Unconsciously her glance went to him from Dan. He had gone back to his room to change after they’d left the pool and was now wearing a white shirt, though not a tie, and with the top button undone. She’d seen female heads turn as they’d strolled in and knew why. He’d turned hers from the very first moment…
No, she must not let herself remember. The Xander she remembered from then was not the man he was now. So there was no point remembering how she had once wanted to do nothing but gaze and gaze and gaze at him, taking in all his irresistible masculine glory.
Even if he still possessed it in spades.
As she had witnessed when he’d walked into the pool area, displaying a body that hadn’t gathered an ounce of flab, still perfectly honed, as it had been seven years ago. Her eyes had gone to him immediately. How could they not have? She’d been helpless to look away. Reacting just the way she always had. Compounded, disastrously, when his eyes had gone to her in her swimsuit, seeing his very familiar reaction.
Memory had ripped through her. Those endless days on Xander’s yacht, swimming in the azure sea, basking in the sun. Retiring to his state room to shower, freshen up, cool down. Make passionate love—
No. She mustn’t go there! Dear God she must not go there.
The arrival of their tea was timely. A towering multi-tiered cake stand was placed on the table, and a slightly smaller one for Dan, loaded with tiny sandwiches cut into geometric shapes, jammy strawberry biscuits, caramel wafers, a gingerbread man and woman, multi-coloured iced buns and three miniature chocolate cakes. Hers and Xander’s was more adult-oriented, but no less laden. Delicate smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches cut perilously thin, bite-size savoury tartlets, a variety of puff pastry amuse-bouches, and any number of pastel macaroons, slivers of multi-layered frosted sponge cakes, exquisitely decorated tiny profiteroles, feather-light crisp almond tuiles and coin-sized passion-fruit pavlovas—it went on and on. The cutlery was silvered, the napkins fine linen, the cups and plates porcelain, the individual teapots likewise, the champagne served in crystal flutes. A somewhat larger, more robust looking flute arrived with raspberry fizz for Dan.
Xander tapped his champagne-filled flute against Dan’s, and then at Laurel’s. “Are we having a good day?” he asked genially.
“Yes!” affirmed Dan.
Xander glanced at Laurel. “Are we?”
“Thank you, yes,” she said. It would be ungracious not to. Dan had loved the pool session and was clearly eager to get stuck into his tea.
And that’s why we’re here—for Dan. No other reason.
That’s what she had to remember.
I would never have seen Xander again for the rest of my life otherwise.
A shadow seemed to pass over her, and she reached for the champagne flute. How often had she drunk champagne with Xander that long-ago summer, cruising the islands, their own private odyssey, their hedonistic idyll?
How happy I was, how totally happy. Until—
“Mum, can I start?” Dan’s plaintive voice brought her back.
“MayI,” she corrected automatically, setting down her flute on the pristine tablecloth. “Yes, of course. Sandwiches first, mind!”
Dan didn’t mind her and tucked in vigorously. Laurel had taken the precaution of spreading his linen napkin widely across his lap and now shook out her own as well. Carefully, she poured her tea, then made a selection of savouries and sandwiches. Xander had got stuck in already, and she suspected he would put away a good deal more than her.
So it proved, and Dan, too, finished off everything on his cake stand. Their attentive waiter kindly replenished it with another cream bun and miniature chocolate cake. Laurel, equally attentive, but for a different reason, fetched some moistened wipes out of her handbag and got to work once Dan had demolished the final cake, removing chocolate smears from his mouth and fingers, lest they transfer to the tablecloth or chintz upholstery.
Dan sat back replete. “Best tea ever.”
Xander laughed. “I’m glad you approve.” He looked across at Laurel. “What about you?”
“Memorable,” she said.
For just a second, their eyes met. For just a second, their gaze locked. Then, abruptly, Xander got to his feet, looking at Dan now.
“What say we leave your mother to finish her tea while we explore the gardens?” His glance went to Laurel. “All right by you?” he said, as if remembering to ask her.
She nodded, because why should she object? And they headed off, Dan chattering away happily. A pang went through her. Dan was accepting his father into his life without question. So obviously pleased to have him in his life.
I denied him that, kept his father away from him.
Her expression was troubled as she poured herself another cup of tea, sipping it slowly.
She would justify her decision, would always justify it. When Dan was born, Xander had been a married man, a man who condemned her as a liar and a thief. She had been right to keep him away from Dan.
But now?
