Hot Picks: Exotic Propositions. Кейт Хьюит
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parents. All the things she’d known she wanted somehow, some way. With someone.
Just not Lukas. Not from a man who prided himself on being emotionally unavailable, who saw love as a needless, harmful emotion—a selfish whim! Lukas only saw in terms of black or white, duty or desire.
There was no in-between, no room to negotiate, and certainly no room to fall in love.
‘What?’ Lukas raised one eyebrow, and Rhiannon realised that she had an appalled look on her face. ‘What is it?’
She tried to relax her face into a smile. ‘I’m sorry for your family,’ she said after a moment. ‘There has been a great deal of sorrow.’
‘Needless sorrow,’ he said, his tone hardening, and Rhiannon was reminded of the untold part of Lukas’s story. His sisters might be desperate for love, but then, as a boy, surely Lukas had been too?
He’d learned to ignore it, to disregard it. No doubt his father had drilled into him the wastefulness of his mother’s and sisters’ lives, the importance of duty.
As he’d already said, he was still cleaning up their messes. No doubt running interference with the press, paying debts, trying to keep the Petrakides name untarnished.
All by himself.
Her heart ached—ached for the boy he had been, watching his mother leave him at only five years old, and for the man he’d become. A man who couldn’t love, couldn’t trust, because he was afraid.
The idea of Lukas being afraid of anything seemed ridiculous, laughable, and yet in her heart Rhiannon knew it was true. He was afraid to love, afraid to be vulnerable, afraid it would lead to ruin.
‘Enough of this sad talk,’ Lukas said. He reached for the hamper Adeia had packed. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about the past, but the future. First we eat.’
Rhiannon was glad for the reprieve. The sea air had whetted her appetite, and she wasn’t quite ready to jump into a talk about the future—especially when their discussion of the past had brought so many uncomfortable memories churning to the fore.
Lukas brought out a dish of black olives, a tomato and feta salad, and some crusty bread. They both dug in with gusto.
‘There isn’t anything nicer than this,’ Rhiannon said after a moment. ‘Sitting in the sun, in the middle of the sea, eating delicious food.’ With a delicious man. She kept that last thought to herself, although she felt her cheeks warming.
‘Paradise,’ Lukas agreed.
They finished their bread and salad in silence, and then Lukas brought out another covered dish.
‘I saved the best for last.’ He opened it, revealing a heavenly slice of baklava.
Rhiannon stared at the sticky sweet, her cheeks flaming. She couldn’t quite meet Lukas’s eyes.
‘Adeia packed forks,’ he said with wry humour, and an unwilling laugh escaped her.
‘Good. Much easier that way.’
Lukas’s gaze was thoughtful as he handed her a plate. ‘It certainly is…although less enjoyable, perhaps.’ And she knew they were not just talking about eating dessert. The memory of that intimacy was heavy and expectant between them.
They finished their baklava in silence. Afterwards Lukas put away the dishes and turned the sail for home.
The wind had quietened down, and the boat drifted slowly, lazily, along the water. Rhiannon trailed a hand through the foamy wake.
‘Now,’ Lukas said gently, settling himself beside her once more, ‘we talk.’
She looked up through her lashes, took a breath. ‘You sound like you have plan.’
‘I do.’
Her heart began a heavy bumping against her ribs. ‘I have a plan too,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking…’ She hesitated at Lukas’s carefully blank look.
‘Tell me about it,’ he said, after a long moment.
Rhiannon took a breath. ‘I realise Annabel needs to grow up as a Petrakides. If I can be in her life, I’m willing to take a smaller role.’
‘Are you?’ Lukas asked, and she didn’t like the dangerous neutrality of his tone.
‘Yes. I could live in Athens—transfer my qualifications, learn Greek. If I could visit Annabel a few times a week…’
‘You’d be willing to completely rearrange your life for a few hours a week?’ Lukas asked, and there was both disbelief and condemnation in his tone.
‘Why not? You’re not willing to have me be more involved, are you?’ Rhiannon lifted her chin. ‘Over and over you’ve made it clear you will decide Annabel’s future, and there’s been more than a suggestion that I’m not involved! But you can’t stop me from moving to Athens, Lukas.’
Lukas shook his head. ‘This is not how I wanted to talk. Rhiannon, there need not be enmity between us. I’ve come to realise you care for Annabel. I do not doubt your sincerity…’
‘But…?’ Rhiannon prompted, a bitter edge to her voice. Lukas was silent. When she looked at him, his gaze was grey and steady, his face calm and yet filled with determination.
‘There is another solution—one that I believe will be amenable to both of us.’
‘What is that?’
‘Marry me.’
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