Karen Kendall - An Affair to Remember

by An Affair to Remember (lit)

  “It certainly is ‘way cool,’ sweetheart.”

  “But now I need a princess costume. You said you make costumes for movies and stuff. Can you help me make a princess dress?”

  “Sure, why not?” Helena ruffled the girl’s hair and pursed her lips, looking around the room at the available supplies. They were limited to construction paper, paint and…her eyes lit on a box of white trash bags on the counter next to the sink. “Brilliant! We’ll start with one of those.” She went and got one.

  Angela frowned. “Princesses don’t wear garbage bags.”

  “Ah, but this is no ordinary garbage bag.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, indeed. Shh, don’t tell anyone, but that box of bags is really a whole trunkful of princess dresses. A wicked witch has cast a spell upon the trunk, though. And it’s our job to reverse the spell and transform them back into beautiful frocks.”

  Now Angela looked intrigued. “Really?”

  Helena nodded solemnly. “But first, in order to reverse the spell, I need to know what kind of princess she is. A city princess? A mermaid princess? Or a woodland fairy princess?”

  “Mermaid! No, woodland fairy. Can she have a wand?”

  “Of course. Every woodland fairy princess has a beautiful wand.”

  Helena fetched construction paper in three shades of green, a brown and, just for fun, a pink and purple. Then she set to work creating leaf and flower patterns. “See, you can help me cut these out,” she told the little girl.

  “Can I help?” Another little girl had wandered over.

  “Sure!” Soon Helena had five girls cutting out big leaves with blunt-nosed scissors. She drew three flower patterns next, and they all cut busily for a while.

  Gemma looked over at her and shook her head, grinning. Helena shrugged wryly, but she was having fun.

  The next step in the project was to tape the leaves in colored tiers to the trash bag after cutting out neck-and armholes. This took a little more direction on Helena’s part, but after they got the hang of it, the girls had a ball.

  The only problem was that they each wanted a princess dress, so Helena had to promise that she’d come back tomorrow afternoon if they’d cut out all the leaves necessary.

  For now, though, the girls stared in awe at Angela, who really did look beautiful and whimsical in the costume. The multicolored leaves cascaded down the “bodice” and “skirt” of the garment, which Helena had nipped in at the waist with a double belt of long, skinny strips of construction paper and staples.

  She made the wand out of a cardboard tube from the inside of a roll of paper towels: she slit it, formed two tighter rolls and taped them together to make a longer, skinnier tube. Then she painted the wand and covered it with a few more leaves.

  A circle of leaves stapled together formed Angela’s crown, and the vision was complete. “Voilà! You’re a woodland fairy princess,” Helena exclaimed.

  Angela ran to a large plate glass window to check her reflection and twirled around. “I’m gorgeous!”

  Helena turned to watch her and laughed. “Yes, you are, sweetheart.” Then she sobered, because on the other side of the plate glass window stood Nick. He smiled at Angela and nodded at Helena.

  “May I speak to you for a moment?” he mouthed.

  Stiffly, she got up from the small chair she occupied and excused herself. So much for talking with Gemma….

  “Thank you, thank you, Helena!” said Angela.

  “You’re welcome, honey. And I promise I’ll come back tomorrow and help you girls with your costumes, okay? If you want to, you can get started by cutting out leaves, the way I showed you.”

  Amidst a chorus of “Okay” and “Bye!” Helena waved at Gemma and then headed for the door. Nick waited for her right outside, as if he were afraid that she’d slip away and avoid him.

  He seemed a bit tense and his eyes had deepened to a slate-gray.

  “Hello, Nikolas,” she said.

  “You seem to be wonderful with the kids.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Not at all—I just haven’t ever seen you with children before.”

  “It’s all right. I’m a little surprised myself, to tell the truth.” She played with her bangles, turning them in her old nervous habit. Would I have been a good mother?

  He seemed to be searching her face for something, and not in the tender manner of a lover. She found it puzzling and off-putting.

  She decided to keep things light. “Has a fly landed on my nose, Nick?”

  He blinked, collecting himself, then gave a strained smile. “No, no.”

  “Then what is it? You wanted to speak with me?”

  “I thought you might have been looking for me while I was on shore in Santorini.”

  She shook her head. “After the way we parted last night, I figured you might need some space.”

  “So you weren’t in my office?” he asked, as if the fate of the free world hung in the balance.

  “No, Nikolas, I wasn’t in your office. Why?”

  He shook his head. “No reason.”

  Helena folded her arms across her chest. “There’s obviously a reason. What’s bothering you and why would you think I’d been there?”

  Nick looked uncomfortable and then checked his watch. “Have dinner with me tonight? In my private dining room? We can talk about it then. I’ve got to return to the bridge right now.”

  He’s back to being an enigma. She hesitated. Was she up for more of the awkward, tentative tenderness and then sudden physical and emotional withdrawal that he was sure to dish out?

  “Please,” Nick said, his gray eyes serious.

  She nodded. “All right, then. What time?”

  “Seven.” He bent his head slightly as if to kiss her, then stopped himself. “Until then,” he said stiffly.

  “Until then.”

  KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE and your enemies closer. Nick moved restlessly around his private dining room and wondered for the umpteenth time just what the hell he thought he was doing. Was Helena a friend or an enemy—or, as a long-ago lover, a little of both?

  He didn’t like not knowing. He was a man who dealt in certainties and disciplined decisions. Black and white, not shades of gray. He had little patience for confusion…but he was confused. His body craved Helena—it had half killed him the other day not to make love to her. His excuse about the condom may have offended her, but he’d had to stop himself. Because Nick had a feeling that once he entered her body again, he’d never want to leave it.

  He believed in a man knowing what his weaknesses were. The trick was to acknowledge them and then battle them; never allow them to gain the upper hand.

  And Helena Stamos, quite simply, was one of his biggest weaknesses.

  But was she spying on him? Nick smiled grimly. What better place to spy on the captain than in his own private dining room?

  Her knock interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly lit the two candles on his dining table. Then he opened the door to her.

  Tonight she was stunning in a strapless, sapphire silk dress that ended just above her knees. She wore silver sandals and a sapphire necklace, the large stone nestling at the top of her breasts.

  It was lovely, but only served as a reminder to Nick that even on his captain’s salary, he couldn’t afford to buy her jewelry of that caliber.

  “Come in, Helena,” he said while his mind warned, Don’t trust her.

  He took her hand and led her to the sofa. “Drink?”

  “Yes, please. A martini?”

  “Of course. Vodka or gin?” Nick went to the bar in the corner and put some ice into a shaker.

  “Vodka.” She crossed her legs and he tried to ignore the way her dress rode up, exposing a bit of her thighs. He summoned all his defenses, and yet despite that, he knew he’d make love to her tonight.

  He’d do it with his eyes open this time. And he’d do it knowing that there was no future for them. But God help him, he’d do
it—if she’d allow him.

  He garnished her martini with a twist of lemon and brought it to her without spilling a drop, his fingers brushing hers as she accepted the glass. The cold of the liquid between them was a warning, the heat of their skin pure temptation.

  “Thank you,” said Helena. “Now, why would you have thought I was in your office?”

  She could be a little too direct for his comfort. But then, she was too goddamn sexy for his comfort, too.

  “I went ashore today to make a purchase.”

  “A nice little souvenir of Santorini?”

  He could feel his own face heat. “That, and condoms.”

  She’d taken a sip of her martini and swallowed quickly, then cast him a speculative glance. “Did you? Are you feeling lucky, then, Nikolas?”

  The words were teasing but her expression was serious. She was truly a riddle. Hell, no, he wasn’t feeling lucky. He had to be the unluckiest s.o.b. alive—at least in love.

  He ignored the question. “I returned and went to my office, which I usually keep closed. The door was open.” He didn’t mention the file drawer.

  She set down her drink. “So you immediately jumped to the conclusion that I’d been in there? Doing what?”

  “Looking for me,” he said diplomatically.

  “I see. Nick, you’re being so wonderfully tactful.”

  He just looked at her. Her dark eyes held cynical amusement.

  “Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

  He sighed. “Helena…”

  “Come on, Nick. In the past few days I’ve insulted your integrity. You should feel free to question mine.” That reckless quality was back, that theatrical instinct of hers that liked to push the envelope.

  “Fine,” he said. “Then tell me what you’re really doing here aboard Alexandra’s Dream.”

  “I’m taking a long overdue vacation and I’m keeping an eye on my niece. Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “Because from what I understand, you don’t take vacations. You hurtle from one project into another.”

  “Been investigating?” she asked.

  “Have you been investigating me?”

  “My, haven’t we got an ego.” She lifted her glass to her lips and drank.

  “I didn’t mean to imply that it would have been because you were fixated on me.”

  “Let me do the math then.” She set the martini down with a snap. “You believe that I’m actually here to, what, spy on you for Elias?” Her eyes flashed dangerously at him, glittering more than the sapphire at her neck. “Wonderful. Well, I did just invite you to question my integrity, didn’t I?”

  “Helena, what am I supposed to think?”

  “Is there a reason that I should be checking up on you?”

  “No.”

  “All right, then.” She must have realized then that she hadn’t answered his question. “I’m not.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment, Nick not knowing whether or not to believe her. She’d lied about her identity once. She could be lying now.

  But the truly momentous issue for him was not whether or not she was deceiving him. It was that right here, right now, Nick didn’t care. He wanted her whether she was lying or not. What did that say about him? It was deeply disturbing, but the realization didn’t matter to his body.

  “Dance with me, Helena,” he said.

  “We’re already dancing, don’t you think? Around each other.”

  “Let’s dance with each other.”

  “There’s no music.”

  “Does it matter?” he asked, pulling her to her feet and then hard against him. “Have we ever really needed music?” He led her into an easy samba, noticing that her body molded easily to his with no reservations on her part.

  His dress shoes and her sandals tapped together on the wooden floor and the silk of her skirt rustled slightly against his uniform. His breath mingled with her perfume and somehow lit a smile on her face. It started as barely a flicker and then grew.

  He wanted to devour it and let it warm him inside. Nick pulled her even more snugly against him and felt her soft breasts and thighs yielding against his body. He buried his nose in her hair, which still smelled the same as it had when she was eighteen.

  “I have a feeling that we’re not going to eat dinner tonight, are we, Nick?” she whispered.

  He shook his head, picked her up and set her on the dining room table. He pushed between her thighs and took her mouth, wanting her so badly that he felt a little insane. The candles flickered wildly behind her and she inhaled sharply as he cupped her breasts. He could take her right here—she’d let him, he knew it.

  But this was his Helena. She deserved better than a quickie on a dining room table, and he wanted absolute privacy. There were staff who had master key cards that opened this room.

  “Come with me,” he said. “We can’t do this here.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HELENA FELT THAT odd sense of being watched again, as they left the captain’s private dining room and went to his quarters. She looked around but saw nobody.

  “What is it?” Nick asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  He had a large room done in masculine shades of navy and green. A businesslike desk occupied one corner; an armchair in green paisley with touches of navy and burgundy took up another. And in the center stretched a massive bed, a bed fit for a captain.

  Then she saw it. Behind the desk on the wall was one of the renderings she’d done early on in the design process for the ship. Her initials were in the corner.

  Nick had framed the little vignette of the dining room beautifully, adding a two-inch mat around the piece that set it off to perfection. Her heart turned over.

  “Nikolas…?” She turned to look at him.

  He shrugged as if he were a bit embarrassed. “What can I say? I’m a collector.” He took her hand and led her to the big bed, gesturing at it.

  “It’s a far cry from the single bunk I had on the freighter, isn’t it?”

  “And that hammock you slept in at your apartment in Athens.” She’d visited him there while his roommate was gone for a week, and they’d lived in a sort of Spartan sexual heaven, making love whenever they wanted and eating bread and cheese and olives at odd hours of the night. He lived so differently from most people she knew, with only the bare essentials, but she found it somehow wise. Who needed more? She hadn’t missed the expensive clutter, and she’d been charmed by his mismatched plates and silverware. She’d drunk her morning coffee out of a favorite chipped mug, and her wine from a jelly jar.

  “The hammock, yes.” He chuckled at the memory. “My back would never stand for it these days.”

  “We had to make love on the couch.” She smiled. “Snuggled under that ratty old blanket.”

  “Hey, that was an heirloom,” Nick corrected, somehow keeping a straight face. “My grandmother crocheted that.”

  “Nikolas, I don’t know what your grandmother did to it, but something else—was it rats?—added character to it over the years.”

  “Character?” He scooped her up into his arms. “Is that what you call those holes, koukla mou?”

  He’d called her his doll. She flushed with pleasure, even before he laid her down on the bed and caressed every inch of her, murmuring more endearments.

  “The rocks on the beach didn’t help that poor blanket,” she mused. They’d had it on Mykonos, too, when she’d met him there.

  That was the end of conversation for a while. Nick’s lips on hers felt so right, awakening passion that had been dormant for years. Passion she had never thought she’d feel again—until the other day. She met his kiss eagerly, welcomed his tongue into her mouth to stroke hers, loved the way he bit her lip gently and then moved to her jaw, her neck and into her hairline.

  He kissed her collarbones and the hollow of her throat, then pressed his face between her breasts and groaned. “Helena,” he whispered. And then in a si
ngle swift movement he tugged down the bodice of her dress and freed them.

  He traced the slopes of her breasts with his index finger and then circled the pink nipples while her breathing quickened at the sensation and the look on his face. She thought her heart might stop as his lean, handsome head bent and he captured one nipple in his mouth, stroking it with his tongue.

  She cried out, and he transferred his attention to the other one, laving and suckling her while she melted into a puddle of sensual bliss.

  She wanted his skin on hers and tore at his jacket. He chuckled and pulled away, helping her. Soon most of his dress uniform lay on the floor, and his glorious male chest was bare.

  She ran her hands over it, exploring every inch, brushing his nipples with her thumbs. He didn’t give her long to touch him—within moments, he had her on her back again, and this time his hands explored her feet, still in the sandals, smoothed up her calves, and pushed her dress up for access to her thighs.

  Her breathing went ragged as Nick pushed his face between them and kissed her most private place, nibbled at the tender flesh to either side of it.

  “Time to dispense with the dress, glika mou.” He slid his hands under her, lifted her bodily and set her on her feet. Then he turned her around. She heard the rasp of her zipper and then felt cool air as the dress dropped from her body to puddle on the floor. She stood with her back to him in nothing but her sandals and a black lace thong.

  In strangled tones Nick said, “If I die in the next moment, I die a very happy man.”

  She laughed.

  He lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck, her naked shoulders. His big hands slid around her to cup her breasts, and she could feel the fierceness of his response to her pressed against the small of her back. But Nick thought of her pleasure, not of his. He turned her to face him, dropped to his knees and pushed her back against the bed. He spread her knees and hooked them over his broad shoulders. And then she nearly blacked out from pleasure at what he did next.

  When Nick picked her up she had no idea what had happened to her panties. When he held her against him and slid her, inch by inch, onto him she clutched his neck and whimpered for a long, tense moment. He shook with sexual need, like steel inside her. And then he moved and she climaxed explosively, shuddering and crying out.