Chapter Five #2
He used to do that in Greece, he recalled.
Before slipping the straps from her shoulders and drawing the clinging material downwards to expose her lovely coral-tipped breasts, cupping them in his hands lightly, seductively, his eyes never leaving her, scissoring her nipples as they peaked beneath his ministrations, her breasts engorging beneath his palms as his mouth lowered to hers.
She stepped back, but the vivid flush in her cheeks now showed him that she was remembering as vividly as he. Satisfaction went through him. A satisfaction he should not feel, because the Laurel of that time had nothing to do with the Laurel now. But he felt it all the same…
“Your figure is definitely still a total knockout,” he said. Appreciation was in his voice. Deep appreciation. He let his gaze rest on her, drinking her in.
It was madness to do so. He was not here for Laurel, the woman whose beauty had beguiled him, who had had eyes only for him, had made passionate love to him—and then stolen from him and lied to him.
So it would be madness to be beguiled by her beauty again.
He felt a hand tugging at his and realised it was Dan’s.
“Dad, can we go in?” he was pleading.
With a start, Xander put the dangerous past behind him. It was over and done with.
And it’s got to stay that way. Because otherwise…
But he would not let his thoughts go there. Would not let himself do anything but pay attention to his son, for whose sake he was here, for whose sake alone he was in Laurel’s company.
She is nothing to me but the mother of my son.
He had to remember that.
“You need your armbands, Dan,” he heard her say now.
Xander cut across her. “There’s a shallow entrance, and I’ll be with him. He’ll be fine.”
Again she seemed to hesitate, then nodded.
Xander looked down at Dan. “Let’s get you swimming, shall we? So you won’t need armbands any more.”
He led him off to the pool. It felt good to hold his son’s hand, good to be about to teach him to swim. Good just to be with him.
Determinedly, he did not look back towards his son’s mother. She might still look fantastic in a bathing suit, but that was nothing to him now. Not after seven years and a stolen bracelet she would not admit to. However polite they were now being to each other for Dan’s sake.
Yet even so, as he stood with Dan at the shallow end, encouraging him to doggy-paddle—with much splashing—he could not resist looking back to her.
She’d sat herself down on one of the loungers, one long leg extended, the other bent at the knee, looking effortlessly graceful, watching Dan.
But not just Dan…
Xander felt another wash of satisfaction go through him. Totally misplaced, totally superfluous, but most definitely there.
I always knew when she was looking at me, liking what she saw.
And he knew now too. She was trying not to make it obvious, but he could feel her gaze on him as tangibly as he had wanted her to feel his on her. His eyes glinted. It was a two-way street. It always had been.
“Dad, can I swim a width, do you think?” Dan’s interruption was timely.
“Give it a try,” he said, returning his attention to where it should be. His son—only his son. “I’ll walk beside you. Take it steadily.”
It took two attempts, but Dan managed it in the end and was triumphant.
“I did it!” he gasped as he reached the far side.
“You did,” said Xander. “Well done!” He glanced back at Laurel.
“Well done, Dan!” she echoed praisingly.
Xander’s expression changed minutely. “You should come in,” he told her. “That swimsuit of yours shouldn’t stay dry. I can remember—” He cut himself short.
Dan looked at him. “Remember what?” he asked.
Xander went for broke. “I remember once, in Greece, when your mother was on holiday with me there, and we were cruising around the islands—Greece has hundreds of islands—she was sitting on the sun deck reading a book in that swimsuit, saying she wanted to finish the chapter first, but I wanted to go swimming straight away, so—” he made a face “—I scooped her up, dumped the book and chucked her off the boat right into the sea!”
Dan gasped.
Xander looked across at Laurel. “Do you remember?”
“Distinctly,” she said. There was an edge in her voice. But there was something else as well.
Xander went for broke again. Turned back to Dan. “She was so mad at me she swam straight to the beach. We were anchored in a little cove. And she wouldn’t speak to me. I had to kiss her nice again.”
He looked across at Laurel again. “Remember that too?” he said.
He saw the flush come again, felt that wash of satisfaction go through him.
Even though he knew it shouldn’t. “As I recall, though—” he cast a sideways glance at Laurel “—you pushed me off the dive platform the next day to get your own back!” Then, belatedly realising his anecdote wasn’t setting his son a laudable example, he said hastily, “But throwing anyone into the water isn’t good, Dan. ”
“I won’t,” Dan promised, nodding. Then his attention went back to Laurel. “Mum, come on in!” he called to her pleadingly.
“Okay, okay,” she conceded, getting to her feet.
Xander watched her walk to the edge of the pool, a distinct air of self-consciousness about her.
She might be seven years older now, she might have borne a child, but her beauty was only enhanced, matured.
Full-breasted, with a slender waist, rounded hips, long legs.
As she waded down the shallow steps, water lapping at her body, her breasts, Xander could not take his eyes from her.
Knowing he should not watch her, but unable to look away.
How beautiful she still is. How very, very beautiful.
He should banish the words from his head. They were irrelevant. Quite, quite irrelevant.
Yet they lingered, like his gaze.
Laurel looked about her as they walked into the hotel’s elegant drawing room where afternoon tea was served.
Plush, chintz-covered armchairs were grouped around multiple little tables covered with pristine white linen tablecloths, each adorned with a tasteful flower arrangement.
A log fire burned in the fireplace with an ornate marble mantel, and the carpet was soft pile, the curtains draped velvet.
They were shown to their table, gilt-edged menus presented.
Dan had his very own kiddy menu, Xander’s and her own more sophisticated, including a glass of champagne each.
She said nothing, but it was clear that afternoon tea here would cost Xander a mint.
She’d also been right to think she’d look underdressed, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Anyway, she didn’t care. Her wardrobe these days was cheap and practical.
And there was no one she had to look smart for, let alone attractive for.
Least of all Xander.
Her face set. Once she had looked her best every day she spent with him.
Now she didn’t give a damn what he thought of her appearance.
Her expression softened, though, as her eyes went to Dan.
He was wearing the smart new clothes Xander had bought him yesterday, clearly enjoying them. As for Xander…
Unconsciously her glance went to him from Dan.
He had gone back to his room to change after they’d left the pool and was now wearing a white shirt, though not a tie, and with the top button undone.
She’d seen female heads turn as they’d strolled in and knew why.
He’d turned hers from the very first moment…
No, she must not let herself remember. The Xander she remembered from then was not the man he was now. So there was no point remembering how she had once wanted to do nothing but gaze and gaze and gaze at him, taking in all his irresistible masculine glory.
Even if he still possessed it in spades.
As she had witnessed when he’d walked into the pool area, displaying a body that hadn’t gathered an ounce of flab, still perfectly honed, as it had been seven years ago.
Her eyes had gone to him immediately. How could they not have?
She’d been helpless to look away. Reacting just the way she always had.
Compounded, disastrously, when his eyes had gone to her in her swimsuit, seeing his very familiar reaction.
Memory had ripped through her. Those endless days on Xander’s yacht, swimming in the azure sea, basking in the sun. Retiring to his state room to shower, freshen up, cool down. Make passionate love—
No. She mustn’t go there! Dear God she must not go there.
The arrival of their tea was timely. A towering multi-tiered cake stand was placed on the table, and a slightly smaller one for Dan, loaded with tiny sandwiches cut into geometric shapes, jammy strawberry biscuits, caramel wafers, a gingerbread man and woman, multi-coloured iced buns and three miniature chocolate cakes.
Hers and Xander’s was more adult-oriented, but no less laden.
Delicate smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches cut perilously thin, bite-size savoury tartlets, a variety of puff pastry amuse-bouches, and any number of pastel macaroons, slivers of multi-layered frosted sponge cakes, exquisitely decorated tiny profiteroles, feather-light crisp almond tuiles and coin-sized passion-fruit pavlovas—it went on and on.
The cutlery was silvered, the napkins fine linen, the cups and plates porcelain, the individual teapots likewise, the champagne served in crystal flutes.
A somewhat larger, more robust looking flute arrived with raspberry fizz for Dan.
Xander tapped his champagne-filled flute against Dan’s, and then at Laurel’s. “Are we having a good day?” he asked genially.
“Yes!” affirmed Dan.
Xander glanced at Laurel. “Are we?”
“Thank you, yes,” she said. It would be ungracious not to. Dan had loved the pool session and was clearly eager to get stuck into his tea.
And that’s why we’re here—for Dan. No other reason.
That’s what she had to remember.
I would never have seen Xander again for the rest of my life otherwise.
A shadow seemed to pass over her, and she reached for the champagne flute. How often had she drunk champagne with Xander that long-ago summer, cruising the islands, their own private odyssey, their hedonistic idyll?
How happy I was, how totally happy. Until—
“Mum, can I start?” Dan’s plaintive voice brought her back.
“May I,” she corrected automatically, setting down her flute on the pristine tablecloth. “Yes, of course. Sandwiches first, mind!”
Dan didn’t mind her and tucked in vigorously.
Laurel had taken the precaution of spreading his linen napkin widely across his lap and now shook out her own as well.
Carefully, she poured her tea, then made a selection of savouries and sandwiches.
Xander had got stuck in already, and she suspected he would put away a good deal more than her.
So it proved, and Dan, too, finished off everything on his cake stand.
Their attentive waiter kindly replenished it with another cream bun and miniature chocolate cake.
Laurel, equally attentive, but for a different reason, fetched some moistened wipes out of her handbag and got to work once Dan had demolished the final cake, removing chocolate smears from his mouth and fingers, lest they transfer to the tablecloth or chintz upholstery.
Dan sat back replete. “Best tea ever.”
Xander laughed. “I’m glad you approve.” He looked across at Laurel. “What about you?”
“Memorable,” she said.
For just a second, their eyes met. For just a second, their gaze locked. Then, abruptly, Xander got to his feet, looking at Dan now.
“What say we leave your mother to finish her tea while we explore the gardens?” His glance went to Laurel. “All right by you?” he said, as if remembering to ask her.
She nodded, because why should she object? And they headed off, Dan chattering away happily. A pang went through her. Dan was accepting his father into his life without question. So obviously pleased to have him in his life.
I denied him that, kept his father away from him.
Her expression was troubled as she poured herself another cup of tea, sipping it slowly.
She would justify her decision, would always justify it. When Dan was born, Xander had been a married man, a man who condemned her as a liar and a thief. She had been right to keep him away from Dan.
But now?
Should she be glad, for Dan’s sake, that Xander knew about him, with Dan so clearly thrilled by having his father in his life?
Surely she could not now wish it otherwise.
And if she and Xander kept to what they’d agreed last night, to hide their enmity to each other from Dan, to mute and silence it, to behave better in front of Dan, better, even, towards each other, however strained that was, surely she could not wish that otherwise either?
She reached for a macaroon, the last one, and nibbled it absently, thoughts drifting around. There were far fewer people in the drawing room now, and it was quiet, voices only a murmur at the far end, logs crackling in the hearth. Her mood was strange. She could not make sense of it.
It was better, yes, that Xander and she sheathe their vicious anger at each other, for Dan’s sake, but with that anger set aside…
It’s allowing other things in.
Things that were dangerous to allow.
Seeing Xander at the pool stripped down to swim-shorts had opened dangerous floodgates. Seeing his reaction to her in the swimsuit he remembered. Trailing his forefinger along her bare skin. Bringing back so, so many memories…
Memories that should have withered and died…
It was seven years ago! she thought desperately. Surely to God I’ve moved on since then? How can he still have such an effect on me?
Yet he did, and she could not deny it. Fully clothed or stripped down, Xander still had the ability to make her eyes go to him, cling to him.
She felt her breath tighten. She mustn’t allow this, she just mustn’t. It was far, far too dangerous. Far too shameful.
That even after the hideous way it ended in Greece, even what he threw at me so vilely last night, that after all that, he can still make my heart beat faster, a flush of heat go through me.
Setting down her empty cup, she got to her feet.
She had better go and join Dan and his father out in the hotel gardens.
Better, surely, than remaining here, staring into the fire and brooding on her own shameful susceptibility to Xander Xenakis, to whom she was nothing but a thief, a liar and the woman who had deliberately kept his son from him.
Never to be exonerated for any of those crimes.