Her colour rose and she glanced about, but there were no loose stones on the ground. He’d remembered to bring one from the cave at the back of the Summer House. As always.
‘You’ll have to share mine.’ He uncapped the marker again and with a deft stroke added a ‘K’ to the ‘G’. ‘It’s tradition.’
He put the rock into position at the top of the pile, carefully wedging one edge of it into a gap between two others, so it would become part of the puzzle. Fixed and stable. It didn’t mean anything other than being a record of this moment. It couldn’t. But for a long while there was nothing but silence between them.
‘We’d better go. The wind here gets cold if you stay too long.’ He made himself walk away at last.
She didn’t reply as he led the way back down the track. His heart thundered as an empty ache deepened in his bones. He needed to hold her, but he didn’t. Because he couldn’t let himself need to. Instead he forced himself to breathe and focus properly—and not look at her—before beginning his flight checks.
* * *
He’d sent his staff away for the day, wanting to be alone with her for every last moment they had left. Wanting one day of a normal, quiet life such as he’d never had.
‘Here’s the truth,’ he confessed as he looked around the kitchen, hoping he could find the things he needed. ‘I’m not a good cook. I’m inexperienced.’
‘Inexperienced doesn’t always equal not good,’ she purred.
He chuckled, warmth trickling through him at her sassy confidence—the confidence she’d developed because of him. ‘We’ll have to see.’
‘I’m not going to help you.’ She leaned against the bench and sipped the champagne he’d poured for her. ‘You’ll have to fend for yourself.’
‘What do you do at night?’ he asked, locating some steak and fresh vegetables. ‘You live alone. You don’t go out? Have parties?’ He sent her a sly look. ‘You don’t go dancing?’
‘You know that already.’ She frowned at him. ‘Don’t tell me you dance.’
‘Not often. But I know how to.’
‘Good for you.’
‘Come on.’ He laughed at her defensiveness and led her out to the private courtyard. ‘You’ll never have to dance in public,’ he promised. ‘Just here with me.’
He seared the steak and the vegetables on the outside grill and they ate simply, but well. Then he put some music on and held out his arms.
Reluctantly she stepped into them, her eyes promising retribution. He didn’t care—he just wanted to hold her. He hadn’t danced in years. She, clearly, hadn’t danced at all.
He was patient, taking the time to show her, to encourage her. It made for moments of laughter—and then she got it. And as the late-afternoon sun faded into night they danced on—little more than swaying together, really—talking of nothing significant and everything important. Silly tales of childhood holidays here that he’d not thought about in years. Anecdotes from his travels and meetings abroad. She countered with stories about her patients.
It saddened him that her life had all been work. She should have had holidays as a child too. But tonight they shared gentle laughter. And then it wasn’t so gentle. He wrapped her in his arms and drew her closer still, choosing to forget how transient this had to be—how forbidden it truly was.
But the next morning he woke early, his ability to sleep stolen by guilt and the return of outside pressures. He couldn’t avoid his duty for ever. There was no eternity for him.
He tried to ward off the grim feeling, but for the first time the weight of responsibility on him rankled. He wanted more of what he couldn’t have. What he didn’t deserve. And what she didn’t want.
He left her sleeping and swam, but powering through a million lengths didn’t work the bitterness from his body.
He stalked inside to discover she’d dressed and eaten breakfast already. She’d chosen a pretty dress, with only her bikini beneath it, and hadn’t bothered with shoes. Her long hair was loose and gorgeous, and her kissable mouth was curved into a tempting smile. She was the picture of a summer sweetheart—a holiday fling. But in only a few hours his holiday had to end. His meeting this afternoon was one he couldn’t reschedule. And she was due to return to Palisades tomorrow.
The disappointment cut so deep he had to turn away from her. He forced himself to think about work, but he was blocked by an internal shift. Something had changed within him and he couldn’t focus properly...
Too bad. He had to. The escape was over.
Kassie noticed him grow quieter and quieter still as the morning progressed. He was withdrawing from her already. He had a meeting this afternoon that was too important to postpone and already he was back behind his large desk, attired in one of those exquisitely stitched suits.
Real life had returned. Their affair was all but over and they were due to return to Palisades tomorrow. So she was determinedly bright. She wasn’t going to get melancholic just because time was ticking. She was not going to make any kind of scene.
But the unfairness of it ate at her. She grew angry at the softening inside her. The way she melted at nothing more than the sight of him. And she’d seen another side to him in these last days. The serious, uptight King actually laughed. He told stories using silly voices. He was open and frank and funny and interested and supportive and tender and a teasing rogue. And that moment on his mountain yesterday... The intimacy she’d felt watching him entwine her initial with his... That had been so unfair of him.
‘What is it?’ he prompted, looking across at her from the papers he was studying.
Of course he saw everything—as if she was a damn window through which he could see her soul. She hated it that she couldn’t see him with the same emotional X-ray vision. She hated it that he was the one who could do this—why did it have to be him?
‘It wasn’t just the predatory men I didn’t respond to,’ she said without preamble, voicing her thoughts without really thinking. ‘It was the nice guys too.’
‘You mean you’ve actually encountered nice guys? Not just jerks who lust after your body?’ he teased.
‘Don’t...’ She half-laughed. ‘I’ve met a bunch. Some of them were actually okay.’
Probably more than okay. It was just that none of them had spun her wheels.
‘I don’t know that I’d be as generous,’ he muttered darkly. ‘Are you saying you’ve actually had a boyfriend?’
‘Almost. I guess...’
‘You guess?’ His gaze sharpened. ‘What happened?’
‘It was years ago—my first year at college. He was really nice.’
Giorgos put the papers down and looked at her. ‘“Nice” is an interesting word. But there’s not a lot of passion in it.’
‘He tried. He was patient. He was caring enough to understand that he needed to go slow...’
‘But you felt—?’
‘Cold,’ she said sadly. And then her ‘boyfriend’ had got frustrated. ‘We never got past kissing. And he was a nice guy.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He stood and walked to the sofa, where she was ignoring the book open on her knee. ‘You don’t think I’m a nice guy?’
She laughed—also sadly. ‘I will pander to your ego and make this about you for just this one last moment. You know I think you’re more than nice. I think you’re amazing. But...’
‘But you have buyer’s remorse?’ His eyes narrowed.
‘I just don’t understand why it has to be you who turns me on.’ Her anger got the better of her and the neediness that had been creeping up on her leaked out. ‘I don’t want it to only be you that can do this to me. It can’t be only you.’
The one guy she couldn’t have. Not for good.
His gaze hardened. ‘So what are you planning? You’re going to go browsing online for a boyfriend? Swipe your screen and match with a bunch of prosp
ects?’
‘Really?’ She stared at him. Was he jealous? How could he get angry with her when he was the one who was out of bounds? ‘I’m going to go home. Go back to work. And so are you.’
‘Just like that?’ He snaked out a hand and tugged her to her feet, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her against him. ‘You think you’re just going to turn this off?’
‘I’ve lived without this side to my life for a long time,’ she said, bravely squaring up to him. ‘I can do without it now.’
The tension between them thickened, revealing the danger in the room—the festering malcontent that she realised he felt every bit as keenly as she did.
‘You want to return to your nun-like existence?’
‘Why not?’ she flared as she felt his steeliness—and his arousal—grow. ‘This is just sex.’
Somehow she’d angered him. She paused, anticipating she knew not what. Knowing only that something within him had been unleashed.
‘Yeah. It is, isn’t it?’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Turn around,’ he ordered.
‘What?’
‘You heard me,’ he snapped coolly, his hands pressing on her. ‘Turn around.’
Excitement thrummed low in her belly as she glared at him, their eyes clashing in a battle of wills. In pure challenge. She lifted her chin and then pivoted on the spot.
She heard his hissing breath and his hands shifted. Rough. Fast.
‘What are you doing?’ she muttered as he walked her forward, his big body insistent at her back.