Counterpoints Page 13

  He could tell she had just washed her hair because it was wavy and still a little damp. He suppressed the urge to touch her soft cheeks, afraid to catch some unwanted attention “I’d like to kiss you again” Christopher said lowering his voice a little, catching her completely off guard.

  Isabella looked at him, as she felt that burning feeling in her stomach that was always present when Christopher was near her. Those hands…

  “What’s stopping you?” she murmured, breathing harder now.

  “The table” he kept his eyes on hers. His stare was so intense that Isabella looked away then and touched her forehead with one hand.

  “Oh God, what are we doing?”

  “What is it with you, Miss Bresciani. I always have to state the obvious” he smiled again “We are talking, but if you want we can pick up from where we left off yesterday “ he placed his hand on hers and Isabella let him, she didn’t move away.

  “I can’t think straight” she touched her forehead.

  Despite the painkiller she had taken for her headache, Isabella’s head was still sore but that wasn’t what made her mind blurry. It was Christopher.

  “Then don’t think” he kept his eyes on hers, always on hers. His voice was so tempting, so mesmerizing.

  How great would it be not to think things through and seize the day, Isabella thought. “Anyway, you don’t owe me anything. You were fine. You were just a little tipsy. I wish I could say the same for Hillary”

  They stopped talking for a few minutes and ordered, as the waitress came by again. Isabella ordered eggs and bacon and, as Christopher suggested, freshly squeezed orange juice, while he went for eggs and toast.

  “Why? What did she do?” Isabella was so eager to know about Hillary.

  She couldn’t actually wait for the waitress to leave the table. Isabella hated the fact that she had to rely on someone else to find out things. Why couldn’t she remember anything about the ride back at the hotel?

  “She became a little irrational and cried a lot”

  “She did?” Isabella gaped. This was Hillary they were talking about. She had met her at the MB headquarters during the interview process and she had come off as confident and rational. She had been working with her for the past week nonstop and she had seemed anything but the kind of person that would have an emotional drama after drinks.

  She was a rock, she could handle grumpy, always unsatisfied Mr. Jenkins which was a talent -no a super power- Isabella thought.

  Also she had handled the press, the pressure sponsors were putting on her and the drivers. Again, she was a rock.

  “Don’t you remember?” he asked surprised. She shook her head and reddened.

  “What do you remember?” Christopher looked amused again.

  “You are enjoying this aren’t you?” she frowned at him.

  “Oh yeah” he admitted with a smirk on his face.

  “I remember the thing in the corridor..” her cheeks went up in flames, just thinking about the hot kisses they had shared.

  “The thing…?” he teased.

  “The thing, the thing…Don’t make me say it” she mumbled looking down, with a smile of embarrassment on her full lips.

  When Isabella looked back up, she saw that he was looking at her like yesterday night, with the same longing, like he wanted to take her in his arms right there and then.

  “You don’t remember falling asleep in the car and then going up to the room?” he asked. Isabella touched her forehead and made a painful sound. If this were a Japanese manga or cartoon, there would have been a drop near her head and she would have had cheeks as red as a tomato. How embarrassing.

  “I’m sorry you had to do that. What am I, sixteen again?”

  “I didn’t have to do it, I wanted to. I just made sure you were asleep before I left, in case you needed something” Christopher said, leaving no more doubts for Isabella.

  She totally messed it up yesterday night.

  What he didn’t say was that he had helped her out of her shoes and on the bed. He had watched her sleep for a while and had stroked her hair a little, when she had murmured something incomprehensible.

  Christopher fought back a laugh, remembering how she had staggered in the room, half asleep, only to open her eyes a little once she had seen the bed in front of her and had said – in Italian- with all the happiness in the world “Bed, bed, bed! YES, I love you!”

  “Well, thanks again…you are a great… friend” she cleared her throat.

  The waitress brought them their breakfast and they began to eat. It smelled delicious, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was before the scent of the food had hit her nose and her stomach had answered with a rumble.

  They ate in silence, smiling to one another as their eyes kept meeting in between mouthfuls, like two people that share an incredible secret. And they did. They knew what they had felt last night in that corridor. The evidence was on their faces.

  Isabella looked outside. The sun was shining bright, too bright maybe for her sore eyes but it didn’t matter. She loved sunlight so much, she was ready to suffer a little for the hangover. It was worth it.

  “Going home?” he asked pointing to the trolley, the laptop bag and camera equipment Isabella had put to the side.

  “Yeah. I’m going to the airport after this” she sighed. Isabella didn’t know how to feel about her departure.

  She was happy to see her family, to tell them all about her first days in the job. She would get a chance to see Maria and Cristina, before going to Australia for the first race of the year.

  Maybe she would bump into Salvo and get a chance to talk to him, see how he was doing and try to rebuild their friendship.

  Isabella could speak to Angela, if she wasn’t too busy doing her stuff, as usual. Still, she couldn’t ignore a heavy feeling deep down her stomach, like something was bothering her. But what? She looked back at the sexy race driver in front of her and found the answer to her question. Christopher. She would be far away from Christopher.

  “Boyfriend trouble?” Christopher asked and for the first time he lowered his stare and focused on his meal. Isabella’s throat was like swollen and she literally felt like she was coughing up her answer.

  “Ex-boyfriend, a sort of delicate ex-boyfriend situation”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything. Maybe she was imagining things, but he looked a little relieved. Or maybe that was what she wanted to see. Stop analyzing every little detail or face expression.

  “What about you? Going to see your girlfriend?” she hadn’t plan on mentioning her- the top model he was allegedly seeing, at least this month in was the top model- but it had just came out of her mouth involuntarily, curiosity taking the upper hand.

  “I have a girlfriend?” he smiled cheekily and sipped his orange juice.

  “According to various gossip magazines, yes you do”

  “What’s her name?” he cocked his head to the side and waited for Isabella to speak.

  “Gabrielle, I think” she tried to seem as uninterested as possible, while she said her name.

  “Ah, Gabrielle. I would hardly call her my girlfriend” he said very vaguely.

  “You mean to say that tabloids write things that aren’t real?” she teased him and slapped his hand a little “Get out of here”

  He laughed, really laughed, the kind of laugh you cannot fake or prepare. It came straight from the heart and gave life to every little feature of his face. The dimples, the wrinkle, the little scar on his upper lip. Breathtaking.

  “Actually there was a Gabrielle for a while” he began and the little voice in Isabella came charging. For a while, he says. And he wants you next, but just for a while. “But we hardly went out together. I haven’t seen her in a month, work commitments and travelling. I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend”

  “So, what are you up to next week?” Isabella checked her watch and then had some more of her food. She had to leave soon, if she wanted to avoid traffic.

&n
bsp; Christopher checked his tablet and came up with a very long list of events that he was expected to attend in Spain, such as charity and sponsor events and dinners.

  “All of this here, in Valencia?” Isabella gaped at his busy schedule. On top of that, he had to find the time to train and rest too, to prepare for the season.

  “No, I’m leaving tonight for Madrid. I’m staying there for three days and then I’m off to Barcelona. I’m going to see my mother”

  At the mention of his mother, a beam of light appeared in his dark green eyes. Isabella thought that he probably must have been very happy to see her again.

  “Is that where she lives?”

  “Yeah. She moved back to Spain after my father… died” he took a bite of his toast and then his eyes were back on Isabella.

  The sunrays were tickling her skin and her hair was shining gold. He swallowed hard.

  “You are a good dancer, you know” he added as he thought again of her body swaying to the music, how their bodies had been so close during the dance at the restaurant.

  Isabella smiled back awkwardly. What was it with her? Every time she felt unsure, confused, she would immediately feel confident and appreciated when Christopher was around. It was him, the way he spoke to her, the way he looked at her, like he could really see what she was like, what kind of strong woman she was, the kind of woman who leaves everything behind to pursue her dreams.

  Christopher could see that in her eyes, the fire that made her so interesting and full of life.

  “Thank you, you are not bad yourself”

  “I know, I should really become a professional dancer” he made a face. “Tell that to my mom when you’ll meet her, she will be pleased”

  Isabella did a double take.

  “I’ll be meeting her?” she wondered out loud, as her legs started to shake a little.

  “She never misses the race in Cannes”

  Just like that, Isabella began to wonder what Christopher’s mother was like, if they were close and if she had been a caring and supportive mother to him.

  It must have been hard for her to raise a son alone, after losing your husband in that horrible manner. Then, years later, to see your son do the same things your husband did…Isabella could only think of her as a strong woman. She must be.

  He watched her shift in her seat and check her watch again.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go” she stood up, took her brown handbag and put it around her head. Then she turned to grab her laptop and camera bag and, when she turned again, she saw Christopher was up and inches away, trying to take her bag from her.

  “It’s heavy, let me take it” he volunteered. His fingers touched hers and Isabella enjoyed her body’s reaction to his. She felt like a lump in her throat, that made it impossible for her to speak for a few seconds.

  They looked at each other, smiling and then she looked away. She knew instantly why it felt bittersweet to leave Spain, why she was happy to go home but had that strange feeling in her stomach.

  The man that was making her feel all these new emotions, would be miles away from her for a whole week.

  “I got it, thanks” she took her bag again, the one with her camera, lenses and flashes, and put that over her head and then on her back. “See? I’m a strong girl” she winked at him, trying to brush off the sparks she had felt moments before.

  Where was Hillary? Isabella hadn’t seen her at all.

  “She’s in the city center. She’s managing a few things for me and Noah, interviews with journalists. She told me to tell you that she’ll call you before you travel to Australia and she wishes you a safe journey home”

  So Hillary could not hold her drinks, actually it would be more correct to say that she couldn’t hold back her tears while she drank, but still she had made a quick recovery.

  She was already working and taking the situation in her hands as usual. And what had Isabella done today? Slept, showered, ate brunch with a sexy, race driver. Totally worth it!

  “I’ll see you in Australia next week” she said.

  They were face to face, only inches away.

  “See you there” he waited for her to leave, instead Isabella moved closer, put her hand on his chest and stood on her toes, to reach his cheek and kiss him.

  “Thanks again. For taking care of me. And for the incredible tour of Valencia, I really enjoyed it” she said, without having the strength to move away.

  Her limbs were like paralyzed.

  Christopher had put a hand behind her head and one on her shoulder. He stared at her, as Isabella’s eyes went quickly from left to right, scared that someone they knew was watching them.

  “Chris…”

  “Screw it” he whispered and kissed her lips, more gently than the night before and then stepped back as Isabella looked down at her feet. Christopher swallowed hard, the sexual tension between them was palpable.

  All he wanted was to take her by the shoulders and kiss her, take her upstairs to his room and make her his. In every possible way. All day.

  Instead, he touched her cheek and then as usual removed her bangs from her eyes – they were so gorgeous and unique, the same color as honey. He wanted to see them again before she left.

  ‘Stay’ was what he wanted to say to Isabella. He wanted her in Spain with him, but he refrained from even asking her to. It was too fast, too irrational.

  It was very hard for him to hold back. He wasn’t used to waiting. Christopher wanted her in his arms like he had never wanted anyone else, but also he didn’t want to rush it or ruin everything.

  He had already screwed it up once already with a person he had worked with. He didn’t want history to repeat itself.

  “I’ll see you soon” she touched his chest and with that she made her way through the tables, red coat in hand, her hair swaying back and forth.

  Christopher didn’t move nor sit back, until she had reached the bar at the entrance of the restaurant. He looked at her, as if he was taking in some form of art. Isabella wasn’t the typical woman he was used to having around – she wasn’t super tall nor skinny as a slate of marble.

  Perfect was redundant for her, Christopher thought. She was incredible. The gentleness in her movements, the slenderness and the curviness of her body, the never looking vulgar, never looking inadequate, her ever shining smile, reflected the sweetness, the intelligence that she held inside.

  When he turned around to sit down again, she called his name.

  “Christopher!” she said, her voice a little shaky- her accent sounding so nervously Italian in that moment.

  He turned to look at her again and she flashed her camera at him. When she took it away from her face, she smiled and cocked her head to the side. A little treat for the trip. Then she waved and rushed to the door.

  In a daze and with a wide smile on his face, he went back to his breakfast and slowly regained his concentration. Isabella was gone, they were going to see each other in a week. He needed to put on hold whatever it was they were doing and get back to work. Now he had to focus on his training and get to Australia as fit as possible.

  Chapter 11

  Isabella touched the glass window and began to count the rain drops. It was still raining outside. It had rained all day and now that it was dinner time it was still pouring. Not that she had anywhere to go, but still it would have made her feel better to see some sunlight. Wasn’t that what Italy was all about? Sunlight?

  Her mother came into the living room, where Isabella was loading pictures on her laptop while listening to the TV in background. She was holding plates, which meant it was really dinner time and she was about to set the table. As on cue, Isabella got up and started helping her mother, without saying a word.

  “Thank you. I made some fish tonight” she said.

  Isabella nodded and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her mother touched her shoulder and searched her face.

  “Mom I told you, I’m okay”

  “You keep saying that but y
ou don’t look okay” her mother put down the plates. She circled the table, trying to figure out if anything was missing.

  “It’s just work, I’m loading pictures on the website. Hillary keeps sending me pictures of what the two drivers are up to and I have to put them on the internet and write articles. I’m stressed that’s all.” Actually, first Mr. Jenkins has to proof read the articles, even if Hillary is getting paid to do that.

  One thing Isabella hated was lying, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want her mother to worry about her. The truth was she didn’t feel much like going out, a part from going for coffees with Maria in the afternoons, when her friend had a break from work.

  Isabella just wasn’t in the mood. Actually, she was in the worst of moods and didn’t even like to admit to herself the reason behind it all.

  Truth to be told, she still hadn’t heard from Christopher since her departure, not that they had agreed on keeping in contact.

  To make matters worse, that afternoon she had received pictures from Hillary – taken by the press- about Christopher and Noah. Seeing Christopher looking handsome and relaxed as always, had made her want to jump on a plane to join him. She needed to feel again what she had felt with him in Valencia.

  There was a picture in particular that was giving her the heartache: it had been taken at a charity event to raise funds for children affected by cancer and, a part from being super sweet with children, Christopher looked stunning. He wore dark jeans and a white fitted t-shirt, always with a little bit of beard, his hair wild but stylish.

  His look couldn’t have been more simple than that. He looked so ordinary and yet so interesting. Christopher’s charm would stand out in any situation.

  Well, actually the pictures she kept looking at were two: the other one was about him at this black tie dinner in Madrid, wearing a tux and right next to him was some leggy brunette, some model or famous Spanish singer, Isabella couldn’t remember.

  “You know, you could call him with some stupid question about work…” her friend Cristina had suggested over the phone.

  No, Isabella couldn’t have. They hadn’t spoken at all, no text messages since her departure. She wouldn’t know what to say to him. Hadn’t she said she wanted to be friends over dinner? But then again, hadn’t they kissed passionately? And not just once…