Leaving us all alone on our "it-has-to-get-better-than-this" honeymoon. The thought swept through Hattie's brain like wildfire, singeing neurons and making her legs weak. "Sounds good."
But when they got downstairs, Leo was gone. Marcel handed over a note. Luc read it, his expression blank and then passed it over to Hattie.
Don't want to intrude. Have a good week. See you in Hotlanta.
Hattie tossed the little piece of paper in a nearby trash can, her palms damp. "I guess it's just us."
Luc's gaze was hooded. "Guess so."
He ushered her out to the car, and they drove the short distance to the historic district. After squeezing into a tiny parking space on a street curb, Luc shut off the engine and came around to open Hattie's door. His hand on her elbow did amazing things to her heart rate.
She told herself not to expect too much. Nothing had changed. They weren't a normal couple by any means.
But it was hard to remember such mundane considerations amidst the tropical atmosphere of Key West. Everyone was in a good mood, it seemed. And no wonder. The view from Mallory Square was filled with cerulean seas, colorful watercraft and white, billowing triangles atop sailboats that zigged and zagged across the open waves.
Just offshore lay a palm-fringed island that looked so perfect Hattie wondered if the Chamber of Commerce had painted it against the sky to frame the sunsets.
When she said as much, Luc responded. "One of the large hotel chains owns it. You can rent one-, two-or three-bedroom cottages, and they even have their own man-made beach."
Hattie had already realized that Key West was not a typical "beach" destination. The coastline was rocky or coral-built. The Conch Republic, as it was called, was literally the last stop before Cuba, a mere ninety miles southwest.
At a marina adjacent to one of the fabulous hotels, Luc took Hattie's hand and helped her down into a sleek speedboat. Moments later, they were cutting across the waves, bound for the island.
In minutes, they pulled up to a well-kept dock and stepped out of the boat. A uniformed attendant directed them to the restaurant. It was open air on three sides, with huge rattan ceiling fans rotating overhead as an adjunct to the natural sea breezes. Delicate potted orchids bloomed on each table. China, silver and crystal gleamed.
The food was amazing … fresh shrimp gumbo and homemade corn bread. Hattie chewed automatically.
She was ready for a showdown, but if she initiated what might turn out to be a shouting match, would it be worth it? Hattie's mother had made a life's work out of tiptoeing around Hattie's stepfather. She always acted as if he might desert her at any moment.
The truth was that the guy loved Hattie's mother and would have given her anything. But early lessons are hard to unlearn. Hattie wasn't proficient at confrontation, but then again, she was no pushover. Luc was doing her a favor, yes. But that didn't mean he could dominate her.
She waited until the server put a piece of key lime pie in front of each of them before she fired the first shot. "How was your business trip?"
Luc choked on a bite of dessert. "Fine," he muttered. "This pie is great."
She wouldn't be deterred. If she had been clearer about her feelings a decade ago, she and Luc might possibly have worked things out. Her jaw tightened. "There was no excuse for you to leave on the first day of our honeymoon. Not only was it disrespectful to me, it also endangered our pretense of a happy marriage. I think you were trying to teach me a lesson, but it backfired."
Luc set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, his face sober. He exhaled slowly, his lips twisted. "You're right, of course. And I do apologize."
She cocked her head, studying him, trying to see inside his brain. "I've never said this, but my leaving you wasn't really about money. It was about control."
Luc jerked as if she had slapped him. "I don't understand."
"As a young woman, my mother had an affair with her boss, a wealthy, powerful man. When she told him she was pregnant, he cast her off without a second thought. That shining example of a man was my father. My biological father."
Shock creased his face. "I wasn't your boss, Hattie. What does that have to do with anything? I feel sorry for your mother, but you're certainly not the kind to do something so reckless."
"You're missing the point. My whole childhood revolved around this missing mystery man. This terrible person who didn't want me. And to hear my mother tell it, money was what gave him all the power. Leaving her powerless and alone. From the time I was old enough to understand, she drilled into me the importance of making my own way in the world and not letting any man control my destiny."
"And you thought I would do something like that to you?" He looked haunted.
"Of course not. But I was so head over heels in love with you, I was afraid I'd lose myself in your life. It's very easy to be taken care of, very addictive. And I wasn't brave enough to stick with you. In hindsight, I believe I was stronger than I realized at the time. But as a kid of twenty, all I could see was that you had the money and power to do anything you wanted. And I felt lost in your shadow."
"Despite the fact that I wanted you so badly I followed you around like a puppy."
"You were a young man at the mercy of his hormones. Sex makes men do crazy things."
They were sitting at adjoining corners of a table for four. Beneath the linen cloth, Luc took her hand and deliberately pushed it against his erection. "I'm not so young now," he growled, releasing her fingers and eating his pie as if nothing had happened.
The imprint of his rigid flesh was burned into Hattie's palm. She took a reckless swallow of wine. "Don't be crass."
He shrugged, his eyes a dangerous flash of obsidian. "What do you want from me, Hattie?"
She hesitated, torn between fascinated curiosity about his response to her and a healthy sense of caution. "Do you really think we can be intimate and then walk away?"
Luc shrugged again. "I can if you can."
Hattie frowned, licking whipped cream from her spoon. His nonchalance could be an act. Her heart beat faster.
She cocked her head and stared at him, trying to read his mind. He was as inscrutable as the great and powerful wizard of Oz. If Hattie could click her heels in ruby slippers, she'd be able to go back to that innocent time in college.
Did she want to? Or did she want to move ahead as an adult woman with adult needs? She'd be taking an enormous risk. What if she fell in love with Luc again? What if she never had really stopped loving him? What if they had sex and it was ho-hum?
Not likely.
She scraped one last bite of topping from her plate and ate it absently. Luc's hungry gaze followed every motion she made. Her throat dried. It was now or never.
When the waiter moved to a safe distance, Hattie rested her arms on the table and moved in close to Luc. She put her hand over his. "You said I had to be the one to say yes or no. But you have to know that my answer has nothing to do with protecting a baby … nothing to do with mistakes we made in the past. No feelings of obligation. This is about us … you and me. And I say-"
Luc put his hand over her mouth, his expression violent. "Not another word."
Luc was burning up. The tropical heat and Hattie's proximity made him sweat. Her gaze seemed to dissect him like a bug. To burrow inside his brain and discern his secrets. He lifted an impatient hand for the check, deliberately breaking their physical connection. He was too close to the edge. Hearing Hattie acquiesce to their mutual desire for sexual intimacy could push him over. And it wouldn't be smart to let her realize how desperate he was to have her. Talking about sex in a public venue had not helped in the least when it came to controlling his baser urges.
After he shoved two large bills into the folio, he took Hattie by the wrist, dragging her toward the exit. "We're going back to the house," he said. "I think you have sunstroke."
She laughed softly. They reached the dock, and it was all he could do not to crush her against one of the wooden posts and ravage her mouth with his. He damned the surroundings that forced him to act like a gentleman. He'd never felt less civilized in his life.