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Wearing a modest all-in-one swimsuit, black in color and staid in design, he still found her pulling his gaze more than he liked. She stretched her toes and yawned, arching her arms up in the air above her head. Then, she settled back onto the lounger and closed her eyes.
Andrew must have been sleeping, or perhaps doing his lessons. For Mikey was not often without her little charge. Despite the fact there were three other ex
perts employed to help Andrew return to his usual self, Mikey seemed to bear the lion’s share of looking after him.
He stood without realising he was doing so.
The stairs were many but he took them quickly.
He pushed through the glass doors into the sunny forecourt that bordered the pool.
And paused, when he was just a short distance from Mikey.
She was singing. He strained to listen. He wasn’t into pop music but he recognised the latest hit from the soulful British crooner who’d taken the world by storm.
“All on your own?”
Mikey jumped guiltily and blinked up at Loucas. She’d been drifting off to sleep, dreaming about him, and he’d appeared as if out of nowhere. Her sleep fogged brain struggled to return to alertness. He was dressed in a crisp white business shirt, with a pair of navy trousers. It wasn’t the formal suit he’d been wearing that day in Athens, but he looked immaculate and professional, and dangerously handsome, all at the same time.
She swallowed and darted her tongue out to moisten her lower lip. “Andrew’s doing lessons with Bobby.”
He nodded. That explained why the cowboy wasn’t doing his usual puppy dog routine. “Is it normal for a four year old to take lessons in America?”
There was a lounger beside Mikey but Loucas chose to settle himself at the end of hers. She had to bend her legs at the knees to create room for him, or else she suspected he might have just sat on her feet.
“Children would attend kinder, or similar. A crèche. A preschool program.” She thought of Andrew. He was undoubtedly intelligent, but his mind was in such a fog, his heart in deep mourning. Getting through to him was proving almost impossible. “Andrew is very bright. Nanny Paxton showed me some of his drawings and work books from…before.” She faltered, flicking a quick gaze at his face. It was without emotion. “The hope is that he will continue to learn, even though he is not communicating.”
“And you are certain he will be able to relearn those skills?”
Mikey expelled a slow sigh. “I hope so.”
A crease formed between Loucas’s brows. “But you can’t be sure?”
“No, of course not.” She leaned forward, forgetting for a moment that his body set her pulse skittering. In that moment, she saw him only as a concerned guardian, wanting answers about a perplexing and saddening situation. She placed a hand on his knee, to draw his attention back to her face. “All children react to trauma differently. There is no hard and fast rule book on what type of therapy is most successful. I’m adapting my approach according to how Andrew responds. I believe he will return to his old self, eventually.”
Loucas liked the way her hand felt on his knee. She was soft and curved, where he was hard, and dark, and firm with muscular strength. “And what approach works best for Andrew?”
Mikey’s smile was enigmatic. “That’s easy. He’s an outdoorsman in the making. He hates being locked indoors. Even here,” she gestured, with her free hand, towards the palatial villa, “where it is stunning as heck. But once I get him outside, and distract him by kicking a ball or running from marker to marker, I can see that he’s getting close to dropping his reserves and communicating.”
“You’re very passionate about what you do,” Loucas said, quietly, his eyes trained on hers.
She startled, remembering where she was and who she was talking to. With a prim and dismissive smile, she leaned back in the chair, clasping her hands neatly in her lap. “I am. I like helping kids.”
“You work only with children?” He queried, ignoring the way his leg was tingling where she’d been touching him.
“Yes. It’s a specialist field.”
“You are highly respected,” he stated, and from the factual tone he’d employed, she knew he hadn’t meant it as a compliment. More a statement of fact. And Mikey had no false modesty when it came to her job, so she nodded.
“I’ve worked some hard cases. I’ve always managed to find a way through to the patient. It can take time, and patience, but the results are worth it.”
“I’m sure. I look forward to seeing results in Andrew.”
Mikey felt a small seed of doubt form in the pit of her stomach. “Are you disappointed it’s taking so long?”
Loucas’s face showed his surprise. “Of course not. I am eager for my nephew to be well once more, but I understand that his healing cannot be rushed.” He shrugged. “I have absolutely no knowledge when it comes to this area. I rely on the experts. Which is why I have hired you. Each of you is the best in your field. And when it comes to my flesh and blood, I want the best.”
She toyed with the end of her plait absentmindedly. “He’ll get there, Loucas. He’s only four. This is all very scary for him.”
