Читать книгу The Greek's Ultimate Revenge - Julia James - Страница 9

OH, YES, thought Nikos savagely—that was good, Ms Fareham, that was very good! That little touch of surprise, and widening those big, beautiful eyes of yours. What the hell did you suppose everyone would think about your relationship with a fifty-two-year-old man? His mouth tightened.

She was sitting there, gazing at him, her eyes wide in her beautiful face. As if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. As if neglected wives, heartbroken and despairing, had nothing to do with her. As if she were not responsible for his sister weeping in his arms.

The dark current of his anger surged dangerously near the surface. He forced it down. It had no part to play in his scheme now. The time for venting his anger on her would come later.

He made his mouth give a brief smile.

‘Do not look so surprised. Such relationships are not unknown,’ he remarked. For all his intentions, a sardonic tone was audible in his voice. He took a mouthful of coffee, then set back his cup with a click on the metal surface of the table.

Janine eyed him cautiously. Stephanos had urged such discretion that she was taken aback by this man calmly referring to it. But then, she reasoned, presumably such relationships were not unusual. Especially not with non-Greek women, with their more relaxed attitude to sexual behaviour. Clearly Nikos Kiriakis saw nothing exceptional about it.

Even so, it was disconcerting to hear this complete stranger refer to it. Although, of course, she realised belatedly, he wasn’t a stranger to Stephanos. It was odd that they were friends, though—Nikos Kiriakis was easily a generation younger than Stephanos. He didn’t look much over thirty, really. Thirty-five at the most. He was certainly in incredible physical condition…

‘Please don’t look so alarmed,’ he went on, the smooth note back in his voice. ‘I appreciate that Stephanos wishes to be discreet about your relationship. It is very understandable. You may be assured of my discretion.’ He smiled again, a warm, reassuring smile, and she felt suddenly breathless.

‘So,’ said Nikos, knowing he had overcome that barrier successfully, ‘would you care to undertake a little sightseeing? It would be very useful to me as, amongst other business matters, I am here to see whether this island would be suitable for a summer villa for myself.’

That was true enough, he thought. From what little he’d seen of the island firsthand so far, and from what Stephanos had already told him, it might well be suitable. The most southerly of the Ionian islands, Skarios was dryer and hotter than the others, and far less developed. The airport had recently been extended to allow tourist planes to land, but there was general agreement that any development should be both upmarket and sympathetic to the landscape—like his brother-in-law’s luxury hotel, which had been designed to be low-rise and traditionally styled.

‘Well,’ he went on, ‘what do you think?’

About what? thought Janine, trying to drag her mind back, because she had resumed gazing raptly at the incredible man sitting opposite her.

‘Showing me the island?’ he prompted, well aware of the reason for her vagueness, and well pleased by it. Her reaction was exactly what he’d hoped it would be.

Janine felt her breath catch. Those gold-flecked eyes were resting on her, making her feel…feel…

Breathless. Totally breathless….

‘What do you say?’ pursued Nikos. He was in no doubt as to her answer. Not in the slightest.

‘It sounds wonderful!’ said Janine, unable to stop herself sounding enthusiastic.

Suddenly Nikos Kiriakis’s arrival could not have seemed more timely.

Stephanos had extracted a reluctant promise from her not to hire a car and explore the island herself—‘The roads are far too dangerous!’ he’d said anxiously—which had left only the not very appealing prospect of taking taxis or restricting herself to the very limited tour buses.

She’d be an idiot to turn down the opportunity of keeping company with the most breathtaking man she’d ever set eyes on…

Careful, a voice inside her cautioned. This Nikos Kiriakis might be gorgeous, but, believe me, he has the same effect on every female he comes across. Just because he eyed you up it doesn’t mean you should start getting ideas.

She sobered. Anyway, this isn’t a good time for getting ideas like that. This time should be devoted to Stephanos.

But Stephanos isn’t here…and he’s sent Nikos Kiriakis to me…

To show you around, stop you getting bored, she reminded herself acidly. Nothing else…

He was talking again, and she brought her mind back with a snap.

‘Good. Then we are agreed. We shall make our first excursion tomorrow!’ There was satisfaction in his voice. He had made contact, and got her agreement—incredibly easily!—to spend time with him alone. Now it was time for the next step in his carefully planned campaign.

‘For today—’ he shot back his cuff and glanced at the gold watch circling his wrist ‘—it is too late to make any kind of expedition. Besides—’ the smile quirked again ‘—I have only just flown in from Athens, and that pool looks far too inviting to resist.’ He frowned, as his gaze took in just how thronged with children it was. ‘Perhaps it will get quieter later.’

‘Yes, it empties out around six-ish,’ confirmed Janine. Her spirits were zipping around in her, whooshing like crazy. ‘The sea is a better bet right now. A path goes down to the beach just beyond the pool.’ She indicated with her hand.

He nodded. ‘The sea it shall be, then,’ he said. His eyes swept over her once more. ‘Perhaps you would care to join me there later when you have finished your sunbathing?’

Janine’s eyes flickered. ‘Thank you—yes.’

Her voice was still breathless, and she felt light-headed.

Nikos got to his feet. ‘I’ll see you down there,’ he told her, and bestowed one last smile on her for good measure before he walked away towards the hotel.

Janine gazed after him until he disappeared from view.

Slowly, she bent her head to drink her frappe through the twin straws in the glass.

Her pulse was racing.

Nikos plugged his laptop cable into the wall-jack in his room and dialled into his e-mail. As he waited for his latest messages to download, the image of Janine Fareham floated enticingly in his mind. He let himself indulge in recollecting her charms, plentiful as they were, and replayed the exchange he had had with her.

Satisfaction filled him. Things were going exactly to plan. She was responding to him very satisfactorily.

And you are responding to her—definitely responding…

But that was good, he reasoned immediately. It was good that he should feel such desire for a woman he needed to seduce. It would lend great verisimilitude to the undertaking.

And danger?

He rebuffed the notion immediately. What danger was there for him in this enterprise? None. He would seduce Janine Fareham, enjoy her—because she looked as if she were going to be very enjoyable indeed—and that would be that. She would not be returning to Stephanos.

Without conceit he knew that he had a lot more to offer than a man of Stephanos’s age! And even if she thought she could go back she would discover otherwise. Once Stephanos knew of her defection there would be no way that he would take her back after she had fallen into his, Nikos’s, bed!

No, his plan was entirely without danger—least of all to himself. Janine Fareham was a stunningly attractive female, and he would certainly enjoy taking her to bed—but then he always enjoyed taking beautiful women to bed.

And so many were so willing…

A caustic smile parted his lips. Demetria might volubly yearn for the day she saw him finally married, and berate him for his sexual lifestyle, but it was hardly a problem for him. The stream of women wanting him to desire them was endless, so even if he did tire of them—as he always did—it caused him no difficulty. He simply moved on to the next one.

There was always a next one.

And there would certainly be another one once he had finished with his brother-in-law’s mistress.

Irritated with himself for giving form to such pointless musing, he stabbed at the mouse button to open the first e-mail his PA had forwarded as worthy of his attention. In an instant his mind was preoccupied, diverted totally on to business matters.

By the time he had surfaced from his business affairs, the sun was setting. The room temperature was pleasantly cool, thanks to the background air-conditioning, but when he stepped out onto the wide balcony of his room the afternoon warmth enveloped him. Even without his jacket he was far too hot.

Returning indoors, he stripped off and donned a pair of swimming trunks, before reaching for a pair of crisply cut cotton shorts and a casual shirt. As he reached for a beach towel the image of Janine Fareham in her skimpy bikini wafted once more through his mind. She would be waiting for him by now, no doubt.

Time to go to work.

At the bottom of the flight of steps that cut into the rock between the gardens and the sea he paused, looking around him. To one side of the hotel beach and further out to sea the windsurfers were clearly in action, skimming and twisting over the surface of the water. Immediately in front of him were two rows of loungers and parasols, and a bar café was set back from the beach, to save guests having to go back up to the pool level.

Out to sea, the westering sun was turning the water to turquoise.

He could see no sign of the girl.

And then he spotted her.

She was out to sea, swimming offshore in a leisurely breast-stroke. Her hair, he could just tell at this distance, seemed to be knotted on her head, out of the water.

Casting around to see which lounger she had taken, he saw the beach bag she’d had up by the pool and walked across to toss his towel down on it. Then he undressed down to his trunks to wade into the water. It caressed him like silk, and, with a lithe movement, he dived forward, striking out to sea in a powerful, fast stroke.

He closed the distance between the shore and the girl in a few moments, and then went right on past her. He needed exercise after the inactivity of the day. Besides, the vigorous exercise would help to drain off that layer of submerged, persistent anger he had felt ever since Demetria had dropped her bombshell. It wouldn’t drain out completely, of course. Nothing could make it do that until the cause of his anger was removed. But he knew he had to keep his feelings under tight control—he must not, must not, let it show. Janine Fareham must get no inkling of it—not until it was far, far too late for her.

Just thinking of her, of the pain she was causing Demetria, the damage she was doing to Stephanos’s marriage, made the anger surge through him again. It flared through him, urging his muscles forward, pushing him past the pain barrier as he churned through the water at a punishing speed.

Only when he was several hundred metres out to sea did he finally slow, his burst of energy and aggression spent. He turned over onto his back, temporarily exhausted, floating on the swell of the sea for a while, letting his heart-rate slow and his muscles recover.

His anger seemed abstract now, far away. Demetria and her suffering seemed far away too. Another image formed in his mind. The image of a beautiful blonde with a sun-kissed body and softly rounded limbs.

The woman he was going to calculatedly and deliberately seduce—because she was his sister’s husband’s mistress.

For a few brief seconds another emotion surfaced. An alien one. Unwelcome.

Reluctance.

Reluctance at the task ahead of him.

And reluctance to question why he felt that way. What was wrong with what he was planning to do? The girl was threatening to destroy his sister’s marriage—he was simply trying to help Demetria, who had quite enough torment in her life coping with her infertility. She did not need her husband cheating on her with a younger woman!

And just because, he reminded himself tightly, the younger woman in question had turned out to be so incredibly desirable, that was no reason to flinch from what he had promised Demetria he would do. No reason to feel reluctant to pursue his carefully planned strategy of calculated seduction.

He put his reluctance aside. There was no reason why he should not do what he was setting out to do. The girl had got her claws into his brother-in-law—he was going to remove them. End of story. He had set out on this course and he would pursue it to the end. He would accomplish what he had set out to do—what he knew he had to do.

And use whatever it took to achieve that goal.

There was nothing else to be done.

He flipped over and headed back to shore with a steady, unhurried stroke, making for the girl who was his target and his mission. She too had circled round to head back towards the beach, still kicking with her leisurely breast-stroke, head held high out of the water. As he neared her he dived and swam underwater for some metres, emerging just in front of her in a shower of spray.

Janine’s breast-stroke stalled abruptly. She’d been miles away mentally, using the smooth, rhythmic movement of her body in the sea to let her mind drift miles away.

But not too many miles. Just as far as the memory of the man whose face had been burning into her retinas since she had laid eyes on him. Once he’d disappeared from view, heading back up to the hotel, she’d gone back to her pool lounger and scooped up her things, heading down to the beach.

She’d tried to sunbathe again, but it had been impossible. Impossible to relax. She’d been fizzing with electricity—electricity generated by Nikos Kiriakis.

She’d given up trying to relax and instead had knotted up her hair, retied her bikini straps firmly, and gone into the water. Here, cool blue satin slipping past her heated body, she had given herself to the indulgence of recalling every last detail of the most breathtaking man she’d ever laid eyes on.

And suddenly now here he was, in the flesh, beside her.

And such flesh…

They were both out of their depths, still treading water, but the translucent liquid did little to hide from her the power and perfection of his body. Broad, bare shoulders topped a muscled chest, fuzzed with hair, every ab and pec lovingly outlined. No wonder he’d been able to swim at speed! His body was in superb condition.

Just like the rest of him…

His dark, wet hair was slicked back from his face. Diamonds glittered on those lush, long lashes of his.

White teeth flashed in a grin.

‘If you swam any slower you’d go backwards!’ said Nikos Kiriakis to her teasingly.

Janine trod water, trying to regain her composure and trying not to stare open-mouthed at Nikos Kiriakis with hardly a stitch on him.

‘You go ahead,’ she managed. ‘I’ll catch you up.’

He gave a laugh and swam away. Janine watched him carve through the water.

Like a shark, she thought…

Lean, dark and dangerous…

Now, why should she think that? What was dangerous about Nikos Kiriakis? He was a fantastic-looking male, but that was the only dangerous thing about him—and it was a danger every female who set eyes on him would experience.

A danger that she would end up doing something totally stupid over him.

Her lips pressed together. Well, she was not stupid. She’d got this far in life by not being stupid—not in the way that the likes of Nikos Kiriakis made women stupid. Women like her mother. Always falling for a handsome face. Oh, her mother had thought it ‘romantic’ to have one fervid affair after another, but Janine had never seen it like that. And where had it got her mother? Louise’s flitting butterfly existence, lover after lover, had been a gilded existence, filled with nothing but parties and self-indulgence. Filled with men like Nikos Kiriakis.

She knew what men like Nikos Kiriakis were like. They were too rich, too handsome, too damn sexy to be anything but bad. And Nikos Kiriakis was definitely bad. He would be used to women swooning at his feet in droves!

Well, she mustn’t be one of them.

She made a face.

She didn’t need to tell herself that! Didn’t need to warn herself. Nikos Kiriakis had the seal of approval from Stephanos—he wasn’t going to be any kind of danger. OK, so he’d eyed her up, but that didn’t mean anything. And she’d eyed him up—it had been impossible not to. But that didn’t mean anything either. She wouldn’t let it.

Her impeccable logic as to her own state of safety from Nikos Kiriakis lasted as long as it took to follow him to shore. By the time she was wading out of the water he had already towelled himself dry and had calmly appropriated her lounger. Nikos lay back and let her look, hands behind his head, shoulders slightly raised by the adjustable headrest, and he was subjecting her to a long and thorough examination.

In the space of less than a second Janine felt more aware of her body than she had ever felt in her life. And of just how close to being totally naked she was.

Suddenly, from being a quite unexceptional item of swimwear, her bikini seemed to shrink on her body, clinging damply to her tautened breasts and barely concealing her pubis.

As for the rest of her, every inch of flesh was totally exposed to him.

And every inch of it tingled as if an electric current were passing through it.

Every step she made to her lounger, she felt that dark, gold-flecked gaze resting on her appraisingly.

Being able to seize her towel and wrap it around her like a cocoon was a moment of exquisite relief. And then, just like a switch being thrown, she realised that she had become the one doing the appraising.

He lay back and let her look.

Oh, she didn’t do it as blatantly as he had her, he acknowledged. She made some pretence of unknotting her hair and shaking it loose. But he could see perfectly well that her eyes were fixed on him, covertly working over him through those long lashes of hers. Working over his body.

Well, that was good. That was very good. He wanted her to like what she saw. Wanted her to want him.

It made him want her too…

With a sudden movement he jack-knifed to his feet. It took a lot of control to make it look like an intentional movement.

Where the hell had that come from? The strength and immediacy of his reaction to her perusal shocked him.

With iron discipline he crushed his response. A public beach was not the place for it!

Immediately his imagination leapt to provide another venue—one where his reaction would be exactly what he wanted. A private beach—just the two of them—and Janine Fareham raising her arms to let the golden fall of her hair cascade over her bared breasts…

Again he crushed his response, forcing himself to regain control.

‘Here,’ he said, gesturing at the lounger he’d just vacated. ‘This was yours. I’ll use this one.’

He turned to the adjacent lounger, flicking his towel over it. But his gesture went unappreciated.

‘I think I’ll head back,’ replied Janine. Her voice was not quite steady, she noticed, and it dismayed her. She mustn’t react like this to this man. She just mustn’t! ‘I’ll take a shower and wash off the salt.’

She flickered a smile at him, not meeting his eye, and grabbed her bag, stuffing her feet into her beach sandals haphazardly. She had to get out of here—fast.

Behind her, Nikos watched her hurry off, his eyes narrowing. Then, slowly, he lowered himself back down on the lounger, gazing blindly out to sea. OK, so she could turn him on. Fast.

Quite something for a man of his experience.

And very enjoyable…

And dangerous?

He frowned.

But it was good. That he was responding to her sexually like this. After all, he reasoned, he had to make this deliberate seduction of his look real. Convincing.

Convincing? He’d damn near convinced everyone on the entire beach!

With a rasp of irritation he pushed the mocking comment aside. It wasn’t helpful. Instead he made a lightning review of the situation—the same as he would if this were a business deal he was pushing through. OK, so where was he on this?

Fact: he needed to get Janine Fareham into bed with him ASAP. The sooner she was in, the sooner she’d be out. And out of Stephanos’s bed as well.

Fact: Janine Fareham turned him on.

Fact: that was good. Very good. Just as he could leverage her desire for him, so he could leverage his desire for her. The more leverage, the sooner he’d achieve his goal.

Saving Demetria’s marriage.

Because that, and only that, was the object of this exercise. Enjoying Janine Fareham in bed was nothing more than incidental to that objective.

He’d better not forget it.

He closed his eyes. The westering sun was warm on his bare, damp skin.

Might as well catch some rays and chill out. Take a break before Act II of his fast-track seduction of Janine Fareham got underway.

He let his muscles relax.

It had been a long day. A long week. A long month. In fact it was a long time since he’d simply relaxed in the sun like this. Doing nothing. Letting the light breeze play over his body, the sun bathe his skin.

No one could contact him, no one could make demands on him. He didn’t need to check e-mails, or stock prices, or take conference calls.

He could just stay totally out of touch and let the world outside take care of itself.

Time enough to pursue and put paid to Janine Fareham.

Right now he felt like relaxing.

Halfway up, the stone steps widened into a little parapet, affording a view down to the beach through the vegetation. Janine paused. She couldn’t resist looking back.

Immediately she saw him. He’d occupied the other lounger and was lying there, hands behind his head, face tilted into the sun. She let her eyes move over his body. From here, at this safe distance, she could let herself do that. Let her eyes run over the smooth, bronzed, muscled torso, down over the taut, tight abs, and pick out the darker arrow that disappeared under the drawstring of his trunks. For a second her gaze lingered, then hastily moved on, down over the powerful hair-fuzzed thighs and down the long length of his legs.

He did not move—lay there completely motionless.

He looked, she thought, like a leopard drowsing in the sun.

The little shiver came again, that disturbing eddy that set her nerves tingling.

She wanted to go on gazing at him.

No! With an effort she pulled away, pushing back from the wooden railing that edged the pathway. Resolutely she twisted around and went on up the steps, not looking back.

The pool area was emptying now, much quieter. She did not linger but made her way indoors, her sandals flapping on the stone tiles, under the arching honeysuckle whose fragrance caught at her. Inside the hotel it was cooler, but only just. Her room was much colder, chilly even, with its background air-conditioning.

For the next hour she occupied herself showering, washing her hair, giving herself a facial and manicure, washing out her underwear, and finally pulling a sundress over her head. She phoned Room Service for coffee and watched an international news channel on television until it arrived. Then, tray in hand, she went out onto her balcony.

The sun was nearly setting now, licking the sea with gold. Janine sat herself down at the little table, stretching out her legs as she poured her coffee. Her still damp hair curled around her shoulders and she idly fingered it as she sipped her coffee, gazing out over the view.

It certainly was a fantastic setting for a hotel. From here the sea spread out before her as far as the eastern coast of Sicily. She sat and watched the sun slipping over the horizon, silhouetting the tall cypress trees, sure that she could see Pheobus’s fiery chariot pulling the sun to its watery bed.

A strange, powerful feeling went through her. My first visit to Greece, she thought. All these years and I’ve never been here. Never known why it’s so emotional a place for me.

Her thoughts slipped to Stephanos. If he wasn’t in New York yet he must be very shortly, surely. He seemed very far away. Very distant from her.

Something—she did not know what—made her glance down, over the hotel gardens. Someone was strolling around the edge of the pool, shirt pulled on but unbuttoned, towel casually slung over his shoulder.

Nikos Kiriakis.

Hastily, lest he suddenly glance up and see her looking down at him, she dipped her head, pouring out more coffee. By the time she had lifted the cup to drink from it he had reached the hotel and she could see him no more.

The phone rang in her room some twenty minutes later. She was reading her book still out on the warm balcony, though she could hardly see to read any more. Already the lights in the gardens had been illuminated, including those in the pool, which glowed brilliantly. People had started to stroll out for the evening, making their way to the pool bar for a drink before dinner. Children’s voices piped.

She would have an early dinner in the buffet dining room, where all the families ate with their children. Nikos Kiriakis would doubtless eat much later, and in the à la carte dining room reserved for adults.

The soft beeping of the phone interrupted her. Assuming it was Reception, she was completely unprepared for the dark, liquid tones of Nikos Kiriakis in her ear.

‘I’ve reserved a table for nine. I’ll meet you on the terrace at half past eight. Does that give you enough time to be ready?’

There was a note of humour in the voice, as though its owner were acknowledging that a woman needed a large amount of time to be ready to dine.

It took Janine a good few seconds to gather her wits. Even then she sounded no better than half-witted.

‘Um—you don’t have to reserve tables. You just wander in whenever you want. The buffet runs till ten.’

‘We are not dining in the buffet restaurant.’ The smile in his voice was even more pronounced now. ‘Fond as I am of children, I prefer something a little more peaceful for dinner.’

‘Please—you don’t have to ask me to dinner.’ The words blurted from her.

‘But I would like very much to dine with you, Janine,’ replied Nikos. ‘So I look forward to seeing you at half past eight, ne?’

He rang off, giving her no chance to argue the point any more. For a moment she stood there, receiver in hand. Feeling dazed.

She bit her lip. The way he had looked at her as she came out of the water sprang vivid in her mind. The way he had looked at her when she’d been lying by the pool. The way he had looked at her at the pool bar.

It doesn’t mean squat! He’s the kind of male who does that to every female. And every female does it back to him. I bet you every single female head will turn when he walks into the dining room tonight—and so what? He’s only having dinner with you because of Stephanos. Got it?

She drew in her breath and felt better.

Promptly, a different cause for anxiety assailed her. She hurried over to her wardrobe and flung it open, staring at the contents.

She didn’t have a thing to wear! Not for dinner in the à la carte restaurant! When Stephanos had been here she hadn’t really bothered much with anything other than the expensive beachwear he’d bought her from the hotel’s boutique. It had been perfectly OK to wear a long hibiscus-print wrap-around skirt and matching bolero top when she’d spent time in his suite.

But the à la carte restaurant was sophisticated and glizty—and her wardrobe definitely wasn’t!

For a moment it seemed like fate. No suitable clothes, therefore a sign that she should not dine with Nikos Kiriakis. She would dial Reception and get them to put her through to his room, and she would make her excuses.

Or, of course, she could simply go down to the hotel boutique and buy something that would pass muster…

The boutique certainly did stock evening wear. Very expensive evening wear too. But then those who could afford to stay here could afford those prices. Not that she would have to pay—Stephanos had made it clear she could get anything she wanted from the hotel’s select collection of shops and simply charge it to her room.

With sudden decision, she fetched her room key and set off for the boutique.

Nikos glanced at his watch. She was late. Well, that was no surprise. Women usually were. He sipped his beer contemplatively, eyes scanning the gardens, artfully spotlit here and there, and splashed with light from the pool’s underwater lighting.

There was a swish of skirts, and someone hurried up to the table.

‘I’m sorry I’m late!’ The voice sounded slightly breathless.

He turned his head.

Slowly, very slowly, he drank her in. He felt his gut kick as if in slow motion.

She looked—breathtaking!

And as he slowly, very slowly, exhaled he realised that that was exactly what she had done. Taken his breath away.

She was wearing saffron. It shouldn’t have gone with her fair hair and golden looks. It was a colour meant for a Greek complexion, dark hair, dark eyes.

Yet on this particular blonde it looked, quite simply, ravishing.

It was chiffon, layers of it, and it seemed to float, skimming over that beautiful body of hers like a kiss. Her hair was caught up—not in a rough-and-ready knot, the way it had been when she was swimming—but in an elegant, flawless style that lent her height and grace. A few tendrils whispered at her face, the nape of her neck.

He felt himself relax back in his seat as he drank her in.

Tiny earrings glinted at her lobes. Gold, like the delicate chain that encircled her neck, and each wrist. Her waist was very slender—he could have spanned it with his hands. The bones of her shoulders were exquisitely sculpted. Her neck was graceful, holding her head poised, erect.

Her eyes were deepened by make-up, her mouth accentuated with lipstick, the colours toning with the saffron. Her cheekbones seemed higher than they had been—more artful make-up, he surmised. A scent came from her—a light, haunting fragrance.

It caught at him.

She caught at him.

Slowly, he got to his feet.

‘Won’t you sit down?’

Janine took her place. Her breathing was quick, and shallow. It was because she’d been rushing, she told herself. Rushing ever since she’d realised that she’d taken ages and ages in the boutique, trying on just about every evening dress they’d had in her size. The assistant had been very patient, assuring her that the shop would not close until late that night, and that she could take all the time she wanted.

Choosing had been impossible—she didn’t know why, but it had. In the end she’d followed her instinct, not her reason, and gone for the saffron. Her reason had told her that it should be worn by someone with much darker, more dramatic colouring than she possessed, but there had been something about the way the dress felt on her, whispered over her flesh, that had made her know that this was the one she wanted. So eventually, having tried on everything else again, she’d gone back to the saffron.

And now she was getting proof that she’d made the right choice!

With that same quick breathing she settled into her chair. Her dining partner was not wearing a suit, but his open-necked shirt was clearly not off the peg. It clung with tailored perfection to his broad shoulders, smoothing down over his torso, exposing the strong column of his throat.

She dragged her eyes away and let herself meet his gaze. He was sitting looking at her, and appreciating everything he saw!

‘Hi,’ she said idiotically. She had to recover her composure. She had to appear normal. Right now she was having palpitations like some Victorian maiden!

‘Kalispera,’ replied Nikos, his voice soft with amusement.

He liked what he saw—he liked it a lot. Oh, not just the exquisite appearance of this extraordinarily beautiful girl, but the fact that she was so clearly responding to him, and the way he was looking at her.

A waiter was there, hovering discreetly, but attentively.

‘What would you like to drink?’ Nikos asked her.

For a moment she wanted to say Something strong, to calm my nerves, but then she realised that strong liquor was the last thing she should drink right now. So instead she murmured, ‘Oh, orange juice, please.’

He raised a slight eyebrow at this, and she went on lightly, ‘To go with my frock!’

A smile indented his mouth and he nodded, relaying the order to the waiter in Greek—unnecessary though it was, since the hotel staff all spoke English. The man disappeared.

‘It’s extremely beautiful.’ Nikos indicated her dress with a slight inclination of his head.

‘I got it from the boutique just now. That’s why I’m running late!’

She could hear her own breathlessness in her voice. It annoyed her—alarmed her. She was sounding like some wet-behind-the-ears teenage girl on her first date! It was ridiculous.

But the thing was she did feel like a teenager again! Excitement was running through her, and it was because of the man sitting opposite her. She could tell herself all she liked that Stephanos had simply sent him to babysit her, but her body wasn’t taking that on board. Her body was shimmering like a fairy light on a Christmas tree!

‘It was worth the wait,’ said Nikos. He let his eyes wash over her again, to confirm his words.

The waiter’s arrival with her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice was a reprieve, and she sipped eagerly. Then the maître d’ arrived with two large leatherbound menus, bowing copiously to Nikos and running through the specialities of the day in rapid Greek.

Janine gazed down virtually blindly at the menu, forcing herself to read the words. As the maître d’ bowed one last time, and glided away, Nikos listed the day’s catch.

‘Oh, not calamari!’ Janine exclaimed. ‘It’s the suckers on the tentacles. They’re disgusting!’

Nikos laughed. ‘It can be served without those appendages,’ he assured her. ‘Have you not eaten squid yet?’

Janine gave an exaggerated shudder.

‘I’ll stick to real fish, please.’

She settled on red mullet, with a seafood terrine to start, and closed the menu. She gazed out at the gardens.

‘Isn’t it the most beautiful place?’ she sighed. A wonderful feeling of well-being was suffusing her. It was everything—the beautiful gardens, the soft Mediterranean night and, above all, the presence of Nikos Kiriakis sitting opposite her, drawing her eye inexorably to him.

‘The view is certainly quite stunning,’ her companion murmured.

She glanced back to smile at him—and saw that he was not looking out over the gardens at all. Instead, his dark eyes were fixed on her face, and there was an expression in them she’d have had to be blind not to recognise…

She felt the colour run again, and hastily took a drink.

Nikos watched her reach for her glass. For a woman who made her living out of the touch of wealthy men, she really was remarkably unflirtatious. Perhaps, he found himself thinking, that was her allure. That she did not come on to her targets—she let them come on to her.

After all, she was so very much worth coming on to…

Emotions twisted inside him.

She might be sitting there, with a beauty as breathtaking as it was alluring, but it did not—could not—take away what she did, what she used that beauty for. That was what he had to remember. And her looks were of interest to him for one reason only—they would make his seduction of her palatable to him. He would get his revenge for the pain she was causing his sister.

He let his gaze rest on her, with the eyes of a connoisseur. She really was extraordiny. Some women couldn’t make the transition from bikini to evening gown—but she could. By the pool and on the beach, she had looked sexy and sun-kissed. Now she looked graceful and soft, like a gazelle—her slender neck, her parted lips, the soft swell of her breasts beneath the chiffon of her dress.

As he watched he could see her nipples just graze against the filmy material, each one outlined for him.

All he had to do was reach out his hand, and touch with the tips of his fingers. Close his palm over their sweet ripeness…

Like a sheet of flame, desire sucked at him. Wanting to be sated. Now. Right now.

With visible effort he slammed down on his reaction.

He felt shaken.

Just as on the beach, his reaction had come out of nowhere, like a flashflood, thundering suddenly through his veins. Desire—hot, tearing, urgent. And out of control.

With gritted teeth he dragged back control over his body, his reaction. What the hell was he doing?

He was acting like a man besotted, and with some foxy little piece like Janine Fareham.

Yes, that was what he had to remember! That Janine Fareham used men’s desires for her own ends—to buy gowns like the one she was displaying her body in tonight! He let his anger at her, deep and unrelenting and unforgiving, seep back, filling him like a dark tide. That was the only response he should be having to her. Oh, sexual desire, yes—but at his bidding, not hers. Under his control, not hers.

He relaxed again, back in control of his reaction to her.

He would take Janine Fareham, possess her and enjoy her.

And then get rid of her from his life—and Stephanos’s life.

A line from Shakespeare snaked into his mind—‘I’ll have her, but I’ll not keep her long.’

It would do very well for Janine Fareham.

Janine carefully removed some bones from her fish and took a forkful of the delicious dish. It was weird. She seemed hyper-aware of every movement she made. Aware of everything.

Especially Nikos Kiriakis. In its own disturbing way, dining with him was nerve-racking. She wanted to do nothing more than just sit there and stare at him open-mouthed. But she knew she could not. Must not. Instead she had to make conversation, or rather let him make conversation, and she had to respond as if she had her brain in place, instead of just wanting to gaze and gaze at him. She had to chat away—talking about innocuous subjects, like what there was to see on Skarios, and what kind of villa he was interested in buying, and things like snorkelling and windsurfing.

Not that she wasn’t grateful for the ordinariness of the conversation. She didn’t think she could deal with anything more.

Windsurfing was nice and safe, and since it was something she knew nothing about it meant she didn’t really have to do anything other than prompt with a question and Nikos Kiriakis would do all the talking. So she could sit there, chin on her hand, and indulge herself wondering just what it was about his eyes that were so compelling, watching how his mouth moved when he talked, and how his dark, silky hair shaped his beautiful face…