He’d been fooled. Conned. Duped into believing he’d found the woman of his dreams.
Because he’d wanted it so much that he’d convinced himself? Or because Lissa had played the role so well?
How much had been intentional misdirection and how much had simply been bad judgment? Demetrios had no idea still.
All he could remember is that she’d looked so perfect on their wedding day. So content. So happy, Anny looked that way now—happy, her eyes closed, her face in repose.
But hers was not like Lissa’s version of “happy.”
Lissa’s “happiness” had always had an effervescence to it. She had bubbled, emoted, reacted. She had acted happy.
Sitting here now basking in the sunshine, eyes shut, wind in her hair, Anny wasn’t acting. She simply was.
There was no bubbliness, no bounce. No reaction. Her emotion was quiet, accepting, serene—and, heaven help him, enticing in its very stillness.
Dangerously enticing.
And Demetrios understood quite clearly now what Anny meant about making love with him being “dangerous” because it would involve her heart.
Indulging these thoughts about Anny—seeing in her the antithesis of Lissa—was dangerous in the extreme. It could undermine his resolve. It could make him vulnerable.
She didn’t have to entice him intentionally. It was worse, in fact, that she wasn’t. It made him want things he had promised himself he would never want again.
“You’re going to get a sunburn if you keep doing that,” he said gruffly.
Anny’s eyes flicked open in surprise. She dipped her head so that Theo’s sun visor shaded her face again and she sat up straight, then smiled up at him. “You’re right,” she said, flexing her shoulders and stretching like a cat in the sun. “But it feels wonderful.”
To his ears, her voice almost sounded like a purr. He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say in the face of such inocent happiness.
He found himself wishing she were more like Lissa so she would be easier to resist.
At the same time he couldn’t help being glad she was not.
CINDERELLA ONLY GOT a single evening to indulge her fantasy.
Anny had had her evening with Demetrios. But now, amazingly, it seemed as if she was going to get two whole weeks.
Two weeks to be simply herself—not a princess, not Gerard’s fiancée. Just plain Anny. With no demands, no expectations at all.
Not even sex.
Not that she wouldn’t have liked to enjoy sex with Demetrios. The one night she’d spent with him had been astonishing, revelatory, incomparable.
It had made her want more.
Too much more.
So much more that she had not dared to allow herself to think about it. Limiting it to one night and walking away had been possible. But indulging herself in the joy of spending two weeks of nights in his bed, in his arms, would not work.
She would want more than those two weeks.
She would want a lifetime of them. And not just of making love with Demetrios, but of being loved by him.
She wasn’t there yet. But she would be if she allowed herself to give into the temptation. And so she’d said, “No sex.”
She hadn’t explained it well. She wasn’t sure that she could ever explain it so that it made sense to him. He was a man. Men didn’t think about sex the same way. And he clearly had no problem enjoying sex with her and then walking away without a backward glance.
He’d basically promised to do just that.
Well, more power to him, Anny thought wryly. She knew her own limitations. And she knew they precluded that. So she said she was sorry and she stuck to her guns.
Having made her statement, though, she went below to work on her dissertation for a while. It seemed a good idea to give Demetrios some space to get used to a platonic two weeks.
Apparently it didn’t bother him at all because when she came back out on deck late that afternoon, he was perfectly cheerful and equable—as if it didn’t matter to him a bit.
Which she supposed it didn’t. Which served her right, Anny supposed, telling herself it was all for the best.
“When do you want to eat dinner?” she asked him.
“Up to you.”
“Are you planning to sail through the evening or moor somewhere?”
He gestured toward the shoreline. “There’s a small village with a protected harbor up ahead. We’ll moor there. Too much work to sail overnight. And what’s the point?”
She completely agreed. “Then I’ll plan on dinner for after we’re tied up.’”
“Sounds good.” He slanted her a grin that made her heart beat a bit faster.
“Will you be going ashore?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Not unless you want something.”
She could use some clothes that were more appropriate for sailing. But she didn’t want to go ashore to get them. Not in a small village not so very far from her own country. Too many people might recognize her around here. And they would certainly recognize Demetrios. He was famous the world over.
“No,” she decided. “Call me if you need help,” she said, knowing full well he wouldn’t. Then she went back below and put together a salad and some bruschetta to go with the bread, then sliced some meat and cheese.
She was just setting the table when she heard him call her name.
Startled, Anny climbed quickly up the steps and saw that they were coming into the harbor.
“Come take the wheel while I bring down the sail,” Demetrios commanded.
She blinked in surprise. But apparently he’d taken her offer at face value and was now looking at her expectantly. So she did what she was told.
“Theo would be a purist and skip the engine,” Demetrios muttered as he started it up. Then he shrugged. “But I’m not as good at it as he is.”
He seemed fine at it to Anny. His quick efficient competence as he hove to, then brought the mainsail down over the boom, seemed nothing short of miraculous to Anny. She hung on to the helm and tried to keep the boat where he wanted it as he finished furling the jib.
And she was just congratulating herself on doing her bit and handing the wheel back over to him, when he said, “Get up on the bow. I need you to signal me which side the buoy is on and then tie on to the mooring ball.”
“Me?”
Something unreadable flickered in his gaze. Anny didn’t even try to figure it out. She just said, “Right,” and scrambled up to do what he asked.
Using her hand signals to guide him, Demetrios adjusted the course, backing down the motor as they closed in on the buoy. “Okay. Grab the mooring line,” he instructed.
She grabbed it, then, continuing to follow his directions, she passed the bridle line through the eye, and quickly, trying not to fumble, wrapped the other end securely to the bow cleat. Then she sat back on her heels and waited for something dire to happen.
Nothing did. Or