Page 40 of Virgin's Night with the Greek

With a wince and a sickeningly familiar turn of her stomach, she reached for her phone. She brought up the calendar and responded with a jolt to the details on the screen. The twelfth? She’d been here for ten days already? How had that happened? She was only supposed to have stayed a week.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why she’d lost track of time when she’d been so wrapped up in what she and Leo had been doing, but even so she ought to have had a few more days in hand. That was why she’d attributed her bloating to fine food and even finer wine and her extreme fatigue to a simple lack of sleep thanks to their burning the candle at both ends.

But how she’d missed such obvious signals when she’d had over eleven years of this, month in, month out, didn’t matter. An analysis of the situation would have to wait. What was important was that she react. Fast. Because she couldn’t let Leo see her go through what was about to happen. It would be brutal. Emotional and intimate. She would not appear weak and vulnerable in front of him. And what if he wanted to help?God.She’d have not a shred of dignity left.

Willow ignored the hot surge of emotion that suddenly rushed through her system in response to the sodding unfairness of life, and determinedly blinked back the unexpected sting of tears while cursing the hormones behind both. She’d always known their affair had an end date. She’d had a great time while it had lasted. It had been everything he’d promised and everything she’d hoped for, but now it was over. Instead of wallowing in regret and disappointment, she had to focus on getting away from Leo before the lovely bubble they’d created burst and things got very real indeed. So she got up off the sun lounger, gathered together her things and headed inside.

She was throwing her clothes into the suitcase that was lying open on the bed and determinedly ignoring the faint gnawing ache that she knew would soon intensify when Leo eventually found her.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ he asked, stock still in the doorway, a freshly made margarita in each hand.

The surprise she could hear in his voice bounced right off her. She resisted the temptation to ditch the suitcase and beg him to hold her close and kiss away the pain. She didn’t stop for even a second. ‘I have to go.’

‘Why?’

‘This has been fun but it’s over.’

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him set the drinks on top of a chest of drawers, a deep frown creasing his brow. ‘What’s going on, Willow?’

‘Nothing’s going on,’ she said, plucking the pink silk robe off the armchair with clammy, trembling fingers and adding it to the pile. ‘It’s just that I need to leave.’

‘You’re very pale. Something’s obviously wrong.’

He headed in her direction, his expression filled with concern she shouldn’t—didn’t—want. She made for the en suite bathroom before he could reach her, take her in his arms and pulverise her resolve. He was too much. Too perceptive. He was also not going to let this lie, she realised as she scooped up her toiletries and dropped them in her wash bag. There was nothing for it but honesty.

‘I’ve started cramping,’ she said, avoiding his penetrating gaze as she returned to the room. ‘My pelvis aches. My period is imminent.’

‘And?’

‘It’s going to be horrible. I turn into a soggy miserable wreck. You do not want to see me in that sort of a state.Idon’t want you to see me like that. So I’m going. Now.’

‘Where?’

She dropped the wash bag into the suitcase, wishing she were better prepared, never more regretting that she hadn’t kept a closer eye on the date. ‘I need to get some supplies and then find a hotel.’

‘Who will be there to take care of you?’

‘No one,’ she said, ignoring the brief twist of her heart and shoving everything down hard so it might fit. ‘But I’m used to that. I can take care of myself.’

Leo folded his arms across his chest, his jaw set, his brow still furrowed, a stance that unfortunately suggested obstinacy and purpose. ‘Who will rub your back and run you a bath?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with some obstinacy and purpose of her own. ‘I always am.’

‘Stay here and I can do both.’

For a split second, Willow allowed herself to imagine it because it sounded so wonderful. And then she thought of her dignity and the risk to the mile-high walls around her heart, at which point it very much didn’t.

She gave her head a sharp shake and stifled the rogue pang of longing. ‘No,’ she said flatly as she zipped up one half of the case. ‘It’s too personal. Too embarrassing. I’d probably throw up on you and no one needs that.’

‘You don’t have to do this on your own,’ he said, frustratingly persistent. ‘Not this month, at least. Tell me what I can do to help and I will do it. I will make sure you have whatever you need.’

‘You still want to solve my problems.’

‘I don’t like seeing people I care about suffering.’

She went very still, her heart giving a quick lurch, her gaze darting to his. She straightened and stared at him, packing momentarily forgotten. ‘You care about me?’

‘I’m sleeping with you. I’m sightseeing with you. Of course I do.’

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