“That must have been an early start,” she noted. “I’ll come down as soon as I dress.” She was actually starving and anxious to get a grip on how things would proceed.
Plus, she’d rather not face Leon alone. She’d rather not face him at all. Their make-out session had kept her tossing and turning with sexual frustration and mortification. If Illi hadn’t interrupted them, she would have made love with him. Tanja kept telling herself deprivation had caused her to react with such abandon, but Leon had lost none of his skill or appeal. One kiss and she’d been right back to the crush that had made her so reckless five years ago.
What he’d ever seen in her remained a mystery. Five years of forgoing carbs made stale bread look really appetizing, she supposed.
No matter why they’d succumbed to impulse, the fact was that the uneasy truce they’d established was impacted. Tanja’s sense of who they were, individually and as a couple, had vanished. When she had been able to dismiss him as that jerk who had abandoned her, she had faced him without self-consciousness over whether he found her attractive or liked her. She’d been convinced he felt nothing toward her or he wouldn’t have left her.
With the memory of his hands sweeping away the blankets and his mouth chasing across hers, however, she was plunged into overanalyzing and second-guessing. She eyed her crinkle cotton skirt and pale pink sleeveless T-shirt with a wish that she possessed something more flattering—or at least had her old curves to fill out what hung off her like wet laundry on a rack. She was still very pale, her lips almost white, her hair fine and flat.
Was this the real reason he’d forsaken her? Her lack of appeal and sophistication?
Who cared? She wanted him out of her life.
Didn’t she?
Leon wasn’t as feckless as she’d judged him. He was infuriating in his lack of remorse where Zach and the loss of her father’s marina was concerned, but he’d explained enough that she understood better the pressures that had pushed him to act the way he had. The things he’d said about his father were particularly chilling. She was proud of him for trying to make reparations, but the experience had clearly left an indelible scar on him, one that would be with him always.
Her heartache on his behalf didn’t change her desire to divest herself of a marriage that was nothing more than a piece of paper, though. She couldn’t remain married in name only forever.
The problem was, his passionate kisses had reawakened a desire to have...something. With someone.
Not him, of course. He didn’t believe in lifelong commitments and didn’t want children.
Illi had finished her bottle and was rolling and squirming, ready to take on the world. Tanja could have stood there angsting over Leon and her appearance for the rest of the day, but she gathered her daughter and searched out the lido deck.
The dining area next to the main swimming pool was sometimes called the beach, Kyle had informed her.
Tanja emerged into the shadow of an awning, but the glare off the pool and the gleaming, polished deck made her squint. The view beyond was open to the stern. Rocky islands rose from an impossibly blue sea, reaching toward a cerulean sky. The salt-scented breeze caught her skirt, playing it against her shins in a tickling caress. Soft notes of a bouzouki came from hidden speakers while casual voices milled over a buffet spread.
“Tanja.” Leon broke away to approach her. He wore crisp linen pants in a bone color and a collared T-shirt in rust red. He moved with his usual panther-like grace, stealing her breath. He’d tidied up around his stubble, but she couldn’t read his expression, thanks to his mirrored sunglasses. “Good morning.”
He casually claimed Illi and lowered his chin to say good morning to the baby in Greek, then caught Illi’s hand when she tried to put a palm print on his sunglasses. His thumb tucked into her palm and she curled her tiny fingers over it.
That small gesture undid all the stern lectures Tanja had given herself five minutes ago.
“How are you feeling?” Leon asked her.
For one heart-stopping moment, Tanja thought he was asking about last night. In front of all these people. And everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her as though they were also curious to know how she felt after some heavy petting with her estranged husband.
As her stomach swooped and panged, however, she remembered she was sick.
“Feeling much better,” she said in a strangled voice. “No fever. I’m actually quite hungry.”
“Good. Let me introduce you.” He drew her toward the half-dozen men and women in casual but crisp business wear. A few gave side-eyes at Leon’s comfortable wrangling of Illi, but they offered Tanja warm smiles.
“Good morning,” Tanja said shyly as she tried to memorize the names of two different lawyers, a PR manager, a photographer, Leon’s PA, and a stylist who looked at her the way her brother looked at a salvaged boat—like scraping the seaweed and barnacles would be a ton of work but hopefully worth the effort.
“Help yourself,” Leon said to Tanja, nodding at the heaping platters of brunch items.
He moved to where an infant swing had been suspended in the shade near the head of the table and secured Illi into it. He gave it a nudge, and they all laughed at the way Illi squealed and began to happily kick her legs.
Moments later, when Tanja came to the table with her filled plate, Leon loomed beside her, holding the chair closest to Illi, to the left of the head of the table.
His gallantry flustered her. Was he trying to show off?
If he noticed her blush, he didn’t let on.
“Kyrkos texted that you don’t need antibiotics. Rest, fluids, and vitamins.” He nodded at the pill bottle standing next to her water glass.
“Thanks. Did you ask what I should take for the rage blackout over having my child exploited?” she asked in an undertone.
“Ha.” His barked laugh made everyone turn their heads, wanting in on the joke. “I already know what to take for that.” The corner of his mouth curled with a lack of mercy. “The sweet serum of revenge. I’ve already ordered it.”
She widened her eyes. “In the form of?”
“I’ve rescinded my offer to host him and his wife aboard this yacht. Presumably, whatever Cameron gets for the photo is sufficient compensation for his house call. The doctor’s ex-wife and her new beau, however, have been invited to enjoy a month aboard Poseidon’s Crown in the location of their choice.”
“Oof.” Tanja sat back against the cushions in her chair. “You’re not a man to cross, are you?”
“I’m really not,” he said with a flinty smile.
Tanja’s heart went cold as she remembered she had crossed Leon.