Page 37 of The Heir Affair

She climbed out of the Jeep and sighed, her heart aching for so many things—all at once.

The last time they’d been here together, she’d told ‘Alex’ all about her mum and their magical holidays in Greece. Of finding this island on their final summer, and how this had become their ‘special place’ after they’d borrowed a boat and landed on this deserted beach… How they’d lain on the sand after a picnic lunch—and the plans her mum had constructed, about buying a plot of land on this paradise island and building a cabin tolive in. All fanciful nonsense, of course. But it had seemed such a wonderful idea, and somehow so possible to twelve-year-old her—because she’d always believed her mum could do anything. That love would find a way.

By the following summer her mum had been sick. And by the next year, she’d been gone, and it was as if she’d taken all those possibilities and Poppy’s belief in the power of love with her. But when Poppy had come back here with ‘Alex’, those dreams had felt tantalisingly close again.

But the memory of the day she’d spent here with her mum so many years ago was hazy and sentimental, compared with the adrenaline overload when she recalled her time here with Xander this spring.

He’d made her feel special that day. So beautiful and seen. Like a siren, in complete control of her own destiny. During that day, she had been sure again the dreams she’d once spun with her mum didn’t have to be out of reach if she just had the courage to take what she wanted and damn the consequences… Which was why she’d reached for him later in the villa, why she’d asked him to kiss her, and demanded he make love to her.

And when she’d fallen asleep later that night, in the small bed and breakfast hotel where she’d been staying on Rhodes, not knowing they’d made a baby together, she had convinced herself she could find a place to belong, with him, even if it couldn’t be here.

Had he brought her back to Parádeisos to unsettle her again? Because it was working, the tug of connection as strong as the pulse of awareness.

‘Tell me something, Xander,’ she asked carefully. ‘Were you laughing at me that day? When I told you all the silly plans I’d made on this beach with my mum?’

She had to know, because the thought he’d been secretly amused by the confidences she’d shared with him was what hadhurt the most when she’d discovered he was the island’s new owner.

His brows lowered. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I was not laughing, because I did not think those plans silly. I found them enchanting.’

The spurt of relief had the knot of anxiety releasing.

‘But also hopelessly naïve…’ he added.

‘Why naïve?’ she asked, her heart pulsing heavily at his hollow tone.

‘Because those plans could never be more than pointless dreams when your mother had no way to achieve them. Dreams do not feed you or clothe you. And they cannot keep you safe. For this, you must always face reality.’

Her heart slowed. She could see he meant it, from his harsh expression.

She shivered, despite the warm day.

Of course, on one level, she knew he was right. Her mum hadn’t ever really had a coherent plan—they’d coasted from one financial cliff-edge to the next, forced to move around constantly until she’d bought that broken-down cottage in Kent where the roof leaked if it rained too hard, and the walls got damp in the winter. But despite having to wear cast-off clothing, never being able to afford to go on school trips, Poppy had always known her mum loved her unconditionally, and that had made her feel so supported and secure, regardless of their money worries. Kind of like that cheesy but also impossibly sweet Dolly Parton song, which her mum had loved to play at top volume, about a rag coat that Dolly’s mom had made her. Poppy had insisted on playing it at her mother’s funeral.

Her dad had been rich by comparison, but she’d known the money he spent on her was a replacement for the love he couldn’t give her.

Xander’s insistence that dreams weren’t practical made her feel sad for him. Because without dreams, howcouldthere ever be hope? And without hope how could there ever be love?

Xander climbed out of the Jeep and she turned to find him watching her, with that guarded but intense expression on his face, as if she were a puzzle he wanted to solve. Strangely his curiosity made her feel a little less insecure about being here with him again. Perhaps he wasn’t a hopeless cause after all? He’d just been forced to give up his dreams too soon, much sooner than her, because of the insecurity of his childhood. Had he ever been allowed to be carefree? Ever felt unconditional love? It seemed doubtful given what he’d told her. How could he understand the power of dreams without that?

‘Would your mother not be happy,’ he said, ‘to see you here again?’

‘I guess.’ She smiled, because it was a surprisingly sentimental question for such a defiantly unsentimental man. ‘Although it wasn’t really Parádeisos she wanted for me, so much as the dream of it.’

‘I see,’ he said, although it was clear he didn’t see, from the confused frown on his face. But then he relinquished eye contact, to stare out into the cove, and she wondered if he was uncomfortable at having revealed more than he’d intended.

‘We should swim,’ he said, suddenly.

She blinked at the abrupt change of tone. But she couldn’t help the laugh that popped out. Or her desire to lighten the mood, too.

‘I don’t have a swimsuit with me,’ she said, cursing the stupidity of not thinking to grab her bikini before they got into the Jeep. But then she hadn’t been thinking at all when they’d stepped onto the dock—in the grip of the emotions this island always stirred.

‘I had Meghan pack swimwear for us both,’ he said, reaching into the Jeep’s back seat for the beach bag he’d thrown in at the quay. ‘But if you want to swim naked, I have no objections,’ he added, a provocative smile curling his lips.

She tensed, the fierce rush of longing so intense it hurt.

‘You bastard,’ she murmured, but she couldn’t seem to conjure up the indignation she wanted to feel. ‘You knew, didn’t you,’ she said, ‘that there was no way I’d be able to resist you here?’ She wanted to be mad at him, but the only person she was really mad at was herself, for making this physical attraction that much more potent by trying to deny it.

A schoolgirl error. And she was a grown woman—who was going to become a mother in a few months’ time.