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Suddenly aware of the chair he still gripped, he moved it slightly and urged her into it with a hand on her arm. Once she was sitting, her shoulders slumped and quaking with her tears, he crouched beside her. “Miss Gregory…you’ve taken me off guard here. I don’t know what to say.”
She shook her head and swept furiously at her cheeks. “Nothing. Please. I know—I’ve made—a fool—of myself.”
He patted his pockets until he found the clean handkerchief he’d shoved in that morning. It felt like a paltry offering, but she took it readily and wiped at her eyes and nose. “If you have, then you’re in good company. I’ve never felt a fool as many times as I have this past week.”
Helen laughed around her tears and, still smiling, drew in a long breath that was a clear attempt to regain control. Her emerald eyes only darted his way once. She focused on the handkerchief she twisted around her fingers, and her smile faded. “I’m sorry, Enzo. I know you love her, that you’ve never even looked at me that way. I shouldn’t have come here. But—” She sat up straighter, raised her chin, and met his gaze. Under the bravado, uncertainty still skittered. “I knew if I didn’t say something now, I never would. And then I’d always wonder. Worse, if she hurts you again, I’d feel like if I had just warned you—maybe you can’t see it, but I can. She doesn’t love you like you deserve to be loved. She couldn’t, if she’d go out with another man like that. She doesn’t love you like I do.”
Her earnest, intense expression forced him to look away. “Helen, you and I barely know each other.”
She huffed out a frustrated breath. “Why do you say that—because we met less than a year ago? So what? You’ve known her all your life, and how well did you really know her?”
Better than I know myself—that would have been the answer three years ago. But now? So much had changed since Serafina died, and he hadn’t been around to see it. “Point taken.” He tilted his head and dared to look at her face again, incredulous that he was really having this conversation. “But it’s not only her fault. I’m to blame too. It isn’t as simple as just laying it all at her feet and washing my hands of her.”
Challenge glinted in Helen’s eyes as she leaned forward. “That’s the problem with you lawyers. You complicate everything. It could be simple, if you wanted it to be—just tell her you want to see other people before you make a commitment.”
“Helen.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, and he didn’t have the chance to figure it out. She scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned forward a little more to press her mouth to his. Her lips were soft but insistent, bidding him to respond. His first instinct was to obey, but then good sense took over with such force that he jerked back. He’d been balanced on the balls of his feet, and the action sent him reeling. His arms flew out to grab at something to steady him. Unfortunately, the something that they landed on was Helen’s arms.
She was unprepared for the weight of his backward fall. Not only did he thump his back against a cabinet, he pulled her down with him. She sprawled gracelessly across his legs, holding herself up with one knee and one elbow.
Laughter struck them both at the same instant. Far from what Helen must have intended to be a moment of romantic revelation, Lorenzo knew they must be a picture of ridiculousness. And he thanked the Lord for it—there was nothing like levity to diffuse a tense situation.
Giggling, Helen crawled over his legs and plopped down beside him, facing him. Lorenzo chuckled one last time and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Maybe now she’d get up, brush herself off, and go. Surely she wouldn’t stick around after this. As for how they could possibly pretend it had never happened in the office tomorrow—
Without warning, her mouth was on his again, one arm snaking around his neck and the other resting on his chest. Retreating was impossible, so he gripped her shoulder with the intention of peeling her off and gently pushing her away.
He wasn’t sure how it backfired so thoroughly. In one second he was preparing to disengage, and in the next the kiss had deepened and his arms had forgotten their mission. Her soft curves pressed against him. Her hair fell forward to frame his face, caressing his cheek with its silk.
The race of pleasure. The allure of the forbidden. What a heady realization, that a beautiful woman actually wanted him—not Joey, not Tony, not Roman O’Reilly. Him.
No. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t be like them, the sort of men who sat beside their wives at mass on Sunday morning after spending Saturday night with their mistresses. He couldn’t be the kind of man who promised one woman he’d love her forever and then kissed another just because he could.
He pushed her away, pushed himself to his feet, and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
To his utter surprise, Helen’s smile was serene. “You wouldn’t be you if you’d let me get away with it.” She shrugged and pushed herself to her feet. “I guess I’m just hoping it’ll give you something to think about. Show you what you’re missing.” Her grin turned cheeky as she sauntered over to the couch and picked up her discarded suit jacket.
Lorenzo sucked in a steadying breath, prepared to see her out. He decided to ignore her statement and took a step toward the door. “I’ll show you out… Helen, what are you doing?”
Instead of heading to the door, she was striding toward the window. She unlocked it and pushed it up, turning her head around to flash him another grin. “Going down the fire escape. I can’t very well go out the door and risk the Steins seeing me. I was lucky to avoid him and the missus when I came in, but I’m not risking it again.”
By the time he arrived at the window, she had already shimmied out of it. She stuck her head back in. “See you in the morning, Enzo. Sweet dreams,” she added with a wink.
Lorenzo watched to make sure she got down okay, shaking his head as he closed the window again. Then he stalked into his bedroom, picked up his rosary, and dropped to his knees.
