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He smiled, loving her suspicious mind. If only she knew. ‘The staff were expecting me for dinner,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I simply called from the café after you agreed to dine with me to ensure there would be enough for two.’
She wandered closer to the table, set with crystal glasses and silverware and tiny vases filled with fresh thyme and rosemary, the scent wafting on the warm breeze like the sheer curtains billowing behind the doorways.
‘You understand now why I had no desire to keep this all to myself?’
She nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’
‘Then please sit, and eat, and afterwards we shall enjoy the sunset together.’
As if on cue, the serving staff appeared, delivering warm breads and freshly made dips to the table, followed by pan-fried saganaki cheese topped with balsamic figs along with the freshest baby squid, an array of grilled meats and all washed down with the finest Santorini Vinsanto wine.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, at one point, leaning back in her chair, her glass of wine in her hand.
He raised his own glass to her. ‘It is my pleasure.’
‘Tell me,’ she asked, leaning forward after taking a sip of wine, ‘why is it that you are here, all alone on Santorini?’
‘I am here primarily for business.’
She arched an eyebrow at that, an obvious question. ‘Not,’ he added, ‘that I have a wife or girlfriend I could have brought to accompany me.’
‘And why is that?’ she asked, gesturing glass in hand to the palace behind and the spectacular caldera view before them. ‘When clearly you are a man of means—and, as you are no doubt aware, not entirely unpleasant looks.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘“Not entirely unpleasant”? That is good news, indeed. But as to your question, I’m afraid I’ve been too much of a workaholic. Driven, some might say.’
Especially when it came to the pursuit of justice.
‘Although not too driven to chat me up.’
He shrugged. ‘Lately I have become aware of how isolated I have become. Meeting you cemented an appreciation of the error of my ways.’
‘Wow,’ she said, her blue eyes bright. ‘That’s a heady responsibility you’re piling upon my shoulders. I hope you’re not going to be disappointed.’
He smiled. ‘Now you’re laughing at me.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m just not used to flirting.’
‘Neither am I,’ he said with a smile. ‘Although I am finding it an entirely pleasurable pastime. If I might be so bold as to ask, why are you here alone?’
‘Like I said, Santorini is my favourite Greek island. I like to come here to think.’
‘Do you have so much to think about?’
‘Who doesn’t?’ she said with a shrug, not giving anything away. ‘What kind of business are you in?’
He smiled at her quick volley, but didn’t push it. He’d learned in his dealings with people that the way to make them open up was to pretend indifference, to let them set the agenda. He knew that sooner or later she’d wander back into the topic of her own accord. ‘Shipping mainly. Cargo and containers, timetables and paperwork. It’s boring.’
‘I’m sure it’s not,’ she said. ‘Is it a family business?’
‘No. I have no family.’
‘What, none at all?’
He gave the briefest shake of his head, feeling a familiar rising tide of bitterness, thinking how different things might have been—should have been—if not for the greed and the actions of this woman’s father. He swallowed back on the surge. He didn’t need a tidal wave. All he needed now were ripples—a reminder—of why he was here, and why doing this was so right. ‘There’s nobody,’ he said. ‘Not now.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her teeth finding her lip while she blinked too fast. ‘It seems we have more than one thing in common. My mother died when I was sixteen. I—I lost my own father a month ago.’
He schooled his features to compassion, even as he smiled inwardly. She might have a sad story, but it was no match for a story of betrayal. ‘Is that what you’re here on Santorini to think about?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, her misty eyes clouding over as she looked away, out towards the sun, now sending a golden-red ribbon of colour across the water. ‘Look,’ she said, standing. ‘The sun is setting.’
He followed her to the balustrade, to where they could see the white buildings that adorned the caldera rim now washed in red, the sun a fat golden orb bending the painted layers of the sky beneath.
‘So beautiful,’ she said, her eyes fixed on the spectacular display.
She was, he thought, watching her rather than the sunset, and soon she would be his. The knowledge made him burn. The perfect revenge and the only disappointment was that Stavros wasn’t here to see it. But then, it would be a much more extensive—and satisfying—revenge than he’d had planned.
‘Look,’ he said, putting mere fingertips to the fabric at the small of her back while he pointed out to the midst of the darkening sea, where a sailing boat bobbed in a ribbon of golden light.
‘Oh,’ she said, and he knew it was because he’d touched her, because he’d felt her shuddering response, and knew she was ripe for the taking.
Oh, yes, he would play this cherished daughter of his nemesis like a fish on a hook. Play her, use her, and then he would break her, just as her father had broken his father.
And then he would walk away.
* * *
To Athena, it seemed the sunset was being performed for her and Alexios and for them alone. There was nobody else within earshot, no evidence of other human life beyond a solitary sailing boat far below them on the sea, while the colours around her intensified, the range narrowed to red and gold and every brilliant shade in between.
And then suddenly his hand was gone from the small of her back, and despite the spectacular glory going on around her it was that tiny touch she missed. Missed his warmth but most of all the spark he’d triggered in her flesh. And now the sun was setting, burning brighter, until it kissed the water and, despite knowing better, Athena held her breath in anticipation of the hiss of steam at the union.
But even the sunset could not make her forget Alexios was still here, close beside her. Never had she been more aware of a man’s presence in her life. He was right there at her shoulder. So close she could once again smell the lemon tang of his soap. So close she could feel his body’s warmth on her bare arm.
So close.
And yet he didn’t make a move towards her.
Slowly, inexorably, the sea embraced the sun, and with every passing second Athena wished he would touch her again, even if only to point out something else.
Though more than that, she wished, leaning closer, her bare arm brushing his, setting her skin alight, that he would kiss her. In this perfect moment with the perfect excuse of the most romantic sunset in the world as a backdrop.
Why did he not try to touch her?
Why didn’t he kiss her?
But while the air all but crackled between them, even while her body swayed of its own accord towards his, frustratingly he moved no closer to her. Still, he made no move at all.
By the time the sea swallowed the sun whole and the last glimmer of light was extinguished, her strung-out nerves were at breaking point for fruitless, pointless, wishing.
She reached for and clung to the balustrade with both hands, disappointment weighing heavy in her sigh.
‘Amazing,’ he said beside her, and his deep voice rippled into the fabric of her soul. She felt silly now that the rush of disappointment was over. All this time she’d been wary and suspicious and all the time he really had only wanted to share a meal and a sunset with someone.
She put her unfamiliar libido back in the dusty box where it had come from. She had no right to be disappointed. She hadn’t wanted anything to happen really. It was the sunset and the colour and the heart-stopping beauty of an island the gods had blessed with unimaginable riches to compensate for locating it over an active volcano.
‘That was spectacular,’ she said, turning her back to the balustrade now the show was over. ‘Thank you for sharing it with me, and for a wonderful dinner. I should probably be heading off now.’
‘You don’t want to stay for coffee?’
She shook her head. She felt foolish now. Carried away by the romance of the island. Reading too much into a simple invitation. If it was any lighter here on the balcony, he would surely see her face glowing red.
She crossed back towards the table where she’d left her bag, searching for a lightness she didn’t feel. ‘I have a confession to make.’
‘You do?’
‘I actually thought—I mean—just for a while there, when you took off chasing the thief, well, I’m sorry to admit that I half wondered if you hadn’t been working together, and that I’d never see you, or my bag, again.’
He shook his head, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. ‘You honestly believed me capable of behaving in such a despicable manner?’
She cast her eyes downwards. ‘I’m so sorry. I was strung out. I don’t know why else I would have thought such a thing.’
His dark eyes narrowed. His lips turned up on one side. ‘But then, you thought I was some kind of gigolo too.’
‘God, don’t remind me. I’m sorry about that too.’
He leaned an arm up onto the wall beside her and she was struck by the poetry in the slow but sure movement of his muscled limbs. ‘You thought I was going to seduce you.’
‘To be fair, I didn’t know what to think. I was alone and you were very charming. Are very charming. What was a woman on her own to think? But you’ve proved me wrong and I’ve had the most wonderful evening, thank you.’ She put out a hand to shake his.
He stared down at it, a crease tugging dark brows together. ‘Are you disappointed?’
‘What?’
‘That I didn’t try to seduce you?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t... I’m not sure...’
His eyes met hers, and in their dark depths she saw an insecurity and wavering that mirrored her own, an insecurity she would never have expected to see in this man’s, not when he otherwise appeared so confident and assured. An insecurity she instinctively wanted to smooth away and reassure.
‘Because you must know,’ he said, ‘I wanted to kiss you.’
Her mouth went dry. ‘You did?’
‘When the sun was setting before us and it was like we were part of it, rather than just watching, and I could see the look of wonder on your face—in that moment I ached to reach out a hand and touch you.’
‘You did?’ She tossed her head back, trying to inject no more than a casual interest in his revelation. Trying to sound as if they were discussing something academic. ‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Because I was afraid you might run. That it would confirm your worst thoughts about me. So I held back. Let me tell you, removing my hand from your back was one of the hardest things I have ever done.’ His dark eyes trained on hers. ‘Would you have run?’
Her bag suddenly felt heavy in her hands, her limbs felt boneless and it was all she could do to remember to breathe.
‘Would you?’
The air between them seemed to shimmer with expectation. This was no game they were playing. No innocent question and answer session. This felt dangerous.
Reckless.
Athena didn’t do reckless.
Not normally. But tonight was far from normal.
And this time that voice inside her head demanded to quash any resistance and to be heard, and this time, she was only too prepared to listen.
‘No.’ Her answer was a bare whisper, and yet more than a whisper. A confession.
He closed the distance between them and put the pads of his thumb to her cheek, the fingers of his other hand tracing the line of her lips. ‘You are more beautiful than any sunset I have ever witnessed. I have wanted you since the moment we first met.’
His warm breath, scented with the cognac they’d shared, caressed her skin, and like the waves upon the sea his words rippled into her soul. Her cheek leaned into his touch, her lips parting, seeking more, tasting him.
‘If you ask me to kiss you,’ he said, ‘there is no way I could refuse.’
Her heart skipped a beat. And she knew with a woman’s sense that this was bigger than any kiss. The heat pooling in her belly, the pulse beating at her very core told her this wouldn’t stop with a kiss. But he was giving her the choice—stop now or go on.
In the end, it was no choice at all. ‘So kiss me,’ she said.
And he made a sound, guttural and deep, a sound of triumph mixed with need that rumbled straight to her veins and turned her blood to bubbles as he pulled her close and his lips met hers. Warm lips. Surprisingly soft and yet firm. Engaged in a sensual dance with hers. Slow. Gentle. Teasing. Deeper. Repeat.
Her knees turned weak. She reached for him, needing an anchor to steady herself, finding a rock as her hands tangled in the folds of his shirt and found his hard body beneath. Her fingers embraced his sculpted torso and she heard a sound like a whimper and realised it had come from her.
But he was glorious. Muscled and hard beneath her seeking fingers. Thirsty fingers, drinking in the ridges of bone and tight bunches of muscle as his mouth made magic on hers. While his long-fingered hands scooped down the sides of her head, to her shoulders, leaving trails that felt like sparks under her skin and that scorched a path all the way down via peaking nipples, to where an aching heat pulsed between her thighs.
And even as she pressed her body closer to his, closer into his kiss, she knew this was all kinds of reckless, because she knew there was no way this was stopping with a mere kiss.
And she wanted it.
She wanted it all.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
SO MUCH MORE than a mere kiss! His scent, his taste and the feel of him combined into one powerful cocktail and she wanted more. She parted her lips and he accepted her invitation, his tongue tasting, testing, before engaging hers in a sensual dance of passion and need. She was already lost in sensation, blood fizzing in her veins, when she felt the brush of his thumb against one sensitive nipple, and she gasped into his mouth with the sheer electricity of it.
He growled, liking her response, his hands growing bolder, sweeping from her shoulders to the cheeks of her behind, squeezing, her muscles clenching and tightening in response as his fingertips ventured dangerously close to her cleft.
‘Theos,’ he said, wrenching his mouth from hers. ‘Stay, and make love with me, Athena.’
She answered him with her mouth and her body, pulling his head back to hers, pressing her full length against his body, her plumping breasts hard against his chest, her hips pushed against his. She encountered the evidence of his own arousal and felt a rush of heat hard on the heels of a bloom of delight.
For so long, it seemed, she’d felt numb. Too long. Ever since she’d heard the news of her father’s death and been sideswiped by the impact it had on her. By the knowledge that now she had lost both her mother and, even if their relationship had been difficult at times, or maybe because of it, her father.
