Landon turns a grin in my direction. “You can ask if I’ve brought a lot of women here. Your jealousy flatters me, actually.”
I return his smile. “So? Have you?”
“No, never.”
“Not one?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not the playboy the gossip magazines make me out to be. I’ve had a few relationships, all with women who knew what the terms were.”
“Like me?”
He hands me a glass of wine. “There has never been anyone like you.”
I search his eyes, wondering if I can dare to hope, but he turns away and busies himself with setting plates on the table.
“What exactly were the terms?” I ask.
“Exclusivity, but no commitment in the long-term.”
Just like I’d asked for. “And you never felt tempted to make an exception with any of the women you’ve been with?”
He shakes his head. “No, never. I’ve felt pressured, but usually as soon as a woman starts to demand more than I can give, I walk away.”
“Oh!” I take the seat and the plate he offers me, trying not to let my feelings show on my face. If he always walks away when a woman shows signs of wanting more from him, then it’s only a matter of time, very little time, before we’re done.
“Lucky for me I never asked you for a long term commitment,” I say with a lightness I don’t feel.
His eyes burn into mine. “This is just sex and I don’t want to pretend that it’s anything more,” he says. “Those were your exact words.”
Back when I had no idea that I was going to fall in love with him. “Yes,” I say in a small voice. “I remember.”
He refills my wine. “Do you like the food?”
I nod, and we start to talk about other things. After we eat, he finally shows me around the house. It feels almost decadent, walking around the beautiful rooms in just our dressing robes, but there’s no one else in the house. Wilson has retired to the apartment he shares with his wife on the property, and the maid has gone back to her home in town.
We end up on one of the upper floor balconies, watching the stars while seated on a long divan with a blanket covering us both. The silence is peaceful, with only the sound of the insects in the garden and the distant sound of the surf. In the distance, the lights of the city look like fireflies in a fog. I mention it to Landon and he laughs. “Very descriptive,” he teases. “I think there might be a poet inside you somewhere.”
We talk late into the night, and finally, with his arms around me, and the steady rhythm of his heart against my ear, I fall asleep.
I WAKE up alone, lying in the big bed with the covers around me. Landon is sitting at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. I don’t need to ask to know that he’s been dreaming again.
I reach for him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
He gets up, moving away from my touch. “Yes, I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
I frown. “No. Not when you’re going to stay awake the rest of the night.” I get up too, pulling the covers with me. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Why?” he asks testily, “Because you’re curious?”
“Because I care!”
His throat works as he swallows. “Forget about it, Rachel. You’ve already helped more than you know. These past two weeks with you, have been the most peaceful I’ve been in a very long time.”
I cup his cheek with one hand, aching to comfort him. “Come back to bed,” I whisper.
Later, when he’s lying in my arms, his head on my chest, I listen to his breathing as he sleeps, praying that whatever demons he faces in his dreams, they wouldn’t come back before morning.
WHEN I wake up in the morning, I’m alone again. I find a note in Landon’s handwriting on a sheet of Swanson Court stationary, telling me that my clothes are in the attached dressing room.