The waiter brought the dessert of tiramisu, but as she took her first bite of the sweet cake, she could hardly taste it. With a deep breath, she set down her fork. And met his eyes.
He reached for her hand over the table.
“I am glad I found you,” he said in a low voice that made her tremble from within. “Glad you’re here now.”
He was still being so kind and loving to her. She could hardly understand it. She covered her face with one hand.
“You must hate me,” she said in a low voice.
His fingers seemed to tighten by reflex over her other wrist. “Why do you say that?”
Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “Because I can’t remember you! You are my lover, the father of my child, and you’re being so kind to me. You’re trying so hard to help me remember. But it’s useless, all useless, because my brain—won’t—work!”
Her voice choked as tears spilled down her cheeks. Aware she was making a scene, desperate to escape all the eyes on her—now those of the women, too, as well as the men—Eve pulled away from him. Throwing her linen napkin on the table, she ran outside.
Talos caught up with her a few moments later, her coat in his arms.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. He kissed her temple and she felt his hands in her long, loose hair. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” she choked out, gulping back tears. She looked up at him. “How can I be with you and not remember?”
“You need to calm down,” he said in a low voice. “This can’t be good for the baby—being pushed all over Venice.”
“You haven’t pushed me. You’ve been gentle and wonderful.” She wiped the tears away angrily. “It’s my fault. All mine. Dr. Bartlett said there’s no physical reason that I shouldn’t remember. So what is it? What’s wrong with me?”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should go back to London. See that specialist—”
“No.” His dark gaze caught hers, sensual and intense. He cupped her face with his hands. “You don’t need any doctors. You just need time. Time and care. And me. I remember enough for both of us. Marry me, Eve. Make me happy.”
Her face felt warm where he touched her. His eyes fell to her mouth, and her lips tingled beneath his gaze as if he’d touched her with his hands. And immediately, her whole body felt sparked, consumed by raging fire, like dry tinder sparked by lightning.
Behind him, she saw the famous Piazza San Marco, toward the tall red campanile and the famous domed white basilica that was as exotic as anything in Cairo or Istanbul. The hour was late, the night was magic, the tourists had melted away into the mists, leaving the two of them alone, drenched in moonlight beside the water.
He was going to kiss her.
She wanted him to kiss her. Ached for it.
As he slowly lowered his head to hers, her whole body vibrated, leaning forward, yearning…
But as she closed her eyes and leaned up for his kiss, she suddenly found herself standing five feet away from him.
She could see the rapid, hoarse rise and fall of his breath as he stared at her in the moonlight with eyes so dark they seemed black.
“What is it, Eve?” he said in a low voice. “Why did you jump away?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered helplessly over the lump in her throat. “I want to kiss you, but for some reason, I’m…afraid.”
He gave a sudden low laugh, a sensual, knowing sound that caused a rumble to echo off the waves of the water. “You’re right to be afraid.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, unable to look away.
Reaching for her hand, he kissed her palm. “This fire could consume us both.” Slowly, he kissed each knuckle of her hand, causing zings of pleasure to curl up and down her body. “Once I start kissing you, I might never stop.”
A shudder of pleasure went through her at those words. Pleasure…desire…fear.
But his face was so strangely dark in the moonlight.