The Return Of Antonides. Anne McAllister
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I was eight.”
Holly gave a muffled grunt. She still didn’t move to get out.
And knowing her, she probably wouldn’t, unless Lukas forced the issue. “Nice to see you again, too, Hol’. It’s been a long time.” He held out a hand to help her out of the canoe, daring her to refuse it.
She muttered something under her breath that sounded like “Not long enough.”
And of course, she ignored his hand. Instead, she set the paddle on the dock and shoved herself up, trying to step sideways at the same time so as to avoid his outstretched hand.
In a flatter-bottomed canoe, it might have worked. In this one, she’d barely edged sideways when the canoe tipped.
“Oh!” she yelped. “Oh, hel—”
“Ms. Halloran!” The kids shrieked as Holly pitched, arms flailing into the water.
Lukas couldn’t hide the unholy grin that stretched across his face.
More kids came running. So did the men loading the canoes onto the trailer with St. Brendan’s van. Lukas didn’t move.
Holly sputtered to the surface, hair streaming, sunglasses gone, those all-too-memorable blue eyes shooting sparks in his direction. He still couldn’t stop grinning.
All around him kids clamored. “Ms. Halloran! Are you okay?”
“Ms. Halloran! You fell in!”
“You’re s’posed to stay in the center of the canoe, Ms. Halloran!”
One of the men who’d come from the van pushed past Lukas, a hand outstretched to help her. “Are you all right?”
“She’s fine,” Lukas said abruptly, stepping around the man and reaching to grasp her arm. He hauled her unceremoniously up onto the dock, steadying her with a hand against her back, aware of the warmth and suppleness of her body through her wet T-shirt even as she shivered. “Aren’t you fine?” She sure as hell looked fine, her nipples pebbling beneath the cotton of the shirt and her bra. He swallowed.
“Of course I’m fine,” she said brusquely, clearly unaware of the spectacle she presented as she turned to the students. “I slipped. We’ve all done it, haven’t we?”
At the fervent bobbing of heads, Holly grinned, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “So, I’m just today’s reminder. Do what I say, not what I just did. Now, let’s get the canoe out.” And with a deft move, she twisted out of Lukas’s grasp to haul the canoe up onto the dock.
If the T-shirt was a temptation, it was nothing compared to the way her shorts plastered to her rear end. Lukas’s mouth went dry. The other men and boys seemed to be appreciating the view, as well.
Stepping between Holly and her interested audience, Lukas wrested the canoe away from her, simultaneously snapping at one of the teachers. “Get her a towel. The rest of you, give me a hand.”
Everyone jumped to obey, and by the time Lukas and the boys wrestled the canoe onto the dock, Holly was wrapped in a towel.
The man who had provided it held out a hand to Lukas. “I’m Tom. Thanks for helping her out.”
Lukas grinned. “It has always been my pleasure to pull Holly out of the water.”
“Usually after you pushed me in,” Holly retorted.
Tom blinked. “You two know each other?”
“We’re old friends,” Lukas said.
“He’s an old friend of my husband’s,” Holly amended. “Lukas Antonides.”
Tom Williams beamed. “Great. He can take you home then.”
“I ride the bus!” Holly protested.
Tom raised doubtful brows at her sodden clothes and streaming hair. “They aren’t going to let you on like that.”
“I’ll take a taxi.”
Tom shook his head. “Not likely, Hol’.”
“It’s all right,” Lukas said. “I’ll take her.”
Tom beamed and grabbed Lukas’s hand, pumping it up and down again. “I wouldn’t want to leave her to get home on her own, and I’ve got to get these kids back to school. See you Monday, Hol’. Come on, gang.” He clapped two of the boys on the shoulder, then herded all the kids up to the van.
Holly didn’t speak until they were all out of earshot. Then she said, “I’m not going with you.”
“Right,” Lukas said. “You’re just going to stand here until you dry.”
He could hear her grinding her teeth. She didn’t look at him, just hugged her towel tighter and stared at the departing van. Lukas didn’t care. He stood there and drank in his fill of Holly Halloran.
It felt oddly like reaching an oasis after a lifetime of wandering in the desert. He had spent so many years determinedly not thinking about Holly that it was hard to believe she was actually here in front of him.
She was definitely no less eye-catching than she had ever been. Her bones were sharper now, her eyes set deeper. Tiny lines fanned out at the corners of them. From laughter? From sorrow? God knew she’d suffered that. Lukas wanted to reach out a finger and touch them.
No doubt he’d get a slap for his trouble. That wouldn’t have changed, either. Except once. Once she’d let him touch her.
“What are you doing here, Lukas?” Her voice cut across his memories, jerking him back to the present. She was looking at the Manhattan skyline, not at him. There was nothing inviting in her tone.
“You wrote me a letter,” Lukas reminded her.
Her fingers tightened on the towel wrapped across her breasts. “I sent you a deed of gift and asked you to sign it. Or to tell me if you wanted to keep the boat yourself.”
“I read that.”
“So, I repeat, what are you doing here?” The afternoon sun made her hair look more auburn than brown, like spun copper.
“I figured we could talk about it.” He paused. “I wanted to see you.”
Wanted to see if whatever he’d once felt was still there. It was perverse, he supposed, how Holly’s contrariness had always sharpened his senses. Going head-to-head with Holly always exhilarated him, made him feel alive. As a boy he hadn’t understood the subtext to their encounters, hadn’t yet connected the dots. It was all about attraction. His brain had finally recognized it at fifteen. His body had known it sooner—probably from the very moment he’d met her when he’d been shaken and stirred, both at once. He’d put it down to the suddenness of her tumbling out of the tree and confronting him. His heart had pounded and his pulse had raced the same way they were doing now.
The way they had the night he had incurred Holly’s everlasting wrath, the night he’d crossed the line.
And heaven help him, Lukas wanted to cross it again. He’d been gone for a dozen years, had dated more women than he could even remember, and they’d all paled in comparison to Holly. His best friend’s girl, and he’d never stopped comparing other women to her! He wanted to touch her again now, wanted to feel the softness of her skin and to trace her curves, to kiss her lips and still the chatter of her teeth. Good lord, her lips were blue!
“Come on,” he said abruptly. “Let’s get you home.”
“I don’t need you to—”
“Don’t be an idiot, Holly. I’m offering you a ride. Nothing else!”
For the moment.
For a dozen years he’d told himself that the past was past, that they’d all moved on, that what he’d felt was kid stuff, that he was well over her. After all, when he’d come back to New York,