Читать книгу Irresistible Greeks Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 39

THE next day Alex got an email with a link to a site where he could download the photos Daisy had taken.

Here you are, the email said. Sorry it took so long. Hope they meet with your editor’s satisfaction. Thank you for the opportunity to work with you.

Kind regards, Daisy Connolly.

Kind regards? Daisy Connolly?

As if he would need her last name to distinguish her from all the other Daisys in his life.

Blast her, anyway! Alex smacked a hand on the desk next to his computer screen. So all it had needed was for him to turn up on her doorstep and make an idiot of himself and Daisy was suddenly inspired to finish editing the photos, send them along and get him out of her life.

Swell.

He’d lain awake half the night—staring at the damned skylight and cursing his own misplaced desire—and wishing Amalie would come up with a viable “option.”

In the morning he called her and demanded a better selection. “The last one was a charlatan,” he said. “If she was an architecture student, I play center field for the New York Yankees.”

“I’m talking to another young woman today,” she promised. “You’re very discerning. It takes time.”

It didn’t take time, damn it. That was the trouble. If Daisy wanted what he wanted there wouldn’t be any problem at all.

But she didn’t. That was perfectly clear. She probably hadn’t been stalling. She’d probably actually been busy, too busy to get right to his photos. But once he’d turned up on her doorstep, making demands, she’d outdone herself getting the photos finished so she didn’t need to have anything more to do with him.

They were amazing photos, though.

He stood in his office, staring at them now. He’d spread them out on his drafting table, studying them, seeing himself through her eyes.

They were every bit as sharp and insightful as the ones he’d seen on her wall last night. She’d taken most of the shots in black and white which, on first glance, surprised him.

But the more he studied them, the more he saw what she was doing: she had used the monochrome scheme to pare him down to his essence, exactly the way an architectural drawing or a blueprint did.

She caught him clearly—a man who had little patience with subtlety, who knew what he wanted.

He wanted her.

She had to know that. Didn’t she know that?

He sighed and scraped the photos into a pile and put them back into the envelope. Of course she knew it.

She didn’t want him—not on his terms.

So he’d seen the last of her.

End of story.

Daisy was still taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly a week later. But it was her own fault. She knew she should have got the photos edited and sent off right away. She hadn’t.

And so Alex had turned up on her doorstep. An intense, edgy, irritated Alex. An Alex who had looked at her with fire in his normally cool green gaze. An Alex who had shot into her office so quickly, she hadn’t even thought about how to stop him. And once he was there, it had felt like being trapped in a cage with a full-grown, very hungry panther.

A panther who had complained about the meals he was being offered at the same time he was looking at her like he intended to make her the next one.

She’d skittered away, crossed the room, needing to put space between them, because the mere sight of him had set her heart to pounding. All her senses went on alert with Alex. Her body wanted him no matter what her brain—and her mother’s-heart—told her was wise.

She had been determined to resist—not just Alex, but her own desire.

Then abruptly he had turned and walked out!

And Daisy had been left staring after him as he strode off into the cold dark windy night. Then she’d shut the door and leaned against it, her heart still slamming against the wall of her chest, her pulse racing.

The adrenaline had kept her working half the night.

It took a week to wear off, more for her to be able to say with confidence to Cal that life was back to normal, and still more until she believed it herself.

So it was a blow on the first Saturday evening in November to hear a knock on the door, expect to get the Thai takeaway she’d ordered, and find Alex standing on her doorstep again.

She stared at him, dumbstruck.

“Good evening to you, too,” he said cheerfully. His tone was mild, friendly, completely at odds with the Alex who had shown up last time.

“Good evening,” she replied cautiously, trying not to look at his smooth-shaven face, his quirking smile, that groove in his cheek she always itched to touch. Deliberately she curled her fingers into the palm of her hand.

He hesitated a split second, then said, “I just wanted to say that I may have found the one.”

Daisy blinked. “The one? The one what?”

His smile widened. “Woman.” There was a pause. Then, “Wife,” he clarified.

Daisy’s stomach did an odd sort of somersault. She swallowed, then mustered her best polite smile. “Really. How nice.”

She shut her eyes for an instant, and opened them to discover that he’d done it again—slipped past her and was suddenly standing in her office. How did he do that?

“She’s a vice president in marketing for an international cosmetics firm,” he reported, his handsome face looking very pleased. “She runs campaigns in half a dozen places all over the world. Always on the move. She has two phones. A red one for emergencies.” He grinned, as if this were a good thing.

“Does she?” Daisy said drily. “Sounds perfect for you.”

“You think so, too?” He was still grinning, so she didn’t know if he heard her sarcasm as it had been intended or not. “That’s what I thought. I read Amalie the riot act after the first bunch, said if that was as good as she could do, I was finished. And then she came up with Caroline.”

Caroline. Even her name was right. Sophisticated, but approachable. She did sound perfect.

“And,” Alex went on with considerable enthusiasm, “there are other things, too—she’s beautiful, bright, funny, articulate, well-read.”

Daisy shut the door but stayed by it, keeping an eye out for the Thai deliveryman and thanking God that Charlie was at Cal’s this weekend. “So have you asked her to marry you yet?” she asked Alex flippantly.

“Considering it.”

Her jaw dropped. “On the basis of a couple of dates?”

“Three,” Alex corrected. He was moving around her office in panther mode, but looking better fed. He picked up an alabaster cat on the bookcase, and examined it while he talked. “Well, two and a half.” His mouth twisted wryly. “The red phone rang tonight. She had to leave in the middle of dinner. She’s on her way to San Francisco right now.”

“You’re joking.” He had to be joking. Didn’t he?

But when he didn’t immediately agree that he was, Daisy shook her head, torn between despair and the prickling of awareness and wholly useless desire she always felt faced with Alexandros Antonides. Still. Damn it. “You’re insane.”

He put the cat down again and looked at her quizzically. “Insane? Why?”

“You can’t make a decision like that in a few weeks’ time!”

“Why not? She’s what I want.”

“But are you what she wants?” Daisy didn’t know why she was asking that. Didn’t know why she was arguing with him.

“That’s her problem.”

“Yours, too.” She couldn’t seem to help herself. “If you get married without knowing each other well, without thinking things through—”

“I could end up like you did?”

Daisy rocked with the punch of his words. “What?”

“That isn’t why your marriage didn’t work?”

“No, of course it isn’t!” Daisy felt the heat of his accusation. But she denied it, and it wasn’t a lie, either. “And we’re not discussing my marriage.” She wrapped her arms across her chest, as if they would defend her. Fat chance.

“Why didn’t it, then?” he persisted.

“This is not about me!”

He raised his brows. “Maybe I’m trying to learn from your mistake.”

“You and I are not likely to make the same mistakes.”

Alex shrugged. “How will I know if you don’t tell me?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Alex! My marriage is none of your business.” She shoved away from the door and jerked it open. “I think you should go.”

But Alex didn’t go anywhere. On the contrary, he turned and flopped down into one of the armchairs, settling in, folding his arms behind his head. “Not yet. I want to hear why I shouldn’t pop the question.”

Daisy wanted to strangle him. But the quickest way to get him out of her life was to answer his questions. So she did. “Because,” she said slowly and with the articulation of an elocution teacher, “you don’t want to get a divorce. Do you?” she challenged him. “Maybe you don’t care whether you do or not because you won’t care about her.”

“I don’t want a divorce,” he said evenly. The green eyes glinted.

Daisy shrugged. “Fine. Then take your time. Make sure you’re on the same page. That you want the same things. That … Oh, hell, why am I telling you this? You don’t understand!”

He cocked his head. “Weren’t you on the same page, Daisy?” He sounded almost sympathetic now.

She pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.

He gave her a little half smile. “Are you going to marry again?”

“I doubt it.” She turned away, then turned back and shrugged. “Maybe someday. It depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not I’m in love with him.”

Alex’s jaw clenched.

Daisy smiled. It was a painful smile, hard-earned. “Yes, love. Still. I want the whole package, Alex. Now more than ever.”

Alex didn’t move. A muscle ticking in his temple was the only betrayal of anything beyond casual interest in what she had to say. Then, with studied nonchalance, he rose slowly. “I wish you the joy of it then.”

“And I you,” Daisy said automatically.

He gave her a sardonic look.

“No, truly.” She almost put a hand on his arm as he passed. But then she laced her fingers together instead. Still, she looked up at him earnestly. “I mean it, Alex. You deserve a wonderful life. I hope … Caroline is the right woman for you. I hope she gives you what you want.”

He had stopped and was standing now, quite close. She kept her gaze on the rise and fall of his chest, knew that she could reach out and touch him. Knew she should back away. But she didn’t. She stayed quite still and met his gaze. “Regardless of what you think, marriage is more than you expect. You should … take your time, get to know this … woman you’re considering marrying. Make sure it’s right for both of you.”

Alex stood staring at her as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

Daisy couldn’t believe them, either. It wasn’t any of her business. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. And maybe she did owe him the benefit of her experience with Cal. Certainly it had taught her something.

“No matter what you think you want out of marriage,” she finished, “it can surprise you. You shouldn’t take it lightly.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed further, and she expected he would tell her to mind her own business. But his jaw just tightened again, then he nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Their gazes locked—all the electricity flowing through New York City at that moment had nothing on what arced between them.

Then, carefully, consciously, Daisy swallowed. “Have a good life, Alex.”

For a long moment he didn’t reply, and she couldn’t read his gaze. Then he said flatly, “I will. Shall I invite you to the wedding?”

No! It was her gut-level response. But she squelched it. “When you’re sure she’s the right one,” she said slowly, “I would be delighted to come.”

Alex’s lips pressed together in a thin line. He nodded, then walked past her wordlessly out the door.

She closed it after him, leaned back against it, knees wobbling. Only after the sound of his footsteps had long faded away, did Daisy breathe again.

Moving on.

That’s what her father always used to say when Daisy or her sister got all wrought up about something they could do nothing about. He’d listen to them anguishing for, oh, maybe thirty minutes, and then he’d say, “Can you do anything about it?”

They’d say, “No.”

And he’d flash them his sunny grin and say, “So … moving on …”

He didn’t mean, get over it. He meant, stop dwelling on it. Get past it.

You might still ache with disappointment. You might remember it forever. But you’d done all you could do. Now it was time to pull up your socks and move on.

Daisy moved on.

She still thought about Alex. How could she not? She had loved him once. He was the father of her child, even if he didn’t know it. She owed him for that—for Charlie. And she wished things could have been different.

But they weren’t.

Life moved on, and determinedly Daisy moved on with it. She did her work. She introduced a great couple, Debbie whom she’d met at a yoga class and Mark, who played baseball with Cal, and was delighted when they seemed to hit it off. She wasn’t losing her touch with other people at least. Cal bought Charlie a point-and-shoot camera, and she went with the two of them for walks in the park and on the streets and took loads of pictures. It was fun to discover Charlie’s interest, and restful to be with him and Cal.

Every time her thoughts drifted to Alex and she wondered if he’d proposed yet, she deliberately focused them elsewhere. So she wasn’t even thinking about him the Sunday evening before Thanksgiving when Cal came into the kitchen and asked, “Whatever happened with Alex?”

Her ex had stopped by that afternoon to take Charlie for a bike ride in the park. When they’d come back, Daisy had invited him to stay for leftovers. After, he’d helped Charlie build a fire station with his Legos. Now Charlie had gone upstairs to get ready for his bath while Daisy put dishes in the dishwasher.

She felt a moment’s jolt at the sound of his name. But then she just shrugged. “No idea. Haven’t seen him for a while. I believe he’s got a woman in his life. He seems to think she’s ‘the one.’” Daisy couldn’t help adding that.

Cal looked at her closely. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Daisy said, dropping forks in the silverware slots. “He was never the man I thought he was. He still isn’t.”

“Life sucks,” Cal said with a faint grin.

“It has some good bits,” Daisy countered, nodding toward the stairs where they could both hear Charlie banging around in the upstairs hall.

Cal’s grin widened. “You’re right. It does.” He shoved away from the doorjamb and flexed his shoulders. “I’ll be going then. Thanks for letting me take him to the park.”

“Anytime.” She walked to the front door with him and kissed him on the cheek and he gave her a hug. Then he shrugged on his jacket. “I’ll pick Charlie up Thursday morning. I told my folks we’d be up there by noon.”

Daisy nodded and forced a smile even as she felt her throat tighten. “He’ll have so much fun.”

Cal was taking Charlie to his parents’ upstate for Thanksgiving. They wouldn’t be back until Sunday morning. The thought of rattling around by herself for four days was horrible. But it was good for Charlie and for Cal and his family. It was a part of the life they’d made.

“My folks are really looking forward to it,” Cal said. He looked at her closely. “You can come if you want.” He must have seen some of the hollowness she felt.

Daisy shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t. You know that.”

If she did Cal’s parents might think there was hope of them getting back together. They had been upset when she and Cal divorced. Now they seemed to be coming to terms with the way things were. It wouldn’t do to get their hopes up again.

“You’re probably right. No, you are right. It’s just—I’m sorry. Especially this year.”

Daisy shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m going to Finn and Izzy’s. It will be chaos. I’ll never miss you. What do you have planned?”

“Going fishing if the weather stays warm enough. Chopping wood otherwise. Getting ready for winter.” He grimaced.

“You’ll have fun.”

“Charlie will make it fun. He and Dad are something else when you get them together.” Cal shook his head, grinning. “Like two kids.”

“I’d guess there were three.” Daisy cocked her head and smiled at him.

Cal rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Well, yeah.”

Their eyes met, both of them rueful.

“Moving on,” Daisy said with all the briskness she could muster.

And Cal nodded resolutely. “Moving on.”

He went out, and Daisy locked the door after him. Then she went back into the living room, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Was Alex having Thanksgiving with the woman in his life? Or was he working on one continent while she was on another?

What did she care? Daisy asked herself irritably.

She didn’t, damn it. But sometimes moving on felt curiously like walking through molasses with her shoelaces tied together. Hard and lonely.

She felt suddenly very, very cold.