‘I can’t argue with that,’ she replied, setting her glass aside. No way was she drinking too much. She wanted to remember every word, every touch, every moment. And she wanted them to be the best ever.
* * *
Three-forty. Kristof rolled towards the sleeping, warm and curvaceous body beside him and wrapped his arms around Alesha, brought her butt up against his manhood, and snuggled his face into the soft place between her shoulder blades. It had been a wonderful week. Filled with pleasure and passion, fun and laughter; no grating barbs, no nasty moments. And now it was over. Within a couple of hours he’d climb out of bed and walk up the hill to get ready to head to the airport and home.
No regrets. No ties. No demands made on him. A perfect end to a perfect week.
And yet... It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. If ever there was a woman he might consider settling down with, falling in love with, Alesha rang all the bells. She was beautiful inside and out. But she wasn’t ready. There were a lot of issues holding her back. She mightn’t have talked about them but they were there if a guy knew where to look. He’d seen a hint of pain that first night when she’d admitted to being set up for the holiday of a lifetime that didn’t happen. The pain that wasn’t about being dumped but about lots of other things. Almost an acceptance because it had happened before and she seemed to expect it to happen again.
His lips brushed her silky skin, his nose breathed in the scent of woman. His woman. No, not his. Not once the sun came up. That was not reluctance to let go churning his gut. That was reality and practicality. Loving a woman was not on his to-do list. Even if it happened he’d never do anything about it. Loving people meant setting his heart up for danger, to be sliced up piece by piece and tossed aside. To be vulnerable again. He’d be a damned slow learner if he let that happen. His ex-wife had proved how right his father had been. Love was relative to the effort someone wanted to put into it. He’d given his all to his father, and to Cally, and got only scraps back. His mother might’ve forgiven him and still loved him fiercely, but that didn’t make it any easier to go out there and fall in love again. He carried a weight of guilt over not believing his mother would never deliberately hurt him.
But if he’d ever feel free enough to try marriage he knew he’d found the woman to take the chance with. Except he wasn’t going to. The consequences could be catastrophic.
Rolling onto his back, Kristof brought Alesha with him so that she was sprawled across his chest, his belly, his rising manhood.
‘Mmm...’ she muttered sleepily. ‘What time is it?’
‘Time enough for me to make love to you again.’ Make love? Or have sex? What did a name for it matter? They’d come together, share a moment, take and give pleasure. Call it what he liked, that wouldn’t change the sensations, the need and the caring. This was one special lady and he was going to miss her. Far too much. But he’d get over her eventually. He had to.
‘Oh, goodie.’ She wriggled over so that she was facing him, her hands reaching for his shoulders, a simple touch ramping up the heat pouring through his already hot body.
Clasping her hips, he lifted her to straddle him, and lowered her over his manhood. Groaned as her moisture encompassed his throbbing need. She was always ready for him, a turn-on if he wasn’t already turned on. Touching Alesha sent waves of desire rippling through her, and made her cry out. As she shuddered and gripped him he lost himself within her for one last time.
* * *
Dressed in hurriedly pulled-on shorts and shirt, Alesha hung over the parapet at the far end of the pool and watched Kristof striding up the hill as he had every day she’d been here. Confident, relaxed, ready for whatever came his way. Solid, strong, more masculine than any male had the right to be. That dark-blond hair, those wide shoulders, the long legs—only a start to the whole package.
Her heart sank further with every step he took away from her and their week. She had no right to be sad. They had agreed on a fling with a finite duration, and that was what they’d had. What she hadn’t expected was the intensity of their lovemaking, or the way she’d begun to hang out for Kristof’s voice at the end of the day, or how, when he was with her, she was his focus—as though he cared about her and what she did. She was going to miss that. Miss him.
But...
It was time to let go, get out in the world and make a life for herself that didn’t require trying to find a compatible man who could once and for all prove to her she was lovable. So far no one had come along to love her in the only way she now accepted she needed—as in for ever, regardless of the stuff-ups she made. She’d been looking too hard, and probably chased away the men she’d known with her need for constant reassurance.
Whereas Kristof hadn’t been chased away simply because they’d agreed to one week together and then to go their own ways. It had worked, despite the sadness pulling at her now.
As he disappeared around the corner at the top of the hill the sadness engulfing her grew heavier. ‘Bye, Kristof.’ She’d never see him again. It was how it was, and part of her was glad they wouldn’t get the chance to fall out. She didn’t want to be hurt by Kristof, nor to hurt him back. A bigger portion of her head, her heart, her need, wanted him to spin around and come racing down the hill to bang on the outside door leading into the complex as he yelled for her to let him back in.
It wasn’t going to happen.
It was time to move on.
Starting with packing her bag and having some breakfast. Later she’d walk up the hill, following Kristof’s tracks to his mother’s house, and unpack her few belongings in a spare bedroom that was to be hers while she stayed on in Dubrovnik. Later, when there was no chance of bumping into Kristof. He’d made it plain when he left her bed they weren’t going to see each other again, and she’d give him that. He’d done so much for her this week. And to see him one more time would be dragging out the sadness. It was time to let go. Not that she was supposed to have been caught up with him anyway. But like a great holiday, a seriously wonderful fling didn’t evaporate into dusty memories within minutes.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she smiled. It was unlikely she’d ever forget this past week. They’d made such magic memories, how could she?
* * *
Antonija welcomed her like a long-lost friend even though it was less than twenty-four hours since they’d talked about her staying on to help at the children’s home. ‘Here’s a set of keys to my house. Come and go as you please. I’ve given you Kristof’s room as it’s got the best view.’
Kristof’s room? Oh, no, that wasn’t going to help with putting last week in its place. ‘Thank you. I will spend most of my time down with the children though.’
‘We have a busy schedule. Kristof’s friend’s coming across from London for a week. He’s a paediatric specialist and will see each child during his visit for general medical check-ups. I intend for you to help him. But you must get out and enjoy the city as well.’
‘No problem.’ Kristof’s room. Kristof’s friend. This woman was missing her son already. Maybe she never stopped missing him when he headed back to London. Alesha could relate to that. She was missing him too, and she hadn’t spent the days in his sphere, except when she’d worked in Theatre with him that once. But those nights... ‘I know you said take the weekend off but I’d prefer to see the kids today.’
‘That’d be lovely. Some of them want to go to the park and an extra pair of eyes would help the staff no end.’ The older woman gave a weary smile. ‘The children do like to run wild a bit. It’s often because of their background and being left to their own devices too much. Some of them, anyway.’
‘Then they find you.’ Alesha felt for this kind woman who, from what she’d seen, gave and gave of herself. ‘When did you open the refuge?’
‘Fifteen years ago when I returned home from London. I felt I’d had a good life and wanted to do what I could for
those less fortunate. I never expected there to be so many children wanting a little love and support. That’s all most of them want really. Not many are ill.’
‘So the surgeons and other visiting specialists are for the general population?’
‘The very poor at the end of the waiting list.’
‘Right, let’s get cracking.’
Alesha dropped her bag in the room that was Kristof’s. Looking around, she found nothing to remind her of him. The décor was simple. No photos adorned the walls or the top of the dresser. No discarded jacket or shirt. Impersonal about described it. His idea of home with his mother? Or his mother’s way of keeping her son at arm’s length? That didn’t explain the loneliness in the older woman’s eyes. Kristof hid his feelings, though he had indicated he was not interested in a permanent relationship. Did that include one with his mother? Something had gone wrong for these two, and still Kristof came to Dubrovnik to help his mother out with her project, and he sought help from other qualified people for her children. Interesting.
The walk to the park with seven kids aged between eight and eleven was fun and kept Alesha on her toes the whole time. Two other staff members accompanied them, taking a soccer ball with them. The game was hilarious and no one took it seriously. Until one girl started gasping for breath. ‘Marija? What’s happening?’
Not understanding a word the child said had Alesha tensed up and extra vigilant as she assessed the situation. Then the man who was with them pulled an inhaler from his pocket and pushed it towards the girl, saying something that Alesha could only hope was to breathe deep with the puffer.
‘Asthma?’ she asked one of the staff and got a nod.
The girl was banging her chest and Alesha caught her hands and held them gently. ‘Don’t hurt yourself.’ Her chest would be painful as the airways would’ve filled with mucous. Alesha took the inhaler and pressed it carefully between the girl’s lips and squeezed it to express the bronchodilator into her airways to ease the tightness. ‘Breathe in slowly,’ which was really all the girl could manage anyway. Breathing out was a struggle. ‘That’s the girl.’ With one hand she rubbed her back slowly, quietly. If only she spoke Croatian, this would be so much easier. Let’s face it, learning Croatian wasn’t on most people’s to-do list.
The other children had gathered round to watch and Alesha shooed them away, administered more puffs of Ventolin. Now what? The girl was not in any condition to walk the two kilometres back to the centre, especially since the temperature was around thirty. Her breathing was not settling, giving Alesha cause for concern. When she looked to the other two adults they shrugged as if to say they didn’t know what to do.
Alesha sighed. Only one thing for it. Try to walk slowly as far as possible and then piggyback the girl if she had to. She pointed to herself and the girl, then in the direction they’d come from. ‘I’ll take her back.’
They nodded, said something which could’ve been acknowledgment or an order for takeout food for all she knew.
Taking the child’s hand, Alesha set out. The girl’s breathing had improved marginally but she didn’t feel confident Marija was up to much walking. Soon she had hauled her up on her back and was trudging the pavement along the roads back to the children’s home and a general check-up with the local trainee doctor putting in some hours over the weekend. All the way she kept up a monologue about anything that came to mind. Twice she stopped to administer another puff from the inhaler.