‘DO YOU LIKE IT?’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Chloe said honestly as she walked around the room that Eugenie had guided her to. ‘What a view,’ she exclaimed, walking over to the open French doors. Three steps away was the infinity pool and beyond that the sea.
‘It used to be a little tiny cottage, and Granny was born here,’ the teenager confided. ‘She was poor. That must be awful, I think. When she married Grandpa he wanted to knock it down but she wouldn’t let him so he built around it. There wasn’t any beach here then, so he brought the sand and made one.’
‘What about the big place on the hill?’ It had looked Venetian and just gorgeous set against a backdrop of pines.
‘Oh, we own that too. Grandpa bought it but Yaya wouldn’t live in it and he preferred modern so...’ She gave a shrug that made Chloe think of her uncle. ‘It’s pretty much falling down now.’
‘That’s sad,’ Chloe said, glancing through the doors of a walk-in closet, realising that she didn’t have even so much as a toothbrush with her.
The girl seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Don’t worry. Mum will organise you some stuff.’
‘No, really—’
‘It’s fine. She has closets full of samples.’ She looked at Chloe with envy. ‘They wouldn’t fit anyone else here. Are you sure you won’t join us for dinner?’
Chloe resisted the pleading tone and gave a firm shake of her head, adding, ‘I’m really whacked.’ She escorted Eugenie to the door and closed it behind her reluctant-to-leave guest.
She released a sigh and leaned back against the wall, willing the images that were flashing through her head to stop or at least slow down because they made her dizzy.
Finally summoning the energy to kick off her shoes, she flopped onto the bed and lay there staring at the fan that was whirring silently above her head.
She had pleaded exhaustion when she had been given the option of a tray in her room, which suggested she looked as bad as she felt. The bone-deep weariness felt as if it were crushing her; even lifting a hand to her head was an effort, as was closing her eyes. But when she’d managed it, opening them again was just not an option.
She suspected her weariness was as much emotional as physical. Lack of sleep was the reason, she decided, unwilling to admit the truth even to herself.
She touched her lips, a silent sigh rippling through her body as she remembered the moment Nik’s eyes had dropped to her mouth and she’d known he was thinking about kissing her... Had he been able to feel how much she wanted him to? Oh, God, why was she even wasting her time thinking about it? It was just a damned kiss; there was nothing deep and meaningful about it!
She sighed, thinking, I’ll get up in a minute and shower the day and the memories away... There was no hurry.
* * *
Fighting her way out of sleep was like fighting her way through layers of gauze, convinced when she finally broke through the veil of sleep that she had heard someone crying out.
She lay there listening but it was silent except for the sounds of the night coming in through the open door.
Night!
She sat up abruptly, looking around the room. It was dark but not inky black, as the sky outside the door was tinged faintly with red. She reached for the lamp switch and found it, illuminating the room and revealing a tray on a table, the food covered by domes.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and the first thing her glance lighted on was a full-length silk kaftan hanging on a hook of the door to the bathroom. She smiled as she got stiffly to her feet. She picked up her phone and glanced at the time, her eyes widening as she saw it was five-thirty in the morning!
She picked up one of the domes and looked at the food, but she was not hungry enough to be tempted by the sad, cold remains of what had, she had no doubt, been a delicious meal.
There were more clothes neatly folded and stacked on the shelves in the wardrobe and hanging on padded hangers. Tatiana had clearly crept in while she was asleep like a petite Greek Santa. She yawned and stretched, wondering about Greek Christmas traditions.
She spent a long time in the shower and emerged feeling half human. Laying out a towel on the bed, she sat down and began rubbing the oil one of her physiotherapists had recommended into the tight tissues of her scars with light but firm strokes.
Maybe its effects were just a placebo but it smelt good and, while it was no magic cure-all, her skin always felt more supple after she’d applied it. She had got into the habit of carrying it in her handbag.
She waited for it to dry before she put on the kaftan, enjoying the feel of the silk against her skin. She lifted an arm and performed a swishing motion, smiling. Tatiana really was talented. Drawn by the smells and sounds of early morning, she wandered to the open door and pulled aside the mosquito curtain that someone had pulled across while she slept.
Eyes closed, she breathed in deeply before she walked out, the soft scented breeze blowing the kaftan against her body. A tiny lizard disturbed by her tread emerged from a crack in the stone and vanished beneath the glossy, well-trimmed shrubbery.
The swimming pool lit by underwater lights that reflected the mosaic tiles drew her like a magnet; she loved water. She’d learnt to swim at school and if she had been prepared to put in the sort of dedication that involved a relentless early morning training schedule and no social life she might have been able to compete at a high level.
Physical ability and natural talent were no good unless you had the dedication that went with them and Chloe didn’t...but she really loved to swim. Apart from the times she had stayed with her sister, as camera lenses and shocked stares were really not an issue in the royal palace, she had not ventured into the water since the accident.
She liked to think that one day she would be brave enough to swim in a public pool and not care about the stares, but that day had not yet come.
Walking to the edge, she hitched the folds of silk around her knees and sat down, dangling her feet in the warm water, thinking about the lovely feeling of it on her skin.
It was tempting to go in for a swim, it really was... Who was around to see?
* * *
Nik had been swimming lengths for ten minutes, pushing his body to the limit in an attempt to wash away the personal devils left in his head after the nightmare had visited him yet again. He neared the wall at the deep end, flipped over and had lifted his head to gulp in air when he saw Chloe approach the pool through a watery haze.
He paused, his head just breaking the surface as he trod water, the shimmering image solidifying. He was unable to take his eyes off her as she walked towards the water, the thin floor-length robe she wore blowing tight against her, outlining every supple curve of her long, luscious body.
She obviously wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath.
The sound of blood drumming in his ears became deafening as in his head he saw her opening the garment and slipping it off, then standing there naked on the side before diving in... All she actually did was trail her toes in the water, pretty tame by most standards, but Nik felt his dormant libido once more kick into life—hard.
He took a deep breath and slid silently down under the surface of the water.
Her dreamy thoughts drifted as she continued to inscribe circles in the water with her toes.
The sheer unexpectedness of the sudden tug on her foot drew a shrill shriek from her throat. She pulled against the pressure and scooted back, fighting against the restraint and kicking out wildly.
There was a grunt of pain followed by a curse and she was suddenly free. She had curled both legs up protectively against her body when Nik’s sleek dark head appeared, water streaming down his face.
‘What the hell did you think you were doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack!’ she accused shakily.
‘I was swimming...it’s good; come in and join me.’
The invitation sent a slam of hormonal heat through her body. She shook her head, her heart thudding like a metronome as she stared at him.
‘Fair enough.’ It took him two lazy strokes to reach the side. ‘Then I’ll join you.’ Hands flat on the mosaic tiles, he casually heaved himself out of the pool, pausing for a moment on the balls of his feet before straightening up to his full impressive height.
Chloe had no control over her stare, and her skin prickled with heat as her helpless gaze travelled up the length of his long legs, taking in the ridges of his flat belly and broad, hair-roughened chest. His shoulders were muscle packed and powerful but he wasn’t bulky. There was a streamlined strength to him, no excess flesh at all to blur the symmetry. Each individual muscle stood out defined and perfect beneath the surface of his gleaming golden skin.
Her eyes reached his face and his white grin flashed, making him look like a very smug fallen angel as he lifted one hand and rubbed it hard across his hair, causing more water to stream down his face.
He tilted his head to one side in an enquiring attitude. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’ asked her personal embodiment of temptation, the gleam in his eyes suggesting that this was no secret to him.
Even though it was frustrating it was also true—she had zero control over the colour that rushed to her cheeks—but she refused to drop her gaze, or was it she couldn’t escape the grip of his black, heavy-lidded stare? Her insides clenched as she ran her tongue across the outline of her dry lips.
‘No, you can’t,’ she lied, struggling to inject a note of amusement into her response. ‘But don’t let me stop you.’ Hearing the quiver of something near to desperation in her own voice, she half turned and gave an elaborate yawn. ‘I was just going back inside.’
He reached for a towel that was slung over a chair, rubbing it over his dripping hair, then blotting the moisture off his face. ‘You really should take a swim.’ His eyes went to the wet hair that was slicked back to reveal her smooth, high forehead and perfect pure profile. ‘Or have you already?’
She lifted a self-conscious hand, dragging it down the damp surface of her wet hair. ‘I showered.’
He swallowed, the muscles in his brown throat visibly working, a nerve spasmodically clenching in his lean cheek as his darkened eyes drifted slowly over her face, then down over the soft curves of her lush body outlined beneath the folds of iridescent fabric, his imagination peeling away the fabric, seeing the water streaming down her smooth skin.
It took Chloe a few moments to realise that the noise she could hear was her own breathing, as she struggled to breathe through the sexual tension that hung in the air.
She wasn’t sure that Nik was breathing at all. He just stood there, the bands of dull colour running along the slashing angles of his cheekbones emphasising their razor-edged prominence as the moments ticked away. Each passing second made her heart beat faster until she could feel the thuds vibrating throughout her entire body.
‘I... I need to go.’ Her voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way away.
‘Why?’
‘I need to book my flight.’
‘It’s six a.m.’
‘Online.’
‘Eugenie will be disappointed; she was looking forward to showing you the sights.’
‘I need to get back.’ There was a hint of a plea in her voice.
He shrugged and looped the towel around his middle, drawing her attention once again to his flat, ribbed belly and the thin directional line of dark hair that vanished into the waistband of the black shorts he wore. ‘Are you sure you won’t join me for a swim? It’ll take the edge off it.’
She didn’t make the mistake of asking what it was.
How would he react, she wondered, if she pulled the kaftan open and stood there scars and all? Why are you even asking the question? she asked herself.
He’s not interested in your heart or soul; he only wants the beautiful body—or the one he thinks you still have.
‘I don’t have a swimsuit.’
His eyes dropped. ‘You’ve never skinny-dipped?’
She stiffened and lowered her lashes over an expression that tugged his dark brows into a straight interrogative line above his hooded stare... Sadness seemed an inexplicable reaction for her to have.
‘Are you afraid of the water?’ he asked gently.
Her eyes slid longingly over the still surface of the pool, but she shook her head.
‘Do you often swim at this time of the morning? Are you in training or something?’ She’d only been changing the subject, but now that she’d thrown the idea out there she found it wasn’t actually a struggle to see him competing in a triathlon or something; he had the body, the fitness levels and undoubtedly the competitive streak it took for such an endurance event.
‘No, I usually run.’ He bent and picked up a second towel before rubbing his still-wet hair vigorously with it.
‘So you are in training?’
He dropped the towel. ‘I don’t sleep.’
The confession evoked a rush of sympathy in Chloe.
Midway through her hospitalisation, when the heavy doses of analgesia she’d been prescribed for pain had been reduced, she’d suffered badly from insomnia. Though it was not a time she thought about often, choosing instead to focus on the fact she had survived, the experience had left her wary of taking even an aspirin and she’d gained a personal appreciation of the negative impact insomnia could have on a person’s daily life.
‘I suppose it’s hard to switch off sometimes.’ Especially when you have chosen to carry around guilt the size of a planet... Not your problem, Chloe, she reminded herself, rejecting the stab of empathy that made her chest tighten. People who deserved sympathy were those who actually tried to do something about a problem. ‘I settle for warm milk—not very cutting edge, I know, but that usually does the trick for me.’
He gave a sudden hard laugh. ‘I don’t want to sleep.’
‘You mean you don’t need much sleep?’ He fitted the profile of the driven alpha type you generally associated with surviving on two or three hours a night.
‘I mean I have nightmares.’ The hand he was dragging across his face stilled, shock flickering in his hooded gaze as he asked himself why the hell he had just told her that.
His nightmares were something he had never discussed with anyone. Did he suffer from some form of post-traumatic stress disorder? He was sure there were any number of so-called experts who would be happy to tell him. In Nik’s view the label didn’t matter. Sharing was not his style and the idea of being an object of pity was something that he rejected on a visceral level.
Charlie was dead because of him and no label was going to change that. He didn’t want to feel better... He didn’t deserve to feel better, he accepted that, but the nightmares were a punishment too far.
She blew out a long fatalistic sigh. She knew that she was issuing an invitation to have her head bitten off but she couldn’t bring herself to do nothing. Story of your life, Chloe.
‘So do you want to talk about it?’
He turned his head and glared at her. ‘Can you turn off the empathy for a minute? That’s not what I want from you.’
Chloe held her ground. ‘You’re not responsible for what happened, Nik. Charlie made his own decisions.’
‘How the hell can you say that? I told you...’ He stopped, his eyes narrowing over an expression of angry bewilderment. Why had he told her when he hadn’t told anyone else? He didn’t like that he couldn’t answer the question. He was at her side in three strides, his hand closing around her upper arms as he dragged her into him until their bodies collided. ‘Why do you have to be different?’
The emotions pouring off him made her dizzy, or was that the contact with his hard, lean body? The sexual pulse emanating from him and the feverish glitter in his dark eyes made her head spin.
His eyes stayed open and connected with her own as his lips moved across her parted lips, the contact a mere whisper, the progress agonisingly slow.
She shuddered and sank deeper into the suffocating excitement that caused her breath to come in short, shivery little gasps. His face blurred before she closed her eyes and the ache of hunger low in her pelvis dragged a sob from her aching throat as she whispered fiercely.
‘Please!’
The hoarse, hungry plea snapped whatever shred of control he retained as, with a moan deep in his own throat, Nik plunged his tongue into her mouth, plundering the warm recesses. The kiss grew wild, teeth clashed, tongues tasting with an escalating passion.
Rising up on her toes, Chloe put her arms around his neck to hold on for grim death. She could still hear alarm bells ringing but they were almost drowned out by the excited clamour of her own heartbeat. Her fingers dug into the smooth muscled skin of his shoulders and back as she pulled him closer, craving the connection of their bodies.
He’d still been clinging to the idea that making love to her was some sort of therapy to drive his devils away, but that illusion burned away the moment his hands began to move over her body, exploring the soft curves.
This wasn’t therapy, this was survival—he felt as though his life depended on this. He needed this; he needed her. No, it was just sex, he amended as he cupped one warm breast in his hand and held it, his thumb rubbing across the engorged peak as he kissed his way up the curve of her neck.
‘You make me want you!’ he growled, thinking that all she had to do was breathe and he was out of his mind with lust. ‘I just want to feel your skin on mine. I have to kiss and taste every inch of you.’
What was she doing? Your skin on mine, he’d said... In her mind’s eye she suddenly saw the puckered flesh of her thigh and imagined the shocked disgust on his face when he discovered it. And she couldn’t bear it.
‘No...no!’ She pushed hard against him and his arms fell away. He stepped back, his chest lifting and falling dramatically as he appeared to struggle to draw enough air into his lungs.
‘What is happening here, Chloe?’
She gave a tight little smile and thought, I’m dying. ‘Nothing is happening. I just...changed my mind.’
‘You changed your mind?’ The lines of colour along his cheekbones stood out starkly against his blanched, sweaty pallor. He looked like a man in shock and he felt like a man in purgatory!
She took a deep, controlling breath. ‘You come with too much baggage for me... I like to keep things simple.’
His head went back as though she’d struck him; he was aching and hurting and mad as hell. She thought he was some sort of emotional cripple who needed taking care of and she didn’t want the job! The injury to his pride was almost as painful as the frustration that raged through his body. ‘It’s only sex, agape mou; I’m not asking you to marry me.’
She knew it was irrational to let the words hurt, but they did anyway. ‘Maybe, but just sex can get complicated.’
‘I’m a man of simple needs.’
She gave a bitter smile. ‘You don’t need to tell me that. As I recall you didn’t even manage to say a simple goodbye...’ She regretted the words even before she registered the speculation in his eyes and rushed into further speech. ‘I really think you should talk to someone qualified, about the nightmares, I mean. It’s good that you don’t drink to excess now, but the way you were that night...’
‘The night we had sex, you mean.’ He saw her flinch and was glad; she deserved to flinch after her harsh rejection of him just now. ‘There hadn’t been any nightmares that night because I hadn’t been to sleep.’
There was a beat of silence before a look of shocked comprehension slid across her face, taking with it any trace of colour that had been there. By the time she breathed again even her lips were bloodless and the only colour in her entire face was the burning blue of her eyes.
‘Charlie’s death had just happened, hadn’t it?’ But it wasn’t a question... Suddenly it all made sense: the darkness in him, the combustible quality of their chemistry, the driving need of his lovemaking—he’d been trying to burn away the pain of his memories in the fire of passion.
He tipped his head in acknowledgment, the weight in his chest painful as he looked at her standing there, frail and defenceless. Wasn’t there already enough guilt in his life?
‘You used me.’ Anger and hurt shimmered through her and she didn’t care if she was being rational; she didn’t feel rational.
‘I was too tired to fight you off,’ he shot back.
Chloe flushed. At what point had she thought he would ever let her in? ‘You really are a bastard.’
He didn’t deny it. How could he? It was true. She turned away. ‘Where are you going?’ He had to clamp his lips tight over the word stay! He had never begged a woman in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.
‘Going?’ She turned back and lifted her chin. ‘As far away from you as I can get!’ she flung childishly. ‘And who knows? If I’m lucky I might find a man who is not afraid to admit he’s not perfect.’
‘Agape mou, you’re not looking for a man, you’re looking for a cause!’ he sneered contemptuously.
‘Maybe I am, but you’re a lost cause,’ she flung back. ‘You’ll never have a future until you forgive yourself for the past. And you don’t want me, you want a memory of something perfect... Well, I’m not that. I’m...’ Breathing hard, she fought her way out of the kaftan, ripping the silk as she tore it off her body and stood there naked in the light of the breaking dawn.
He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes moving down over her body. She watched his face and saw the exact moment when he reached the area where the skin was badly scarred, saw the shock and horror he couldn’t conceal.
That tiny flame of hope died right then and there.
‘You see, I’m not what you need. I’m not perfect any more.’
She had no idea how she managed to walk the few steps back to her room, oblivious to the fact he had followed her.