The Return of Antonides: Christmas at the Castello(12)

So Holly had never told Matt what had happened.

Lukas supposed he should be grateful that Matt didn't want to punch his  lights out. Instead, he just felt guiltier. His other feelings-the ones  towards Holly-hadn't changed. He tried to think about other women,  deliberately- and desperately-losing himself in the lure of every  passably attractive woman who smiled at him.

At the end of summer, he didn't go home at all.

Sometimes Lukas told himself he was being noble, refusing to go back  and make Holly uncomfortable. In truth, he knew he was making himself as  comfortable as possible by staying away. He couldn't face them. He had  ostracized himself.

He hadn't gone back at all until Matt demanded he be best man at their wedding.

It was his punishment, Lukas realized-to attend their wedding, to stand  there and watch Matt and Holly stare into each other's eyes as if they  were the only two people in the world, then to have to reach into his  pocket and hand over the wedding ring that Matt slipped onto Holly's  finger. He'd even had to prepare a speech that he'd rehearsed so often  he could say it in his sleep.                       
       
           



       

Matt had been amazed. "You? Prepared?" He'd laughed at the thought.

But sheer preparation was the only thing that had got Lukas through it.  Then he'd toasted their happiness. He didn't dance with the bride.

"Sorry," he said right after the toast as he headed toward the door. "I've got a plane to catch."

He caught that plane and then another. He drank more whiskey than he  should have, hoping it would take the edge off his pain. It hadn't. But  he'd survived. He put all thoughts of Holly behind him. That chapter of  his life was over.

He hadn't let himself look back.

When he heard of Matt's death, he had felt guilty and gutted-and he'd  stayed away. He'd never let himself think about Holly unattached.

Until now.

And now, Lukas thought grimly, it was déjà vu all over again. The old turmoil was back. The awareness. The desire.

He had spent the past half dozen or so years growing up, becoming the  adult he probably should have been then. He had focus these days.  Purpose. He worked hard. He made better than a good living. He gave back  to the community. He dated sophisticated, sensible women. Beautiful  women like Grace Marchand.

And he was still hung up on Holly.

And Holly still hated his guts.

He looked at her now as she stood on the dock, arms folded, holding the  towel across her chest, shivering with cold, determinedly ignoring him.

He didn't blame her.

"Come on, Holly," he said to her now. "Your lips are turning blue. Let  me give you a ride home." He paused. "And an apology, as well."

* * *

An apology?

From Lukas? That would be a first. And for what?

As far as Holly was concerned Lukas Antonides had about a million  things to be sorry for. She hesitated, wanted to hear more. But,  typically, Lukas wasn't waiting around to explain. He was already  striding ahead of her toward the parking lot, obviously expecting her to  follow.

Holly darted her tongue out at him, feeling childish. Then, as he knew she would, she followed.

Walking behind Lukas was never a hardship. A woman would have to be  dead not to appreciate the physical Lukas Antonides. In casual khaki  cargo shorts and a faded red T-shirt, he should have looked no more  imposing than the teachers she'd kayaked with from St. Brendan's. They  worked out at the gym, but they seemed like milquetoast compared to the  man moving ahead of her.

Lukas was lean with broad shoulders, narrow hips and hard muscular arms  and legs that spoke of hard physical labor, not a gym membership. He  moved up the hill with the grace and power of a panther at home in-and  in charge of-his world.

But then, Lukas had always been in charge.

And he had always been gorgeous, with defined cheekbones, a strong jaw  and deep-set gray-green eyes. But the angles and planes of his face were  harder and sharper now.

The only thing soft about Lukas was his hair. It was still a memorable  mixture of dark brown tipped with light, sun-streaked blond, though the  blond wasn't as evident these days since his hair was trimmed neatly,  shorter than the shaggy mop she remembered. He was still tanned, though  she suspected that owed less to days on the beach or on boats and more  to the natural olive tones of his complexion.

He had reached the parking lot now and turned for the first time to  glance back and make sure she was there. The sun caught the dark stubble  on his jaw, giving it a hint of the same burnished gold highlights in  his hair.

Trust Lukas to turn stubble into an art form.

Matt would have laughed if she'd told him that. Then he'd have admitted wryly that Lukas probably could.

"He's the best-looking guy I know. Hands down," Matt had always said. "All the girls want him."

"Not all," Holly had been quick to reply.

"Not you," Matt had said wonderingly. He had always shaken his head at that, as if her choice amazed him.

But she had, deep down inside. She'd been as susceptible as all the  other girls, even knowing Lukas as well as she did. The difference was  she knew herself, as well. She knew, as a girl, that she could never  handle a boy like Lukas. And so, while she had the occasional dream of  domesticating the panther, she knew better than to try.

That was why his teasing got under her skin. It was like he knew she  hankered after him and wanted to bait her at every turn. It was  easier-not to mention smarter-to focus on the boy she trusted: Matt.

She should have remembered that the night Matt had deputized Lukas to  take her to the prom in his place. If she had, she wouldn't have  succumbed to Lukas's charm. She wouldn't have relaxed in his presence.  She wouldn't have let him do what he had done.                       
       
           



       

Even now, a dozen years later, what Lukas had done that night-what she  had allowed him to do-still mortified her. Her face still burned at the  memory.

With a cooler head, she understood why he'd done it. He had railed at  them about the stupidity of their engagement since Christmas. They were  too young, they didn't know their own minds, they might marry the wrong  person, they might not be the right person for the other...

And that night he'd set about proving it-to prove to Matt that he never  should have asked her to marry him, that she must not really love Matt  because, if she did, how could she have been tempted by another man?

She had let Lukas touch her. In the heat of the moment, she had  foolishly allowed him to run his hands over body, to evoke sensations  that she'd never felt before. Color her stupid, all right, Holly  thought, but those sensations had caught her unaware.

It wasn't as if she hadn't made love with Matt. Before Christmas when  they had talked about marriage, about commitment, about being together  forever, they had made love.

The first time had been intense, but hurried, and-for Holly at least-unfulfilling.

Matt, while he had known more about lovemaking than she had, hadn't  really understood the intricacies of how a woman's body responded to  arousal. His own had responded fast and furiously, while Holly had been  left feeling vaguely dissatisfied, as if there were something missing,  something she hadn't experienced yet.

Something more.

Holly had never quite found that something more-until the night she'd gone to the sailboat with Lukas.

That night things had been different.

Lukas was different.

And when he'd kissed her, she hadn't said no. She hadn't pulled back.  She'd been curious. Would it be different from kissing Matt? She had so  little experience with other men, she wanted to know.

If Lukas had come on strong, she'd have had the good sense to pull  away. But he had moved slowly, taken his time, actually made her eager  with anticipation.

Get on with it, she'd thought. That was what a fool she'd been!

Until that night she hadn't understood that slower was better, that  every deliberate touch just heightened her awareness, her expectation.

With Lukas expectation became all. The feel of his lips on hers had  made her heart beat faster, the stroke of his tongue on hers sent  shivers of longing through her.

And his hands-dear God-his hands on her body had made her quiver in  response, the slow journey of his fingers over her breasts, then up and  down her legs setting off waves of responsive desire that she had only  barely begun to experience with Matt.

And that had been her undoing.

With Matt, there had been no opportunity for leisurely exploration, no  chance to really learn what pleasures their bodies could give them on  the way to climax.

Until the night Lukas had taught her.

Lukas! Not the man she loved. Not the man she was engaged to.

No, it had been his best friend-and, after that night, her worst  enemy!-who had brought her to orgasm and had held her in his arms while  she trembled and shuddered-then came to her senses and realized what  they had done.