"I've never made you do anything!"
"Yes, Hol', you did."
Then he just rocked on his heels and looked at her expectantly. As if he knew what she'd decide, and he didn't even have to argue his case.
Of course she could say no. It would be the wise thing to do.
Taking Lukas up on his offer was crazy. Reckless. Especially when deep down she'd wanted him for years. And past experience proved that she hadn't been able to resist him.
How was she going to move into his building for six weeks and keep her distance, be his business manager and, in August, walk away without ever a taste of forbidden fruit?
She wasn't. It was as simple as that.
Holly was tired of being wise, of being sensible and responsible. She had chosen wisdom and responsibility and a slow hearth fire of love when she'd married Matt.
And look where that had got her.
No, that wasn't fair. She'd loved Matt. She could never regret that love, those years. But all the memories in the world didn't make her less lonely every night. They didn't keep her warm. And it wasn't enough to date Paul anymore. Paul was a place marker. Nothing more.
And Holly wanted more.
Somewhere deep inside her-or maybe not so deep inside her-she had felt that desire quickening to life. Maybe it had started last fall when she'd realized how hollow and empty her life had become. Maybe her move toward the Peace Corps was part of it, an attempt to help her find herself again.
Or maybe it was Lukas's gallery. There was an energy there that had spoken to her. She had felt it in the paintings, in the sculptures and textiles. She had spotted it in the fire of the opals set in silver. She had caught glimpses of it in some large photos that weren't part of the gallery offerings at all. They were snapshots really-of the land, of the mines, of Lukas and an old man she was sure had to be his friend Skeet. She'd wanted to look more closely at them, but Lukas hadn't given her a chance. He had urged her on to the next room to other displays.
Or maybe it was Lukas himself.
For the first time she faced squarely the temptation that was Lukas Antonides. A temptation she'd resisted-wisely-for years.
He didn't want what she wanted.
He didn't want commitment, permanence, family-the things she and Matt had valued. Lukas was a man of drive and enthusiasms, not of constants. He spearheaded efforts. He wasn't there for the follow-through.
But sometimes there was no follow-through.
Sometimes the man you had vowed to love and share a lifetime with wasn't there anymore. Sometimes all your hopes and dreams were dashed.
What then?
She would never find again what she'd had with Matt. It hadn't been perfect-neither of them had been perfect-but it was theirs.
And now it was gone. Playing it safe and responsible hadn't guaranteed a lifetime of happiness.
So why not take a risk?
She wasn't a child any longer. She wasn't a skittish, nervy adolescent.
She'd felt the pull of Lukas Antonides for most of her life. He didn't want what she wanted in the long run. But life wasn't only about the long run, she'd learned.
Six weeks ought to be long enough for both of them. In six weeks she would go off to the South Pacific and put the past behind her.
In the meantime, she'd take it one step at a time. One word at a time.
She said, "Yes."
CHAPTER SEVEN
YES?
Lukas had been staring out at the Manhattan skyline telling himself to shut up, not to give in to pressuring her, not-for once-to push. At least not until she said no, at which point he was prepared to argue with her again.
And then she said...yes?
His gaze whipped around, and he stared straight at her. He expected her to be looking in the other direction-out the window, at the floor, anywhere but at him. He expected her to say, Er, I mean, no.
But Holly was looking straight into his eyes, not averting her gaze at all. Staring resolutely at him.
Like a deer caught in headlights. Well, maybe. But she didn't look precisely stunned. She looked intense, committed. Alive.
Lukas didn't let himself wonder what had prompted her. He didn't even know what had prompted him to make the offer. As always, he had responded to the circumstances. And, let's face it, he had done what he'd wanted to do. How could he not want her close?
So he'd jumped right out of the frying pan and into the fire. It wasn't enough to tempt himself by accidental-on-purpose meetings and invitations to dinner. Now he had drawn her into his building, his work, his life.
He would see her every day. They'd work together. Talk together. No doubt argue together. And then what?
Lukas had never done relationships. Not real, long-term, committed relationships-except with people to whom he was related by blood or family ties. He wasn't sure he knew how. Or if he wanted to.
Cold feet, anyone? he jeered at himself silently.
But his feet didn't feel cold at the moment. They felt eager, alive, ready to run a marathon. Hold that thought, he counseled himself.
He grinned at her. "Terrific. Welcome aboard." He punched in a number on his mobile phone.
Charlotte, the textile artist, the one whose work Holly had particularly admired, answered at once.
"Rustle up as many of the bunch as you can," he told her. "We need lots of hands. And bring all the boxes and crates you can find. We're going to move in our new gallery manager."
* * *
And just like that, Lukas sorted out her life.
One minute Holly was suffocating in dust and clutter and far too many decisions-about what to keep and what to toss and where to put anything she hung on to-and the next, Lukas had taken over.
It was like the first time she'd gone white-water kayaking. She had been moving down a stream nice and easy-everything under control. And then she'd spied rapids ahead and instinctively began sculling backward, apprehensive, trying to size things up, to get a bead on a through-line, to keep control the way Matt had told her to.
Then all her planning, all her care vanished as she felt the surge of the water beneath her, lifting and pulling the kayak past the point of no return. The current simply swept her up in its power and carried her into the rapids. Then all she could do was pray-and hang on to the paddle for dear life.
Exactly the way she was doing now. Minus the paddle.
Lukas Antonides in action was a class-four set of white-water rapids. Within an hour half a dozen of the artists, sculptors and jewelry makers she'd met turned up on her doorstep with boxes and crates galore.
"What goes? What stays? Tell us what to do," Sam, the birdcage maker, said.
"We're experts at packing," Charlotte told her. "I'm so glad you're going to work with us."
The other three, Geoff and Paul and Teresa, nodded in agreement.
"Where's the boss?" Geoff asked, looking around with a grin.
"I'm the boss," Holly said firmly and wished she actually sounded like it. She still felt dizzy. "Lukas went to get pizza and beer."
By the time he got back, Holly and her helpers had blitzed their way through the kitchen and the hall closet. It was easier, she found, to have the others there, not just for the help, but for the distance their involvement gave her.
It was less painful to step back and say yes to this and no to that when Charlotte or Geoff held up something than it was to handle each piece herself and be caught by indecision or carried away by memories.
By the time Lukas got back, they'd cleared the kitchen and bathroom entirely. After a brief pause for sustenance, he herded the guys into her bedroom to begin dismantling the bed and carrying the dressers down to the truck.
"Hey, wait! I have to sleep somewhere," Holly protested.
"In your new apartment." Lukas was collapsing the bed frame as he spoke. "You're moving. Remember?"
Holly swallowed. She'd just assumed she'd have until Tuesday to get used to the idea. Lukas, as usual, had other plans.
"What about this tablecloth?" Teresa appeared in the doorway. "Save or sell?"
So while Lukas and the other guys got on with dismantling her life, Holly went back to the living room and made another decision.
She made hundreds before they were done. But by ten o'clock all the furniture had been ferried to the gallery building, and stacks of boxes containing things she knew she wasn't keeping stood in the middle of the otherwise empty bedroom. And another stack of boxes with the things she was storing at Lukas's were in the living room. The cupboards were empty. The bookshelves were bare.
Now everyone had gone back to the gallery to unload the truck except Holly-and Lukas. He was labeling the boxes in the bedroom. She had finished with the last box in the living room and, at a loose end, moved restlessly around the room. The lights of Manhattan gleamed like bright patterns of stars across the river. They looked familiar, unlike the mostly empty room in which she stood. She stared at them, remembering the first night she and Matt had spent in the condo. They'd sat up all night, huddled together under a blanket on the sofa, just marveling at the view.