It was as if the admission was dragged out of him and that more than anything else made her believe it.
“You have feelings for me?” she choked out.
His jaw tightened. “Have dinner with me; spend the evening as my companion.”
Admissions of emotion were over it seemed, but he had said the words. His feelings could not be dismissed.
“And tomorrow?”
“You have no plane reservations.”
“But…”
“You do not have to leave right away.”
“I—”
He pressed his finger to her lips. “Shh…do not think.” His eyes were hotter than the scorching sun. “The past is gone, but we exist here in the present and I want to explore what it is between us.”
She could no more deny him than she’d been able to throw away her memories surrounding him. “All right.”
His smile stole her breath and then his lips finished the job, closing over hers with a drugging sensuality that left her dazed long after he walked her to her room and left her there to get ready for their dinner date.
She wore a dress Andrea had bought her, one she had left behind in Greece when she went to America. It was short, falling to three inches above her knee in a sophisticated black crepe, leaving her arms bare and though the neckline was demure, it clung revealingly to her breasts.
She would be horribly uncomfortable wearing it with another man, but Sebastian was different, even after everything that had transpired since the funeral. She was coming to accept that he always would be. To her.
Which was why she was willing to explore this thing between them. If it wasn’t Sebastian, she was sure it would never be anyone else. Not only because of what had happened to her when she was sixteen, but because the emotional connection she had to him had grown over years she had tried to starve it, staying away from Greece and the island.
What were the chances they would diminish altogether, even if she never saw him again? Nil. And if she cared for him, she wasn’t going to fall for someone else.
She didn’t want to.
Besides, he’d said he had feelings for her and for a guy like Sebastian, so proud and self-contained, that was a huge admission.
She took extra care with her makeup and hair, brushing it until it was like dark liquid silk and then pulling it into a classic French twist that added to the sophistication of her outfit.
As she stood outside the drawing room, she couldn’t help remembering what a fool she’d felt earlier dressing up for him and then hearing him say he could never love her. Maybe dressing this way had been a mistake. She should go change. Right now, before he saw her.
He looked at her as she tensed, ready to leave, and there was no mistaking the blatant male appreciation in his eyes. Her fears melted under the heat of his appraisal. He motioned to her to come to him and she started walking as if led by an invisible string.
When she reached him, he leaned down and kissed both her cheeks, his hands warm on her bare shoulders. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
He looked pretty darn gorgeous himself in a dark suit, tailored to fit his muscular structure to a T. He wore a tie, something he rarely did to dinner at home with the family and she realized he’d dressed up for her as well.
She smiled.
He got her a drink and then Eugenie called them into dinner. They spent the meal talking, their discussion surprisingly easy and diverse.
“So, why do you work as an accountant?”
“Why not be an accountant?” she quipped, sipping from her wineglass, feeling more relaxed with him than she ever had.
“You used to paint.”
“I still do.”
“So, why not work in a job that calls on your creativity?”
“I like my job. It’s not too demanding and the environment is peaceful.”
“Would not an artist’s studio be just as peaceful?”
“I’m not that good. Besides, it’s almost impossible to make a living as an artist.” And she’d realized early on that she needed a steady source of income if she was going to make a life different and separate from her mother’s.
“Matthias would have supported you.”
She physically shuddered at the thought. The cost would have been much too high. Living with Andrea. “I didn’t want to be supported. I wanted to make my own way.”
“That is commendable.” There was something in his tone she didn’t quite get.
“Thank you. I really do like my job though. Numbers are reliable and they don’t throw temper tantrums.”
“Do you?”
“There’s only room for one drama queen in a family. Andrea was ours. I’m pretty even tempered.”
He looked at her, as if assessing things about her she did not even know about herself. “I wonder.”
“Have you ever seen me have a fit?” she demanded, a little irritated he would question her assessment of herself.
Their argument earlier did not count. It had been mutual, not a diva temper tantrum and she had been blatantly provoked.
“No, but I had never seen you react with passion before the other night on the beach either.”
“It’s not the same.”
He shrugged as if the subject did not matter to him. “Perhaps not.”
But a little later, the conversation came back to her job.
“You cannot meet many men working for a woman’s fitness center?” he asked.
“No.” And she liked it that way.
“I am glad.”
“Why is that?”’
“I am a possessive man.”
“But I don’t belong to you.”
“Don’t you?”
Honesty in this instance, even with herself, would cost too much. The thought of belonging to a man who would never belong to her was hardly confidence building, so she ignored the question. “How long are you staying on the island?”
“For a few more days only. I must get back to Athens.”
“Your company is suffering?”
“I
