The Virgin's Proposition by Anne McAllister

boggled.
    “He’ll grow out of it. But we hate seeing him miserable. It isn’t fun. And you know how it can blow this time of year.”
    They both had experienced their share of gale-force winds in the Mediterranean during frequent visits to Greece to see their mother’s parents when they were children. “It’s worse other times,” he said truthfully.
    Theo shrugged. “Fine. You do it.”
    Demetrios had thought he was joking.
    “Never been more serious in my life. You want to sail her to Santorini after the festival, she’s all yours.”
    Demetrios hadn’t hesitated. “You bet.”
    The last time he’d sailed any great distance, it had been not long after his wedding. He’d chartered a sailboat so he and Lissa could sail from Los Angeles to Cabo.
    “It’ll be fantastic,” he’d promised Lissa.
    It had been a disaster—one of many in their short marriage.
    But this trip wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be a piece of cake to do it solo, but he had plenty of experience and, after Cannes, a real desire to be on his own. It was the carrot he’d held out for himself for the past two weeks, every time the festival threatened to drive him crazy.
    Now he reached the dock and could spot Theo’s boat tied up in a slip at the far end. A couple of men from the crew of one of the nearer yachts were already making ready to sail. They gave him a wave as he passed. He waved back, but kept moving, The red-orange rays of sunrise were turning the gleaming hulls bright pink against still cerulean water. It looked like a painting.
    Until someone stood up and moved away from where they had been sitting on the stern of the boat.
    Demetrios stopped dead, disbelieving his eyes. He frowned, gave his head a shake, then came closer to be sure.
    And she—he could tell it was a female, could even tell which female—came toward him, too. Even though she looked totally different.
    Gone was the midnight blue dress that glittered like starlight when she moved. Gone were the diamond necklace and dangling diamond earrings. Gone was the sophisticated upswept hairstyle with its few escaping tendrils. There wasn’t a hint of Princess Adriana in evidence anywhere.
    Nor was there a hint of the classy competent professional woman he’d met that day at the Carlton. No blazer, no linen skirt, no casual dress shoes.
    This Anny was wearing jeans and running shoes, a light-colored T-shirt with a sweatshirt knotted around her hips. And her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tendrils still escaped, but they made her look about fifteen.
    Hell’s bells, he thought. All the roles she played, she could give Lissa a run for her money!
    “What are you doing here?” He was equal parts suspicion and annoyance. He was tempted to just brush right past.
    “I came to say thank you.”
    His gaze narrowed. “For what? Sleeping with you? My pleasure.” He made sure it didn’t sound like it. “But don’t come around thinking it’s going to happen again.”
    “I know that,” she said, with as much impatience in her voice as he had in his. “I didn’t come for that.”
    “What then?
    She hesitated a split second, then looked right up into his eyes. “For courage.”
    Demetrios didn’t like the sound of that. He gave her a short, hard look, grunted what he hoped was a sort of “that’s nice, now go away” sound. Then he did brush past her, tossing his duffel bag onto the deck and jumping on after it.
    He heard her feet land on the deck barely a second after his. He spun around and confronted her squarely, stopping her in her tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Telling you what happened.”
    He scowled at her. He supposed it was useless telling her he didn’t want to know what happened. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the rail. “So tell me.”
    “I…talked to Gerard last night. After the party. I told him I couldn’t marry him.”
    Demetrios stared at her, aghast. Of course he’d seen her turmoil. But that