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She was sweeter than he’d imagined, but there was a bite beneath the sweetness. As he took the kiss deeper, he discovered a dark richness that he’d never experienced before. Then her scent wrapped around him and it wasn’t sweet at all. It was exotic, erotic, and it made him think of the Sirens who’d lured sailors to their deaths. For the first time, Roman understood why they would have gone willingly.
AT LAST. That was the only coherent thought that formed in my mind once Roman pressed his mouth to mine. I felt as if I’d come home. Then he nipped at my bottom lip, changed the angle of the kiss, and I felt as if I’d just entered a brave, new world.
The sound of the sea, so muted before, grew louder. The breeze so gentle just seconds ago whipped around us, a storm seemed to be brewing.
I could feel everything so acutely. One of my hands was trapped against his chest and his heart hammered frantically against my palm. His taste—I’d imagined it so often, but it was so…potent. His touch burned my skin and sent thrill after thrill rippling through me. But it was his mouth I craved more of. It was so tempting that I took and took and took.
Still, I wanted more. I strained closer. As if answering my demand, he slipped one hand between us and covered my breast. Pleasure so sharp that it bordered on pain arrowed through me.
His other hand gripped my hip and lifted. Wrapping arms and legs around him, I scooted up until we were pressed center to center, heat to heat. It still wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get close enough. My heart was beating so hard, so fast that I was surprised it didn’t burst right out of me.
Then suddenly, abruptly, he set me down on the path. I cried out in protest, but he took a quick step back.
“No. I can’t. We can’t.”
“What?” I gave my head a shake, trying to clear it. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I never should have—” He broke off to run a hand through his hair. The other one was clenched at his side.
Anger shot through me, and some of my brain cells clicked on. He was apologizing! Again! Suddenly I wasn’t just mad, I was furious. “You never should have what? Followed me here to Greece? Looked at me as if you wanted to eat me whole? Kissed me?”
“It was a mistake.”
This time it was pain that shot through me. But I pushed it away, fisted my hands on my hips and sent him a killing look. “A mistake?”
Roman said nothing. He was staring at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. But I was seeing red. Over the years, I’d worked on controlling my temper, but at times it slipped away from me. Usually right after I saw red.
I lunged at him and shoved him hard enough to make him fall on his butt. “What you are, Roman Oliver, is a big fat liar.”
I wanted to jump him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his head rattled. But if I went near him again, even for a moment, I was afraid that I would simply beg him to finish what he’d started.
I summoned up all the pride I could muster and pointed a finger at him instead. “Maybe you think it was a mistake to kiss me. Your loss. And you can stuff your apology. But don’t you ever try to tell me that you think of me just as a sister.”
I wanted to leave then. But my dramatic exit was impeded by the fact that Roman was blocking my path. His eyes never left mine as he rose and brushed off his pants. “Tell me about the man on the beach.”
My anger drained away as all the terror and panic I’d felt ever since I’d seen the bullet send up that telltale spray of sand came flooding back. “He’s dead.” I glanced around, looking for Ariel, but there was no sign of her. And I couldn’t feel her, either. I had to hope she’d headed for the Villa Prospero and safety.
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a dead man on the beach?”
I lifted my chin. “I’ll show you.” Then, whirling, I started through the woods, retracing the route that the cat and I had taken up the hill. So I was able to execute my dramatic exit after all.
TEN MINUTES LATER, I stood next to Roman on the white sand, exactly where the man in the wide-brimmed hat had been lying when Ariel had led me to him. Only he wasn’t there. The red stain caused by his blood was gone, too. There wasn’t even a depression in the sand where his body had been. Roman and I hadn’t spoken on the climb down the hill—not even when I’d slipped and fallen and he’d helped me up—but as much as I hated to admit it, I was glad that he was here. I felt a lot less spooked than I would have otherwise.
“He’s gone,” I said, stating the all too obvious.
“You’re sure this is the spot?”
Since it was a legitimate question and there was no trace of skepticism in his tone, I kept the annoyance out of mine. “I’m positive.”
“Any chance that there’s another little cove similar to this one and we angled down the wrong way?”
I’d already asked myself that question. I pointed at the Castello. “There’s only one cove that’s flanked by a fourteenth-century fortress.”
Roman glanced up at the towers. “Good point. And the man was lying right here?”
I squatted. “His feet were about here, and he was medium height.”
“Could you tell how he’d died?”
I drew in a deep breath as the image of the man’s body filled my mind. “He had a bullet hole in the side of his head.” I tapped a finger against my left temple. Then I pointed to the spot on the hillside where I’d seen the flash of light. “I think the killer shot from up there just below the Castello.”
“You actually spotted him?”
I shook my head. “I just saw a flash of reflected sunlight when I was racing after Ariel.”
Roman frowned. “Ariel?”
“The white cat.”
“The same one I saw dash out of the woods just before I bumped into you?”
I nodded. “She was the one who led me to the body—she was very upset. I’m assuming because of the name that she belongs to my cousin Alexi. He has two cats and one of them, Caliban, is missing. I’m hoping that Ariel is back safe at the Villa Prospero.”
Roman stared out at the sea, then walked in a wide circle around the area I’d indicated. “Can you tell if the tide’s coming in?”
I glanced at the waves and noted that they were closer than they’d been before. The base of the boulder that one of the bullets had ricocheted off of was wet now. “It’s coming in. That boulder was totally dry before.” Then I saw light reflect off metal. Moving to the boulder, I leaned down and retrieved a cell phone. “It could be the victim’s. He had one in his hand when I first saw him.”
“That will help the police identify him,” Roman said.
I tucked it into my pocket.
Roman studied the water. “How much time has passed since you first saw the body?”
I’d completely lost track of time since I’d realized I was being shot at, so I glanced at my watch, then considered briefly. It was nearly one-thirty and my driver dropped me off at noon. “A half hour to forty-five minutes.”
“So the body couldn’t have been carried off by the tide.”
“No.”
Turning, Roman met my eyes directly. I could read nothing in his expression, I had no way of telling whether he believed me or not. Even with the cell phone, I wasn’t sure I would have believed myself.
Finally, he said, “The killer must have come back and cleaned up after himself.”
Relief streamed through me. Then I glanced around. “Maybe not entirely.” I rose and walked over to the spot where I’d seen the sand spurt up near the white cat. The image was indelibly imprinted on my mind. The sand was damp now. Squatting, I began to dig with my fingers. On the fifth scoop I found the bullet and held it up for Roman to see. “He missed this.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed as he strode toward me. “How did you know that was there?”
“He shot at the cat, too. One of them ricocheted off the rock. Then I saw the sand spurt up.”
Roman glanced up at the Castello, then grabbed my free hand and urged me toward the trees at the foot of the hill. Once we were in their shelter, he told me to sit down and then he sat down beside me. “Start at the beginning, Philly. And tell me everything.”
4
BY THE TIME we finally reached the Villa Prospero, my initial adrenaline rush at finding the body had faded, and I was beginning to react to the reality of the situation. Telling Roman what had happened had brought all the details vividly to my mind. Since we hadn’t talked on the climb back up to the villa, I’d had time to dwell on them.
A man was dead. And someone had disposed of his body. A bone-deep chill moved through me, and I shivered.
Roman turned to me immediately and took my arm. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “Just a bit of a delayed reaction, I think.”
“You’re going to have to repeat the whole thing to the police.”
“I can do that.” I squared my shoulders in reaction to the concern I heard in his voice. “I’m a big girl, Roman.”
Miranda was at the registration desk and she looked up with a polite smile when we walked into the lobby. I noted again the combination of neatness and elegance in her appearance.
I knew from Aunt Cass and my father that Miranda was only in her early forties, but she looked even younger. She’d married early to Sandro Kostas, a man her parents had chosen for her so that she would have help running the hotel after they passed away. Kostas had left her a widow three years ago. Before his death, she’d spent most of her time seeing to the cuisine and keeping the books. Sandro had played the host. But it seemed to me as though Miranda was doing well as a hostess—she looked far more assured than she’d been earlier when Mr. Magellan had confronted her.
“Philly?” Her face brightened as she moved toward me and took both of my hands in hers. “Spiro’s daughter. You’re even prettier than your pictures. Welcome, welcome. It’s such a pleasure to have you here. I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you properly when you arrived. Demetria should have told me.”
“Don’t blame her—I told her not to. I wanted to walk on the beach and I ran into a white cat. Did she come back here?”
As she shook her head, a faint frown appeared on Miranda’s forehead. “That might have been Ariel. But I haven’t seen her at all today. She may have gone to look for my son, Alexi.”
Miranda turned to Roman then. “Demetria told me that you know my cousin Philly?”
Roman smiled at her. “I know her very well. I’m her brother Kit Angelis.” He held out a hand, and Miranda grasped it warmly, her face a mixture of surprise and delight.
I simply stood there and stared at him. Later, I would tell myself that my mental state had been approaching shock. That had to have been why I said nothing.
“Welcome! I was only expecting Philly. This is such a wonderful surprise—to have two of Spiro’s children visit.”
I’m sure my mouth was hanging open, but neither of them was paying me any heed. I felt as if I were watching a play.
Roman squeezed Miranda’s hands. “You must forgive me for not calling ahead. But my plans changed at the last minute, and I wanted to surprise my sister. My father and Helena so enjoyed their visit here and I can see why.” He paused to glance around the room. “You have a lovely place.”
I wanted to surprise my sister? Never in my life had I knowingly watched anyone lie so smoothly.
Miranda said something in reply, but I missed it because Roman chose that moment to meet my eyes. There was a challenge in his—almost as if he was daring me to expose his lie. I told myself I had to say something, to put a stop to his little masquerade before it went any further, but my lips just wouldn’t form the words.
He shifted his gaze back to Miranda. “And you’re not to worry. Demetria has already told me that you’re completely booked, but I can bunk in with Philly. All I need is a cot.”
“Of course you’ll stay here,” Miranda said. “And you won’t need a cot. The sofa in the suite converts to a bed. As soon as my son returns, I’ll have him make it up. In the meantime, you must go out to the terrace. I’ll bring you coffee and pastries. We’re through serving lunch, but I can have Demetria fix some sandwiches.”
I finally had my mouth open to say something when Roman preempted me. “Before we sit down, we have to contact the police.”
Miranda turned back at that, surprise and worry in her eyes. “The police?”
“Philly found a dead body on the beach.”
“A dead body?”
Fear flashed into her eyes, and I sensed she might be worried about Alexi. “A man—medium height and stocky. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat—like the ones you sell in your gift shop—and he was carrying a backpack and binoculars.”
“Does he sound familiar?” Roman asked.
Miranda frowned thoughtfully, then shook her head.“There are so many visitors on the island right now because of the party at the Castello Corli the day after tomorrow. Andre Magellan throws these parties at least twice a year. His guests number in the hundreds. He can accommodate most of them at the Castello—it’s reputed to have close to one hundred guest rooms—but we take the overflow here.” She shifted her gaze to Roman. “How did the man die?”
“We believe he was shot by someone up on the cliff near the Castello,” Roman explained. “Philly was on her way back here when she ran into me. By the time we returned to the beach, the body was gone.”
“Gone?”
“The killer may not have wanted it found,” Roman explained.
“When I first spotted the man, there was someone with him—a younger man he seemed to be arguing with,” I said. “He was about the same height with dark curly hair. My guess is that he’s still in his teens, and he was wearing some kind of medal around his neck.”
Miranda shook her head, but I didn’t miss the slight stiffening of her body. My description had made her think of someone, I was sure of it.
“That was where I first saw the white cat,” I said. “She led me to the body.”
“Ariel,” Miranda breathed and then clasped her hands together. “It must have been Ariel. Her twin brother, Caliban, has been missing for two days. Alexi has been very upset. He and those cats have been inseparable since his father gave them to him. He’s spent the last two days searching along the coastline.” Dropping her hands to her sides, she gave us a flustered glance. “Please forgive me for rambling on. Come out to the terrace. You’ll have something to drink while I call the police.”
Miranda seated us at a table in the shade of some pines and poured us each a glass of pale gold wine before she hurried back to the lobby.
The moment she was out of earshot, Roman said, “Take a sip of that. You’re still looking a little shaky. I have to make a couple of calls.”
I didn’t argue. I was barely able to keep my hand from trembling as I lifted the glass. The wine was cool, but it helped to take the edge off of the chill that was settling over me.
Demetria appeared and set a pot of coffee and a tray of pastries on the table. I smiled and nodded my thanks and then returned my gaze to Roman. He was talking on his cell to a man he called Gianni. Or rather listening. The man on the other end seemed to be doing most of the talking. From what I could gather, they were discussing something about hotels.
Sitting there in the dappled sunlight, Roman was at his ease, the picture of self-containment and confidence. Having him here was helping. This man seated across from me was the Roman I was familiar with—cool, competent.
“I’ll be delayed longer than I originally thought,” Roman said. “A day or two.”
The man who’d told Miranda that he was my brother Kit was a bit of a stranger. So was the man who’d kissed me on the hillside path. There’d been nothing cool about that kiss. I’d tasted a desperation that had matched my own. These new aspects of Roman intrigued me.
At the same time his ability to return to normal mode so quickly annoyed me. He was calmly conducting business while my mind was still spinning. I wasn’t even at the point where I could sort out my thoughts.
And I couldn’t blame it totally on a delayed reaction to finding a dead man on the beach.
I tried to focus by concentrating on one thing. There was the cat, Ariel. I’d sensed a bone-deep, almost frantic, fear in her. Ariel had reminded me a bit of Pretzels, and I wondered if it was part of her nature to react in a very dramatic way. Not that she didn’t have a perfect right to be afraid. It was very possible that she’d seen a man get shot. But she’d been distressed even when the man in the wide-brimmed hat was still alive.
Worry and concern about her brother may very well have been the source of the chaotic emotions I’d first sensed in Ariel. I recalled the image of the white cat lying in darkness. Could that have been Caliban? The picture hadn’t been clear, but it did look as though he was alive and he had a supply of food and water. I wished that Ariel hadn’t disappeared when I’d kissed Roman on the path.
I’d been trying to avoid thinking about that kiss. As lust curled snakelike in my stomach, I reached for my wine and took a long swallow. For a moment I sat there simply studying Roman. He was seated with his back to the marvelous view of the sea beyond. He’d angled his chair slightly so that he wasn’t facing me, and that meant he didn’t notice that I was staring.
I thought of how often I’d dreamed of kissing him. The first fantasies had been the innocent ones of a sixteen-year-old, but as I’d entered college and gained some experience with men, my fantasies had become more detailed. Still, nothing, actual or imagined, had prepared me for the reality of Roman’s callused palms or his clever, demanding mouth. I’d never before felt my will drain so completely away. He could have asked anything of me, and I would have given it. Gladly.
