Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: July 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Sharon Kendrick - Страница 14

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE WAS DRIVING him crazy.

Crazy.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Ariston dived beneath the inky waters of a sea just starting to be gilded by the sun coming up over the horizon. It was early. Too early for anyone else to be around. Not even the staff were awake yet and the shutters remained tightly closed in the bedroom windows of Keeley’s cottage. And that was a pretty accurate metaphor for the current state of affairs between them, he thought grimly. For a man so utterly confident about his sexual power over women—and with good reason—things with Keeley Turner hadn’t quite gone according to plan.

For a while he swam strongly beneath the shadowed surface of the water, trying to rid his body of some of the restless energy which had been building up inside him, but that was easier said than done. He had been sleeping badly, with images of Keeley in various imagined stages of undress haunting his erotic and frustrating dreams. Because she’d meant what she’d said, he was discovering with growing incredulity—and despite the sexual chemistry which sizzled so powerfully between them, she had stubbornly kept him at arm’s length. He’d thought at first that her behaviour had been part of some contrived act intended to keep him on his toes. But there had been no relaxing of her attitude towards him. No sudden softening which might have indicated she was weakening. All interaction between them had followed a formal yet highly unsatisfactory path.

She politely enquired whether he would like coffee or bread, or water. She kept her eyes demurely lowered whenever their paths crossed. And no matter how many times he told her it was perfectly acceptable for her to use his Christian name in public, it fell on deaf ears. She was a conundrum, he thought. Was she really immune to the admiring glances she had attracted from his Athens-based lawyers when they had arrived on Lasia for lunch—or was she simply a very clever actress who knew the power of her own beauty? She acted as if she were made of marble, when he knew for a fact that beneath that cool and curvy exterior beat the heart of a passionate woman.

Had he thought that she would have succumbed to him by now? That the memory of the kiss they’d shared on her first day would have her sneaking in his arms to finish off what they’d started?

Of course he had.

That brief kiss had been the most erotic thing to happen to him in a long time but it had led precisely nowhere and although he wasn’t a man used to being denied what he really wanted—he was now being forced to experience exactly that. So he’d been a little distant with her, intending to indicate his disapproval of women who teased, thinking his impatience would make her realise his patience was wearing thin. He’d anticipated her finding him alone in some quiet moment. He’d imagined her sliding down the zipper of his trousers and touching him where he ached to be touched. He swallowed. Any other woman would have done—and Keeley certainly had history on that score. If things had gone according to plan, by now he should have bedded her and enjoyed several sessions of mind-blowing sex. In fact, by now he probably would have been growing bored with her inevitable adoration and his only dilemma would be working out the best way to tell her it was over.

But it hadn’t turned out like that.

She had thrown herself into her work with an enthusiasm which had taken him by surprise. Had she stacked supermarket shelves with such passion? he wondered wryly. Demetra had informed him that the Englishwoman was a joy to have around the kitchen and around the house. A joy? he wondered grimly. He had seen little evidence of it so far.

Was her frosty attitude intended to stoke up his sexual appetite? Because if that was the case then it was working. His blood pressure soared every time she walked onto the terrace in her crisp white uniform. The white cotton dress gave her a look of purity and her blonde hair was scraped neatly back into a no-nonsense chignon, which made her appear the perfect servant. Yet the glitter of fire in her green eyes whenever she was forced to meet his gaze was unmistakable—as if she was daring him to come near her again.

He resurfaced into the bright, golden morning, shaking droplets of water from his head before beginning to swim powerfully towards the shore. It was time to face the day ahead and to play at being host. Four of his guests had arrived but Bailey Saunders was no longer on the guest list. He’d phoned her a couple of days ago and asked for a rain check, and she had agreed. Of course she had. Women always did. He felt a beat of anticipation as he walked across the sand.

Maybe it was time for Keeley Turner to realise that it was pointless resisting the inevitable.

* * *

‘Will you take the coffee out, Keeley?’ Demetra pointed to the loaded tray.

‘Of course.’ Keeley smoothed down her white uniform dress. ‘Shall I put some of those little lemon biscuits on a plate?’

‘Efharisto.’

‘Parakalo.’ Automatically checking that she had everything she needed, Keeley carried it out onto the terrace with a heavy heart. Another trip to the table which had been set up next to the infinity pool, where Ariston was finishing a long lunch with his glamorous guests, and she was dreading it. Dreading seeing his rugged face watching her, his expression hidden behind his dark glasses as she tried to walk along the edge of the pool without appearing too self-conscious, but it was difficult. Just as it was difficult to forget that kiss they’d shared, when he’d made her usually non-responsive body spring to life—and left her in a state of frustrated arousal ever since. It was as if he’d lit the touchpaper of her repressed sexuality and set it on fire.

And she had only herself to blame.

Why hadn’t she stopped him from pulling her into his arms like that? Because she’d been powerless to stop him. She had wanted him to do it. She still wanted him to do it.

She bit her lip. She’d done her best to push him to the back of her mind—avoiding him whenever possible and concentrating on her work, determined to do a job she could be proud of. She wanted to wipe out his negative impressions of her and show him she could be honest and hard-working and decent. Just like she was determined not to raise the suspicions of the people she worked with. She liked Demetra and Stelios, just as she liked the extra staff who’d been drafted in from the nearby village to help with the house party. She didn’t want them to think she had some kind of thing with the boss. All she wanted was to be seen as the helpful Englishwoman who was eager to take on her fair share.

The sun was warm on her head as she took the coffee outside to where the five of them were sitting around the remains of the meal she’d served them—Xenon, Megan, Santino, Rachel and Ariston. She’d been introduced to them yesterday and they all seemed the jet-setting type of people she no longer associated with. She’d forgotten that life where women changed their outfits four times a day and spent more on a straw hat than Keeley spent on her entire summer wardrobe. She’d been as polite and as friendly as her position required but she was also aware that as a member of staff she was mostly invisible. Only the friendly Rachel had treated her as if she was a real person—and always made a point of chatting whenever she saw her.

Rachel’s long, bronzed legs were stretched out in front of her and she brightened when she saw Keeley approaching with the silver coffee pot glinting in the sunshine.

‘Oh, yum. I love this Greek coffee!’ she said. ‘It’s so thick and sweet.’

‘I won’t make the obvious comparison,’ commented Santino drily, easily catching the hastily balled napkin which his girlfriend hurled at him in mock rage.

Rachel took a small cup from the tray. ‘Thanks, Keeley. Is it possible to have some more sparkling water? It’s so hot today. You must be baking in that uniform,’ she observed, with a frown. ‘Does Ariston allow you to cool off in the pool or does he constantly keep your nose to the grindstone?’

‘Oh, Keeley knows she has the run of the place when she isn’t working,’ murmured Ariston. ‘She just chooses not to take advantage of it, don’t you, Keeley?’

They were all looking at her and Keeley was acutely aware of the fact that Rachel and Megan were both wearing gauzy kaftans over tiny bikinis, while she was wearing a uniform which made her feel completely overdressed as well as overheated. All Ariston’s staff wore uniforms—but somehow on her it looked all wrong. It was the right size and everything but it did unwanted things to her figure. It was the one thing she’d inherited from her mother which she could do nothing about. Because no matter how much she tried to disguise her shape with loose-fitting clothes, her bust always seemed too big and the curve of her hips that fraction too wide, so everything clung precisely where she didn’t want it to cling.

‘I have a great big ocean on my doorstep if ever I feel the need to swim, but when I’m not working I mostly spend time doing stuff on my computer,’ she said and then, because they were still looking at her questioningly, she felt obliged to offer some kind of explanation. ‘I’m studying for a diploma in business studies,’ she added.

‘Well, that’s all very admirable but you need to take time off occasionally. What’s it they say about all work and no play?’ questioned Rachel, raking her fingers back through her dark hair and shooting Ariston a quizzical glance. ‘Didn’t you say that Bailey has bailed this weekend, if you’ll excuse the pun?’

‘Bailey is no longer coming, no,’ Ariston said smoothly.

‘So we’ll be a woman short at dinner?’ persisted Rachel.

‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to cope with that,’ said Santino. ‘Since when did you ever worry about odd numbers, cara? You always seem to have enough conversation to compensate for any absent guests.’

‘That much is true.’ Rachel smiled. ‘But why doesn’t Keeley join us instead, to make the numbers up?’

Ariston removed his dark glasses and glimmered Keeley an unfathomable look. ‘Yes,’ he said, his velvety accent seeming to whisper like velvet across her skin. ‘Why don’t you join us for dinner later?’

She shook her head. ‘No, honestly. I can’t.’

‘Why not? I’m giving you permission to take the evening off. In fact, look on it as an order.’ His smile was hard and determined. ‘I’m sure we have enough staff for you not to be missed waiting at table.’

‘It’s very...kind of you, but...’ Keeley put the last of the coffee cups down with trembling fingers before straightening up. ‘I don’t have anything suitable to wear.’

It was the wrong thing to say. Why hadn’t she just come out with an emphatic no?

‘No worries. You’re about the same size and height as me,’ said Megan, looking her up and down. ‘You can borrow something from me. Say yes, Keeley. You’ve been working so hard that you deserve a little downtime. And it would be my pleasure to lend you something.’

The two female guests were clearly on a mission to get her to change her mind and inwardly Keeley began to fume. She knew they were just trying to be kind, but she didn’t want their kindness. It made her feel patronised but, even worse, it made her feel vulnerable. They thought they were giving her a treat but in reality they were pushing her closer to Ariston and that was a place she didn’t want to be. But she could hardly give them the reason for her resistance, could she? She couldn’t really tell them she was worried she would end up in bed with her boss! And in the end, opposition was pointless because it was five against one and there was no way she could get out of it.

You’re having dinner with them, that’s all, she reminded herself as she stood beneath the cool jets of the shower later that afternoon. All she had to do was put on a borrowed dress and try to be pleasant. She could leave whenever she wanted. She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to do.

Which was how she found herself walking towards the starlit terrace that evening, wearing the only dress of Megan’s which fitted her and which was the last type of outfit she would normally have worn. It was too delicate. Too feminine. Too...revealing. In soft, blush pink, the low-cut bodice showcased her breasts and the silky fabric clung to her hips in precisely the way she didn’t want it to. And she wasn’t blind. Or stupid. She saw the way Ariston looked at her when she walked out onto the candlelit terrace. Saw the instinctive narrowing of his eyes, which set off an answering tightening in her breasts.

Her throat was so dry that she knocked back half a glass of champagne too quickly and it went straight to her head. It soothed her frazzled nerves but it also had the unwanted side effect of softening her reaction to her Greek boss, because naturally she found herself seated next to him. She told herself she wasn’t going to be affected by him. That he was a callous manipulator who had no regard for her feelings. But somehow her thoughts weren’t making it to her body. Her body didn’t seem to be behaving itself at all.

She could feel it in the heavy rush of blood to her breasts and in her restlessness whenever Ariston subjected her to that cool stare, which he seemed to do far more than was necessary. And if that weren’t bad enough, she was having difficulty adjusting to this unexpected social outing. She hadn’t been to a dinner party this fancy for a long time and she’d never really done so on her own terms before. She’d only ever been invited because of her mother, and this was different. She was no longer watching out of the corner of her eye in case her mum did something outrageous, anxiously wondering if she could get her home without making a fool of herself. This time people seemed to be interested in her and she didn’t want them to be. What could she say about herself—other than that she’d done a series of menial jobs, because they were the only ones she could get after a fractured education which had led to zero qualifications?

She spent the evening blocking questions—something she’d learnt to do over the years—so that whenever she was asked something personal, she turned it around and moved the subject swiftly onto something else. She had become highly accomplished in the art of evasion but tonight it seemed to be having entirely the wrong effect. Was her elusiveness the reason why Santino began to monopolise her for the second part of the evening, while Rachel’s pinched face seemed to indicate she was regretting her impetuous decision to have her join them? Keeley felt like standing up and announcing that she wasn’t remotely interested in the Italian businessman—that there was only one man around the table who had her attention and she was having to fight very hard not to be mesmerised by him. Because tonight Ariston looked amazing—very traditional and heart-stoppingly masculine. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck revealing a silky triangle of olive skin, and his tapered dark trousers emphasised his long legs and the powerful shafts of his thighs.

And all the while he was watching her, his blue gaze burning into her so intently that the breath caught in her throat and she was barely able to eat. Course after course of delicious food was placed in front of her, but Keeley could do little more than push it around her plate. Were the other guests amused by her lack of appetite—not realising the cause of it—especially as she seemed almost to be bursting out of Megan’s dress? Did they think she was one of those women who never ate in public but enjoyed secret binges with the biscuit packet whenever she was alone?

‘Enjoying yourself, Keeley?’ asked Ariston softly.

‘Very much,’ she said, not caring if he heard the lie in her voice. Because what else could she say? That she could feel ripples of awareness whispering over her skin whenever he looked at her? That she found his hard and rugged profile the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and she wanted nothing more than to just sit and stare at it?

She broke the mould of her Cinderella evening by excusing herself long before midnight. As soon as the clock struck eleven she stood up and politely thanked them for a lovely dinner. Somehow she maintained her high-headed posture as she walked away from the terrace but as soon as she was out of sight, she began to run. Along the path leading to the beach she ran, straight past her cottage and down to the shoreline, glad she was wearing her practical sandals underneath the long dress. And glad too that the waves were pounding against the sand so that the heavy sound drummed out the beating of her thudding heart. Picking up the hem of her dress, she stood back, careful not to let the seawater touch the delicate fabric as she stared out at the moon-dappled water.

She remembered how she’d felt when the supermarket had sacked her just before she’d flown to Lasia, when she’d been swamped by the sense of having no real place in the world. She could feel it now—because she hadn’t really been part of that glamorous table, had she? She’d been the outsider who had been dressed up for the occasion in a stranger’s dress. Had Ariston known how alienated she’d felt—or was he too busy reeling her in with his potent sexuality to care? Didn’t he realise that what was probably just a game to him meant so much more to someone like her who didn’t have his tight circle of friends, or wealth, to fall back on?

She felt stupid tears stinging her eyes and wondered if they had been caused by self-pity. Because if they were she was going to have to lose them—and quickly. Count your blessings, she told herself fiercely as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Just be glad you’ve been strong enough to resist someone who could never be anything more than a one-night stand.

But as she turned to walk back towards her cottage she saw a figure walking towards her—a man she recognised in a heartbeat, even from this distance. How could she fail to recognise him when his image was burned so powerfully onto her mind that she could picture him at the slightest provocation? His shadowy figure was powerful as he moved and the glint of moonlight in his eyes and the paleness of his silk shirt captured her imagination. She felt her skin prickle with instinctive excitement, which was quickly followed by a cold wash of dismay as he approached, because she’d tried to do the right thing. She’d done everything in her power to stay away from him. So why the hell was he here?

‘Ariston,’ she said steadily. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was worried about you. You left dinner so abruptly and I watched as you took the path to your cottage.’ His eyes narrowed as they swept over her. ‘Only no light came on.’

‘You were spying on me?’

‘Not really. I’m your employer.’ His voice sounded deep above the soft lapping of the waves. ‘I was merely concerned for your welfare.’

Her eyes met his. ‘Is that so?’

There was a pause. ‘Yes. No,’ he negated and suddenly his voice had grown harsh. ‘Actually, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell it is. All I know is that I can’t seem to stop thinking about you.’

Keeley saw the sudden change in him. The tension which stiffened his body, which she suspected mirrored the tension in her own. Just as she knew what was about to happen from the look on his face—a raw look of hunger which set off an answering need somewhere deep inside her.

‘Ariston,’ she whispered, but it sounded more like a prayer than a protest as he pulled her into his arms, into the warmth of his embrace, and she let him—ignoring the objections which were crowding her mind. And the moment he touched her, she was lost.

He drove his mouth down on hers and she heard his little moan of triumph as she kissed him back. Her lips opened and he slid his tongue inside her mouth to deepen the kiss. She swayed against him, her fingernails digging into his chest through the fine silk of his shirt, and he circled his hips against hers in a movement which was unashamedly urgent. And now his hand was slipping inside the bodice of her dress so he could cup her braless breast with his fingers and she let him do that, too. How could she stop him when she wanted it so much?

His groan was muffled as he explored each diamond-tipped nipple and she could feel her panties growing moist. Was he going to do it to her now? Here? Push her down onto the soft sand without giving her time to object? Yes. She would welcome that. She didn’t want anything to destroy the mood or the moment, because this had been a long time coming. Eight years, to be precise. Eight long and arid years when her body had felt as if it were made of cardboard, rather than responsive flesh and blood. Keeley swallowed. She didn’t want time to have second thoughts about what was about to happen—she wanted to just go with the flow and be spontaneous. A rush of excitement flooded through her until she remembered what she was wearing and, unlocking her lips from his, she pulled away from him. ‘The dress!’ she stumbled.

He stared down at her uncomprehendingly. ‘The dress?’ he echoed dazedly.

‘It’s not mine, remember? I don’t want to...to mark it.’

‘Of course. You borrowed the dress.’ Something hardened in his eyes as his gaze swept over her and his smile was tinged with a flicker of triumph as he picked her up and walked across the sand towards the cottage, before kicking open the door.