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“Um, at work, you mean? Yes. Yes, they did.” Natalie busied herself unpacking her laptop, setting it up, plugging in the power cord.
Sophy regarded her speculatively. “And what about not at work?” she ventured after a long moment.
Natalie felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Fine,” she said shortly. “He’s fine.” But she didn’t meet Sophy’s gaze, though she could certainly feel her cousin’s curious eyes on her.
Then there was a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not telling me something,” Sophy said.
“Nothing to tell. I finished work for him yesterday. His old temp is back today.”
Sophy didn’t say anything.
Natalie looked over at her. Sophy’s gaze was narrow, assessing her every move. And clearly detecting the hint of a smile that Natalie couldn’t quite hide.
“You did it,” Sophy breathed. “Didn’t you?” she pressed when Natalie didn’t immediately reply.
In fact, Natalie had no intention of replying. She didn’t kiss and tell. Or do anything else and tell about it, either.
“I just said he was fine. That’s all I said.” She fixed a glare on Sophy.
But whatever subtle signs the other woman was reading, she had no doubt. “Wow,” she said softly. Then she leaned toward Natalie, her dark eyes gentle and concerned. “So, who changed? Christo? Or you?”
There was no point in pretending she didn’t know what Sophy was talking about. But Natalie sat down and booted up her computer before she answered.
Then she said with quiet honesty, “I don’t know.”
“Oh, dear. You be careful. Those Savas men are hell on hearts.”
Sophy knew that better than almost anyone, having been married to one of Christo’s cousins briefly a few years ago.
“Christo’s not at all like George,” Natalie protested. George was a physicist, for heaven’s sake.
“He broke my heart,” Sophy said flatly. “Just don’t let Christo break yours.”
He was on her doorstep shortly before seven.
Natalie had glimpsed Christo as he crossed the garden to come up the stairs, and she felt an immediate impulse to fly to the door. Not a good idea, she told herself.
The momentary panic she’d felt at awakening and discovering he was gone had evaporated during the day. She’d slept in.
Be honest, but not insane, she counseled herself. And so she waited until he knocked. Then she ran her hands down the sides of the casual yellow canvas pants she wore, and far more calmly and sedately than she felt, opened the door.
“Hey.” He smiled at her. “Are we okay?”
She blinked at the seriousness in his eyes, despite the smile on his lips. “Okay?”
He lifted one broad shoulder, and his mouth twisted a little wryly. “I thought you might regret it.”
Natalie swallowed. “Regret? Should I?”
“You know what I said about commitment, promises, the way I feel about long-term commitment…” Christo’s voice trailed off and he looked at her expectantly.
“I know what you said,” she agreed, keeping her voice even, betraying as little emotion as she could.
She didn’t quite feel the equanimity she hoped she was expressing. But Christo wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t heard from him already. He’d made no promises—except perhaps for promising that he would make none.
She’d assured him that she could handle it.
Now she reminded herself firmly that she could handle it. “I’m okay,” she said and smiled at him, giving him her heart in her eyes whether he chose to see it or not.
What he saw she wasn’t sure, but when she opened the door wider and waved him in, he entered, only pausing to give her a long and amazing kiss that had her bones melting before he moved on to the living room.
“Gotta finish these,” he said, nodding at the bookcases they’d abandoned half in and half out of their spots on either side of the fireplace. “Then I thought we could grab a bite to eat. Yes?” He slanted a glance her way and the seriousness in his gaze had faded now. Only the smile remained.
“Yes,” Natalie agreed. “Sounds good.”
She helped him finish shifting the bookcases, and today as they bumped and touched, they laughed and gave in. They paused to touch, to kiss, to stroke, to stoke the fire building between them.
By the time Christo had the bookcase backs screwed into the wall studs and the shelves in place so that Laura’s birthday bookshelves were a reality, the meal they were ready for had nothing to do with food.
“We can eat later, can’t we?” Christo murmured, and Natalie nodded, taking his hand and starting toward the bedroom.
But, still holding her hand, he drew back, looking at her from beneath hooded lids. His skin over his cheekbones was taut and his face flushed. “Come to my place,” he said. “Bigger bed. More room.”
And one more demon to vanquish, Natalie thought, memories of that earlier disastrous night flitting across her mind. But she nodded resolutely. “Yes,” she said.
The bedroom was much the same. The time of day—early evening—was the same. The setting sun spilled its light through wide slanted wooden blinds across the room, and the sun and shadow gave Christo tiger’s stripes as he pulled his shirt over his head and then drew her into his arms.
Now she had new memories in the making, erasing the old as Christo touched her gently, almost reverently, kissing her shoulders, her neck, then, stripping her shirt off her and removing her bra, he kissed his way down across her breasts and abdomen, kneeling before her, heading south.
Natalie’s knees shook. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, then clenched in his hair as he skimmed off the rest of the clothes she wore and bore her back onto the bed. He shed his jeans and boxers, then nudged her knees apart and settled between them.
She reached for him, stroked him, made him catch his breath. His jaw tightened. A muscle ticked in his temple. A fine tremor seemed to course through him as he slid in. Easily. Perfectly. As if he were coming home.
This was the way she had dreamed it. The way she’d imagined it those three long years ago—she and Christo lovingly entwined, their bodies moving in unison as they gave each other the passion and love they shared.
After, he rolled off to lie on his back beside her, one arm over his head, the other outflung. His eyes were shut and she got another look at those glorious long lashes. She memorized them as well as the faint hint of evening stubble shadowing his cheeks and jaw.
She watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest, thought she could even see the way his heart hammered so strongly that the beats were visible against the wall of his chest.
Instinctively she reached out to lay a hand over it, to stroke his chest.
His eyes flicked open. His hand came up to wrap around hers, to hold it, still it, as he turned his head to meet her gaze.
“We need to talk.”
“I thought we needed to eat,” she said, smiling at him, trying to deflect the seriousness she saw in his eyes. “I’m starved.”
“In a minute. Or two.” He gave her hand a squeeze, held it a moment, then let go, his eyes never leaving hers. “I have something I need to say.”
“Something I don’t want to hear?” Natalie guessed. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure that out.
“No. Well, maybe. That’s up to you.” He gave his head a little shake. “What I need to say is, I know you still believe in marriage, that some day, fool that you are, you’ll probably even want one.” He looked at her for agreement.
Natalie gave an infinitesimal nod, waited, didn’t say a word.
“And that’s your choice,” he went on. “Not mine. But yours. You want to get involved that way, go ahead.”
“What?” She stared at him, certain she’d heard all the words, but still not sure what he’d said.
“If you meet a guy you want to marry, go for it,” he said gruffly.
She blinked. “While I’m sleeping with you?”
His mouth twisted. “I expect you’d stop sleeping with me.”
“I certainly would,” Natalie said, annoyed.
“Don’t get ticked,” Christo said, rolling over onto his side, shoving up on one elbow and propping his head on his hand. “I’m just saying you should go for it. Don’t let me—this—” he gave a wave toward their naked bodies “—get in your way.”
“Of course not,” Natalie said, wondering if wringing his neck would be too good for him.
He didn’t detect the sarcasm in her voice. Just as well, probably.
“Well, good,” he said, looking relieved. “I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated. Just because I don’t do entanglements and involvements, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t—if the opportunity arises.”
He sounded as if he were giving a summation in a courtroom. Yes, wringing his neck was too good for him. “Well,” Natalie said wryly, staring up at the ceiling, “that’s good to know.”
Christo sat up, looking cheerful, bright-eyed and eager. “Glad we’ve got it out in the open. I’m starving, too. Let’s go eat.”
She’d made a pact with the devil.
At least that’s what it felt like.
But how could she change the rules now when she’d agreed to them at the outset? They weren’t really rules, she supposed, but they were certainly expectations—or, in Christo’s case, a complete lack thereof.
He was just making things clear.
He wouldn’t have made love with her in the first place if she hadn’t insisted that she didn’t need protecting from her feelings for him. So she shouldn’t be surprised to discover that he believed she was no more committed than he was.
She supposed she should consider him generous for telling her she could walk whenever she felt like it, no hard feelings.
Maybe someday she would.
Right now she was in a quandary. A part of her wanted to insist she cared as much as she ever had, that she loved him now with a far more honest and adult love than the infatuation she’d felt three years ago.
And another part didn’t see any point in rocking the boat. She’d made her bed. Now she would lie in it. With him.
And if he didn’t love her now or ever come to love her, she would have loved him—as her mother had loved her father—and she would learn to deal with it.
She offered to cook something for dinner, but he said there was a little place in Hermosa that had great seafood. They should go there.
A date? She almost asked. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to push her luck. She nodded. “Sounds good.”
They took his Jaguar to the restaurant in Hermosa Beach. The food was great, Christo’s company was every bit as enjoyable as she’d ever imagined it would be. They talked about everything from the law to fishing to the Dodgers’ chances to win the pennant to when her mother was coming back.
“Another week, I think,” Natalie said. “Can you manage?”
“Oh, yeah. Lisa’s competent. Not as good as your mother—or you, for that matter,” he said, his eyes warm as they met hers over the candle on the small restaurant table, “but I’m not having you back.”
“Don’t want me in your office?” Natalie teased.
His smile broadened. “Rather have you in my bed.”
She was in his bed again, scant hours later. She went home to feed Herbie when they got back, but then Christo said, “Come to me.”
And she did.
They made love once, twice. And once more before morning. Natalie stayed the night because she wanted to, and because Christo never indicated she should go.
When she opened her eyes in the morning, it was to find him already up and out of the shower. He was buttoning a long-sleeved dress shirt as he stood at the foot of the bed, but his eyes were not on the buttons. They were on her.
“Good morning.” She smiled sleepily up at him and was gratified to see him smile in return.
“Morning. You going in to your office this morning?”
“Yes. But first I have to stop by Scott’s and see how the new ‘wife’ is working out.”
He nodded. “I was thinking I might try to get home a little early. Maybe we could go down to Redondo to the pier, catch a bite there, then go to a movie.”
“I—” Natalie’s reply caught in her throat “—can’t.”
Christo’s fingers stilled on his shirt. “Can’t?”
“My niece is spending the weekend with me. She’s coming this evening.”
“For the whole weekend?”
Natalie gave him a helpless shrug. “I didn’t realize when I said I’d take her that I’d have a better offer. I think we’ll go to the beach. You could join us.”
But Christo shook his head. “No.” He shoved his shirt into his trousers, then fastened his belt and looped a tie around his neck.
Putting on his armor, Natalie thought.
“I’ve got plenty to do,” he said, his tone dismissive now.
“But—”
He knotted the tie, then turned to face her. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy yourself. How about Sunday night?”
