November Harlequin Presents 1(132)

She was forced to acknowledge to herself that the thing she both most feared and most hoped for was all tangled up so that she couldn’t possibly extricate one part of it from the other. Before she could ask for his help, Andreas needed to regain his memory and so she had to stay here until that happened. But when he did get his memory back he would also remember who she was and the way they had parted and then all hell would break loose.

And the real problem was that she was having to fight herself as well as Andreas. The truth was that she wanted to be in his arms as much as he wanted her there. She wanted his kisses, his touch…

Whatever else had died between them, the burning passion had not. It had brought them together, rushed them into bed, into marriage, and it was still there. It still blazed white-hot between them. Andreas had only to touch her and she went up in flames. But it hadn’t been enough to hold them together before—and it wouldn’t be enough now. Andreas might give her body the most glorious pleasure she had ever known but he had also broken her heart and sexual ecstasy was not enough to compensate for the pain and desolation that had followed. Andreas had been the love of her life and with every day—every hour—she spent with him she risked subjecting herself to that heartbreak all over again.

‘All right.’

It was the last thing she expected Andreas to say so she actually felt her jaw drop a little when he spoke, her eyes blinking sharply in shock.

‘All right?’ she managed and got an unsmiling nod in response.

‘We’ll wait—a while. You could be right and the delay—the anticipation—will whet my appetite. I reckon you’ll be worth waiting for.’

If he expected an answer to that, then he was going to be disappointed, Becca admitted to herself. There wasn’t a single word she could find in her head, or form on her tongue. All she could manage was an incoherent little sound that might or might not have been agreement.

‘But I won’t wait for ever. I’m not a patient man, Becca. When I see something I want—I go for it.’

‘I—understand.’

How could she not understand? She knew exactly what he meant; exactly how he was. Hadn’t she been on the receiving end of all his forceful charm, his potent sexuality, once before? When Andreas Petrakos saw something he wanted he got it—no question.

And as if to prove it, to verify her thoughts, Andreas suddenly lifted a hand and crooked one finger in the most arrogant, supremely confident gesture, beckoning her to come to him. And from the look on his face he had no doubt that she would obey.

He was right. She could explain to herself, justify her actions, by saying that she was playing it safe, treading carefully. But if she did she would be lying to herself, stark honesty forced her to admit. She obeyed Andreas’ autocratic summons, moving across the floor to him without a word or hesitation simply because she had no choice. She had to go to him; she didn’t have the strength to resist. And as his arms came round her again she knew she was lost, lifting her face for his kiss even before he had bent his dark head towards hers.

The kiss made what little remained of her thought processes swoon. It seemed to draw out her very essence, heart and soul, taking them into his possession until she felt that she would be nothing without him, unable to function, unable even to exist on her own. She was floating, drifting, with no sense of direction or thought.

‘So you’ll stay,’ Andreas murmured, his voice low and sensual, rich with total confidence, total conviction that he was going to get his way.

‘Yes.’

There was nothing else that she could say but even as she spoke Becca had the terrible feeling of water, deep, dark and cold, closing over her head, drowning her. But there was no hope of turning back.

‘Yes,’ she said, soft and low. ‘Yes, I’ll stay.’





CHAPTER SIX




‘SO HOW long, exactly, did you foresee this “being sensible” to last?’

Andreas stretched lazily in the sunshine, noting with satisfaction that the rawness of torn muscles, the ache of bruising, was easing more with each day. If only he could say the same about the blank space where part of his memory should be. That and the burn of frustration that nagged at him all day, every day, simply because Becca was around.

At least the last few days had given his body a chance to heal physically. He would never admit it but the accident had taken more out of him than he liked, so spending time showing Becca around the island, taking her to his favourite restaurant, walking along the shore, had filled in the days of convalescence and stopped him climbing the walls with boredom.

Becca stirred her head against the cushions of the sun lounger next to him and opened those blue-green eyes in a look of such sleepy sensuality that it had his body hardening and aching in a moment, straining against the black stretch fabric of the swimming shorts that were all he wore. She was dressed all in white today in a loose sleeveless top and cotton trousers that were cut off short, revealing her slender calves and ankles.