Modern Romance February Books 5-8. Jane Porter
mirage that shimmered in the distance, hazy and tantalising, always just out of reach, slipping between her fingers like smoke.
Her heart began to beat faster.
Except yesterday, when out of nowhere he’d suddenly unbent, opening up to her about his childhood in a way that she would never have imagined possible. It had been a brief glimpse into what had made him the man he was, but also a fairly damning reflection on their marriage—for how could she have known so little about the man who had been her lover and her husband?
It wasn’t all her fault, though, she thought defensively. Aristo had been as reluctant to discuss his past as she had, and a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t have been a lot easier if they’d had that conversation four years ago,
Instead, though, he had stonewalled her, and she’d run away.
And if she hadn’t been marooned on an island on the other side of the world that was what she should be doing now—beating a dignified but hasty retreat from his unsettling, dangerously tempting presence.
Picking up George’s hat, she shivered at the memory of how close she’d come to giving in to that temptation. She was just so vulnerable where Aristo was concerned… Only, it went deeper than that. Her need to exonerate and turn a blind eye was rooted in a childhood spent craving and competing for her father’s attention.
It had been the pattern of her early life: Wyatt’s intermittent absences followed by his inevitable reappearance. No matter how unhappy and angry she’d been, every time he’d come back she’d let herself believe his promises, allowed herself to care. And every time he had left she had felt more worthless than the time before.
And that was why she wasn’t going to fall into the same pattern with Aristo.
No matter how sexy or charming he was, one shared confidence couldn’t change the facts. It was too little, too late. They didn’t trust each other, and that was why their marriage had failed—why she couldn’t give in to the sexual pull between them now.
Making love with Aristo again would undoubtedly be unforgettable, but she knew from experience that the people she cared about found it exceptionally easy to forget her.
That episode in the plane had hinted at what would happen if she gave in, how quickly everything would start to unravel…
She breathed out slowly. Was that true, or was she overreacting? After all, what was really so wrong about two people who had once shared a unique and powerful chemistry getting together again? Plenty of people did it: Elliot for one.
Only, this was different. There was George to consider, so there would be no way out…nowhere to run.
Her mouth was suddenly dry and she felt a rushing panic, like a stone dropping into the darkness. And besides, this wasn’t some game of spin the bottle—and Aristo wasn’t some old flame she could casually reignite.
He was a forest fire.
One touch was all it had taken to awaken her body from hibernation. One more touch and she would be lost. And next time she felt like giving in to the heat of his body and the strength of his shoulders she needed to remember that.
Outside on the terrace, George instantly tugged his hand free and scampered towards Aristo. She followed him reluctantly, suddenly conscious of the fact that both she and Aristo were semi-naked, and wishing that she’d packed a one-piece as well as her bikinis.
George was gazing up at his father. ‘I want you to take me swimming.’
Aristo laughed. ‘So let’s go swimming.’ He hesitated. ‘Is that all right?’ Glancing over, he stared at her questioningly, and she almost burst out laughing, for his expression so closely mirrored their small son’s.
Nodding, she turned towards George. ‘Yes, but you have to do what Aristo tells you.’
She felt it on her skin before she saw it: the slow upturn of his mouth, the teasing glitter in his dark eyes.
‘Does that go for you too?’ he asked softly.
Her heartbeat faltered. Somewhere beyond her suddenly blurred vision she heard the faint splash of waves as a pulse of excitement began beating beneath her skin. For a sharp, dizzying second they stared at each other, and then, glancing pointedly back at George, she smiled.
‘I’m going to read my book, darling. I’ll be just over here, okay?’
Ignoring the amusement in Aristo’s eyes, she quickly sat down on one of the loungers that had been arranged temptingly around the pool. Unwrapping her sarong, she stretched out her legs and glanced over to where Aristo had been sitting. Instantly her mood shifted. A mass of documents were spread out over the table and beside them, open in the sunshine, was his laptop.
Seriously? Had he really brought work with him?
Her eyes narrowed. But when had Aristo ever put work anywhere but first on his agenda? She thought back to the long, empty evenings she’d spent alone in their beautiful cavernous apartment, feeling that same sense of failure and fear that she was not enough to deserve anyone’s unswerving attention.
Fleetingly she considered saying something—but it was only the first day of their holiday, so maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he had walked away from his office at a moment’s notice, and that would have meant unpicking a full diary of meetings and appointments.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of hard, primed muscle, and instantly a heat that had nothing to do with the Mediterranean sun spread slowly over her skin.
Picking up her book, she opened it at random, irritated that, even when faced with evidence of his continuing obsession with work, her body still seemed stubbornly and irrationally determined to ignore the bad in favour of the good.
There was a loud splash, and automatically her eyes darted over to where the ‘good’ was unapologetically on display. In the shallow end of the pool Aristo was raising George out of the water on his shoulders, droplets of water trickling down the muscles of his arms and chest, and in the dazzling golden light he looked shockingly beautiful.
She gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t he own a ski lodge? Some snowbound chalet where quilted jackets and chunky jumpers were practically mandatory? she thought, her heart thumping as Aristo stood up and began to walk out of the water, the wet fabric of his shorts clinging to the blatantly masculine outline of his body.
Fully clothed and in a crowded hotel he had been hard to ignore, but half naked on a private island he was almost impossible to resist.
As though reading her mind, Aristo chose that particular moment to look over at her, and she felt a cool tingle run down her spine as his dark eyes drifted over her face, homing in on her mouth in a way that emptied the breath from her lungs.
She wanted to look away, but forced herself to meet his eyes—and then immediately wished she hadn’t as his piercing gaze dropped to the pulse beating agitatedly at the base of her throat, then lower still to the curve of her breasts beneath the peach-coloured bikini.
‘Look at me, Mommy! Look!’ George waved his hands excitedly.
‘Don’t worry, George,’ Aristo said softly, his dark eyes gleaming. ‘Mommy’s looking.’
Her skin was prickling as, still carrying their giggling son, he walked slowly towards her. Depositing George onto his feet, he dropped down lightly onto the lounger beside her, his cool, damp body sending a jolt over her skin like sheet lightning.
‘Here.’ Grabbing a towel, she unceremoniously pushed it into his hands. ‘Why don’t you dry off?’
‘I thought you might like to take a dip with me.’
His voice was cool and controlled, but the taunting expression in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.
‘Or are you scared of getting out of your depth?’
Their