‘Nikos, that’s a daft question,’ she replied, in a rallying humorous tone.
But he was not mollified. ‘Then what is making you talk of going there on your own?’ he demanded.
She looked at him uncertainly. ‘When you invited me to Bermuda, Nikos, you told me it would just be for a couple of weeks—around the conference,’ she said.
He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘So we make it longer. That’s all. I’ve checked my diary and I can bring forward some meetings in New York scheduled for the following month. By extending our stay on Bermuda we can go straight from here to New York. Plus,’ he finished, ‘I could take up John Friedman’s invitation—I dare say it would prove very useful to me.’ He looked across the table. ‘So, let’s do it—shall we?’
His voice was expectant. But Mel’s expression did not lighten in return.
‘Nikos, I’m not sure it’s a good idea—’
His brow darkened. ‘Why?’ His question was blunt.
Her eyes slid away, out over the dark expanse of water beyond the beach. She wanted to put into words her reluctance, and yet it was hard to do so. Hard because shooting through her, making a nonsense of reluctance, was an arrow of sheer exhilaration that seemed to be penetrating to her very core.
He wanted to stay longer on Bermuda, to take her to New York! Wanted to spend more time with her! Wanted not to kiss her goodbye and wave her off out of his life!
She felt the force of it—felt its power.
And it was that that gave her pause.
I came with him for a holiday romance—that’s all. A couple of weeks with Nikos—a glorious, fantastic, fabulous entrée in the banquet of my new life of travelling, of freedom and self-indulgence—that was what this holiday was supposed to be. All that I planned it to be.
A holiday romance was something she could accommodate. Indeed, she’d envisaged fun-filled, light-hearted holiday romances as being an integral part of her new free life. Making up for the lost years of enforced celibacy, for the absolute lack of romance in her life while she’d cared for her grandfather.
But when did a holiday romance turn into something more?
If she let Nikos take her to New York what would come afterwards? He would still go back to Athens, wouldn’t he? Still kiss her goodbye...
Her mind sheered away. She didn’t want to think of that. Didn’t want to think about anything except what she had now—their time together here in Bermuda. Their holiday romance...
Beautiful—and brief.
Her eyes swept back to him, found his resting on her, dark and stormy-looking.
‘Why?’ he asked again. ‘Why is going to New York with me not a good idea?’
He would not let it go. Why was she saying such a thing? Weren’t they having a fantastic time here in Bermuda? Why not keep going with it?
We’re so good together.
That was what was in his head all the time. Simple, uncomplicated and true. There was no reason for her to be unenthusiastic about him going to New York with her. She wanted to go there—he wanted to go there with her. What was the problem?
He wanted her to answer so that he could dispose of her objections. But at that juncture the waiter arrived with their food, and as he left them Mel determinedly changed the subject.
He could see the ploy for what it was—a way to stop him grilling her—and he accepted it. There were more ways to persuade her than by out-arguing her...
That night, as he took her in his arms, he put into their lovemaking all the skill and expertise that lay within his command, deliberately drawing from her a consummation that left her shaking, trembling in his arms—left him shaking, trembling in hers.
Finally, sated and exhausted, they drew apart and lay beside each other, their bodies sheened with perspiration, their breathing hectic, the echoes of their shared ecstasy still burning between them. He levered himself up on his elbow, smoothing back her damp hair, gazing down into her wide eyes.
‘Come to New York with me...’ he whispered.
His lashes dropped over his eyes, his mouth dipped to graze her lips, parted and bee-stung from his passion.
‘Come to New York with me...’ he whispered again.
Surely she must be persuaded now? Surely she must not want what was between them to end before it needed to? And it did not need to—not yet. They did not have to part—they could keep going—keep going to New York and who knew how far beyond? Who knew how long this romance would last? All he knew was that he had no intention—none at all—of letting it go a single moment before he was ready.
But she didn’t answer him—only let her eyes flutter shut and rolled herself into his waiting embrace. And he closed her against him, hugging her tight, so tight, against the wall of his chest.