Chapter Nine
LAUREL SWALLOWED HER CHAMPAGNE, the delicate mousse beading in her throat. Xander’s last words echoed in her mind. Let’s just have this evening.
Her eyes were resting on him, and she felt something turn over inside her—familiar but from so long ago…
How gorgeous he is, how I revel in gazing at him. How I always did. And still do.
That was the truth she could not deny. Could only accept.
His words came again. Let’s just have this evening.
A wave of weariness went through her. Opposing Xander, fighting his condemnation of her, whether it was for the bracelet or keeping Dan from him, fighting his high-handed intention to uproot their lives, hers and Dan’s, sweeping all before him in his imperious will, fighting—above all now—her punishing, unpardonable susceptibility to him. Fighting, fighting, fighting.
She was tired of it all. So tired.
Her eyes still rested on him as she set back her champagne flute. His eyes were resting on her in return, but there was in them an expression she had not seen before. Not challenging, not expectant, but waiting.
But not impatiently, not making assumptions, not doing anything at all except letting her choose to accept what he’d said. If she herself wanted to…
Let’s just have this evening.
And suddenly they were her words too. She would have this evening, She would have it for herself.
For the pleasure of Xander at his best, for putting aside, just for this evening, everything tormented and tormenting that lies between us.
Just for this evening.
Slowly, very slowly, she nodded.
“Just for this evening,” she said.
She felt the weariness of fighting him, of all that she must resist about him, fall away like a heavy cloak.
Around her shoulders her loosened hair felt like the silk of her gown softly draping her body.
To look good again…beautiful…was suddenly a release, a pleasure.
If Xander was as gorgeous as only he could be, then she, too, she knew, was at her best as well.
Even in Greece she had never looked this glamorous, worn so beautiful a gown. Dan had chosen well.
A little smile lifted her lips as she thought it, meeting the smile in Xander’s eyes—his dark gold-glinting eyes that had always made her breath catch when they rested on her.
As they were now. His lashes sweeping down, making her breathless all over again.
He lifted his champagne glass to her.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
And the wash of his eyes was a caress.
Xander felt the last of his tension ebb from him. The very last of it. Before his eyes, holding hers, he’d seen her let fall the final hesitation. His smile on her was warm, embracing. Now he could give himself to the evening ahead.
Because now she is giving herself too.
Just as he was.
They drank more of their champagne, and then their waiter was there depositing their starter plates, refilling their flutes, gliding away again.
All around was the sound of the other diners settling into their gourmet meals, the murmur of conversation, and on the far side of the dining room, where a second set of double doors opened widely out into the hall beyond, was a pianist sitting down at a large grand to gently waft soft music over the room.
The food was delicious, and Xander acknowledged it, Laurel agreeing.
It gave them something to talk about, something entirely neutral.
Several times Xander found himself nearly referencing back to Greece, but pulled away in time.
He wanted nothing to upset her, nothing to allow anything in tonight that might drag in difficulties.
This is about now, about this evening. Nothing else.
He kept it light and easy and undemanding, and he felt Laurel be glad for it too.
They talked about the hotel, when it had been a private home, the history of it—again, a carefully neutral subject.
They talked about the music that was playing, identifying the melodies, capping each other.
He felt her relax, give herself to what was happening, this evening of easy enjoyment, of gourmet dining and gracious surroundings.
They talked about Dan, how he’d enjoyed all their outings and adventures, and more that could come another time.
And all the while, Xander could not take his eyes from her her incandescent beauty revealed to him again.
And she was returning it. No longer fighting it. Not denying it or dismissing it. Not hiding it.
It was like a cocoon around them, a silvered mesh gathering them together.
Was it like how it had been in Greece? He didn’t want to think about it, not because there were any bad memories—not until the disastrous ending—but because he wanted, overwhelmingly, to focus on the present, not the past.
The present that he had here and now. That they both had.
He was going very softly, very gently. Letting her see how he appreciated her, how wonderful her newly revealed and adorned beauty was to him, but not pressing her with it. Holding back.
He didn’t want to scare her off, make her wary again, go back into denial, withdrawal.
So he made it easy to be with him, talk with him, enjoy the evening with him.
And when their mains were cleared away, their wine glasses refilled with the rich ruby red he’d chosen for them both, they sipped it peaceably while the small band gathered beside the grand piano, the promised cabaret starting up.
The performers were good, highly professional, and the numbers they chose were a mix of old and new, the singers giving lively or haunting interpretations as the songs required. As the desserts circulated, applause was warm and appreciative.
Xander’s eyes went to Laurel. She was sitting back, relaxed, finishing the last of her wine, her lips moving in echoes of the current number, a lilting familiar one from a musical, her eyes alight. He felt it go through him again, that wash of delight in her beauty, his desire of it.
Something moved within him. It was more than just what had made him want to conspire with Dan to get her here, achieve this evening with her, see her again as beautiful as he knew her to be.
Something was happening to him that had never been there before, not in Greece.
Back then, desire had flamed with the heat of youth, the carefree, avid indulgence of their private idyll. Now it was…
More. Somehow, there is more now. Something…free.
Was that it? In Greece, for all their idyll, he’d known that in the wings, Olympia had been waiting for him. Had that shadowed his time with Laurel? Even before that calamitous ending?
But Olympia is gone now, finding her own happiness, her own future, without me in it. Freeing me.
And if Olympia was freeing him for Laurel, something else was binding her to him, uniting her to him.
Our son.
His eyes rested on her. The mother of his son. The woman he desired. Both in the same person. He felt emotion rise in him.
The song ended. Their waiter was whisking away their wine glasses, setting down dessert wine, their dessert plates and disappearing off again.
Laurel turned back to him, smiling. “I do love that song,” she said nostalgically. Her eyes went to her dessert. Gleamed appreciatively. “And this looks delicious!”
She lifted her spoon, dipped it into the rich confection and gave a happy sigh.
Xander smiled indulgently, took a mouthful of his sweet but delicate Sauterne, and made a start on his own dessert.
It was a peaceable moment to be savoured and enjoyed.
Like all that this evening was bringing them.
Laurel gave a sigh of repletion. “That,” she said, “was heavenly!”
She pushed back the silvered dish that had just held the most delicate and delicious bavarois framboise.
Xander gave a low laugh. It sent a tremor through her, but she did her best to ignore it, despite the champagne and wine coursing in her veins.
“Shall I order another for you?” he asked.
She shook her head, sitting back, and reaching for her glass of sweet dessert wine. “Best not,” she said. “It’s a good life lesson. Don’t ask for too much. Don’t get greedy.”
As she spoke, taking a sip of her wine, feeling it flow into her, as if directly into her already wine-laden veins, she felt the words echo.
Had she been greedy once, wanted too much?
She heard her own assertion made earlier to Xander replay.
That she had never had any expectations of their time together in Greece.
It was a classic holiday romance.
She clung to those words now. Yes, it had come to grief, but that did not change that it had been a holiday romance, nothing more.
A romance that could not be rekindled, for it had ended badly and had been so long ago.
Yet her eyes went to him, to Xander in his tuxedo, just like he’d been seven years ago, as if those seven years of separation could not possibly exist. She could not help herself. Emotion washed through her. A weakness she should deplore, resist. But could not. Not any longer, not this evening.
Just for this evening.
That’s what she had given herself to, to this evening here with Xander. It washed through her again. Dear God, but just how gorgeous he was. No man ever had come anywhere close to Xander.
He met her eyes. Held them. Locked on to them. Breath left her, and she felt weakness washing through her, possessing her, roaring in her heart.
“Shall we dance?” he asked.
The band had struck up again, the vocalist launching into a husky-voiced familiar romantic number, and couples were moving towards the dance floor.
He didn’t wait for an answer, only got to his feet and held out an inviting hand towards her. For a moment she hesitated, wine glass still in her hand, eyes still locked to his. Then, heartbeat hectic, she took his outstretched hand.
She knew that she should not let Xander’s strong, warm fingers close over hers, draw her to her feet, set down her glass for her, lead her forward, take her into his arms. Yet she did…
Just for this evening.
The words echoed in her head as her body folded into his embrace.