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I just sit down on the couch when Jayson appears. He looks at ease in casual clothes, not like the CEO of an international corporation that has made him one of the richest men in the world. He seems nearly approachable, which makes my stomach knot with tension. It’s easier when Jayson is remote, distracted, and buried in his work. Seeing him so relaxed puts me off. At least it’ll be my last vacation with him. I won’t have to worry for much longer.
Irina appears in the doorway. “Dinner is served,” she says with a small smile.
I jump to my feet as though propelled by a spring, hurrying forward. I’m desperate to escape this room they call the salon, since Jayson seems to consume all the oxygen and take up all the space. If we’re outside, I won’t notice his larger-than-life presence. Or his beautiful body in those clothes. Or imagine him naked again.
Forcing myself to fall into step with Jayson and Sophie instead of racing ahead, my head swims for a moment when Jayson places his large, warm hand on my bare back. It’s nothing more than a courteous gesture, but his fingers scorch my skin, making me shift with discomfort, though I don’t break contact. It just wouldn’t be polite to act like I can’t stand him to touch me at all.
Choosing not to step away has nothing to do with liking his touch entirely too much.
It’s a relief to break free of his touch and settle into the chair he pulls out for me before he does the same for Sophie. I’m reading too much into Jayson’s behavior. He’s mostly freed from the burden of work for the first time since we got married, and it’s only natural that he’s more open and friendly. It means nothing. I mean nothing to him. There’s no doubt about that, despite a little chivalry today.
Thank heaven, Sophie is chattering away as we dine on olives and eggplant marinated in olive oil, followed by fish in a yogurt-mint sauce, perfectly grilled vegetables, and a plate of cheese and figs that round out the meal. I contribute to the conversation on autopilot while my brain continuously scolds me.
Nothing more than remote politeness in regard to Jayson is allowed, I tell myself.
When we return to the salon for more conversation and thick Greek coffee served in demitasse cups, I ignore Jayson’s proximity, despite his sitting just a few feet away. Instead, I focus on Sophie, discussing the girl’s plans for her vacation.
When I catch Sophie smothering a yawn behind her hand, I stretch slightly. “Would anyone mind if we cut the evening short? I am completely exhausted.” My nap gave me a fresh burst of energy, but I don’t want to embarrass Sophie by suggesting it’s bedtime for the younger girl.
Sophie nods. “Yeah, you know what? I could use an early night.”
My stomach drops when Jayson answers, “So could I.” To my relief, he doesn’t place a hand on my back this time as we walk up the stairs close together. My stomach knots with apprehension as we bid goodnight to Sophie and continue on to the master suite. Despite my constant mental reassurances that Jayson’s actions don’t mean anything, I can’t help worrying that they might. Is he as sexually frustrated as I am?
Probably.
Do I seem like a convenient body for him to use over the summer?
I doubt it. Jayson’s never been blatant about having other women, but I know he must have during our marriage. Just instinctively I know he wouldn’t remain celibate for three years — just as I instinctively know his Greek pride would insist that I am.
I hold my breath as we enter the suite, pausing uncertainly near the door to the nursery. “Good night,” I offer with a hint of chill, prepared to turn down any advances he might make.
“Good night, Harper.” His voice betrays nothing as he walks past me to the bathroom.
I close the door with more force than truly necessary, not certain why I am annoyed. I should be overjoyed that he is so disinterested in me that he practically looked right through me on his way to the bathroom. I certainly shouldn’t be gnashing my teeth with anger that he’s suddenly become so distant again. The last thing I want is the complication of sex when we are so close to the end of our marriage.
Right?
…Right?
JAYSON
When I awaken, I’m briefly confused. It seems it’s just a short time after I finally dropped off. Something woke me, though I don’t know what. I hear a furtive scraping in the room, and my heart hammers in my chest as I speculate that Harper is possibly creeping through the darkened room, making her way to my bed to take me up on the invitation to share.
The appearance of a dim light in the closet dashes those hopes. I start to slide from the bed but hesitate. Harper is moving quietly, so she clearly doesn’t want me to wake up. Is she being polite, or is she trying to hide something?
I lie in the bed, eyes opened to slits, as I wait for her to leave the closet. A couple of minutes pass before the light goes out, and the door opens a second later. In the moonlight shining through the balcony’s French doors, Harper tiptoes across the room. A shaft of light illuminates her briefly, revealing her body clad in a white one-piece swimsuit. My groin tightens, and I clench my hands into fists to keep from reaching out for her as she creeps by me.
The well-oiled door opens soundlessly and closes with a nearly inaudible click as she leaves the bedroom. Her actions seem innocent, but I have to confirm her intentions. Is she really planning on a late-night swim, and will she be alone? I get out of bed and walk to the balcony. I’m not spying on her, and I’m certainly not spying on her without her knowledge, like some creepy stalker.
Peering out the glass door, it’s not the first time I’m glad that my room has a strategic overlook of the swimming pool. Within moments, she appears, diving into the pool with innate grace. It’s not too long before I have to force myself to step away from the window. It makes me feel strange to observe her when she doesn’t know I’m here. As much as I could drink in the sight of her swimsuit-clad body slicing through the water all night, I won’t.
And likely she’ll probably just jump out of the pool if I ask her if she wants my company.
Yeah, I have some work ahead of me before I can expect to seduce Harper. After the way I reacted on our wedding night, I can’t blame her for wanting to maintain her distance. But neither can I allow her to keep up the walls between us.
Besides, I like a challenge.
I was made for it.
