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I don’t want this time to end! Not yet!
Even as she heard the cry inside her head she knew it should not be there. Knew she should not be feeling what she was feeling now—as if she were being hollowed out from the inside. She had no right to feel that way.
Right from the start she had known that whatever it was she was going to indulge herself in with Marc, it was only that—an indulgence. They had come together only by circumstance, nothing more. Nothing had ever been intended to happen between them.
He never meant to have this time with me. Would never have chosen it freely. It was simply because of his need to use me to keep Celine away from him! He’d never have looked twice at me otherwise—not with any intent of making something of it.
Memory, harsh and undeniable, sprang into her head. Of the way Marc had stood there, that first day she’d arrived, telling her that her presence was just a job, that he was out of bounds to her, that she was there only to play-act and she was not to think otherwise. He could not have spelt out more clearly, more brutally, that she wasn’t a woman he would choose for a romance, an affair, any relationship at all...
She knew it. Accepted it. Had no choice but to accept it. But even as she told herself she could hear other words crying out in her head.
He might ask me to go with him! He might—he could! He could say to me just casually, easily, Come to New York with me—let me show you the sights. Be with me there.
She looked at him now. His expression was remote. He was thinking about things other than her. Not asking her to go with him.
Then, abruptly, his eyes met hers. Veiled. He picked up his discarded napkin, resumed his meal. ‘So,’ he said, and his voice was nothing different from what it always was, ‘if this is to be our last day, how would you like to spend it?’
She felt that hollow widening inside her. But she knew that all she could do was echo his light tone, though she could feel her fingers clenching on her knife and fork as she, too, resumed eating.
‘Can we just stay here, at the villa?’ she asked.
One last day. And one last night.
There was a pain inside her that she should not be feeling. Must not let herself feel.
But she felt it all the same.
* * *
Marc executed a fast, hard tack and brought the yacht about. His eyes went to Tara, ducking under the boom and then straightening. Her windblown hair was a halo around her face as she pushed it back with long fingers, refastening the loosened tendrils into a knot.
How beautiful she looked! Her face was alight, her fabulous body gracefully leaning back, and her eyes were the colour of the green-blue sea.
One thought and one thought alone burned in his head. I don’t want this time with her to end.
How could he? How could he want it to end when it had been so good? All the promise that she had held for him, all that instant powerful allure she’d held for him from the very first moment he’d set eyes on her, had been fulfilled
.
He knew, with the rational part of him, that had he never had to resort to employing her to keep Hans’s wife at bay he would never have chosen to follow through on that initial rush of desire. He’d have quenched it, turned aside from it, walked away. Hell, he wouldn’t even have known she existed, would he? He’d never have gone to that fashion show had it not been for Celine...
But he had gone, he had seen her, and he had used her to thwart Hans’s wife...
He had brought her into his life.
Had rewarded himself with her.
His grip on the tiller tightened. It’s been good. Better than good. Like nothing else in my life has ever been.
From the first he’d known he wanted her—but these days together had been so much more than he’d thought they could be! He watched as she leant back, elbows on the gunwale, lifting her face to the sun, eyes closed, face in repose as they skimmed over the water, her hair billowing in the wind, surrounding her face again.
He felt something move within him.
I don’t want this to end.
Those words came again—stronger now. And bringing more with them.
So don’t end it. Take her with you to New York.
