Impulse Page 5

  “I find myself having the same problem.” With a careless toss, he sent her flying through the air. She hit the water bottom first.

  “I guess I deserved that.” She struggled to her feet, water raining off her. “I have to sit.” Wading through the water, she headed for the gentle slope of beach. She lay, half in and half out of the water, not caring that the sand would cling to her hair and skin. When he dropped down beside her, she reached out a hand for his. “I don’t know when I’ve had a nicer day.”

  He looked down to where her fingers linked with his. The gesture had been so easy, so natural. He wondered how it could both comfort and arouse. “It’s hardly over.”

  “It seems like it could last forever.” She wanted it to go on and on. Blue skies and easy laughter. Cool water and endless hours. There had been a time, not so long before, when the days had dragged into nights and the nights into days. “Did you ever want to run away?”

  With her hand still in his, he lay back to watch a few scattered rags of clouds drift. How long had it been, he wondered, since he’d really watched the sky? “To where?”

  “Anywhere. Away from the way things are, away from what you’re afraid they’ll always be.” She closed her eyes and could see herself brewing that first cup of coffee at exactly 7:15, opening the first file at precisely 9:01. “To drop out of sight,” she murmured, “and pop up somewhere else, anywhere else, as someone completely different.”

  “You can’t change who you are.”

  “Oh, but you can.” Her tone suddenly urgent, she rose on her elbow. “Sometimes you have to.”

  He reached up to touch the ends of her hair. “What are you running from?”

  “Everything. I’m a coward.”

  He looked into her eyes. They were so clear, so full of enthusiasm. “I don’t think so.”

  “But you don’t know me.” A flicker of regret, then uncertainty, ran across her face. “I’m not sure I want you to.”

  “Don’t I?” His fingers tightened on her hair, keeping her still. “There are people and circumstances that don’t take months or years before they’re understood. I look at you and something fits into place, Rebecca. I don’t know why, but it is. I know you.” He tugged her down for the lightest, the briefest, of kisses. “And I like what I see.”

  “Do you?” She smiled. “Really?”

  “Do you imagine I spend the day with a woman only because I want to sleep with her?” She shrugged, and though her blush was very faint, he noticed it and was amused by it. How many women, he wondered, could kiss a man into oblivion, then blush? “Being with you, Rebecca, is a difficult pleasure.”

  She chuckled and began to draw circles in the wet sand. What would he say, what would he think, if he knew what she was? Or, more accurately, what she wasn’t? It didn’t matter, she told herself. She couldn’t let it spoil what there was between them.

  “I think that’s the most wonderful compliment I’ve ever had.”

  “Where have you been?” he murmured.

  When she moved restlessly, he held her still. “Don’t. I’m not going to touch you. Not yet.”

  “That’s not the problem.” With her eyes closed, she tilted her chin up and let the sun beat down on her face. “The problem is, I want you to touch me, so much it frightens me.” Taking her time, she sat up, gathering her courage. She wanted to be honest, and she hoped she wouldn’t sound like a fool. “Stephen, I don’t sleep around. I need you to understand, because this is all happening so quickly. But it’s not casual.”

  He lifted a hand to her chin and turned her to face him. His eyes were as blue as the water, and, to her, as unfathomable. “No, it’s not.” He made the decision quickly, though he had been turning the idea over in his mind all day. “I have to go to Athens tomorrow. Come with me, Rebecca.”

  “Athens?” she managed, staring at him.

  “Business. A day, two at the most. I’d like you with me.” And he was afraid, more than he cared to admit, that when he returned she might be gone.

  “I …” What should she say? What was right?

  “You told me you’d planned to go.” He’d push if necessary. Now that the idea had taken root, Stephen had no intention of going anywhere without her.

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t want to be in the way while you’re working.”

  “You’ll be in my way whether you’re here or there.” Her head came up at that, and the look she gave him was both shy and stunning. He stifled the need to take her again, to roll until she was beneath him on the sand. He’d said he’d give her time. Perhaps what he’d really meant was that he needed time himself.

  “You’ll have your own suite. No strings, Rebecca. Just your company.”

  “A day or two,” she murmured.

  “It’s a simple matter to have your room held for you here for your return.”

  Her return. Not his. If he left Corfu tomorrow she would probably never see him again. He was offering her another day, perhaps two. Never take anything for granted, she remembered. Never again.

  Athens, she thought. It was true that she had planned to see it before she left Greece. But she would have gone alone. A few days before, that had been what she thought she wanted. The adventure of seeing new places, new people, on her own. Now the thought of going with him, of having him beside her when she first caught sight of the Acropolis, of having him want her with him, changed everything.

  “I’d love to go with you.” She rose quickly and dived into the water. She was in over her head.

  Chapter Six

  Athens was neither East nor West. It was spitted meat and spices roasting. It was tall buildings and modern shops. It was narrow, unpaved streets and clamorous bazaars. It had been the scene of revolution and brutality. It was ancient and civilized and passionate.

  Rebecca quite simply fell in love at first sight.

  She’d been seduced by Paris and charmed by London, but in Athens she lost her heart. She wanted to see everything at once, from sunrise to moonlight, and the heat-drenched afternoon between.

  All that first morning, while Stephen was immersed in business meetings, she wandered. The hotel he’d chosen was lovely, but she was drawn to the streets and the people. Somehow she didn’t feel like a visitor here. She felt like someone who had returned home after a long, long journey. Athens was waiting for her, ready to welcome her back.

  Incredible. All her life she had accepted the parameters set for her. Now she was touring Old Athens, with its clicking worry beads and its open-fronted shops, where she could buy cheap plaster copies of monuments or elegant antiques.

  She passed tavernas, but she was too excited to be tempted by the rich smells of coffee and baking. She heard the clear notes of a flute as she looked up and saw the Acropolis.

  There was only one approach. Though it was still early, other tourists were making their way toward the ruins in twos and in groups. Rebecca let her camera hang by its strap. Despite the chattering around her, she felt alone, but beautifully so.

  She would never be able to explain what it felt like to stand in the morning sun and look at something that had been built for the gods—something that had endured war and weather and time. It had been a place of worship. Even now, after centuries had passed, Rebecca felt the spiritual pull. Perhaps the goddess Athena, with her gleaming helmet and spear, still visited there.

  Rebecca had been disappointed that Stephen couldn’t join her on her first morning in Athens. Now she was glad to be alone—to sit and absorb and imagine without having to explain her thoughts.

  How could she, after having seen so much, go back to so little? Sighing, she wandered through the temples. It wasn’t just the awe she felt here, or the excitement she had felt in London and Paris, that had changed her. It was Stephen and everything she’d felt, everything she’d wanted, since she’d met him.

  Perhaps she would go back to Philadelphia, but she would never be the same person. Once you fell in love, completely, totally in love, nothing was ever
the same.

  She wished it could be simple, the way she imagined it was simple for so many other women. An attractive man, a physical tug. But with Stephen, as with Athens, she’d lost her heart. However implausible it seemed, she had recognized the man, as well as the city, as being part of her, as being for her. Desire, when tangled up with love, could never be simple.

  But how could you be sure you were in love when it had never happened to you before? If she were home, at least she would have a friend to talk to. With a little laugh, Rebecca walked out into the sunlight. How many times had she been on the receiving end of a long, scattered conversation from a friend who had fallen in love—or thought she had. The excitement, the unhappiness, the thrills. Sometimes she’d been envious, and sometimes she’d been grateful not to have the complication in her own life. But always, always, she’d offered calm, practical, even soothing advice.

  Oddly enough, she didn’t seem to be able to do the same for herself.

  All she could think of was the way her heart pounded when he touched her, how excitement, panic and anticipation fluttered through her every time he looked at her. When she was with him, her feelings and fantasies seemed reasonable. When she was with him, she could believe in fate, in the matching of soul to soul.

  It wasn’t enough. At least that was what she would have told another woman. Attraction and passion weren’t enough. Yet there was no explaining, even to herself, the sense of rightness she experienced whenever she was with him. If she were a fanciful person she would say it was as though she’d been waiting for him, waiting for the time and the place for him to come to her.

  It sounded simple—if fate could be considered simple. Yet beneath all the pleasure and that sense of reunion was guilt. She couldn’t shake it, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore it much longer. She wasn’t the woman she had let him believe her to be. She wasn’t the well-traveled at-loose-ends free spirit she pretended to be. No matter how many ties she’d cut, she was still Rebecca Malone. How would he feel about her once he knew how limited and dull her life had been?

  How and when was she going to tell him?

  A few more days, she promised herself as she began the walk back. It was selfish, perhaps it was even dangerous, but she wanted just a few more days.

  It was midafternoon before she returned to the hotel. Ignoring the fact that she might be considered overeager, she went straight to Stephen’s suite. She couldn’t wait to see him, to tell him everything she’d seen, to show him everything she’d bought. Her easy smile faded a bit when his secretary Elana opened the door.

  “Miss Malone.” Gracious and self-confident, Elana waved her in. “Please sit down. I’ll let Stephen know you’re here.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt.” Rebecca shifted her bags, feeling gauche and foolish.

  “Not at all. Have you just come in?”

  “Yes, I …” For the first time, Rebecca noticed that her skin was damp and her hair tousled. In contrast, Elana was cool and perfectly groomed. “I really should go.”

  “Please.” Elana urged Rebecca to a chair. “Let me get you a drink.” With a half smile, Elana began to pour a tall glass of iced juice. She had expected Stephen’s mystery lady to be smooth, controlled and stunning. It pleased her a great deal to find Rebecca wide-eyed, a little unsure, and clearly a great deal in love.

  “Did you enjoy your morning?”

  “Yes, very much.” She accepted the glass and tried to relax. Jealousy, she realized, feeling herself flush at the realization. She couldn’t remember ever having experienced the sensation before. Who wouldn’t be jealous? she asked herself as she watched Elana walk to the phone. The Greek woman was gorgeous, self-contained, coolly efficient. Above all, she had a relationship with Stephen that Rebecca knew nothing about. How long has she known him? Rebecca wondered. And how well?

  “Stephen’s just finishing up some business,” Elana said as she hung up the phone. With easy, economical moves, she poured herself a drink, then walked to the chair facing Rebecca. “What do you think of Athens?”

  “I love it.” Rebecca wished she’d taken the time to brush her hair and freshen her makeup. Lecturing herself, she sipped at her juice. “I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s everything and more.”

  “Europeans see it as the East. Orientals see it as the West.” Elana crossed her legs and settled back. It surprised her to realize that she was prepared to like Rebecca Malone. “What Athens is is Greek—and, more particularly, Athenian.” She paused, studying Rebecca over the rim of her glass. “People often view Stephen in much the same way, and what he is is Stephen.”

  “How long have you worked for him?”

  “Five years.”

  “You must know him well.”

  “Better than some. He’s a demanding and generous employer and an interesting man. Fortunately, I like to travel and I enjoy my work.”

  Rebecca rubbed at a spot of dust on her slacks. “It never occurred to me that farming required so much traveling. I never realized how much was involved in growing olives.”

  Elana’s brows rose in obvious surprise, but she continued smoothly when Rebecca glanced back at her. “Whatever Stephen does, he does thoroughly.” She smiled to herself, satisfied. She hadn’t been certain until now whether the American woman was attracted to Stephen or to his position. “Has Stephen explained to you about the dinner party this evening?”

  “He said something about a small party here at the hotel. A business dinner.”

  “Men take these things more lightly than women.” Feeling friendlier, Elena offered her first genuine smile. “It will be small, but quite extravagant.” She watched as Rebecca automatically lifted a hand to her hair. “If you need anything—a dress, a salon—the hotel can accommodate you.”

  Rebecca thought of the casual sportswear she’d tossed into her bag before the impulsive trip to Athens. “I need everything.”

  With a quick, understanding laugh, Elana rose. “I’ll make some calls for you.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t want to interfere with your work.”

  “Seeing that you’re comfortable is part of my work.” They both glanced over when the door opened. “Stephen. You see, she hasn’t run away.” Taking her glass and her pad, she left them alone.

  “You were gone a long time.” He hated the fact that he’d begun to watch the clock and worry. He’d imagined her hurt or abducted. He’d begun to wonder if she would disappear from his life as quickly as she’d appeared in it. Now she was here, her eyes alive with pleasure, her clothes rumpled and her hair windblown.

  “I guess I got caught up exploring.” She started to rise, but before she could gain her feet he was pulling her out of the chair, seeking, finding her mouth with his.

  His desperation whipped through her. His hunger incited her own. Without thought, without hesitation, she clung to him, answering, accepting. Already seduced, she murmured something, an incoherent sound that caught in her throat.

  Good God, he thought, it wasn’t possible, it wasn’t sane, to want like this. Throughout the morning while all the facts and figures and demands of business had been hammering at him, he’d thought of her, of holding her, of tasting her, of being with her. When she had stayed away for so long he’d begun to imagine, then to fear, what his life would be like without her.

  It wasn’t going to happen. He scraped his teeth over her bottom lip, and she gasped and opened for him. He wouldn’t let it happen. Where she came from, where she intended to go, no longer mattered. She belonged to him now. And, though he’d only begun to deal with it, he belonged to her.

  But he needed some sanity, some logic. Fighting himself, Stephen drew her away from him. Her eyes remained closed, and her lips remained parted. A soft, sultry sound escaped them as her lashes fluttered upward.

  “I …” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I should go sightseeing more often.”

  Gradually he realized how hard his fingers were pressing into her ar
ms. As if he were afraid she would slip away. Cursing himself, he relaxed. “I would have preferred to go with you.”

  “I understand you’re busy. I’d have bored you silly, poking into every shop and staring at every column.”

  “No.” If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that she would never bore him. “I’d like to have seen your first impression of Athens.”

  “It was like coming home,” she told him, then hurried on because it sounded foolish. “I couldn’t get enough.” Laughing at herself, she gestured toward her bags. “Obviously. It’s so different from anywhere I’ve ever been. At the Acropolis I couldn’t even take any pictures, because I knew they couldn’t capture the feeling. Then I walked along the streets and saw old men with kom— konbou—” She fumbled over the Greek and finally made a helpless gesture.

  “Komboulol,” he murmured. “Worry beads.”

  “Yes, and I imagined how they might sit in those shadowy doorways watching the tourists go by, day after day, year after year.” She sat, pleased to share her impressions with him. “I saw a shop with all these costumes, lots of tinsel, and some really dreadful plaster copies of the monuments.”

  He grinned and sat beside her. “How many did you buy?”

  “Three or four.” She bent down to rattle through her bags. “I bought you a present.”

  “A plaster statue of Athena?”

  She glanced up, eyes laughing. “Almost. Then I found this tiny antique shop in the old section. It was all dim and dusty and irresistible. The owner had a handful of English phrases, and I had my phrase book. After we’d confused each other completely, I bought this.”

  She drew out an S-shaped porcelain pipe decorated with paintings of the wild mountain goats of Greece. Attached to it was a long wooden stem, as smooth as glass, tipped by a tarnished brass mouthpiece.

  “I remembered the goats we’d seen on Corfu,” she explained as Stephen examined it. “I thought you might like it, though I’ve never seen you smoke a pipe.”