He drew a deep breath of fresh sea air and shut Lissa out of his mind. She was the past. He had a future ahead of him.
He had a new screenplay to work on. And two weeks of sea time to ponder it.
And, heaven help him, Anny.
“Anny!” He shouted her name now that they were well past the royal yacht.
Instantly she appeared in the companionway, looking at him expectantly.
“Still want to help?”
“Of course.” She scrambled up into the cockpit.
He nodded at the wheel. “Steer this course while I hoist the sail.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Steer?” She looked surprised, then delighted, stepping up to put her hands on the wheel. Her face was wreathed with a smile.
“You do know what you’re doing?” he said a little warily.
“I think so,” she said. “But usually no one wants me to do it. ‘Can’t let the princess get her hands dirty.’ That sort of thing.”
“For the next couple of weeks, you’ll have dirty hands,” he told her.
“Fine with me. I’m happy to help. Delighted,” she said with emphasis. “I was just…surprised.” She shot him a grin. “But thrilled.”
Her grin was heart-stopping. Eager. Apparently genuine. It spoke of the sort of enthusiasm that he’d once dreamed Lissa would show toward their sailing trip to Mexico.
“Show me,” she demanded.
So he showed her the course he was sailing and how to read it on the GPS. She asked questions, didn’t yawn in his face and file her fingernails, and nodded when he was finished. “I can do that,” she said confidently.
He hoped so. “Just keep an eye on the GPS,” he told her, “and do what you need to do with the wheel. I can straighten it out if you have a problem.”
“I won’t,” she swore.
He went forward to hoist the sail, pausing to shoot her a few quick apprehensive glances, hoping she really did know what she was doing.
She seemed to have no qualms about the task, keeping her eye on the GPS and her hand on the wheel. She had pulled on a visor of Theo’s that hid most of her face from him, but as he watched, she tipped her head back and lifted her face so that the sun touched it. His breath caught at the sight.
Demetrios was accustomed to beautiful women. He’d worked with them, he’d directed them. He’d been married to one.
Flawless skin, good bones, perfect teeth all mattered. But facial features were only a part of real beauty. The superficial part. And Anny had them.
But more than that, she had a look of pure honest joy that lit her face from within. It was an uncommon beauty. She was an uncommon beauty.
She was also a princess who had just made a serious, life-changing decision if she decided it was the right one to make. She didn’t know her own mind.
Demetrios knew his. However beautiful, sexy and appealing she was, he wasn’t getting involved with her.
But he was already beginning to realize that unless Anny decided to share his bed it was going to be a very long two weeks.
Anny was exultant, loving every minute, beaming as the sun touched her face and the breeze whipped through her hair.
She felt free—blessedly unburdened by duty and responsibility for the moment at least. She had also forgotten how much she loved to get out on the water and really sail.
Her most recent experiences on boats had all been parties like the one on Gerard’s yacht last night. They were so elegant and controlled that they might as well have been in hotel dining rooms. If she hadn’t had to take the launch to get to the yacht and back, she would have forgotten she was even on a boat.
It certainly hadn’t been going anywhere.
Now she was moving. The boat, once Demetrios had the mainsail and jib raised, was cutting through the water at a rate of knots, and Anny gripped the wheel, exhilarated. It was glorious.
When he dropped into the cockpit beside her she relinquished the wheel, but couldn’t act as if it was no big deal.
“I feel alive!” she said over the wind in her ears. “Reborn!” And she arched her back, opened her arms wide and spun around and around, drinking in the experience. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He gave her a sceptical, wary look—one that reminded her of the way he’d looked at her the night she’d asked him to make love to her, that said he was seriously concerned that she’d lost her mind.
“Don’t worry about me!” she said, beaming. “Truly!”
Demetrios still looked sceptical, but he didn’t reply, just moved his gaze from the GPS to the horizon, then made adjustments as required.
Anny stood watching, drinking in the sight of him as eagerly as she did the whole experience. She’d seen him in a number of roles in films over the years. He’d done slick and sophisticated, hard-edged and dangerous, sexy and imbued with deadly charm. She’d seen him in a lot of places—big cities, high deserts, dense jungles, and bedrooms galore—but she’d never seen him at sea before.
It was a perfect fit. He looked competent in whatever role he played. But he wasn’t playing a role now, and he seemed perfectly suited to the task.
“I didn’t realize you were such a sailor,” she said.
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the horizon “Grew up sailing. We always have. It’s bred in the bone, I guess.” There was a slight defensive edge to his tone that surprised her.
She smiled. “I can see that,” she said. “Lucky you.”
Now he slanted a glance her way, his brows raised as if her comment surprised him. “It doesn’t appeal to everyone. Some people find it boring.”
It was her turn to be surprised at that. “I can’t imagine,” she said sincerely. “It seems liberating to me. Maybe it’s because, being…who I am—” she could never bring herself to say “being a princess” “—when I was home as a child, I always felt hemmed in. But when my parents and I went sailing—even on one of the lakes—it was like we suddenly could be ourselves.”
“Getting away from it all.” He nodded.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“I didn’t think of it that way until I’d been ‘famous’—” his mouth twisted on that word the way hers would have if she’d said “princess” “—for a while. But I know what you mean. I thought getting out and sailing was a way of getting back to who I was…” His voice rose slightly at the end of the statement as if he were going to say more. But he didn’t. He just lifted his shoulders and looked away again.
“Did you have time to sail much?”
He shook his head. “Not often. Once.” Something closed up in his expression. His jaw tightened. Then he fixed her with his green gaze. “Did you get everything sorted out below? Unpacked? Settled in? It’s not a palace.”
The change of subject was abrupt, as was the sudden rough edge to his tone. Anny wondered what caused it, and knew better than to ask.
“It’s better than a palace,” she told him sincerely. “I love it.”
He grunted, not looking completely convinced.
“I took the back cabin—the aft cabin,” she corrected herself. “It’s a bit bigger, though, so if you want it, I’ll be happy to switch. I just thought the forward cabin seemed more like it should be the captain’s. Is that okay?”
“Fine.