The Mediterranean Tycoon

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The boys had raced upstairs, where, presumably, Nikos had his Scalextric laid out. Peta stood in the entrance hall and looked around her. Impressive wasn’t the word. A carved oak staircase curved its way up to a galleried landing. Stained-glass windows cast coloured reflections, and oil paintings, presumably of owners past, decorated the walls. It was like something she’d seen in a film but never first-hand.

He led the way along a lengthy corridor to a huge, comfortable kitchen, where a buxom middle-aged woman stood making pastry. ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet, Mr Papadakis,’ she said, looking flustered. ‘Nor was Bronwen. She’s gone out to meet her boyfriend.’

A harsh frown creased his brow. ‘Perhaps it’s as well she’s leaving,’ he said tersely. ‘Bess, I’d like you to meet Bronwen’s replacement, Peta James. Peta, this is Bess Middleton, my housekeeper.’

The woman’s thin brows rose into untidy grey hair. I wonder how long you’ll last? she seemed to be saying.

‘Hello, Bess.’ Peta held out her hand, then laughed when she realised the other woman’s was covered in flour. ‘I’m not starting until next week. Andreas thought I ought to have a look over the place.’

‘You’ve met Nikos, I take it?’ the woman asked.

Peta nodded. ‘I have a son about Nikos’s age. They’ll be good company for each other. They’re upstairs now.’

‘I see. Good luck, then. I hope you’ll last longer than the others.’

Peta looked at Andreas. She hadn’t realised he was watching her and her face flushed at his intense scrutiny. It was faintly disapproving. Was it because she’d called him Andreas in front of his housekeeper?

‘Come,’ he said abruptly, ‘I’ll show you the rest of the house.’ It was a whistle-stop tour and entirely unnecessary in her opinion, because she’d need a map to find her way around. On the ground floor there were five different reception rooms and a study, while upstairs there were six bedrooms, each with an ensuite bathroom, as well as a spacious room in the attic. It was here that they found Nikos and Ben happily playing with the Scalextric. There was so much of it that it must have cost a small fortune.

‘Mummy,’ said Ben excitedly, ‘look at all this.’

‘It’s wonderful, darling, but I think we ought to be going.’

‘No!’ came the disgruntled response. ‘Not yet—we’ve only just got here.’

‘And you’re going to live here soon,’ she reminded him, ‘so come on, you’ll have plenty of time to play.’

Andreas had hardly spoken on their tour. He’d pointed out which would be her room and which one Ben’s, and she’d seen his bedroom, in shades of burgundy and dark green—an entirely impersonal room with not even a pair of slippers on view. He probably didn’t have time to wear slippers, she’d thought bitterly. He was too manic about work.

‘Leave them,’ he said now. ‘We’ll go to my study and discuss your duties.’

‘Very well.’ She kept her tone crisp and her eyes directly on his, and as soon as they were seated in the oak-panelled room she asked, ‘What have I said that’s made you angry?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not annoyed with you; it’s Bronwen. She had no idea that I wouldn’t need her tonight. She might be working her notice but she has no right to take liberties. I’ve half a mind to tell her to go now.’

‘Except that I can’t start straight away,’ declared Peta. ‘There’s too much to sort out.’

‘Like what?’ he demanded.

‘I have to pack, for one thing. Finalise bills, see about letting, tell everyone where I’ve gone, especially my parents…a hundred and one things.’ Her parents lived in Cornwall, where she herself had been brought up. She’d stayed in Southampton after finishing university, and now only went home on the occasional weekend and during holiday periods. But her mother rang often, wanting to know how she was coping, how Ben was, and why didn’t she come home to live? What would she say when she heard that her precious daughter was moving in with the boss?

‘I can organise most things for you,’ he informed.

‘I’m sure you can, but I’d prefer to do it myself,’ she said tightly. ‘You can see to the letting, if you wish, but everything else I’ll do.’

‘One of the new era of independent females.’ He leaned back in his leather chair and studied her. ‘I’m not sure whether I like it. I think I prefer the chivalrous days when a woman depended on a man, when he cosseted and protected her, when he made her feel feminine and beautiful and very, very much wanted.’

His eyes smouldered, his voice growled, and he looked at her with far more intent than he ever had before. Peta felt her nerve ends quiver. Was he trying to tell her something or was it her imagination? Was she reading what she wanted to read? Or was he interested? Would it be wise to move in with him? Had he manufactured this job especially so that he could get her into his bed?

‘Now what are you thinking?’

‘Why?’

‘You look as though you believe I have designs on you.’

Oh, Lord, was she that transparent? Peta felt her cheeks flame. ‘You couldn’t be further from the truth,’ she said distantly.

‘You have a very expressive face, Peta. Didn’t you know?’

‘And you are jumping to entirely the wrong conclusions. I’m not interested in any man, Mr Papadakis.’

‘Andreas.’

She grimaced. ‘Very well, Andreas, although I don’t think it’s a good idea. Did you see the way your housekeeper looked at me when I called you Andreas?’

‘She was probably wondering how you’d managed to get past the formality stage. Not many people do, I assure you. I find it doesn’t pay.’

Peta wasn’t sure she agreed with that. The senior staff at Linam Shipping would almost certainly feel much happier if they were on first-name terms with him. ‘So I’m honoured?’ she asked.

A faint smile quirked the corners of his mouth. ‘You could say that.’

‘Why?’

He thought for a long moment. ‘Let’s say I felt it would improve our relationship.’

‘You mean you thought you’d get more work out of me?’ she asked smartly, but she couldn’t stop a faint smile.

‘I don’t always think about work, Peta. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, perhaps, but I do have red blood in my veins. I’m not entirely without feelings.’

Peta gave an inward groan. Was she jumping into a situation she would quickly regret? Ought she to tell him to stuff his job? Except that she would be upsetting both boys if she did. Ben would never forgive her; he was so looking forward to living here and having a friend to play with. To say nothing of the extra time she’d be able to spend with him. It was by far the best thing that had happened to her.

‘So,’ she said, pushing these thoughts to the back of her mind, ‘tell me exactly what my duties are going to be.’

It was arranged that she take Nikos to and from school, plan his meals, cook them if Bess wasn’t there, supervise his homework and make sure he always had a supply of clean clothes. All housework would be done by Bess Middleton and a local girl who came in twice a week.

‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’

Peta shook her head. ‘Nothing that I can think of at the moment.’

‘So it’s settled. You’ll start on Sunday?’

‘I’ll move in late on Sunday,’ she corrected. ‘I’ll need the weekend to tie everything up.’

He nodded, looking well-pleased, and when they stood he shook her hand. ‘Thank you, Peta. I do appreciate all that you’re giving up.’

The scorching heat that ran through her at his touch told her that she was giving up far more than a little cottage and a certain lifestyle. She was in grave danger of giving up her freedom.

CHAPTER FOUR

AS PETA locked the door and walked to her car, where Ben was already wriggling excitedly on his seat, she wondered for the thousandth time whether she was doing the right thing. She’d thought about it a lot since she’d given her word, and several times had considered backing out. The one thing that had stopped her was the thought that she’d see more of her precious son.

She really had hated having to go out to work, leaving Marnie to pick him up from school. She’d missed seeing the excitement on his face when he told the older woman all that he’d been doing. Obviously he’d told her, too, when she got home, but the initial enthusiasm had gone. And especially in school holidays—there had been so much she could be doing with him, so many places they could have gone. Instead she’d had to rely on her neighbour to keep him entertained while she earned the money to clothe and feed them and run her house.

There was also Nikos to consider. She couldn’t get out of her mind his cheerful face when she’d mentioned watching him play football. She could imagine how her own son would feel if she never went to see him play. To Ben, having his mother watch and encourage him was the most important thing in the world. It was a pity Andreas didn’t see things that way. Poor Nikos was missing out on such a lot—and so too was Andreas, if only he knew it.

When they arrived Andreas was outside waiting for them.

Smiling.

The smile stunned her. It was unlike any other smile he had given her. It was a predatory smile. It heated her blood and sent a violent reaction through her body. This was definitely a big mistake. She hadn’t agreed to do the job because she’d thought the move would be good for Ben, or because it would help Nikos, but because of this man. This lean, sensual man with the devastating good looks and compelling dark eyes. It was a disturbing discovery.

And it was suddenly clear that he was equally hungry for her! She was now his victim. And yet, even as she stared at him in chilling horror, the smile changed. It became a warmly welcoming one, a friendly one, nothing in it to suggest that he had designs on her. Had she imagined it? Was she becoming neurotic because of her own unstoppable, unwanted emotions?

‘I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.’ He came hurriedly down the steps as she climbed out of the car, damningly attractive in an open-necked shirt that revealed a scattering of dark curly hairs on his hard-muscled chest. ‘Let me help you unload.’

‘Where’s Nikos?’ asked Ben eagerly as he too scrambled out.

‘Already in bed,’ Andreas answered. ‘He tried to wait up but sleep got the better of him.’

‘I’m not tired,’ said Ben bravely, at the same time fighting back a yawn.

‘In that case you can carry some stuff up to your room,’ snapped Peta when she saw that he was going to dash indoors empty-handed.

Her tone was sharper than she’d intended and she saw Andreas frown. She oughtn’t to have rounded on her son; it wasn’t Ben she was annoyed with—it was herself for imagining something that wasn’t there. Andreas couldn’t care less about her; he was interested only in Nikos’s well-being. That was what she was here for, nothing else, and she’d do well to remember it.

Once all the stuff was piled into their rooms he offered Mrs Middleton’s help to unpack but Peta declined. ‘I can manage,’ she said tensely.

‘As you wish,’ he agreed with a laconic shrug. ‘When you’ve put Ben to bed come and join me. I’ll be in my study.’

There was a lot to unpack and it took her ages; Ben was asleep before she’d finished, but even then she was reluctant to go downstairs.

She remembered the room, quite a big room, oak-panelled with an immense desk across one corner. In front of the window, with excellent views of the landscaped gardens, were two easy chairs, and it was in one of these that she found him.

He’d left his door wide for her to walk in, though she tapped on it first to alert him to her presence. ‘Welcome to your new home,’ he said to her now. ‘I think this calls for a celebratory drink. What would you like?’

Peta didn’t much care for alcohol; it held too many bad memories. She’d had wine on the day of the conference, but only because she hadn’t wanted to cause a fuss, and even then she’d taken only a few sips. ‘A soft drink, I think. Coke or lemonade, I don’t mind which.’

She sat down on the chair next to him, stifling the tingle of electricity that alerted her senses to the very real danger he posed.

‘Are you sure that’s all you want?’

Peta nodded and turned her head to watch Andreas as he walked to a cunningly concealed bar and flipped the top off a bottle before pouring Coke into a glass.

‘I really do appreciate what you’re doing for me,’ he said when he returned to his seat, handing the drink to her.

Their fingers touched and Peta jumped, some of the Coke going down her clean white skirt. She swore beneath her breath.

‘How clumsy of me,’ said Andreas swiftly.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she assured him, conscious of the sudden heat in her cheeks. ‘I’d best go and change; rinse it out before it stains.’

‘You are coming back?’ he asked, and for the first time Peta noticed lines of strain on his face. He was probably apprehensive about how things would work out with her and Nikos, and all the problems at work wouldn’t help either, and here she was worrying over her own stupid reactions.

‘Of course,’ she agreed with a faint smile, even though she’d actually planned on staying upstairs, where it was safer. At the office she could ignore his sexuality and concentrate on the work in hand. Here it was a different story. The trouble was, if she didn’t go back down he’d more than likely come charging up to see where she was.

She had not realised when she’d agreed to take the job as Nikos’s nanny that she would spend any time with Andreas. It was too intimate, too disturbing, too everything. The blood fairly sizzled through her veins, and the thought of them sitting close together watching the sky darken as the sun went down was enough to send her frantic with fear.

Peta deliberately took her time rinsing the skirt, and when she finally plucked up the courage to rejoin Andreas it was to find him fast asleep in his chair, legs outstretched, his head resting on a cushion. The perfect excuse to creep upstairs, she thought, but somehow her legs wouldn’t carry her away. She stood there looking at him, drinking in the beautiful, sculpted lines of his face, the way his hair curled crisply around his ears, the fullness of his lips, curved upwards at the corners as though he was having a pleasant dream.

It wasn’t long before her eyes wandered down to the rise and fall of his chest. The dark hairs, some of which she could see at the V of his shirt, were visible through the fine silk. Her fingers itched to touch. He had a tremendous body, finely honed, with not an ounce of superfluous fat anywhere.