One Night To Wedding Vows. Kim Lawrence

it was his. He was the last man standing, or at least the last Di Vittorio standing, which to his grandfather meant the same thing.

       CHAPTER TWO

      ‘FINE. I’LL SLEEP with the first man I see!’

      It was really hard to maintain any dignity, having just issued a threat worthy of a teenager having a tantrum, thought Lara. Mark’s laugh in response only made her madder, so she slammed the door as hard as she could. Lara was slim but she was tall and athletic so the door rattled in its frame.

      The first man she saw was the balding middle-aged proprietor of the hotel they had booked into for their romantic weekend.

      He looked at Lara with concern as she rushed past him into the street, tears coursing down her cheeks.

      The blurb had claimed the small hotel was within walking distance of all the main tourist sites, clearly a gross exaggeration. But it hadn’t mattered to Lara, who had never had any intention of doing a lot of sightseeing!

      How could she have been such a fool?

      She had thought Mark was different. Maybe I’m meant to be alone, she thought. The prospect wrenched a sob from her throat.

      Self-pity, said the voice in her head, is very unattractive. She ignored it and sniffed loudly and angrily.

      This would never have happened to Lily, but then no man who took her twin away for a romantic weekend would have acted as though he’d been lured there under false pretences if he discovered she was a virgin.

      Was her twin a virgin...?

      A thoughtful expression flickered across her face as Lara considered the question. Her twin didn’t talk to her much about that sort of thing, but then they hadn’t talked about that sort of thing since the boy she’d known Lily had fancied had taken Lara to the Christmas party the year they were sixteen. It was years ago now, and a joke, but Lil hadn’t see it that way at the time... What had his name been?

      How ironic if Lily was not a virgin, while she, who people assumed had had more lovers than handbags, most definitely was. But then that was people for you—they always assumed the worst. So Lara had decided a long time ago that life was simpler if you just let them.

      People did so love their boxes—Lily was the sensible twin while Lara was the wild child. She liked to party ergo she slept around. Right now she wished she had!

      She bit her lip, feeling a fresh rush of tears.

      ‘I hate men, all men and especially Mark Randall!’

      For about thirty seconds the outburst made her feel empowered, then like all pointless gestures it left a sense of anticlimax and the knowledge this was her own fault.

      It could have been worse—she could have slept with him and then discovered he was a pathetic loser. What was it about him that she’d been attracted to in the first place?

      Smooth brow pleated, she pondered the question. True, he’d seemed like a considerate boss and he’d noticed her. Everyone noticed her, but Mark had noticed her for her work. He’d said she had potential, and she hadn’t minded doing extra work, work way beyond her pay grade, because he appreciated it and he was one of the few men in the building who hadn’t tried it on... Hmm, big clue there, Lara.

      She had decided that there was sensitivity gleaming behind his horn-rimmed spectacles and kindness in his eyes. She’d felt safe around him and love, or the sort she wanted, was about feeling safe and secure.

      Lara did not want the sort of love that would leave her feeling utterly bereft if she found out her lover or husband was cheating. Had Dad been a cheat? Lara didn’t know for certain if the charming, charismatic father she had adored had been unfaithful. The clues had all been there, but she had never asked her mum for confirmation. She didn’t think she could bear to hear the answer.

      Lara never intended to feel that way about any man, so while her friends looked for men who made them lose control Lara looked for quite different qualities.

      Qualities her new boss had seemed to epitomise. For the first time she was being treated as an equal by someone who saw her as a person and not a sex object, and she had found the combination irresistible.

      He was too nice and too professional, she reasoned, to make the first move, which was sweet but a bit frustrating. Not being someone who thought patience or unrequited love were good things, Lara had set about making him notice that she could do more than file.

      It hadn’t been easy and she had even started to wonder if he was gay, but then right out of the blue he had asked her: a weekend in Rome. She’d been waiting for the right man and the right time and it had finally arrived—or so she’d thought.

      True love. It existed, she was sure of it. You could get sent home from school for wearing your skirt too short and still be a romantic. You could party and still want a family and a home.

      She was prepared to wait for the right man, but she saw no reason why the wait had to be boring! Lara was gregarious and she had always enjoyed an active social life; men liked her and she enjoyed their company.

      She was aware that her lifestyle made many assume that she enjoyed casual sex, but she never strung men along and if some chose to boast of a non-existent conquest she lost no sleep over it or over those who couldn’t handle the fact she wasn’t into one-night stands.

      The only question had been whether to tell Mark or not. In the end she’d decided she would—no relationship should start with secrets. The perfect opportunity had arisen earlier that night when he’d been scrolling through his phone and discovered a recent interview with his uncle, the CEO of the firm where they both worked.

      ‘This is what I have to deal with, but no point offending the guy. Look, listen to this...no, this is the part where he rambles on about family values,’ he sneered. ‘And this is the bit when he says one-night stands are—’

      ‘Mark?’ He looked up, seeming to notice for the first time that she was standing there wearing the matching silk bra and pants she had spent so long choosing.

      I’m competing with a smartphone.

      ‘Actually, Mark.’ Her self-esteem was pretty robust and the fact that he wasn’t jumping on her was what made Mark different, special, someone who liked her for more than her looks, she reminded herself as she resisted the urge to throw his phone out of the window. ‘I’m not really into one-night stands.’

      ‘Sweet, but I wouldn’t judge you, darling, and this isn’t one night—we’re here for the whole weekend.’

      ‘I mean I’ve never had a one-night stand.’

      He put down his phone. ‘You’ve got a boyfriend?’

      ‘Would I be here with you if I had a boyfriend?’

      He pushed his glasses back on his nose, a habit that she’d always found endearing but that left her cold at that moment. ‘I don’t know, you know, I don’t like the idea of stepping on some guy’s toes... What does he do?’

      ‘There is no guy. I don’t have a boyfriend. You’re my first.’

      ‘One weekend doesn’t mean we’re engaged, sweetheart.’

      ‘You’re my first lover!’

      He laughed at the joke, then, when she didn’t join in, stopped. ‘Not seriously.’

      ‘Totally seriously.’

      ‘But you can’t be...you’re a...you’ve always been...’

      ‘Easy?’ She read the expression in his eyes before he looked away and the cold ache in her chest intensified.

      At her sides her fingers flexed as she fought the urge to bring her arms up in a protective gesture across her chest. It was pride that kept her chin at a challenging