Bound to the Greek (14 page)

‘What do you mean?’ she asked. She tried to sound
dismissive but came off as demanding instead. She
wanted
to know, yet she was still afraid to hear his answer.

Jace didn’t reply for a long moment. He looked pensive, guarded, as if he were hiding his heart as much as she was. ‘I’m not sure.’

Eleanor sank back against the soft leather cushions. ‘Okay.’

‘I don’t know what can be between us,’ Jace continued. His tone was matter-of-fact, almost flat, yet his words raced right to Eleanor’s nerve endings and made her whole self tingle with both longing and fear. ‘All I know is I haven’t been able to put you from my mind these last three months.’ He turned back to her, his expression hard and determined. ‘I said goodbye to you in New York, Eleanor, and I meant it. I wanted to walk away. God knows it’s easier.’

Eleanor couldn’t speak. Her throat was too tight, so she just nodded?jerkily—instead. It
was
easier. Or at least it was supposed to be.

‘But it hasn’t been easier,’ Jace continued, his voice roughening with emotion. ‘It’s been hell. And so I decided to invite you to Greece?and forget the party, frankly?because I want to figure out what this is between us, and the only way I know of doing that is seeing you. Being with you. Knowing you, this new you, and you knowing me. And whatever
this
is, maybe it will go somewhere, and maybe it won’t.’ He let out a short, sharp laugh that ended on a ragged sigh. ‘That’s quite an appealing proposition, isn’t it?’ He shook his head and glanced away, rubbing his jaw with one hand. ‘I must be crazy.’

Eleanor blinked and swallowed, trying to ease the tightness in her throat. She’d expected Jace to offer her some kind of smooth suggestion of seduction; if she was honest, yes, she’d expected it from the beginning, no matter what she’d managed to convince herself about this trip being business.

But this? This was real. Honesty. Vulnerability. It sent her spinning into a void of unknowing, uncertainty, because she couldn’t scoff or sneer or pretend. Jace had been honest, and
he deserved an honest answer. ‘No,’ she finally managed, her voice scratchy, ‘you’re not.’ Jace turned to look at her sharply, and Eleanor smiled weakly. ‘Crazy, that is.’

A corner of his mouth quirked up, although his gaze remained intently, intensely fastened on hers, filled with a wary hope she both felt and understood. ‘I’m not?’

She shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to say anything; she didn’t even know what she would say, or what she felt. Like Jace, she knew there was still something between them. She just didn’t know what it was. A remnant of their youthful infatuation? Or something new? And if it was something new, it was far too tender and fragile to test it, to trust it.

She had no idea what to do, and the thought of spending two weeks in Jace’s company?with him—frightened and exhilarated her more than anything ever had before. She’d been nervous before; now she was terrified.

Thankfully Jace must have sensed this, or maybe he was feeling it himself, for he leaned forward to touch her hand—lightly, so lightly?and, smiling, said, ‘It’s a long flight, and you look exhausted. You should get some rest.’

Eleanor nodded, grateful for the escape sleep would provide… if only she could will it to come.

Jace watched Eleanor out of the corner of his eye as she shifted and fidgeted on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. Her eyes were closed, clenched shut really, and she didn’t look remotely relaxed.

Yet why should she be? He certainly wasn’t. Jace stared down at the papers he’d spread out on his table tray, notes on the latest business meeting regarding an acquisition of a plastics company in Germany. Important information, yet he couldn’t process a single detail. His mind was spinning from what he’d just told Eleanor… hell, what he’d just told himself. He’d never intended to say any of that. He’d never meant even to think it.

He still didn’t know what it meant, what it could mean
for the next few weeks, or even longer than that?who knew how long? What was he thinking? Wanting? He’d known he wanted—needed, even—to see Eleanor again, to get her out of his system, or maybe back into it. He didn’t know which, didn’t know which he even wanted. He felt as if the course he’d set for himself, the life he’d planned on, had been shipwrecked and he were left tossed on a sea of new possibilities… possibilities that were bewildering and strange and perhaps unwelcome. Perhaps exciting. He didn’t know what he wanted any more, what shape he hoped his life would take.

Annoyed with himself, Jace let out a frustrated breath and turned determinedly back to his papers. Enough wondering. Enough thinking. Eleanor was here with him, and he would be satisfied with that for now.

S
HE
must have dozed, for when Eleanor woke up, blinking groggily, she could tell some time had passed. How much she had no idea, but Jace was no longer sitting next to her, and her hair, when she patted it experimentally, was sticking up in several different directions.

Great. So much for her poised, polished,
professional
appearance. Yet hadn’t that been a charade anyway?

I want to figure out what this is befween us, and the only way I know of doing that is seeing you· Being with you·

Jace’s words echoed through Eleanor’s mind, still surprising her with their honesty. Her reaction, fizzing with excitement and uncertainty, surprised her too. She’d been so careful to be professional with Jace, and her ever-captive heart had betrayed her. She still wanted him. Maybe she even loved him. Yet how could you love someone you didn’t even know, weren’t sure you ever really knew? And if she didn’t love him, then this whole thing was nothing but immature infatuation, and she needed to get it out of her system. Return to New York a freed woman. Maybe that was what Jace wanted as well. Freedom, not love.

‘You’re awake.’

Eleanor turned around in her seat to see Jace standing in the aisle. He’d exchanged his business suit for a casual polo shirt and khakis, and he looked wonderful. Relaxed and confident and approachable, like the old Jace. Not
the harsh, hardened, businessman she’d already become accustomed to.

‘Sorry to conk out like that. How long did I sleep?’

‘Nearly four hours. We’ll be there in another couple of hours. Do you want something to eat?’

In answer Eleanor’s stomach rumbled audibly, and Jace grinned. ‘I remember how loudly your stomach growls when you’re hungry. I always knew it was feeding time.’

‘I am hungry,’ Eleanor admitted. It still made her feel uneasy—vulnerable—for Jace to recall those sweet, forbidden memories. Little things, silly things, and yet so achingly precious.

Jace raised a hand, and within seconds a staff member arrived with a tray of food. Eleanor took in the fresh fruit, the plates of salad and sandwiches, and realised she wasn’t just hungry, she was starving.

‘Dig in,’ Jace said, and she did.

‘So where exactly are we going?’ Eleanor asked after she’d finished most of her sandwich and salad. She toyed with a bit of pineapple on her plate, shredding the succulent fruit with the tines of her fork.

‘My island. It’s near Naxos. Like I said, very small.’

Eleanor looked up, her eyes narrowing speculatively. ‘How small?’

Jace waved a hand in dismissal. ‘A couple of kilometers, no more.’

‘And there’s nothing on it but your villa?’

‘A few staff houses, an airstrip.’

‘Really.’ She let out a reluctant laugh. ‘I always knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were
Fantasy-Island-type
rich.’

Jace arched his eyebrows. ‘What does that mean exactly?’

‘Private jet, private island.’ Eleanor shrugged. ‘It’s like a soap opera.’

‘They are conveniences as well as luxuries. And I have worked hard to earn them, I must admit.’

‘You have?’ Why did this surprise her? She supposed it was because after Jace had left, she’d painted him in her mind as the spoiled son of a shipping magnate. It was easier to accept his abandonment that way. Over the years she’d embroidered that image, yet now she realised?of course? that might not be who Jace was—or ever had been—at all.

She really didn’t know him.

She popped the piece of pineapple in her mouth. ‘So what did you do to earn it?’

‘Investments. Financial management.’

‘I thought your father was in shipping.’

‘He is. But I did not go into my father’s business.’ A new, steely note had entered Jace’s voice although his posture and expression were both still easy and relaxed. ‘He wanted a dynasty, and neither of us believed that to be a possibility.’

Eleanor straightened in her seat. She cleared her throat, wanting to ask the question that remained unspoken between them yet knowing there was so much more to Jace’s alleged infertility than the condition itself; years of heartache and family strife seemed to accompany it. ‘Did you… get tested again?’ she finally asked. Jace’s expression didn’t change. ‘For fertility?’

‘Yes.’ He gave a little shrug, as though the matter was of no consequence. Perhaps it wasn’t. ‘I have limited fertility, the doctor says.’

Eleanor’s heart twisted, a little wrench she should have long become used to when the topic turned to children. ‘That’s pretty good, isn’t it?’ It was possibility, hope. More than she would ever have. Limited was better than nothing.

Jace shrugged again. ‘Whether or not I can have children has not been a pressing issue for me as of late.’ The news should have reassured her, especially considering her own situation, yet somehow it just made her sad. So much lost. So much gone… for both of them.

Jace gave her the ghost of a smile, no more than a shadow passing across his face. ‘Apparently, after childhood mumps, limited fertility can return in later years.’ He shook his head
and laughed softly, although the sound held little humour. ‘Amazing, a simple Internet search could have saved us both so much heartache.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Eleanor said, and Jace stilled, his expression becoming alert and a little wary.

‘What do you mean, Eleanor?’

She shrugged. ‘Even if you knew the baby was yours, Jace, would you have stayed?’ The question seemed to drop into the stillness, tautening the very air between them.

Jace tensed, and Eleanor saw in the steely silver glint in his eyes, the thinning of his mouth, that he was angry. She’d made him angry with her question. ‘Of course I would have. I would never walk away from my own child.’

She didn’t want to have this fight. She didn’t want to feel this hurt. Shrugging again, Eleanor turned to look out of the window, sunlight shimmering on the faint wisps of cloud. ‘You didn’t trust me enough to give me a chance to trust you,’ she said quietly. ‘No matter what might be between us now, Jace, there will always be that.’

‘Then you can’t forgive?’

‘I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that we’ve never had a chance to trust each other.’ She turned back to look at him directly, compelled to honesty even though she’d wanted to avoid this conversation. ‘It’s not something that ever comes easily, and it certainly won’t now, with our history.’
Not,
she added silently,
when I’m scared to trust you. To love you.

Jace was silent for a long moment, and Eleanor waited and watched. It was only when he spoke again that she realised she’d been holding her breath. ‘Then I suppose we’ll just have to see what happens,’ he finally said, a faint smile curving his lips even though his eyes looked shadowed and sad. ‘And what we allow to happen.’

They steered clear of such intense topics for the rest of the flight, chatting about the weather and films and other innocuous things, until Jace excused himself to finish his work before they landed on Naxos to transfer to a smaller plane that would take them on the short flight to his island.

Eleanor didn’t bother to pretend to work; her nerves were leaping and jumping inside her too much to make sense of anything. She felt an unsettling mix of anticipation and alarm. The sun had set and the sky was a deep and endless black, the pinpoints of a million stars reflected in the sea below. As the island came into view, Eleanor saw the lights of Naxos’s main village shimmer along the harbour.

The plane taxied to a stop and Eleanor reached for her things. Jace shepherded her out of the plane, and she barely had a chance to view the huddled whitewashed buildings of Naxos in the distance as she walked across the tarmac to a much smaller plane.

The flight to Jace’s island took all of ten minutes, and when the plane landed there were no friendly village lights to welcome them. The island was dark, lost on a sea of night, and despite the balmy air Eleanor couldn’t quite keep from shivering.

She tilted her head up to take in the endless sky, spangled with stars. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars.’

‘I don’t think you can see a single star in New York,’ Jace agreed. ‘Come. My staff will see to our bags.’

Eleanor followed him into an open-topped Jeep. She was conscious of so many things: the emptiness all around them of sea and sky, the deep darkness of the night, and the fact that, despite the discreet staff moving their luggage into another waiting Jeep, she felt as if they were the only two people left on earth.

Jace started the Jeep, flicking on the headlights, which barely pierced the darkness, unrelieved by the flicker of a single street lamp or house light. They were alone. On an island. In the middle of the sea.

Eleanor swallowed and glanced sideways at Jace. As she did she became conscious of yet another thing: how different he was here, in his casual clothes, navigating the rocky, rutted road that skirted the sea as it wound round an outcropping of rock. Here he wasn’t the college student or the businessman; he was someone else entirely.

She wondered just who that was.

‘It’s after eleven o’clock at night,’ Jace told her, ‘but it’s still early in East Coast time. Would you like something to eat?’

‘Maybe,’ Eleanor allowed. She felt tired and yet inexorably, impossibly alive, thrilled and alarmed and wary of all these new sights, sounds, and changes. ‘Something small would be nice,’ she decided, and Jace flashed her a quick smile.