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But at the moment, she just lay there in the early-morning light and watched Lukas sleep.
Lukas.
She had gone to bed with Lukas Antonides. Had had sex with Lukas Antonides. She had spent so many years furious with him, or fighting with him or pretending he didn’t exist that it fairly boggled her mind.
She lay there, studying him, trying to think things through, then deliberately stopped herself. There was nothing to think about. She had no expectations. For six weeks she was going to live in the moment. She wouldn’t let herself want anything else—wouldn’t even let herself consider anything else.
Just live, she told herself. Be in the moment. The moment, after all, was the only thing you ever really had.
And this was a moment she hadn’t expected to ever have—a time to contemplate Lukas unmoving except for the soft draw and exhalation of his breath. That was novel in itself. But so was seeing him looking young and unguarded.
Young, well, she had seen that before. But she didn’t think she had ever seen Lukas unguarded. The edgy watchfulness or quicksilver enthusiasm she normally associated with his expressions were entirely absent. There was a gentleness to his mouth now. His lips looked softer. And heaven help her, Holly knew now exactly how soft that was.
And how persuasive.
She wanted to curl up next to him and go back to sleep. But she felt oddly energized, as well. And if she were going to really be his gallery manager, she had unpacking to do and material to read from the artists that Charlotte had given her last night.
Besides, she didn’t know what it would be like when Lukas woke up. It could be awkward. Holly had no experience of “mornings after”—except with Matt. She didn’t know the protocol of brief affairs.
She slid out of bed and let herself take one last look at him. She had six weeks with this man—as long as he didn’t tire of her sooner. But she wouldn’t think about that, either. Live for the moment, she told herself again.
She would. For six weeks she would.
And then she would walk away unscathed.
* * *
When he awoke, Lukas was alone.
It was nearly nine. He hadn’t slept till nine in years. But he’d slept like the dead after making love to Holly. He lay back and folded his arms under his head and grinned, energized, replete—and hungry all over again. He went downstairs and banged on the door to the gallery manager’s apartment.
Holly opened it, color touching her cheeks as she looked up at him. “Hey.” Her voice was soft, a little hesitant.
“Hey, yourself.” And he hauled her into his arms and kissed her. She tasted like sunshine and apples and something singularly Holly. God, it was good. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Just this.” She waved a half-eaten apple at him. “I’m still looking for my granola.”
“We can find it later. I know a great brunch place.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
“I should work.” She gestured at the artists’ info spread out on the bar.
But Lukas shook his head. “I’m your boss. I say we have brunch.”
He took her to a little place not far from the gallery. It was unpretentious and undiscovered by any but the locals. But there were enough locals that they had to wait for a table.
Since he’d been back in the city, Lukas had found himself edgy, aware of too many people going too many places, always in a rush. Over all the years he’d been gone, he had grown used to space, to horizons, to the only noises being the ones he or those he was with made themselves. The cacophony that was New York had irritated him in a way he hadn’t expected. And he hadn’t been able to blot it out until now.
Being with Holly made the rest of the world recede. He wasn’t busy thinking ahead, wondering where he needed to be next or what he needed to do.
He knew instinctively that he was right where he was supposed to be, sitting across a tiny table from the one woman who could make him laugh and think and want to argue, all within the space of a minute.
He might—oh, once or twice—have thought it would be nice to be back in bed with her. But it would happen, he promised himself.
“What are you smiling about?” Holly asked.
She had been telling him about Althea’s upcoming wedding, and Lukas supposed he should be sympathetic. But it sounded like another of several weddings too many.
“Just thinking about taking you to bed,” Lukas replied.
The color rose in her cheeks. She rolled her eyes. “Well, stop!”
“I like thinking about it. I like doing it. I thought you did, too.” He raised a brow at her.
