Bound to the Greek (9 page)

‘Hiding from you?’ she repeated, forcing a light little laugh. ‘Hardly, Jace. Just busy.’

‘Of course,’ he murmured, still smiling, and Eleanor had
a feeling he wasn’t fooled. Even if it was true; she
was
busy. Although maybe not quite that busy. ‘Still,’ he continued, making Eleanor tense again, ‘surely you have a few moments for me? For a dance?’

‘A dance?’ she repeated blankly, and his smile deepened, revealing a dimple in his cheek. She’d forgotten about that dimple; he hadn’t smiled widely enough in the last week for her to see it.

Yet even though he was smiling now, even though he was looking at her with that seductive sleepiness she remembered so well, she sensed something underneath. Something deeper and darker, marred by sorrow. He hadn’t forgotten. The past still loomed between them. No matter how light he kept his voice, Eleanor sensed he was pretending—hiding—perhaps as much as she was.

‘Yes, you know? Dance?’ He held out his arms as if he were leading an imaginary dance partner and did a quick box-step in the hallway. Eleanor folded her arms, trying to be resolute and regretful and failing. She was actually smiling, although perhaps not as widely as Jace. Yet it felt good to smile, felt right to leave the cares and regrets behind, if only for a night.

‘I don’t really dance.’

‘Good thing I do. And I’m a good teacher.’

‘Really?’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘We never danced before.’

He stopped mid-step and dropped his arms. ‘We were too busy doing other things, I suppose.’

Eleanor’s cheeks heated and she was grateful for the shadowy dimness of the hallway. Why had she mentioned the past? Why had she referred to anything about their old relationship, their old selves?

‘One dance, Eleanor.’

He made it sound like a challenge. And it
was
a challenge; suddenly Eleanor wanted to show Jace Zervas that she could dance with him and remain unaffected. She could walk away. She was desperate to prove to him—and to herself—that he
really didn’t affect or matter to her at all. And she’d enjoy it at the same time. One dance.

‘Fine.’

She walked past him, stiff with resolution, back out into the crowded light of the party. She heard Jace walk behind her, felt the heat of his hand on the small of her back. The band she’d chosen herself was playing a lively swing tune and all around her couples were happily cutting up the floor. Eleanor wasn’t much of a dancer—she was usually working behind the scenes, not
in
them—but she thought she could manage a brisk shuffle.

Jace’s hand pressed against her back, steering her through the crowd to a spare space on the dance floor. Eleanor turned to face him, firm smile in place. Jace smiled lazily back—as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, that she was simply trying to prove something. Just as he was.

‘Shall we?’ Eleanor asked brightly and Jace reached for her hand, his fingers threading through hers.

‘Oh, yes.’

He pulled her to him, and when Eleanor resisted that sensual tug he murmured so only she could hear, ‘Come on, Eleanor. We’re dancing.’

‘Right.’ She let him draw her closer, knowing it was dangerous, feeling that awful desire leap in her belly as she inhaled the woodsy musk of his cologne.

‘You’re dancing like a twelve-year-old boy,’ he chided as Eleanor started an awkward box-step. ‘And you’re leading.’

‘I can’t help it,’ Eleanor said, laughing reluctantly.

Jace placed his hand on her waist, his fingers splayed across her hip, and drew her close enough so she could feel the heat of him. ‘This is how you do it,’ he said mock sternly, and began to move her around the dance floor in a lively jitterbug.

Eleanor wasn’t sure how she did it. Somehow Jace put enough pressure on her waist to guide her along, twisting and whirling her with such a natural ease that Eleanor was left breathless, amazed at her own gracefulness.

The other dancers had cleared a space around them, and several couples had stopped to watch, clapping their hands in time to the music.

‘You’re making a scene,’ Eleanor hissed when she came close enough to Jace to have him hear. His arm slid along the length of hers before he grabbed her hand and whirled her in a neat, fast circle so her dress spun out around her in a silver arc.

‘Isn’t that the point?’ he challenged with a wicked smile, and Eleanor felt her insides melt.

This was so dangerous. This was the Jace she’d once known, the Jace she’d fallen in love with. The Jace who had broken her heart. She preferred the harsh, hard man she’d met in her office; there had been no danger of falling in love with
him.

‘Where did you learn to dance?’ she asked breathlessly as Jace spun her around yet again.

‘I have five older sisters. How could I not learn how to dance?’

‘Five?’ she repeated in surprise. She’d had no idea.

‘Now for the finale,’ Jace said and Eleanor stiffened in alarm.

‘I can’t—’

‘Yes,’ he told her as he pulled her closer, ‘you can.’

And before Eleanor knew what he was doing he’d flipped her right over so her legs had gone over her head until she was on her feet again, dazed and incredulous. Around them people clapped and cheered.

‘Jace!’

‘Wasn’t that fun?’

‘That doesn’t matter—’she blustered. How many people had seen her underwear?

‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured, drawing her close again, ‘no one saw anything.’

‘How did you—’ She didn’t finish that question and shook her head. It
had
been fun, yet she couldn’t quite keep herself from still acting annoyed and defensive; those postures were
her armour. They kept her safe. She wasn’t ready to unbend entirely.

The song had ended, replaced by a slow jazz number. Distantly Eleanor recognised the sexy, mournful wail of a single saxophone as Jace lazily pulled her even closer so their hips collided and his hands slid down to her lower back, his fingers splayed across the curve of her bottom.

‘Jace?’ Eleanor hissed, trying to move out of the all-too-close contact. Around them couples swayed to the music.

‘Relax. It’s a slow dance.’

Relax? How on earth was she supposed to relax with her body pressed against Jace’s, his hands moving lazily up and down her spine? She was conscious of how thin her dress was, how little separated their bodies—

Eleanor clamped down on that thought. Fine. She could endure this. She could still walk away with her head held high—except, there was no
enduring
about it. It was far, far too pleasant to let her body relax into Jace’s, to enjoy the feel of his hand on her back, his fingers burning her through the thin material of her dress. Too wonderful to let him pull her closer, to lean her head against his chest so her lips hovered less than an inch from the warm skin of his neck.

They’d never danced before. There had been no opportunities. Their love affair had been conducted in the café where she’d worked, walks in the park, and the big double bed in Jace’s apartment. Eleanor hadn’t even known Jace could dance just as she hadn’t known he had five older sisters. He’d never told her, just as he’d never told her so many things. She’d been in love with him, yet in some ways she’d barely known him. It made her wonder if you even could be in love with someone you hardly knew. Had it simply been infatuation?

‘See how easy this is?’ Jace murmured. His lips brushed her hair and his breath tickled her cheek. Eleanor closed her eyes.

Yes, it was easy. Far, far too easy. She’d wanted to cling to the knowledge that they were two different people now, that even if she could forgive and forget what had happened
between them—which she didn’t even know if she could?a relationship was impossible. Unwanted on both sides.

Yet in Jace’s arms all those resolutions fell away, as insubstantial as smoke, or the snow that had already started to melt into slushy puddles. In Jace’s arms, she was conscious only of how everything felt so wonderfully, painfully the same.

The song ended and they remained swaying for a heartbeat before Eleanor found the strength to break away. Her face was flushed and she could feel a rather large strand of hair against her cheek, falling down from her professional, sleek chignon. Her image was falling apart.
She
was falling apart.

‘I need to go. There are things to do.’

‘Okay.’ She risked looking up, saw how shuttered Jace’s eyes looked, his jaw taut. This dance had cost him something too. Why were they doing this? Flirting with the past? Flirting with each other? Surely it could only lead to heartache… for both of them.

‘Thank you for the dance,’ she said, and hurried away without waiting for Jace’s reply.

Jace watched Eleanor weave her way through the crowd. His body tingled where he’d touched her. He felt alive, more alive than he had in years, and yet restless and edgy as well.

What was he doing? What was he trying to prove? Dancing with Eleanor was dangerous. There could be nothing for them now, not with the past still lying so heavily between them. Not when he was leaving in less than a week. He didn’t even
want
there to be anything between them; he wasn’t interested in love, and learning he might actually be fertile couldn’t change that.

Could it?

The best thing?the wisest and safest—would be to leave Eleanor alone. To walk away right now, and let them both get on with their lives. Yet even as he made this resolution, Jace realised he was still looking for her. Waiting for her.

Wanting her. Eleanor avoided Jace for the rest of the night, feeling ridiculous as she skulked in the corners of rooms, hurried down hallways, and kept an eagle eye out for his appearance. Yet avoiding Jace had become necessary for her sanity, her safety. That dance had broken down the barriers she’d erected between them, barriers between the past and the present. Barriers she needed. She didn’t want to get close to Jace, couldn’t let herself love him or be infatuated with him. Whatever it was—had been—she had no desire to feel it again. Not with a man she still couldn’t trust. Not with Jace.

Still, she couldn’t avoid him for ever. He found her after the party had finished, the last guests trickling out into the night, and the staff starting to clear the party’s debris.

‘Always busy,’ he murmured.

Eleanor didn’t turn around, though she could feel him behind her. ‘I have a lot to do. It’s a party to you, Jace, but for me it’s work.’

He propped one shoulder against the wall of the Lake Room where she’d been going over her list of rented equipment on one of the cleared tables. ‘It was a great party. And great work.’

‘Thank you.’ Needlessly she ticked an item off on her list. One of the staff hoisted a tray of dirty wine glasses and left the room, making Eleanor tinglingly aware of how alone she and Jace were. The last guests had gone into the park and the darkness, and, now that the room was cleared, all the staff seemed to have vanished. She ticked another item off on her list, eyes fixed firmly upon it.

‘I’m leaving for Greece in three days,’ he said quietly. He sounded sad. Eleanor tensed.

‘I see.’

‘I’d like to think…’ He paused, clearing his throat. Eleanor looked up, surprised by the naked vulnerability in Jace’s eyes. The list fell from her hand, forgotten. ‘I’d like,’ Jace started again, ‘to return home knowing things are? resolved—between us.’

Resolved. The word echoed through her. What did that mean? How did you find resolution, that oft-touted closure? Eleanor wished she knew. ‘Fine,’ she said after a moment. ‘Consider us resolved.’ She picked up her list again and stared at it blindly.

‘Eleanor?’

‘I don’t know what you want, Jace. Whatever it is, I don’t think I can give it to you.’ She swallowed, stared at her list. ‘I’m sorry.’ She might have danced with him, had even
wanted
to dance with him, but it meant nothing. She knew that, she felt it now. Her body might betray her again and again, but her mind and heart remembered just what Jace had done. Her mind and heart wouldn’t forget. Couldn’t forgive. She slipped her list into her bag and met Jace’s troubled gaze. Even now her body reacted to his nearness, both with wanting and remembrance. Even now she remembered how she’d felt in his arms, both an hour ago and a lifetime ago. From somewhere she summoned the strength to move past him, making sure they didn’t even brush shoulders. ‘Goodnight, Jace.’

She walked out of the room without looking back, fumbling for her coat by the front door. She usually stayed for longer after a party, making absolutely sure everything was cleaned up and taken care of. But she couldn’t tonight, couldn’t handle another moment of being near Jace, of enduring the temptation of being near him.

She hated that her body was so weak, that she still desired the man who had betrayed her. At least she’d been strong enough to walk away.

Jace stood alone in the Lake Room, everything empty and silent around him. In the distance he heard the door click open and shut. Eleanor had gone.

He let out a long, slow breath. It was better this way. It really was. It had to be. Yet even so, the restlessness didn’t leave him; the regret still weighed heavily on his heart.

It might be better this way, but it didn’t feel like it. Too
many things still lay between them, words unspoken that needed to be said.

Consider us resolved·

He didn’t.

His body taut with grim purpose, Jace strode from the room.

Outside the park was dark, the last guests already long gone. Eleanor dug her hands deep into the pockets of her coat and walked resolutely towards Fifth Avenue. There should be plenty of cabs there, even at this hour.

She’d only been walking a few minutes, skirting the edge of the Sailboat Pond, afloat with model boats in the spring and summer but now drained and empty, when she heard footsteps behind her. Eleanor’s heart stilled even as she quickened her pace. The park was generally safe at night these days, but this was New York and she knew to be careful.

‘Eleanor, I’m sorry.’

It was Jace. Eleanor’s heart resumed its normal thump for only a second before it began beating all the faster. It was
Jace.
She slowed her pace and turned around.