Читать книгу Powerful Greek, Housekeeper Wife - Robyn Donald - Страница 7

GOING down in the lift, Angie said, ‘Where did you meet him, and why haven’t I heard about it?’

Iona had been bracing herself for questions, but even so, she paused as the lift came to a halt in the basement car park. ‘We met in Tahiti,’ she said, keeping her tone casual and matter-of-fact. ‘On the second anniversary of Gavin’s death. I was walking along a deserted beach—’

‘Wallowing in grief and guilt, I bet,’ Angie said astringently. ‘Iona, nobody knew Gavin had a heart weakness. Yes, saving you exhausted him and he drowned, but it was an unexpected, shocking tragedy, not your fault.’

Iona said quietly, ‘Intellectually I knew that, but I just couldn’t accept it.’

Angie unlocked the car and got in. Once they were settled she said, ‘And then your parents were killed by that damned drunk driver. It’s no wonder you were a mess. Then you met Lukas Michelakis in Tahiti?’

‘Yes. Actually when he strode down the beach—like—like the king of the gods—to inform me I was trespassing I was actually relieved. He gave me something else to think about.’ With a vengeance.

Once they were under way, Angie said, ‘And what happened then?’

‘We went around a bit together,’ Iona told her in a flat voice, ‘until I came home again.’

‘And you haven’t been in contact since?’ Angie asked.

‘There was no reason.’

Her cousin took the hint. ‘I read somewhere that he grew up in a very wealthy family.’

‘It figures,’ Iona said evenly. ‘His kind of confidence is bred in the genes.’

‘The article was cagey, but heavy on innuendo—obviously making sure no lawyer could sue the writer or the newspaper. It implied something pretty disastrous happened when he was young—late teens, perhaps?—and he left home to strike out on his own.’

‘Probably with the family’s support not too far in the background.’ Iona didn’t try to hide the cynical note in her words.

‘I doubt if he needed it. It didn’t take him long to turn into an internet czar.’ Angie paused before asking casually, ‘If he needs to call on us, how would you feel about working with him?’

‘Me?’ Iona swallowed an unnecessary panic. ‘A bit self-conscious, that’s all. I was half-naked, mopping detergent off my breasts, when he strode in like a clap of doom just before you arrived, and I suspect he thought it was a set-up—that I’d deliberately stripped to attract his attention.’

‘I suppose it’s happened before,’ Angie said, and gave her a thoughtful sideways glance. ‘I bet he spends a fair part of his life swatting off importunate women.’

During their brief affair he’d more than met Iona halfway.

Repressing disturbing images of tropical folly, she said hastily, ‘I’ll be fine. He relaxed when you turned up.’

Although relaxed wasn’t the word to describe Luke. Even on holiday she’d sensed a leashed, prowling awareness in him, an uncompromising authority that made him both formidable and intimidating.

It was still there, intensified by an ironic detachment she’d not experienced before.

Get over it, she told herself. She still resented the hard contempt of his gaze in the powder room, but that was good, because resentment was a much safer emotion than sighing lustfully after him.

The barbecue Angie had been asked to organise only the day before went on until after midnight and they were both tired when at last they left the beach house an hour’s drive north of Auckland.

Covering a yawn, Iona said, ‘I wish someone would persuade Mrs Parker not to throw any more impromptu parties. I suppose we should have guessed her few close friends would morph into about fifty.’

‘She’ll be paying heavily for springing it on us at such short notice. Besides, it’s work, and we need it,’ Angie said practically.

After a tentative moment Iona asked, ‘How are things?’

Her cousin paused before admitting, ‘You’ve probably guessed the recession’s making inroads into the client list, but we’re surviving.’ Her tone changed. ‘If there’s an emergency in the next two days, can I call on you? The boys are going to a birthday party tomorrow—well, actually it will be today—and tomorrow we’re going to the zoo.’

‘Of course. Give me the work phone,’ Iona said. ‘If I need you I’ll ring you on your personal phone. You need a break and the boys need time with you.’

It took some persuading, but at last she managed to convince Angie to agree.

Inside her tiny studio flat Iona showered and dropped into bed. Sleep came quickly, bringing with it images of a tall, dark man, images that led to dreams. Eventually she woke in a state of high excitement, blood racing through her veins, her body racked by a feverish desire.

Grim-faced and desperate, she willed her heart to settle down and her body to relax. That was how it had started. Tahiti was everything the brochures had promised—wildly, sensuously exotic, filled with beautiful people of both sexes, scented by flowers and lapped by a brilliant turquoise sea, alive with the sound of music and drums and laughter, the hush of waves on the lagoon shores. The glorious islands throbbed with life.

Iona had looked, but been unable to enjoy. Grief had dulled her senses so completely she’d felt totally disconnected from everything.

And then she’d met Luke—Lukas. She’d had no idea who—or what—he was. The moment her gaze clashed with his lion eyes, sensations she’d believed had died for ever had suddenly flared into life, introducing her to hope. A flare of conscious response had set her nerves tingling and heated her body, sharpening her senses so that the world suddenly blazed into a glory of colour and sound and sensuous delight.

Why had he pursued her? She’d asked him once, and he’d laughed.

‘Perhaps the thrill of the chase,’ he admitted without shame. ‘You looked at me with such cool disdain, as though I was less interesting to you than the shell in your hand. I wondered what it would be like to see desire in those intriguing blue-green mermaid’s eyes, as changeable and mysterious as the sea.’

For some foolish reason his words hurt. She covered the momentary stab of pain with a smile, and slid her arms around him. ‘And has it lived up to your expectations?’

His gaze kindled, golden flames dancing in the depths. ‘More than I ever expected; it’s infinitely fascinating to watch. And even more fascinating to experience,’ he said in a low growl, and kissed her.

Lost in swift passion, she’d kissed him back, welcoming the hot tide of hunger that met and matched his.

Their passionate, hedonistic affair had seemed so right in Tahiti, christened Aphrodite’s Isles by the first dazzled European sailors to visit those idyllic shores.

Then one night, as the moon came up over the horizon in a splendour of silver and gold, he’d said, ‘I’m leaving in three days.’ He had smiled lazily at her startled face and kissed the curve of her breast, murmuring against her skin, ‘Come with me.’

Each word had been a caress—a confident one. He’d had no doubt she’d do what he wanted. The fantasy world Iona had been living in crashed around her.

‘I can’t,’ she said, shocked by a swift, aching temptation to give him what he wanted.

His eyes narrowed, focused on her face as intently as a hunter’s scrutiny. ‘Why?’

‘Because this has been—wonderful, but we both know it’s not real life.’ It was surprisingly hard to say, but his words had awakened the common sense she’d abandoned the moment her eyes had met his.

He shrugged again and replied, ‘It could be.’ And when she remained silent, he said a little impatiently, ‘I will, of course, look after you—make sure you don’t lose anything by being with me.’

Knowing what he was offering, she almost flinched. For a while she’d be his lover; while she was with him she’d exist in this sensual dream.

And when it was over she’d go back to New Zealand with memories…

And the possibility of more grief. She’d had enough of that in her life. ‘No,’ she said.

He’d laughed deep in his throat and slid down her body, his mouth questing as he tasted her sleek skin.

Later, when she was quivering with passionate exhaustion in his arms, he murmured, ‘I’m going to enjoy making you change your mind.’

But, back in her own bed at the hotel, she’d dreamed of Gavin and woke weeping. And when she slipped out early to walk along the white sands, she forced herself to face a few unpleasant facts.

Without realising it, she’d selfishly used Luke. Oh, he’d made it obvious from the start that he intended nothing more than a sexual relationship, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

Her swift, reckless surrender to overwhelming passion had betrayed and tarnished the love she’d shared with Gavin. She tried to conjure up the emotions she’d felt for her fiancé, but against the blazing intensity of her relationship with Luke he seemed faded and shadowy, a lovely memory but no longer the foundation of her life.

Shocked at her shallowness, she’d managed to wangle a seat on a plane to New Zealand. Fortunately Angie had been run off her feet with work, and Iona had flung herself into it, grimly ordering her mind to forget. It hadn’t been easy, but she thought she’d coped quite well.

What malevolent fate had brought Luke back into her life again?

At least, she thought just before she dropped back into a restless slumber, unless he had an emergency in the next two days Angie would be dealing with him.

Hours later the tinny, cheerful tattoo of the theme from Bonanza woke her. Groaning, she crawled up from beneath the sheets, blinked blearily at the morning and grabbed the work phone. ‘Sorted. How can I help you?’

A deep voice said, ‘You are not Ms Makepeace.’

Little chills ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on the phone and she had to swallow to ease a suddenly dry throat.

Luke.

No, not Luke. The different names somehow seemed significant. He was not the man she’d made love to in Tahiti. He was Lukas Michelakis, billionaire.

Striving to sound brisk and businesslike, she said, ‘Iona Guthrie speaking. I’m afraid Ms Makepeace can’t come to the telephone right now. How can I help you?’

‘I need someone here, now,’ Luke said evenly. ‘To take care of a three-year-old girl for the day.’

‘What?’ Iona literally couldn’t believe her ears. Luke Michelakis and a small child simply did not go together.

Impatience tinged his words. ‘I am sure you heard correctly.’

Irked by his tone, Iona ignored her whirling thoughts and didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. Yes, all right, we can do that.’

‘You are sure this person will be reliable and sensible?’

‘Yes.’

‘I need to leave in half an hour.’

Iona’s mouth thinned. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I’m not going to be able to make it in that time.’

‘You will be here?’

She reacted to his incredulous words with chilly aloofness. ‘L—Mr Michelakis, I’m a trained kindergarten teacher, and the only person you’re likely to get during the weekend at such short notice. The child will be safe in my care.’

‘Oh, call me Luke as you did in Tahiti—we know each other well, you and I,’ he said derisively.

‘So why are you questioning my ability to care for the child?’ The moment the words escaped from her mouth she wished she could call them back.

Sure enough Luke said, ‘Now you’re being deliberately naïve. In Tahiti you were my lover—a very charming and sensuous lover—and nothing more.’

Of course he was right, but his casual statement hurt.

He waited, as if for a comment, and when Iona remained silent he went on brusquely, ‘I have no idea what you will be like with children. And if Chloe is not safe in your care you will pay.’

‘Are you expecting a kidnap attempt?’ Into a taut silence, she said, ‘I certainly wouldn’t be much use if that’s likely to occur.’

‘I am not expecting a kidnap attempt,’ he said coldly.

‘I’m relieved. If all you want is a temporary nanny I can do that. I’m capable and competent when it comes to children. And I like them. I also have a current practising certificate which I’ll be pleased to show you when I arrive.’

The pause seemed to drag on for ever, but finally he said, ‘Very well. It seems I am forced to rely on you for this, so I will expect you here within the half hour. Give me your address. I shall send a car.’

Iona drew in a deep breath, but stifled her intemperate reply when she remembered Angie’s delight at the prospect of an uninterrupted day with her sons. ‘Thank you,’ she snapped.

Angie had said it the night before: this was work, and the business needed the money.

Luke repeated her address after her, then warned, ‘Be ready,’ and hung up.

As she scurried around, assembling a kit that would keep a three-year-old girl interested, questions raced through Iona’s mind. Was little Chloe his daughter? If so, she thought sickly, he must have been married or in a relationship when he’d made love to her in Tahiti.

It should have been a relief to be able to despise him. It certainly explained his antagonism; did he think she’d tell his wife he’d been unfaithful?

Never!

But it seemed unlikely that the mother of his child was with him; if she were, she’d be the one looking after her daughter.

By the time the taxi arrived Iona was ready. She’d had to forego breakfast and a much-needed cup of tea, but her large carry-all had enough in it to keep even a demanding child busy for a day. Stomach clenching, she walked out of the penthouse lift, disconcerted to find Luke in the doorway.

Like a lion lying in wait for an antelope.

Dismayed, Iona ignored the treacherous heat burning along her cheekbones while she replied to his greeting.

A narrowed tawny-gold gaze took in her clothes—cotton trousers that that reached halfway down her calves, a bright T-shirt, sandals. One black brow climbed.

‘Practical,’ he observed cooly, ‘if a little informal.’

‘New Zealanders are noted for their informality,’ she returned in her most professional tone.

‘I recall that very well.’

A lazily sensual note beneath the words raised the tiny hairs on the back of Iona’s neck and sent a forbidden, ruthlessly exciting response shivering through her. Damn him, she thought furiously as flashbacks of the time they’d spent together surged back, drugging and potent.

Blurting the first thing that came to her mind, she asked, ‘When am I going to meet my charge for the day?’

‘Right now,’ he said crisply, and reached out.

For a startled moment Iona thought he intended to take her arm.

A primitive, protective reaction twisted her backwards, but his hand closed around the handles of her bag and he said softly, lethally, ‘You are quite safe. If you want me to touch you again you will have to ask me to do so.’

Iona stiffened. OK, so until she’d fled Tahiti probably no one had ever turned Luke Michelakis down, but she’d never promised him anything; right from the start they’d both known that what they shared was nothing stronger or more permanent than a holiday romance.

She’d just ended it a little sooner than either had expected.

Which didn’t give him any right to be offended.

But then the adored only son of a powerful Greek patriarch would certainly be spoilt. Especially one who looked like some beautiful, vengeful god from ancient times.

And there was the spectre of the child’s absent mother…

Choosing to ignore his terse statement, she relinquished the bag to him.

Cynically amused at her care to avoid touching his fingers, Lukas said, ‘This way.’

For a moment he’d been going to ask her why she’d left him in Tahiti, but she was now his employee—and he’d overstepped the professional bounds already.

Besides, he had not allowed himself to care. He’d learned young that women were naturally treacherous—a lesson cut into his heart when his father’s second wife had engineered his expulsion from the family.

He’d vowed then never to trust another woman, so it would be foolish of him to expect more from Iona.

Aristo Michelakis, his father, had expected his twenty-year-old son to fail, to fall into oblivion. Twelve years later, Lukas allowed himself a swift glance around his opulent surroundings.

He’d been coldly, furiously determined to prove both himself and his innocence of the crime he’d been accused of. That driving need had guided him into a career where his brilliant brain and passion were fully utilised. He had seized his opportunities with a zest that had led to huge success in spite of his father’s attempts to ruin him.

And he had his pick of lovers from the women who’d flocked to him, drawn by his fortune and the face he’d inherited from his father.

Always he’d made sure his lovers expected nothing more from him than good sex and his protection as long as the affair lasted.

Then Chloe had been born—another outcast from the family. She’d brought a new dimension to his life, but his attitude to his lovers remained the same.

So why had Iona stuck in his mind?

Because she had been—different. He set Iona’s bag beside a chair and glanced down at her, resisting an impulse to run a finger across that unsmiling, infuriat-ingly desirable mouth. What would she do if he kissed her? His body tightened in swift, fierce response even as he dismissed the thought.

She was not exactly beautiful, but she’d been a passionate and generous lover, and he’d enjoyed their interlude—perhaps a little too much. It irritated him to admit it, but her abrupt departure had angered him. He had missed her.

However, it was ridiculous—a stupid, unnecessary overreaction—to feel she’d betrayed him.

Acutely aware of his swift glance and his silence, Iona was glad to meet the child she was looking after. Chloe was tall for her age, as befitted the daughter of such a tall man, with large dark eyes, and a mouth that subtly echoed that of her father. It quirked in a fleeting smile for him before she transferred a solemn gaze to Iona, who introduced herself calmly.

‘Hello. My name is Iona Guthrie, and we’ll be spending some time together today while your father has a meeting.’

‘He always goes to meetings.’

The statement, although made entirely without rancour, wrung Iona’s heart.

‘I’m sure he’s very busy, but we’ll have fun together, you and I.’

Chloe scanned Iona’s large bag. ‘Are you going to stay ’cos Neelie’s gone?’

‘Only for today,’ Luke told her.

Who was Neelie? Mother? Nanny?

‘I’ve brought some things you might like to do with me, and a few books you might not have seen before,’ Iona said.

That seemed to satisfy Chloe, who obeyed immediately when her father announced, ‘Take Ms Guthrie out onto the terrace, Chloe, and show her your horse.’

Horse? Surely he didn’t carry around a horse as part of his ménage?

He did. A splendid rocking horse, dappled grey, with flared nostrils and flowing mane, and a saddle and bridle fit for a queen. ‘His name is Pegasus,’ Chloe informed her in that precise, neutral voice.

She glanced up at Iona, who asked, ‘And does he fly, like the horse in the legend?’

It seemed she might have passed some subtle test, for the child smiled at her. ‘Nearly. He used to be Lukas’s horse when he was a little boy.’ Her tone expressed a hint of disbelief, as though she simply couldn’t conceive of her father ever being small enough to ride the horse.

Why did she call him by his first name?

More to the point, where the heck was her mother? Dead? Divorced? Not interested?

None of your business, Iona warned herself, and said gravely, ‘You and your father are very lucky. Pegasus is a magnificent animal.’

‘He’s my best friend.’

Like her father, Chloe spoke excellent English; unlike him she had no trace of an accent. Not, Iona recalled, that Luke had much—really, only the merest hint…

Just enough to imbue every word he said with a subtle under-note of disturbing sensuality that had deepened when they’d made love.

Don’t even think about that!

Iona said, ‘Pegasus is lucky too—to have such a good friend as you. Would you like to show me how well you can ride him?’

After a moment Chloe hitched up her skirt and climbed onto the horse, setting it rocking with a gleeful enthusiasm that warmed Iona’s heart.

‘She is reserved, but not shy,’ her father said from behind.

Startled, Iona swivelled. Dressed in a superbly tailored business suit that showed off his lean, powerful body, he was a formidable presence. A stab of awareness shocked Iona with its swift intensity, reminding her of all the reasons—those foolish, dangerous reasons—she’d embarked on their affair.

Moving out of earshot of the child, she asked in her most practical voice, ‘Is there anything I should know about Chloe before you go?’ When his black brows drew together she added briskly, ‘I gather her mother is not here? No doubt Chloe will be missing her.’

‘You assume too much.’

Iona lifted her head at the touch of hauteur in his words. Something odd was going on here, and if it was likely to affect Chloe she needed to know about it. ‘Very well,’ she said, in a tone that matched his for bluntness, ‘but is there anything I should be aware of?’

Lukas didn’t try to moderate the frown that always made his subordinates tread very carefully. It didn’t seem to affect Iona. Those unusual sea-shaded eyes mirrored both the colour of whatever she wore and her emotions. Today they were a direct, cool blue with a hint of challenge.

Yesterday in the powder room when she’d been half-naked they’d been blue-green, wide and shocked, and then full of mystery.

He’d had to rein in a hunger so elemental and direct it had taken him by surprise.

Why the hell had she run away from him in Tahiti? Because he’d cast his suggestion she stay with him as a proposition rather than a proposal?

Surely she’d realised it was too early in their relationship for an admission of anything more than a passionate hunger? He’d wanted them to get to know each other—discover if their superb compatibility extended beyond the raptures of the bed—but clearly she hadn’t reciprocated those inchoate, hardly formed feelings.

Ruthlessly repressing the sharp twist of sensation in his gut at the memory of just how good they’d been together, he forced his mind back to her question.

Discreet she might be, but he wasn’t going to let her in on any family secrets. He’d had enough of seeing his private life—or fiction about it—splashed across newsprint. If the circumstances of Chloe’s birth and his subsequent adoption of the child ever leaked out, some parts of the media would have a field day.

That he could cope with. What made it imperative that he keep the secret until he could trust Iona was his father’s latest threat—to contest the adoption and demand custody of the daughter Aristo had refused to accept.