“I grew up with a brother,” she was muttering. “I learned to be competitive. I wanted to prove I could outsmart you, that’s all.” The trusting way she’d been relaxed against him had evaporated. She was nothing but bony, ropy tension now.
“I know,” he assured her with a single sweep of his palm down her narrow back. But he’d heard more beneath her remark than excitement at finding a loophole. He might not know everything about his wife, but he knew she believed in people and futures and family. “But do you remember what I said about being realistic?” he asked gently.
She was silent for a long time, but the way she was holding her breath told him she was still awake. Hell, she wasn’t fighting tears, was she? That would kill him.
When she spoke, her voice held the toughness he’d always admired in her. “I think you underestimate my desire to win,” she said with quiet dignity.
And she was underestimating his willingness to lose, especially if it meant she and her child would be better off in the long run. He only kissed her forehead and said, “Let’s just enjoy what we have right now.”
Tanja woke in a lingering stupor from their lovemaking. Leon had risen in the night to close all the doors. Within moments of him returning to the bed, they’d been making love again with equally cataclysmic results.
That had been deeply reassuring, given how he’d reacted to her suggestion they stay married. She hadn’t meant to sound so... Ugh. She threw her arm over her eyes, angry with herself over something that had been a stupid joke.
One that had brimmed with wistful yearning on her part, she had realized once he’d brutally shut down “forever” as an option. Recalling his “be realistic” warning—twice—caused sharp cracks to fracture from the middle of her heart outward, making all her bones ache.
Tanja was a hopeful person by nature. She couldn’t help thinking they had something, given that neither of them had slept with anyone else in five years. Their first time falling into bed again had probably registered on nearby seismographs.
But things were happening much as they had the last time. Leon turned her head. Of course he did. He was a man who had everything—looks and wit and smarts. Wealth and confidence and, as it turned out, a massive soft spot for a baby who wasn’t even his.
Any woman in the world would find him irresistible and spin a few fantasies about hitching her future to his.
Tanja had opened her heart to him once already, though. And look what happened. He’d walked away and five years had passed without a word. He had only come to her in Istuval because he’d thought doing her a favor would make their divorce go more smoothly.
He wanted a divorce. She had to remember that. Leon might want her body, but he didn’t want to make a life with her and her daughter. When all this was over, would he even keep up a relationship with Illi? If Tanja was being realistic, she had to go on the assumption she and Leon would part ways permanently this time.
Oh, that hurt. It felt like failure, which was silly. Her future would still hold Illi and, hopefully, Brahim. It would be a very rich life. She didn’t need a man to complete it. She and Leon had never stood a real chance anyway. That’s what she was learning.
Surely they could be friends, though? She “liked” the photos of her first love’s baby and supported her high school boyfriend’s music ambitions by downloading his songs. She and Leon were sharing intensely personal things, their bodies among them. Did all of that mean nothing to him? Would he really be able to walk away and forget her completely?
As she stared at the ceiling, heart aching, she had to reconcile herself to the fact she might, indeed, mean very little to him. He was a closed-off, compartmentalized type of man.
“Well, that’s quite an opinion,” she heard Leon say, which made a spike of awareness flash through her, as though he’d read her thoughts, but he was talking to Illi, quiet and indulgent. “I’ve had executives on my payroll who don’t make as much sense as you do. Try to keep it down, though. Mommy is still sleeping.”
Tanja realized the distant, garbled squawks she kept hearing weren’t a seabird.
“I’m awake,” she called.
A pause, then Leon brought Illi in. She was chewing her fist and wearing a fresh onesie.
Leon, the scoundrel, wore nothing but a pair of low-slung boxers and undiluted sex appeal. The sight of his strong arm curled so securely around her daughter lit up all of Tanja’s biological buttons. Love her. Love us both, she wanted to beg him.
He set Illi on the rumpled blankets next to her. His expression was shuttered, but his lashes flickered as though his gaze saw through the covers and tracked restlessly over her naked skin.
“Her bottle is on the way. So is breakfast. I have to make some calls, but we’ll take the helicopter to Athens as soon as we’re ready.”
“Oh.” Reality. She was starting to hate it. Why couldn’t they float along in this honeymoon-like bubble aboard the yacht?
His gaze finally hit hers, tangling up with the conflicted yearning twisting in her gut. His was mostly unreadable, but she saw the memories there of their torrid night, the flash of hunger in the way he stopped himself from swooping down over her like a hawk.
Before she realized what she was doing, she lifted her arm in invitation.
He dug his knee into the mattress and leaned across Illi’s small, kicking body. The weight of his mouth pressed Tanja onto her back while she received the most tender ravishment imaginable.
She moaned in a mix of startled reaction and shaken nerves. She hadn’t expected him to drag her so easily into the miasma of need for his mouth, his touch. She was distantly aware of Illi squirming beneath the bridge of his body, but each time he started to draw away, Tanja pressed her fingertips into the back of his neck and he came back. He delved and tasted, and left her hot and dazed and utterly breathless.
Finally, he disobeyed her urging and lifted away.
He remained braced over the two of them, his one hand on Tanja’s far side, his gaze tracking over what had to be a very flushed and dazzled expression on her face.
“Temptress.” It was more accusation than compliment, but his mouth twisted in self-deprecating humor. “Ogling me like I’m ice cream on a hot summer’s day.”
She folded her wet, swollen lips together and lifted the sheet enough to peek beneath, deliberately teasing him because, when they were like this, they were perfectly aligned.
“So I am.” She sealed the edge across her breasts and pinned the sheet with her arm. “Too bad I can’t show you. I’m definitely in the mood for ice cream. Not plain vanilla, either.”
His gaze warmed with amusement and remained locked with hers as he eased back. He touched Illi’s fine hair on his way. As he straightened to stand beside the bed, he spoke in a voice that was more threat or command than the imparting of information.