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“Yes. But he is an Aleksandros. He will adapt.”
Mikey leaned forward once more, but refrained from touching him. It was almost more distracting that she did not, for he was willing her to reach out and make contact again. His mind was concentrating on encouraging the touch so strenuously that he almost didn’t hear her next statement. “He might not adapt, Loucas. Not to being an Aleksandros.” He could tell from the way she crinkled her nose that she was choosing her words with care.
“What is it?” He urged. “You are not capable of offending me, Mikey, and I value honesty above all else. So please, speak your mind.”
“I think Andrew hero-worshipped his daddy. He’s a Washington, and an American. I know you want to imprint his Greek heritage on him, too, but you can’t push it.”
Loucas wasn’t angry at Mikey. Not really. He was angry at the American man who’d been so totally wrong for the sweet Helena. Who’d ultimately ruined her life and then ended it. “Then why make me come here?”
Mikey furrowed her brow. “You said I couldn’t offend you, and now you’re yelling at me.”
Loucas wanted to stand up and pace the length of the pool, but he didn’t, because then he wouldn’t be sitting at Mikey’s feet, fighting the urge to lift them onto his lap. “I am not yelling at you,” he contradicted, making an effort to lower his voice. When he looked at her, his eyes were desperate. “Tell me, Arnaki. Tell me what I can do to help him. I look at him and I am helpless. Normal children are hard enough, but one like Andrew… I don’t know what to say.”
Mikey felt his pain. Felt the enormity of what he, a man who controlled any room he entered, had just admitted to her. “We are going to the beach after his lessons. Why don’t you come with us?”
Loucas didn’t even pause to consider the contracts he was in the midst of perusing. “Fine. And you think my being there will help?”
“Absolutely. Just don’t push him. And, Loucas, the most important thing you can do is just show support. Encourage him. Understand that even the smallest communication is a breakthrough. Don’t be disheartened, and even if you are, don’t let it show.”
She stared into his eyes, dark and confusing, a web of pain and emotion. Her own prickled with tears. The sight of this big, indomitable force seeming lost and worried and grieving was almost too much to bear. Mikey opened her mouth, to tell Loucas that Andrew was going to be okay. But she couldn’t do it. Though she hoped against hope that the little boy would regain his skills and personality, there were never guarantees. Selective mutism had been known to carry well into adulthood in some trauma cases.
She settled for a watery smile. “It will mean a lot to Andrew to have you there with him.”
The air between them seemed to carry an understanding that defied explanation. Her hands were so close. He could reach out and take them in his. He could touch her knee. A simple gesture of gratitude.
“There she is, Sport,” Bobby’s confident voice boomed into the poolside courtyard.
The mood thundered and cracked, then broke. Mikey, self-conscious, stood, grabbing her brightly colored sarong and wrapping it around her body.
Unlike many of the women he’d dated, she latched it beneath her arms, so that it hung as a long dress, covering m
ost of her body. None of this hitching it low on the hips, as a tantalising sheath daring him to remove it. Mikey was genuinely trying to cover herself up. Why did it bother him? Why did it amuse him? Why did it entrance him?
Her smile was not modest. It was bright and beautiful. A beacon to the American man, who moved across the courtyard to stand close to Mikey. Too close. Their hips were virtually touching. It was an unmistakably intimate gesture.
Loucas looked away. Straight into Andrew’s face.
The little boy was watching him. Thoughtfully. Carefully. His skin was tanned like Helena’s. His eyes were the same shape and color. Looking out of this little boy’s face was his sister, and she was imploring him to love the boy she no longer could. Though he had no experience with children whatsoever, he somehow felt drawn to the child.
He grinned as he approached, unaware of the way Mikey was watching him from beneath her thick, curling lashes.
“Miss Jones tells me you’re going to the beach this afternoon.”
Andrew’s small face showed a flicker of enthusiasm.
“I would like to come with you, if that’s okay.”
Andrew and Mikey had been forging a relationship for a month. He didn’t want to alienate the boy by intruding. Mikey, watchful, was impressed by his consideration. It was a sound instinct, and mentally she applauded him.
“The beach?” Bobby’s voice was loud. Unwelcome. “That sounds fun. Mind if I hitch along?”
Loucas could see that Mikey was about to accept. She was already tilting her heart shaped face up at the American, an encouraging nod starting.
“Actually,” Loucas spoke, his voice thick and dark, sending small darts of awareness down Mikey’s spine, “I think this is better as a family excursion.”
Mikey’s heart sped up to the point it was bashing painfully against her ribcage. An afternoon with just Andrew and Loucas? It was too much alone time. Every bone in her body railed against spending more time than was necessary with this powerfully appealing Greek tycoon. “I’m not family,” she pointed out warily.
Loucas kept a smile pinned to his face, but his eyes held a warning hardness. “I want to spend time alone with Andrew, but I think he’d be more comfortable with you in attendance. Isn’t that in his best interests?”
