Her heart thudded. “At the end of the week.”
“Why not now?”
She bit down on her lip. While Christopher was asking a lot of questions, that wasn’t unusual. They’d been together for a long time. He’d coached her almost from the start, and she trusted him implicitly—that was mutual. In her ordinary schedule, he knew everything. That level of collaboration was necessary to achieve what she wanted.
Her eyes lifted to Leonidas’ face and her stomach fell to the floor.
Why not now?
Because of the crazed stalker who had pursued her to the ends of the earth? Sure. In part. But the real reason, that she could acknowledge only to herself, was that she wasn’t ready to leave yet. She wanted to stay here, in the Loire, with Leonidas. At his side, in his bed, unified, just for now.
“How did it go?”
He moved into the room once she’d disconnected the call. A frown marred her face, and her eyes were distant. He felt a threat brewing, a danger he couldn’t explain, and knew that staying here was costing her. That it was difficult for her to lie to her team. He understood all that, but it was necessary. Until her stalker was detained, he had to be make sure she was safe.
“Strange,” she said with a little shrug. “I have a tonne of exercises to do.”
“Dancing, like you were this morning?”
“In part.”
“Stretching?” He growled, eyes flicking over her body, remembering the sensual euphoria of pressing her body with his.
“Definitely.” The word was breathless. He grinned, arousal jerking with anticipation.
“Usually, I’d do aqua aerobics—perfectly low impact for my recovery, but given that’s not an option—,”
“Who says it’s not an option?”
She frowned. “I haven’t seen a pool here.”
“There is, in fact, a pool,” he said, with a nod. “But I have something better in mind.”
Her lips parted to form a circle. “I left my bathers at Benji’s villa.”
He came towards her, bracing a hand on either side of the table, eyes boring down at her. “They won’t be necessary. Where I am taking you is perfectly private.”
And a thrill of excitement leapt from him to her, so she was scraping back her chair so quickly she almost knocked over her coffee.
Not twenty minutes later,after a short walk in the morning sun, they arrived at the edge of a lagoon. It was, as Leonidas had promised, utterly private. At one time, the garden surrounding the lagoon would have been very formal, the bones of that remained in evidence, but carefully shaped bushes had now given way to wild abandon. What were once neatly rounded caps grew with enthusiasm towards the sky, branches like tendrils, striking out. In front of them sat a hedge of thick, fragrant lavender, and lower than that, tulips, still in bloom. An enormous magnolia tree grew to one side, the branches forming natural resting spots for birds and, if she were fifteen years younger, for Mila, who’d always had a penchant for tree climbing. A break in the foliage had been opportunistically taken up by wild grass, but the effect was quite striking, juxtaposed with the carefully planted cottage garden. Beyond that was an oak tree, enormous and strong, and very old, so Mila stared up at it in wonder. The water glimmered in the bright sunlight, and a gentle trickling sound drew her attention to a statue—a mermaid, of all things—at the edge of the water, designed to appear as though she were just emerging. The sun hit her in the right light, and Mila smiled, because her body was covered now in lichen, which somehow made her seem all the more magical.
“It’s so beautiful.”
Leonidas, when Mila turned to face him, was staring right at Mila, so her heart stammered, and she smiled somewhat awkwardly. Inside, that same little warning sign blared to life. She ignored it.
“Will it do?”
In truth, a pool would have been better, but she wasn’t about to turn up her nose at the chance to swim in a place such as this. Her response was to lift her hands to her shirt, pulling it off her head in one smooth movement, her cheeks flushing a little, because she wore no bra and she could feel his steady inspection. Her skirt came next, so she wore only her underpants. Her fingers found the elastic waistband but a moment later, he was right there, hands on hers, stilling her.
His hand lifted, catching her breast, cupping it, his forefinger and thumb moving over the flesh that had been rubbed raw by his stubble, by the focus of his attention the night before.
“Did I hurt you?”
Her eyes widened. She wasn’t capable of speech, only of shaking her head slowly, eyes hooded.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded now, swaying forward slightly, so her sex brushed his hardness and she made an involuntary sound of surprise and pleasure.