agenda? She thought back to the long, empty evenings she’d spent alone in their beautiful cavernous apartment, feeling that same sense of failure and fear that she was not enough to deserve anyone’s unswerving attention.
Fleetingly she considered saying something—but it was only the first day of their holiday, so maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he had walked away from his office at a moment’s notice, and that would have meant unpicking a full diary of meetings and appointments.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of hard, primed muscle, and instantly a heat that had nothing to do with the Mediterranean sun spread slowly over her skin.
Picking up her book, she opened it at random, irritated that, even when faced with evidence of his continuing obsession with work, her body still seemed stubbornly and irrationally determined to ignore the bad in favour of the good.
There was a loud splash, and automatically her eyes darted over to where the ‘good’ was unapologetically on display. In the shallow end of the pool Aristo was raising George out of the water on his shoulders, droplets of water trickling down the muscles of his arms and chest, and in the dazzling golden light he looked shockingly beautiful.
She gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t he own a ski lodge? Some snowbound chalet where quilted jackets and chunky jumpers were practically mandatory? she thought, her heart thumping as Aristo stood up and began to walk out of the water, the wet fabric of his shorts clinging to the blatantly masculine outline of his body.
Fully clothed and in a crowded hotel he had been hard to ignore, but half naked on a private island he was almost impossible to resist.
As though reading her mind, Aristo chose that particular moment to look over at her, and she felt a cool tingle run down her spine as his dark eyes drifted over her face, homing in on her mouth in a way that emptied the breath from her lungs.
She wanted to look away, but forced herself to meet his eyes—and then immediately wished she hadn’t as his piercing gaze dropped to the pulse beating agitatedly at the base of her throat, then lower still to the curve of her breasts beneath the peach-coloured bikini.
‘Look at me, Mommy! Look!’ George waved his hands excitedly.
‘Don’t worry, George,’ Aristo said softly, his dark eyes gleaming. ‘Mommy’s looking.’
Her skin was prickling as, still carrying their giggling son, he walked slowly towards her. Depositing George onto his feet, he dropped down lightly onto the lounger beside her, his cool, damp body sending a jolt over her skin like sheet lightning.
‘Here.’ Grabbing a towel, she unceremoniously pushed it into his hands. ‘Why don’t you dry off?’
‘I thought you might like to take a dip with me.’
His voice was cool and controlled, but the taunting expression in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.
‘Or are you scared of getting out of your depth?’
Their gazes locked and she wondered how it was possible that one little sentence could make her feel her so naked and exposed.
She tried to think of something smart to say, but she was struggling to control her voice. ‘No, of course I’m not scared.’ She glared at him.
His eyes hadn’t left her face. ‘Did you hear that, George?’ He glanced slyly over at his son. ‘Mommy’s going to come swimming with us.’
‘I didn’t say that—’ But as George began jumping up and down, she gave up. She held up her hands. ‘Okay, okay—I’ll go swimming. But later.’
Her face grew warm as she felt his dark eyes slowly inspect her, his narrowed gaze rolling over each of her ribs like a car over speed bumps.
‘That colour really suits you,’ he said softly.
Leaning forward, he tipped her book upwards to glance at the cover and she felt his thigh press against hers. Her mouth suddenly dry, she stared across at him.
‘Thank you.’ She felt her lips move, heard her voice, but none of it felt real. Nothing felt real, in fact, except the hard length of his leg.
‘Mommy? Please may I have a juice?’
Turning towards her son, she nodded. ‘Of course, darling.’
‘I’ll take him.’ Aristo stood up, and she clenched her muscles against the sudden, almost brutal feeling of loss as she watched her son trotting happily beside her ex-husband towards the villa.
* * *
Later, she joined them in the pool, and then she dozed in the sunshine while Aristo taught George to do a kneeling dive.
It felt strange, watching the two of them. In fact she felt the tiniest bit jealous of her son’s fascination with Aristo, for up until now it had always been just the two of them. Mainly, though, she was stunned but happy at how quickly and effortlessly they had bonded, and at the fact that Aristo seemed as enchanted by George as she was.
A knot began to form in her stomach. It had caught her off-guard, Aristo being so gentle and patient with his son. Growing up, that had been all she’d ever wanted from her own father—to be more than the fleeting focus of his wandering attention. And the blossoming relationship between Aristo and George was not merely a reminder of what she’d missed out on growing up, it also confirmed what she’d already subconsciously accepted—that there was no going back. They were going to have to tell George the truth.
Gazing down at the open but unread page of her book, Teddie felt a flicker of panic. Not about her son’s likely reaction to the news, but about what would happen when they left the island and returned to normal life.
Aristo might appear to be fully focused on George right now, but this was the honeymoon period, and she knew how swiftly and devastatingly things could change. Back in New York, her son would no longer be the only item on Aristo’s agenda. He was going to have to compete for his father’s time against the allure and challenge of work.
The tension in her chest wound tighter and tighter and she gripped the edges of the book, remembering how glorious it had been to feel the warmth of his gaze. And how cold it had felt when she’d been pushed into the shadows.
But it was too late to worry about that now. George wasn’t going to stay as a three-year-old for ever, and sooner or later he was going to want to know who his father was. And—as she’d already discovered—there was never a right time to tell the truth.
‘I thought we might eat together later tonight. Just the two of us.’
Aristo’s voice cut into her thoughts and her chin jerked up. They were lazing by the pool beneath a gleaming white canvas canopy. His gaze was steady, his voice measured.
‘We need to talk,’ he said quietly. ‘And, much as I love having our son around, it’ll be easier to do that when he’s not there.’
She knew her face had stilled. Her heart had stilled too, at the thought of spending an evening alone with him. But, ignoring the panicky drumming of her heart, she nodded. ‘I agree.’
And then, before her face could betray her, she lowered the brim of her hat and leaned back
