Читать книгу Modern Romance February Books 5-8 - Jane Porter, Annie West - Страница 13

WALKING INTO HIS APARTMENT, Aristo stared blankly across the gleaming modern interior, a stream of disconnected, equally frustrating thoughts jamming his brain. He’d barely registered the hour-long drive home from Teddie’s apartment. Instead he’d been preoccupied by that simmering undercurrent of attraction between them.

They’d both been so angry, and yet even beneath the fury he had felt it, strumming and intensifying like the vibrating rails beneath an express train.

Of course he’d known it was there since this morning—from that moment when he’d turned around in the Kildare and his stomach had gone into freefall. It had been like watching flashes of lightning on the horizon: you knew a storm was heading your way.

And he’d wanted the storm to come—and so had Teddie—right up until she’d told him that it was all in his head.

Not that he’d believed her. It had been just one more lie in a day of lies.

He breathed out slowly, trying to shift the memory of her final stinging remark to him.

‘You and I are impossible. You being George’s father changes nothing between us.’

Wrong, he thought irritably. It changed everything.

No matter how much she wanted to deny it, there was a connection between them—and it wasn’t just based on sex, he thought, his heart tightening as he remembered his son bumping fists with him.

He still couldn’t believe that he was a father. A father!

The word kept repeating inside his head like a scratched record.

Suddenly he needed a drink!

In the cavernous stainless steel and polished concrete kitchen, he poured himself a glass of red wine and made his way to the rooftop terrace that led off the living area.

Collapsing into a chair, he gazed moodily out at the New York skyline. Even from so high up he could feel the city’s energy rising up like a wave, but for once he didn’t respond to its power. He was too busy trying to piece together the life that Teddie had shattered when she’d walked into his hotel.

And if that hadn’t been enough of a shock, she’d then lobbed a grenade into his perfectly ordered world in the shape of a three-year-old son.

Welcome to fatherhood, Teddie-Taylor style.

Thanks to her, he’d gone from nought to being the father of a miniature version of himself in a matter of seconds, with Teddie presenting George to him like the proverbial rabbit being pulled from a hat.

He ran his hand slowly over his face, as though it might smooth the disarray of his thoughts. It felt surreal to be contemplating even the concept of being a father, let alone the reality. He’d never really imagined having a child—not out of any deep-rooted opposition to being a father, but because work and the expansion of his business empire required all his energy and focus.

He frowned. But maybe there were other reasons too? Could his father’s decision to opt out of his responsibilities have made him question his own programming for parenthood? Possibly, he decided after a moment’s thought. Apostolos Leonidas had been an intermittent and largely reluctant presence in his life, and maybe he had just assumed that he’d be the same.

And up until now he’d more or less given his father a free pass—having been made to look a fool, his father had understandably wanted nothing to do with his adulterous wife, and that had meant having nothing to do with his son either.

But even when Aristo had been blinded with shock and anger earlier he’d felt no resentment towards George, no sense of panic or dismay. Gazing down into his son’s dark eyes, he had felt his heart tighten in recognition—and love.

His shoulders stiffened. The same love that Teddie clearly felt for George?

Resentment still simmered inside him, but he couldn’t stop himself from reluctantly admiring his ex-wife. Whatever else she might be, Teddie was a good mother. George clearly adored her, and she loved their son—not with his own mother’s chilly, grudging variety of love, nor the nod of recognition that had passed for love in his father’s head. Just love—pure, simple and unselfish.

Imagining how it must feel to be the focus of that kind of affection and tenderness, he felt something tauten inside him—not just a sense of responsibility, but of resolve. He was George’s father, and it was his job to make sure his son had the love and security that he himself had been denied as a child.

His parents’ divorce and subsequent remarriages had left him rootless and unsure of his place in the world, and he knew instinctively that George needed both his parents. But if that was to happen then this time Teddie wouldn’t be running anywhere—ever. Only, judging by how quickly she had bolted from his life last time, he needed to make that clear sooner rather than later.

* * *

‘Well, if you ask me, it could have been a lot worse.’

Elliot raised his elbows swiftly off the breakfast bar as Teddie swept past him with a wet cloth, cleaning the evidence of George’s cereal from the surface and wishing she could wipe Aristo from her life just as effortlessly.

Elliot hadn’t appeared the night before but had arrived at breakfast, bringing doughnuts and his usual reassuring patter, and she’d been both grateful and relieved to see him.

It wasn’t that he could do anything to change what had happened, but he made her feel calmer, more rational. Less like the woman she’d been last night.

Her fingers tightened around the cloth and she closed her eyes.

That, in short, was the problem. Maybe it was because he was so uncompromisingly masculine physically, but Aristo made her feel like a woman—fierce and wild and hungry to touch and be touched. They’d felt so right together; he’d felt so right against her. And, even though she despised herself for being so shallow, she couldn’t pretend that anything had changed. When he was near her she was still so aware of his body, his breathing, the heat of his skin…

Her insides felt suddenly hot and tight and, breathing out a little, she opened her eyes. She’d done everything she could to excise the memory of what it felt like to be held in Aristo’s arms, only for him to turn up on her doorstep and make a mockery of all her efforts. It wasn’t fair—but that didn’t mean she was going to roll over and let him turn her and George’s lives upside down.

‘It could?’ Turning, she stared at Elliot disbelief. ‘How, Elliot? How could it be worse?’

He shrugged, his expression innocent. ‘He could have kissed you.’

Remembering how close she’d come to letting that happen, she scowled at him, a blush of colour heating her cheeks. ‘He didn’t.’

‘Or you could have kissed him—Hey, it was a joke.’ Grinning, he caught the cloth that Teddie threw at him. ‘Where’s your sense of humour?’

Collapsing onto the stool beside him, she shook her head. ‘It packed its bags and left shortly after Aristotle Leonidas arrived.’

She felt a sudden rush of panic, remembering that stand-off between them—the prickling of her skin and the intensity of his gaze, his dark eyes scanning her face, all-seeing, hungry, unwavering… Her stomach tightened, her hands curling into fists. She might not have given in last night, but this thing, this ‘connection’ between them wasn’t going to just disappear.

But she could.

The thought popped into her head unbidden, fully formed, because of course that was still her gut instinct. Before Aristo, years of her life had been spent living out of suitcases, staying in hotels and motels, always ready to leave, to flee like a getaway driver after a heist. Running away had been her quick fix, her go-to solution for dealing with any problem in her life, any time things got hard.

It was a hangover from a childhood spent dodging unpaid bills and bailiffs and a legacy from her father—not that she’d ever thought of him as that. Wyatt Taylor had never stayed around long enough for the name ‘Dad’ to stick. Just long enough to teach her a couple of magic tricks and to make her miss him when he left.

Her heart began to pound.

Only, how could she run with a child? George’s life was here, in New York. He went to nursery here, he had friends, a routine. He was the reason she’d stopped running.

As though sensing her panic, Elliot reached over and pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face.

‘Come on, Teddie, I know he was a pig to you, and maybe it wasn’t ideal, him turning up here out of the blue, but…’ He hesitated, his expression becoming uncharacteristically serious. ‘But whatever you’re telling yourself, you’re wrong. You can’t run this time, babe.’

As she glanced up guiltily he gave her a lopsided smile.

‘I’ve known you since I was twelve years old. I don’t need supernatural powers to read your mind. This isn’t something you can run away from, and deep down I don’t think you really want to.’

She lifted her chin, narrowing her green eyes. ‘And yet strangely, on a superficial level, I feel completely certain that I absolutely do.’

Elliot poked one of her clenched hands with his finger. ‘No, you don’t. I was there, remember? I know how often you tried to call him. I know how many messages you left, how upset you were.’ His jaw tensed. ‘I’m no fan of Aristotle Leonidas, but—’ he frowned ‘—he’s still George’s father and he’s got a right to see his son. Right now it’s a shock, but once you get used to the idea it’ll be okay, I promise. I mean, loads of couples share custody of their children.’

Teddie gave him a small, tight smile.

Thinking about a future in which she would have to see Aristo on a regular basis, speak to him and have him turning up on her doorstep, was not her definition of okay. But maybe over time her feelings for him would diminish, like radioactivity—only didn’t that take, like, decades? Not that it mattered how she felt, or where she was. She could run but, as Elliot said, she couldn’t hide from the truth any more. Aristo was George’s father and she was just going to have to suck it up.

Pushing back his stool, Elliot stood up. ‘I gotta go, but I’ll call you later.’ Sliding his arms into his jacket, he kissed her forehead. ‘And don’t worry. Leopards don’t change their spots, baby, and from everything you’ve ever told me about your ex he’s not the kind to stick around long enough for this to become a problem.’

Watching Elliot let himself out of the apartment, she knew he was trying to reassure her. And she should feel reassured—it was, after all, what she wanted, wasn’t it? For Aristo to disappear from her life for good? Only, for some strange reason, that thought didn’t seem quite comforting as she’d imagined it would.

* * *

While George took his afternoon nap Teddie tidied the apartment, moving automatically to pick up the tiny toy cars and miniature dinosaurs that were scattered everywhere. Eventually she stopped beside her bed and, kneeling down, pulled out a cardboard box.

Feeling a lump start to build in her throat, she hesitated, and then sat on the floor. Lifting off the lid, she gazed down at the contents.

Was that it? Had her marriage really amounted to nothing more than a shoebox shoved under a bed?

Pushing aside the letters and documents, she reached to the bottom of the box and pulled out a small blue box.

Her hand twitched and then slowly, heart thumping erratically, she opened it and stared down at the plain gold band. For a moment she couldn’t move, but as her breathing steadied she picked up her wedding ring and slid it onto her finger.

She still wasn’t sure why she had kept it. But the answer to that was not as simple as the question implied.

At first, in the weeks after she’d moved out of Aristo’s apartment—and it had always felt like his apartment—she’d kept wearing it because even though it had become clear to her by then that her husband was a different person from the impulsive lover she’d promised to love and honour and cherish, she hadn’t been ready to give up on her marriage.

And then later it had been the one thing he’d given to her that he hadn’t and could never take away—of course that had been before she found out about George.

Her throat tightened. She could still picture the exact moment that she’d finally decided to stop wearing it.

It had been on the taxi ride home from that night she’d spent in Aristo’s arms, hoping and believing that they’d been given a second chance.

He’d followed her out of their meeting with the lawyers earlier and they’d argued, both of them simmering with fury, and then they’d looked into each other’s eyes and desire had been stronger than their anger combined. Unreasonable, but undeniable.

But then what did desire ever have to do with reason?

They’d rented a hotel room like newlyweds, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes in the lift, hardly noticing the other guests’ shocked or amused expressions as they’d run to their room.

But even before the sheets tangled around their warm, damp bodies had grown cold she’d realised her mistake.

That night hadn’t been some eleventh-hour reprieve for their marriage. Aristo hadn’t acknowledged his part in their marital problems, or been willing to listen to her point of view. Instead he’d just wanted to get his own way and, having failed to convince her with words he’d switched tactics. Like the hopeless, lovestruck fool she had been then, she’d let herself be persuaded by the softness of his mouth and the hard length of his body.

But, waking in the strange bed, she’d realised her mistake instantly.

She breathed out unsteadily, remembering how his face had grown hard and expressionless, the post-coital tenderness in his eyes fading as he’d told that he’d pay for the room, but that would be the last dollar she’d see of his money.

It hadn’t been. Three weeks later she’d emptied one of the bank accounts they’d shared—the one with the least amount of money in it—partly to prove him wrong, but mostly so his unborn child would have something from its father.

Sliding the ring off her finger, she put it back in the box and got slowly to her feet. Elliot was right. She needed to face reality, and it would be easier to do so if she was in control of what was happening rather than sitting and stewing, waiting for Aristo to call.

Walking back into the living room, she picked up the card he’d given her the night before and punched out his number on her mobile before she had the chance to change her mind.

‘Hello, Teddie.’

She hadn’t expected him to pick up quite so quickly, or to know it was her, but that wasn’t why she slid down onto the sofa. It was just that hearing his voice down the phone again felt strangely intimate, and for a split second she was reminded of how they’d used to talk when they’d first met. Conversations in the early hours of the morning after she’d finished performing and she was lying in bed in some hotel on the other side of the country.

It hadn’t mattered what time she’d called—he’d always answered and they’d talked sometimes for hours. She felt her skin prickle. And not just talk… Sometimes he’d made up stories to help her fall asleep.

Curling her fingers around the phone, she gripped it more tightly. Remembering Aristo doing that for her was like waking to find a handcuff around her wrist, linking her to him in a way she hadn’t imagined.

Steadying her breathing, she pushed the memory to the back of her mind. ‘We need to talk,’ she said bluntly. ‘About George.’

‘So talk.’

‘No, not on the phone. We need to meet.’

There was a short pause, and her chest tightened as she imagined him leaning back in his chair, a small triumphant smile curving his mouth.

‘I can come to your apartment.’

‘No.’ Hearing the panic in her voice, she frowned. But there was no way he was coming to the apartment again, not after what nearly happened last time. ‘I’ll come to your office.’

She glanced at the time. She could drop George off at Elliot’s and then go on into Manhattan.

‘Shall we say about five?’

‘I look forward to it,’ he said softly.

* * *

At exactly five o’clock she was staring up at a tall, gleaming tower as all around her crowds of tourists chatted and laughed—no doubt on their way to see the Empire State Building or some other world-famous landmark.

If only she was a tourist too, enjoying a well-earned holiday, instead of having to face her clever, calculating ex-husband. But the sooner she faced Aristo the sooner she could return home, and so, heart pounding, she slipped through the revolving doors into the cool smoked glass interior of the Leonidas Holdings’ headquarters.

Five minutes later she was riding up in an elevator, only just managing to force her mouth into a stiff smile as the doors opened.

‘Ms Taylor.’ Smiling politely, a young male assistant stepped forward. ‘If you’d like to come with me, Mr Leonidas’ office is this way.’

But not Mr Leonidas, Teddie discovered as the assistant showed her into the empty office. She wondered if Aristo had absented himself on purpose. Probably, she decided. No doubt he was trying to psyche her out by making her wait, by giving her a glimpse of his personal fiefdom.

She glanced slowly around the room, her narrowed gaze taking in the dazzling panoramic views of New York, the Bauhaus furniture and the huge abstract painting that hung behind his desk.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’

She turned, her body tensing automatically as Aristo strolled into the room, his dark eyes sweeping assessingly over her black cigarette trousers, burgundy silk shirt and towering stiletto heels.

He stopped in front of her and she felt her stomach flip over. He’d taken off his jacket, and the sleeves of his cornflower-blue shirt were rolled up, the collar loosened. Her eyes darted involuntarily between the triangle of golden skin at the base of his neck and the fine dark hair on his forearms.

Her breath pedalled inside her chest. He looked both invincible and stupidly sexy, and any hope she’d had that she might have miraculously developed an immunity to him in the intervening hours since she’d seen him evaporated like early-morning mist. Even just being in the same space as him was sending her body haywire, her chest constricting and a prickling heat spreading like a forest fire over her skin.

If Aristo was feeling as uncomfortable as she was, he wasn’t showing it. But then in the six months of their marriage she’d never really known what he was thinking—she might be a mistress of illusion on stage, but he was a master at disguising his feelings. Her lips tightened. Although that, of course, presupposed that he had any.

‘It’s fine,’ she said stiffly. ‘I know you’re a busy man.’

His gaze hovered over her face and she cursed herself silently, for she knew what he was thinking.

Aristo’s obsession with work had quickly become an issue for her. The long hours he’d spent at the office and his single-minded focus on building his business had slowly but inevitably excluded her from his life. Not that either of them had done much to stop it eroding their marriage. For Aristo it had only ever been her problem, and she had found it impossible to tell him the truth. That she wanted the man who had craved her, who had been so hungry to share her life that he hadn’t been willing to wait.

She swallowed, pushing back against the sudden swell of misery spreading through her. It was her own fault. She should have known what to expect when he’d cut their honeymoon short to fly halfway across the world to buy a resort. But of course when he’d pulled her into his arms and told her it was a one-off she’d believed him. She’d wanted to believe him, and to believe that she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Only, her brief doomed marriage was not what she wanted to talk about now. They’d moved way past the point where there was even a ‘them’ to discuss. As far as she was concerned, the less she had to do with him the better, and after this meeting hopefully there would be no reason for her to see him except briefly and occasionally.

Watching the conflicting emotions flitting across his ex-wife’s face, Aristo felt a ripple of frustration. She had always been so unsupportive of his career, when all he’d been trying to do was build a life for her, for them.

Glancing round his office, he steadied his breathing. Surely now she could understand what he’d been trying to do? But, either way, he wasn’t going to let it get in the way of what really mattered.

He shrugged. ‘Very busy,’ he said softly. ‘But let’s not get distracted. I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about my work.’

She gave him a small, tight smile. ‘We need to make arrangements. Something stable and uncomplicated. Because what’s most important to me is that George feels happy and safe.’

He nodded. ‘And I want that too.’ Gesturing towards a cluster of easy chairs and a sofa grouped in front of the windows, he smiled slowly. ‘So, why don’t we sit down and talk about how we can make that happen?’

Teddie gazed at him warily. So far it was all going better than she’d expected. Her heartbeat scuttled forward. Only, it wasn’t fair of him to smile like that. It would be so much easier for her to keep a clear head if he was cold and dismissive. When he smiled that extraordinary smile it was difficult to think straight. Difficult to think about anything other than that beautiful mouth.

Feeling his dark gaze, she ignored both his hand and the sudden rapid pounding of her heart and nodded, then walked as casually as she could manage across the room.

She purposely avoided the sofa and sat down in one of the chairs, but regretted her decision almost immediately as, dropping down into the chair closest to hers, he stretched out his long, muscular legs and began to speak.

‘Look, Teddie, before we start I have something I need to say to you.’

‘So say it.’ She had been aiming to sound casual, offhand. Instead, though, her voice sounded stiff and unnatural.

His eyes fixed on hers. ‘I know this can’t be easy, having me back in your life and in George’s life. But I’m going to try to make it as painless and unproblematic as possible for both of us. All I want is to be a good father.’

She held his gaze. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he wasn’t back in her life. But to be fair he was trying to meet her halfway, and it seemed churlish to nit-pick over his choice of words.

Glancing away to the skyline, she shrugged. ‘I hope so. That’s why I’m here.’

It was true, and she wanted to believe Aristo, to take his words at face-value—only after everything he’d said and done in the past it was just so hard to trust him. But if this was going to work, for her son’s sake, she was going to have to put the past behind her and concentrate on the present.

She took a quick, steadying breath and said quickly, ‘I know it probably doesn’t seem like it to you, but I really do want George to get to know you.’

The air seemed to still, like a held breath, and, looking up, she found Aristo watching her so steadily and intently that for a moment she forgot where she was. Suddenly the huge office seemed as though it had shrunk, and his body seemed way too close to hers.

Before she could stop herself she shifted in her seat, drawing her legs in tighter and then regretting it immediately as his eyes dropped to her throat, taking in the jerkiness of her pulse.

‘So what do you suggest?’

It was a straightforward enough question, and his expression was blandly innocent, but something in his eyes made her body tense, her muscles popping and suddenly primed for flight as she quickly went through the options she’d rehearsed on her journey to his office.

‘I thought perhaps we could meet in a park,’ she said hopefully. ‘George loves swings, and we have a nice park just down the street.’

She felt her pulse begin to hopscotch forward as slowly he shook his head.

‘I was thinking of something more than just a trip to the swings. How about you bring George to the apartment for a weekend? That way we’ll have more time, and plenty of space, and of course there’s the pool.’ He raised his dark gaze to hers. ‘You have taught him to swim?’

She glared at him. ‘Yes, of course I have. But—’

‘Excellent, so we’re agreed.’ His smile widened but she started to shake her head.

‘No, Aristo. We are not agreed.’ She gritted her teeth. How had she ever thought this would be easy?

‘Then I’ll come to yours,’ he said coolly.

Her back stiffened. He absolutely definitely wasn’t coming to her apartment, and nor did she want to go to back to the apartment that had once been her home, with all its many reminders of their shared past.

So tell him what you do want then, she told herself.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ She spoke quickly, trying to inject a businesslike tone into her voice.

‘No? But you do want to arrange something, right?’

He lounged back, his arm resting easily against the side of the chair, and suddenly she wanted to reach out and touch the golden skin, run her fingertips over the smooth curve of muscle pressing against the fabric of his shirt.

‘Yes—yes, of course I do.’ She dragged her eyes away, up to the compelling dark eyes and dangerous curves of his face.

He nodded. ‘Something stable and uncomplicated, I think you said.’

‘Yes, that’s what I want, but…’ She gazed at him uncertainly, wondering exactly where the conversation was going.

‘Then the solution is staring us in the face.’

He went on as if she hadn’t spoken, his voice curling over her skin, soothing and unsettling at the same time.

‘What do you mean?’ she said hoarsely.

He smiled. ‘Isn’t it obvious? We need to get married.’

The air was punched out of lungs. She stared at him in a daze, the beat of her heart suddenly deafeningly loud inside her head. She was mute with shock—not only at the audacity, the arrogance of his words, but at the heat building inside her.

How could she feel like that? Their marriage had been a disaster, and yet she could feel a part of herself responding with an eagerness that shocked her.

Ignoring the quivering sensation in her stomach, she forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘That’s not funny, Aristo.’

‘It’s not meant to be.’ He looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘If I’m to be a permanent fixture in George’s life then I need to be a permanent fixture in yours. Marriage is the simplest solution. We marry and George gets two parents and a stable, uncomplicated home life.’

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Is that what you think our marriage was like? Stable and uncomplicated?’ She wanted to laugh, except that it wasn’t even remotely amusing, just horribly familiar—for wasn’t this exactly why they’d got divorced? Because Aristo had made assumptions without so much as considering her point of view or her feelings.

‘I am not marrying you—remarrying you,’ she corrected herself.

Tipping back his head, he stared down into her eyes. ‘Why not? It’s not something you haven’t done before.’

She gaped at him. ‘And it didn’t work.’ She enunciated each word with painstaking emphasis.

His dark gaze roamed so slowly over her face that she felt it like a caress.

‘As I recall it worked very well.’

Her breath was trapped in her throat. ‘I’m not talking about that,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m talking about everything else about our marriage. None of that worked.’

‘Didn’t work last time.’ He dismissed her remark with a careless lift of his shoulders. ‘But engaging with past mistakes is crucial to an improved performance, and this time we’ll be operating from a position of experience, not ignorance.’

She felt her heart beat faster. He sounded as if he was presenting a business plan, not discussing getting married. But then, even before their marriage had ended work had already consumed his life to the exclusion of everything else—including her.

‘This isn’t some management strategy,’ she said witheringly. ‘This is my life, Aristo.’

His eyes didn’t so much as flicker but she felt a sudden rise in tension.

‘No, Teddie. This is our son’s life. A son who doesn’t know who I am. A son I’ve already let down. No child should feel like that.’

He stopped abruptly, his jaw tightening, and Teddie felt some of her anger deflate. There was something in his response that made her flinch inside, as though the words had been dragged out of him.

Aristo caught his breath. Remembering his own childhood, the constant nagging sense of not belonging, he felt suddenly sick. Whatever else happened, his son was going to feel wanted by both his parents.

‘You haven’t let him down.’

Teddie’s voice jolted him back into real time and he gritted his teeth. She might have been his wife, but he’d never discussed his childhood with her. But the past was history. What mattered was George.

‘I wasn’t there—’ He broke off and stared away, his face taut and set. ‘All I want to do is make it up to him. And that is going to take more than a couple of trips to the swings.’

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

Teddie stared at his profile, her heartbeat rocking back and forth like a boat on a choppy sea. She could sense pain beneath his stilted words and she felt ashamed. Up until that moment she hadn’t truly considered his feelings beyond shock and anger, and that had been unfair of her—for how would she be feeling right now if the situation was reversed?

‘Maybe we should go away somewhere. That way you and George can spend time getting to know each other and we can start being open and honest with each other, because that’s the only way we’re going to make this work.’

Her words echoed inside her head, and for a moment she couldn’t believe that they had actually come out of her mouth. But it was too late to take them back—and anyway, with a mixture of shock and relief she realised that she didn’t actually want to. She needed to know now if Aristo was capable of being the father he claimed he wanted to be. Not in a few months, when it would destroy George if he left, just as she had been destroyed whenever her own father had disappeared from her life.

‘Do you mean that?’ His eyes were on hers, almost black, steady and unblinking.

‘You want to get married again?’ She phrased it as a question deliberately. ‘Well, let’s see if we can manage to spend a week together without wanting to kill each other.’

His eyes on her face were dark and intent. ‘Or to tear each other’s clothes off.’

Her pulse jolted forward, her body rippling into life as a wave of heat skimmed over her skin. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Her brain seemed to have seized up and she stared at him in silence, stalling until finally she could lift her chin and meet his gaze.

‘It would mean you taking time off work.’ She tried and failed to keep the challenging note out of her voice.

There was a fraction of a pause. ‘How does next week sound?’ he said softly.

Her head snapped up. ‘Next week?’ The words made her feel giddy, but she could hardly back down now. ‘That sounds fine. But won’t it be a problem, going somewhere at such short notice?’

His eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘It won’t be a problem at all. You see, I have an island—near Greece—and a plane to take us there.’

His mouth curled at the corners, his smile knocking the air out of her lungs.

‘All you have to do is pack.’