Their eyes met in the mirror when she tried to pull the dress back up.
His hand stopped her. “Did you get this sailing with me?”
Every instinct she possessed warned her to defuse this pulsing sensual tension between them. Tonight too much old emotion kept spewing out like an erupting volcano. Deep inside, she knew only more pain could come of this.
She forced a laugh, and it sounded pathetically fake in her own ears. “Your sailing didn’t give me these bruises. Your boat is the culprit. I think this one looks like a constellation. Quite poetic, since I earned it sailing and sailors once used the stars to navigate.”
His fingers drifted over the bruise, and she shivered despite her best efforts not to respond.
“Ah, yes. This one definitely looks like Betelgeuse. It’s a very prominent star; a right angle off the horizon at early dawn. One of my favorites.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to the aching bruise.
Pleasure melted her limbs, but she knew she needed to stop. She tilted her head back toward him. “Drew, we—”
His lips stopped her, kissing her. So hot, moist, sweet, and luscious, she felt all her good intentions dissolve away.
Little explosions went off in her head. In slow motion to draw out the pleasure, she turned so he could slide his hands inside the dress to span her naked waist with his fingers. He pulled her into him, and the dress slid down her arms.
He nuzzled her breasts, moving closer and closer to the sensitive, aching nipples, and she clung to him, barely able to stand.
The knock on the door struck like a lightning bolt, tearing them apart. Drew’s eyes were a spectacle of light and blue like nothing she’d ever seen.
“Miss Smith, it’s Leonard. Is everything all right?”
Clutching the dress bodice up across her scorching breasts, she trembled, hardly able to take in a breath for the ache in her chest.
She backed toward the door and caught one heel on the train, stumbling. Drew reached out to catch her.
Burning up with embarrassment, with regret, with a million reasons why this shouldn’t have happened, she couldn’t look at him. She opened the door just enough to peek around. Leonard’s grizzled face appeared pinched with concern.
“Hi, Leonard. I’m working late. That’s all.” She forced her voice not to betray her breathless shaking.
“Needed to check. Saw your Jeep and Mr. Clayworth’s silver Porsche in the executive parking lot.”
“Yes. Mr. Clayworth is here discussing a new exhibit. He’ll be leaving now. And I’ll be going shortly.”
“Fine.” Leonard nodded. “Take your time. I’ll be downstairs at the back entrance to let you both out.”
She clicked the door shut and stood staring at it. Her grip on the dress cramped her fingers. “Please go, Drew,” she whispered, ready to burst into loud, unattractive tears.
“Athena, look at me.” He sounded like her Drew. Not the sweet, seductive voice he’d used tonight from the instant she opened the door to him. It brought back so many memories of their youth, when being with him, listening to him, made her believe the myths of undying love and heroes and Olympus-like passion were at her fingertips.
Pride and anger and the remnants of an unshakeable dignity handed down by her mother gave Athena the courage to turn and face him.
His eyes were larger, softer. “We need to talk about this.”
This! My wanting to have sex with you in my office. Like the oversexed teenager I used to be! My God, I’ve never gotten over you, and it took me fifteen years to realize what’s wrong with me.
Old pain roared back to life. She would brazen it out. “Obviously, tonight I’ve experienced a residual reaction from the toxins. Otherwise none of this would have happened.”
“Possibly,” he said with a little smile, but she could see the mockery flickering through his eyes. “I repeat. We need to talk. Go sailing with me again. This Sunday at Belmont. Five o’clock.”
She’d never felt so trapped by her own feelings. She wanted to be with him, explore these feelings she’d had forever. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Long ago he’d said he’d never forgive her, and his actions had made her believe him.
“Drew, this is ridiculously embarrassing for both of us. Let’s forget tonight ever happened and go on our merry way like we have for the last fifteen years. We have nothing further to discuss except for the lost Bertha Palmer dresses.”
And my father. And all these conflicting feelings I’m afraid will never go away.
“To hell with Bertha’s gowns. You know what we need to figure out. Are you brave enough to do it?”
It had always been a mistake to look into his eyes when he wanted something, but she had a lifetime of making the wrong choices with him under her belt. For generations it had been said the Clayworths always got what they wanted.
“Are you brave enough?” he repeated. “What have you got to lose by meeting me?”
My heart!
But in a public place and on his boat the size of a large bathtub, she would be safe enough from making a bigger fool out of herself.
She flung up her chin. “I’m brave enough. Sunday. Five p.m. Belmont Harbor.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He walked out with a saunter that looked way too confident.
Of course she knew it had to be her imagination, but she heard an echo of laughter in the room. She looked up at the heavy moldings, and the carvings really did look like faces. Dread and excitement mingled into an absolute certainty that she’d played right into fate’s nimble fingers, and it terrified her. But she’d be there Sunday night to defy fate once again.
CHAPTER
On Thursday, Drew stared down at a stack of files on his desk, a slew of e-mails he needed to answer from the crew who would race in the Fastnet with him, and a list of calls to be made to the last three museum trustees, confirming their positive votes for the scholarship fund. None of it went as smoothly or quickly as it should have.
How could it when every few minutes he glanced at the clock, counting down the hours until Sunday. And Athena kept flashing before his eyes. Athena laughing… dancing… singing. He chuckled every time he thought of her off-key warbling.
He forced himself not to dwell on Athena in his arms. The taste of her mouth and skin on his lips.
He needed to go slow. Get used to the idea she’d betrayed him out of love.
There, I’ve used the word. She thought she loved me.
God knew he’d thought the same about her.
What would have happened if she hadn’t told his uncle about his plan to leave college and go sail in the Fastnet? What would have happened if his family hadn’t stopped him with their power and his own sense of what he owed them and his name? What would have happened if he hadn’t shut Athena out?
He wanted time to find out. Time to get over the past. Time and distance between them and the trouble with her father.
But time stopped for no man. He’d learned that a long time ago.
Time seemed to be moving in slow motion. But at last Saturday dawned. Today, like every day since the night in the museum, Athena found it hard to think of anything except Drew, and her head filled with visions of what might happen tomorrow that made her blush.
Bertha’s toxic boning appeared to be having a lasting effect on Athena. Like Penelope realizing she wanted her ex-husband back, and Shelby wanting to reclaim her love of eating and cooking, Athena wanted Drew. She tried to concentrate on Bertha’s two dresses, successfully decontaminated, boning replaced, safe and ready for the exhibit. She tried not to think about the remaining two dresses and what might be their fate. The trail had gone cold for her. And by all reports Ed’s investigation had come up empty.