What The Greek's Wife Needs - Dani Collins Page 0,10

many times. Go. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. Had he met any new mothers? “Wake me if—”

“I will. But I won’t have to.”

She ducked her head to go through the small door, shuffled hunched over through the tiny space that was the helm with its captain’s chair and low-profile view over the bow, then negotiated the short, steep ladder into the cabin below. The saloon was a sleek, narrow space with a galley on one side and a bench settee with a long, narrow dining table on the other. An oblong door at the end led to the only quarters and was taken up by the V-shaped berth with storage space beneath and a skylight hatch above.

Everything was minimal and modest, not at all the opulent sailboat Leon had been swanning around in when they had met and married.

He had lost his father’s fortune, she had read shortly after he left her in Canada. That’s why he’d failed to invest in the marina her brother had taken over from their father. Recently, Leon had seemed to be coming back on top again—not that she made a habit of stalking him online. On the contrary, she purposely didn’t check up on him.

Maybe he had lost everything again while she’d been cut off from the world on Istuval. Typical corporate raider, successively gambling away people’s livelihoods.

She shouldn’t be so cynical when he’d just saved her and her daughter. She knew that, but she had resented him for a long time, and her exhausted brain was having trouble bringing the two versions of Leon Petrakis together, especially because she was also trying to figure out where to put Illi down for the night.

Cats and trimarans didn’t list as severely as sailboats, but Illi still might be sent rolling. She had mastered flipping onto her tummy and often woke up that way. The mattress was firm enough she should be fine sleeping next to Tanja, especially if she was tucked close to the bow. Tanja felt safe leaving her there with a pillow as a bolster while she brushed her teeth.

She didn’t bother changing into her pajamas, just positioned herself as a second wall of defense to keep Illi safely on the bed, realizing as she lay down that she was actually exhausted. Despite the late hour and her weariness—Leon was right, she hadn’t been sleeping enough—her busy mind fluttered like a trapped bird.

Obviously, her brother had asked Leon to come and get her, but why had Leon relented? What would happen next? Should she bring up divorce herself before she left for Canada? Why did the word divorce cut like a knife through the center of her chest? It was something she wanted. Needed. She couldn’t live in this holding pattern forever.

Then what? How would she pay for her flight home? She would have to tell him—

The engine cut.

Either they were out of fuel, which was so disheartening a thought that she bit back a whimper of anguish, or...

A sail snapped. The boat wobbled and Leon’s feet sounded on the deck above her. She watched for him through the hatch but could see only stars. After a moment, the constellations quit joggling and began to move in a steady path.

It shouldn’t have felt like such a relief to be steering into open water with wind their only propulsion. She had very limited supplies for her baby and suspected whatever groceries Leon had brought had been taken by the soldiers.

But when she heard him come inside and close the door, her entire being relaxed.

“Thank you, Leon,” she whispered, and tumbled into heavy slumber.

Pink was staining the wispy clouds beyond the porthole when Illi began to whimper.

Tanja sat up, disoriented, murmuring, “I’m here, baby doll. Let’s go find your bottle.”

She had left the one she’d prepared in the tiny fridge, but when she went to the galley to retrieve it, she realized there was no microwave. Darn it, this might get loud.

“Everything okay?” Leon leaned down from the helm. He looked tired and scruffy, with a darker beard and weary circles around his eyes, but he was still sexy as hell.

Where the heck had that thought come from? The very last thing she wanted or needed was a recurrence of a case of the lusts.

She yanked her libido back under control and said, “She needs a bottle.”

“Don’t use the water in the tap unless you boil it first. I bought this from a fellow racer who had it stored on