with a silver slide on the other side. She wore strappy silver sandals and carried a small silver evening bag.
Nic just stood and watched her come to him, doing his utmost to control a rush of primitive instincts that might not serve him well in these circumstances. He sensed a tense wariness in her approach and knew he had only won more time with her. She was holding back body and soul until a deeper trust was established.
Keep it light, Nic told himself. Make it fun. If she was giving him the benefit of some doubt, he had to blow away the doubt. Only then would she open up to him. He smiled, relishing this further challenge, and his heart seemed to dance when she smiled back. ‘You look lovely,’ he said, pouring out the warmth of his pleasure in her while trying to contain the heat of his desire.
‘Thank you.’
It was a slightly stilted reply and Nic moved quickly to open the passenger door, fighting the temptation to touch her. As she stepped into the Cherokee, he caught a whiff of perfume, a musky scent that instantly stirred erotic thoughts. It was just as well the driving wheel would keep his hands occupied during their trip to Gosford.
‘So what are we going to see?’ she asked, once they were on the road.
‘The main exhibition comprises twenty years of pop posters announcing concerts featuring the band, Mental As Anything.’
She gave a sharp little laugh.
He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her.
A wry look flashed back at him. ‘I’m feeling just a touch of insanity myself.’
‘Then you’re in the right mood to view such art,’ he countered with an encouraging smile, aware that she was twitchy and wanting her to relax with him. ‘There’s also an exhibition of nudes by local artists.’
She expelled a long sigh, then dryly remarked, ‘I bet the nudes are all women.’
‘Would you prefer men?’
‘A mix would be more interesting. Of all the art work I saw when I was backpacking around Europe, the one that sticks in my mind most is the statue of David by Michelangelo.’
‘That could be because it’s displayed so spectacularly in the Tribuna of the Academy Gallery.’
‘You’ve been to Florence?’
‘I’ve been to Italy several times.’
‘Oh! Of course.’
She dried up. Heat whooshing into her cheeks. Gaze averted. Bad mistake to remind her of his family, Nic thought furiously, and focused on drawing her out about her backpacking trip.
No family wealth behind her, he reflected, as she described her travels, scrimping on lodgings everywhere, endless walking to save money, yet the walking had given her an in-depth experience of each country and its culture that transcended the usual take by well-funded tourists.
She’d only been twenty-one when she’d gone, accompanied by a girlfriend her own age, brave adventurous spirits taking on the world. He admired her resourcefulness, her determination to see and learn all she could, and realised her self-assurance came from having achieved her goals, fitting in wherever she had to, talking her way into groups that protected her, getting where she wanted to go.
He thought of other women he knew who’d done the grand tour in luxurious style. Talking to them about it was like ticking off a list of been there, seen that. Serena gave him a different view. It was more grounded. More real. He enjoyed listening to her. Very much.
She was more relaxed with him by the time they arrived at the art gallery, a well-designed building that faced out onto a delightful Japanese garden. They collected glasses of complimentary wine, browsed on huge platters of fruit, cheese, dips and crackers, viewed the paintings of nudes, listened to the mayor’s speech opening the main exhibition, then took in all the pop posters which gave a fascinating insight of the change in street design over the years.
There was quite a crowd moving through the display rooms. It seemed natural enough for Nic to take Serena’s hand, holding her beside him as people milled around them. It amazed him how pleasurable it was, this least intimate of links, the warm brushing of her skin, the acute sense of physical contact that was agreeable to her. Not once did she try to pull away. They were having fun. It was good.