They focused on their meal with bits and pieces of small talk about the weather, the Naoma Louise, and the Mediterranean around them. Afterward, Julian suggested they have dessert indoors, and they moved inside to an informal dining area.
She followed his lead and slipped into a chair at one corner of a very large table. Jonathan brought them each a covered tray. The dish was cold. Very cold.
“What is this?” she asked, pointing to the silver lid.
Julian looked at her with amplified innocence.
“Is it ice cream?” A sense of defeat swept over her. Please, don’t say yes.
He smiled.
Damn. She was doomed. “You know, you’ve really got to start paying attention.” She paused, trying to gulp down the lump swelling in her throat. “Big as a house. Remember that.”
The smile spreading across his face was as intimate as a kiss. He lifted the cover, revealing an ice cream sundae. A diamond studded heart pendant on a gold chain was draped around the crystal bowl’s stem.
“That’s beautiful.” Camille sucked in a breath filled with joy and then sorrow and disappointment. Disappointment that she hadn’t been able to find a man such as Julian for real. Her very own Prince Charming. She sighed. “But why?” She summoned the courage to look at him. Their marriage wasn’t real. Why was he baiting her with the actions of a real husband?
“After all you put up with yesterday,” he said. “It’s the least I could do.”
The look on his face, genuine regret, softened her concern and eased her doubt. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, tell him she was his for the taking. But that wasn’t wise. The only thing it would get her was some serious heartbreak time.
“You’re very kind,” she said, and dropped it at that. Filling with reluctance, she unwrapped the necklace from the dish.
Her heart pounded as Julian rose and moved around behind her. He slipped the trinket from her hand in a slow, seductive movement. Gentle strokes pulled her hair out of the way and he looped the bauble around her neck. No matter how hard she fought it, her desire for him intensified.
Julian’s hands skimmed down her bare arms, patted them twice and then he returned to his seat. Of course he’d touch her like that, seductively, and then walk away.
She studied him with a calculated gaze. There was no way in hell she’d survive being teased by him for the next six months. No way.
She pulled her attention away from him and let it roam around the deck. Nothing. Not a thing to use as a viable distraction—except the inner cabin.
She pushed herself up from the table and sauntered toward the double doors. She hurried inside, met by a blast of cool air. A wall on the far side displayed a group of family photographs. Maybe there’d be one from his childhood...that she could poke fun at. That would lighten the mood.
She perched her hands on her hips and scanned the images. A picture of two boys sitting in a woman’s lap caught her eye. The children were nothing more than toddlers, and Camille assumed they were Julian and Andre. The woman in the picture, presumably their mother, had a wonderful smile and laughing eyes that reminded her of Julian when he got really excited.
Pointing to the picture, she glanced over her shoulder. “Is this your mother?”
He nodded, a pleased look crossing his face. In an instant, Julian was at Camille’s side and removing the photograph from its place on the wall. Stilling, he studied the picture, drawing a heavy breath. Finally, when he did move, he took the photograph and went to the couch on the other side of the room. Camille followed.
“This was taken just weeks before she...” His words faded, and he looked at Camille. The memory had stolen the laughter that usually resided in his eyes.
“Well, it’s nice of Claudette not to complain about your mother’s pictures being displayed here.”
“While Claudette has been a wonderful mother-figure—” He almost laughed. “—This is not the family’s boat. It’s mine.” He glanced around. “Much of what you see here...the décor, the photographs...it all belonged to my mother. These were her personal items.”
“Wow.” A frenzy of sudden, spinning sorrow toppled her poise. The tribute to his mother said something about what Julian valued in life. “This is a great way to honor your mother and keep her memory alive.”
“Papa thinks I’m spending too much effort on the past,” he said trivially, setting the framed picture on the coffee table. Julian shrugged and leaned back on the couch, spreading his arms along the back.
Camille relaxed, crossed her legs, and folded her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t say that.” Phantom tears stained her heart. “It shows a devotion to your mother’s memory. And that’s a very appealing quality.”
A lonesome sort of smile gave way to lips skewing into a tight pucker on his face. Clearly, the hurt over losing his mother was getting to Julian.
Physical need and a longing drove Camille toward him. A knot rose in her throat. She felt like a breathless teenager. The notion that this might be a bad idea slipped into her mind, but she cast it aside in favor of an inherent craving to comfort him—something she thought no one had ever attempted.
Camille snuggled up to Julian and trailed her soft, silk-like fingertips over his face. Her touch was affectionate and soothing and on the verge of becoming too powerful to resist. Julian closed his eyes and skimmed his hand up her arm.
She dropped her forehead on his chest and let out a pleasurable sigh. His hands trailed over her shoulder, as if they had a mind of their own, and explored the hollow of her back.
“If you’re going to stop me,” he whispered into her hair, “please have mercy and do it soon.”
She lifted her head slowly and implored him with her eyes before leaning in and kissing him with a hunger that contradicted her outward composure. “I’m not going to stop you.” Her lips brushed against his as she talked.
Julian caressed her untamed hair out of her face. “Chéri —” He traced his fingers along her cheek. “—if you become uncomfortable at anytime, just tell me and I’ll stop.”
“I want to be with you. That’s all I know.” She said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my whole life.”
Julian led her down onto the couch and trailed soft, sensuous kisses across her face and down the length of her neck. His hand brushed against the patch of fabric covering her breast. She sighed.