The Greek's Ultimate Revenge
Julia James
Greek tycoon Nikos Kyriades has planned his revenge down to the last detail…His Goal: Tempting Janine Fareham into his bed. It will be an impressive seduction and he has two weeks on a beautiful Greek island to do it….His Revenge: Nikos wants Janine as his mistress–until he's exacted his revenge!His Risk: If Janine discovers she's a pawn in Nikos's game, she'll leave. But to have her in his bed–at his command–is a risk worth taking!
Desire flashed through Nikos. Instant and insistent.
For a moment he felt consumed by it, overwhelmed. Then, with deliberate control, he subdued his reaction.
It was good that he desired her, it would make his task so much easier, but that was the only reason he should feel desire for her.
It was a means to an end, that was all—he had to remind himself of that, no matter how vulnerable she looked.
Harlequin Presents
They’re the men who have everything—except brides…
Wealth, power, charm—what else could a handsome tycoon need? In the GREEK TYCOONS miniseries you have already met some gorgeous Greek multimillionaires who are in need of wives.
Now meet the prosperous, striking and very determined Nikos Kyriades in Julia James’s The Greek’s Ultimate Revenge
This tycoon thought he could extract his revenge without any feelings—only to learn how the power of love can ignite a cold heart!
Don’t miss the next book in this miniseries,
Bought by the Greek Tycoon
by Jacqueline Baird
#2512
The Greek’s Ultimate Revenge
Julia James
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my editor, Kim—
many, many thanks.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
‘NIKOS! You’ve got to do something! You’ve got to! The little trollop has got her claws into Stephanos so deep he can’t see straight!’
Nikos Kiriakis looked down at the woman lying in the hospital bed. She looked dreadful, and it stabbed at him painfully. Her face was pale and drawn, and she looked ten years older than her thirty-nine years. Though it had been only a minor operation medically, psychologically it had taken a much greater toll.
And, as if that wasn’t enough, now it seemed her husband had chosen this moment of all times to be unfaithful.
Nikos’s dark gold-flecked eyes hardened. His older sister had been a devoted wife to Stephanos Ephandrou—she didn’t deserve this. Not now.
Not when a doctor had just told her that the results of a laparoscopy were showing that both her Fallopian tubes were irreparably damaged. That her desperate years of trying to give Stephanos the child he longed for had been, as she had so feared, totally in vain.
Nikos had tried to take the most optimistic line with Demetria when she’d relayed the results to him just now. Told her that at least the doctors now had a reason for her continued infertility, and that there were methods of assisted conception available that held out hope for her still, even at her age. She might still be able to give Stephanos a child—she must not give up trying.
Then Demetria had dropped her bombshell.
‘He doesn’t even want a child from me! He’s got another woman!’
Her voice had been strained and bitter. Very bitter.
Stunned, Nikos had heard her out. Of all the men he knew, Stephanos Ephandrou had seemed to be the last husband to run a mistress. He had always been devoted to Demetria, had even said when he married her that he was glad her first marriage had borne no children rather than view it as what it was—a warning that perhaps all was not well with his twenty-nine-year-old bride’s reproductive system.
Stephanos had married her after he’d finally persuaded her to divorce her chronically philandering first husband—her late father’s choice for her, a socially suitable match for a Kiriakis, who had seen no reason to stifle his sexual proclivities on that account. And now it looked as if Stephanos was cut from the same cloth as Demetria’s first husband—or worse. For what could be said about a man who was prepared to chase after another woman when his own wife was battling with infertility?
He lowered his tall frame, clad in an impeccably cut business suit, carefully onto the side of Demetria’s bed. His handmade jacket eased across his broad shoulders as he took her hands, rubbing them gently.
‘Demi, are you sure you’re not imagining things? Stephanos would never be so cruel, so dishonourable.’
His sister clutched his hands, flexing her thin shoulders forward from the pillows supporting her.
‘I’m not imagining things! He’s found some blonde twenty-five-year-old and he’s set her up where he can go and visit her whenever he can. He’s there with her now. He’s obsessed with her—he’s changed completely. I can tell. I can tell!’
Her voice rose dangerously.
‘You’ve got to help me, Nik. You’ve got to!’
Nikos let go of her hands.
‘You say you know where he has installed her? Tell me everything else you know about this,’ Nikos instructed calmly. He was subduing his own instinct, which was to seek out Stephanos and beat him to a pulp. But that wouldn’t help his sister.
Demetria swallowed heavily and took a difficult breath.
‘Her name is Janine Fareham. She picked Stephanos up at Heathrow the last time he was in London. He flew her straight out here and set her up.’
‘In Athens?’ Nikos asked sharply. His mind was racing. To pick up a rich, middle-aged man at an airport and be installed in luxury by him the following day was fast work—the girl must be skilful indeed! Unconsciously, his sculpted mouth curled in disdain.
Demetria was shaking her head.
‘No, he’s put her in that latest resort of his on Skarios.’ Her voice became strained and bitter again, ‘Maybe that way he thinks I won’t know what he’s up to!’
Nikos frowned slightly.
‘How do you know?’
‘Philip,’ Demetria answered simply. ‘I made him tell me. Stephanos was behaving so strangely—I knew something was up.’
Nikos nodded, not all that surprised. Philip was Stephanos’s right-hand man in the office, and usually the soul of discretion, but he had a soft spot for Demetria and Nikos could just see her badgering him to confirm her suspicions. Silently he cursed the other man—this was definitely one time when ignorance would have been the better option. Demetria just simply didn’t need this kind of heartache right now.
Demetria clutched at his hand again.
‘You will do something, won’t you, Nik? Please—you must—you just must! I can’t talk to Stephanos. I just can’t. He’s trying to be nice to me—but it isn’t working. He’s so strange, so withdrawn. He can’t look me in the eye. It’s that woman’s fault! She’s got him totally in her clutches! She’s one of those whores that use rich men and don’t care what damage they do!’
Her voice was rising once more, and there was a note of hysteria in it. Again Nikos took her hands and squeezed them lightly.
‘She’s got him infatuated with her. I know it. And how can I blame him?’ Her voice broke almost into a sob. ‘Look at me—middle-aged and barren. I’m useless to him—useless! No wonder he doesn’t want me any more.’ A hectic flush spread out over her cheeks and her eyes were anguished.
Silently Nikos reached out a hand and pressed the call button, then leant forward and kissed his sister on the cheek.
‘You are a wife any man would be proud to have. This is nothing but idiocy on Stephanos’s part,’ he told her firmly. He got to his feet and looked down at the stricken woman. ‘Infertility takes its toll on a man, too, Demetria,’ he said quietly. ‘I think this is nothing more than temporary madness—Stephanos will come back to you; I am sure of it.’
Demetria clutched at him again.
‘Get rid of her—Nik. If anyone can get her to leave my Stephanos alone it’s you! Please, for my sake, I beg you. Get her claws out of my husband! Do whatever you have to—whatever it takes.’
The hysteria was definitely identifiable now, and Nikos felt his emotions mount. Demetria was the only family he had left now, since their parents’ death, and he’d seen her through so much unhappiness—so much. He’d seen her through the ordeal of divorcing her first husband, backing her all the way and telling Stephanos not to lose hope, that the woman he loved would free herself if he just stood by her. He would not turn aside now, when their marriage was in such danger, however much of a besotted fool his brother-in-law was being.
Nikos knew exactly what his sister was asking of him. His face tightened and he looked across at her.
‘You can do it, Nik! I know you can.’ There was a terrible hope in her voice now. ‘Women always fall at your feet. Always! Make this one do the same. Make her besotted with you so she leaves my Stephanos alone. Please, Nik, please!’
‘I could speak to Stephanos,’ he said slowly.
His answer was a violent shake of her head, panic in her eyes.
‘No! No! I can’t bear him knowing that I know. I can’t. If you could only just get rid of her, get her claws out of him, he’d come back to me. I know he would. Oh, Nik, please. Please! If I could get pregnant—oh, dear heaven, if I could just get pregnant—then he’d be happy with me again! But if that harpy hangs on to him he’ll never come back to me. Never!’
This was bad, thought Nikos. Demetria should not be upsetting herself like this, not at such a time. She’d been under such strain for so long, her desperation for a child eating into her.
But she was asking him to interfere in her marriage—come between a husband and his wife.
His expression tightened again suddenly. No, she was only asking him to come between a husband and his mistress…
A long, slow breath was exhaled from him as he soothed her hands.
His long lashes lowered over his eyes.
‘What I can do, I will,’ he promised her.
Her expression relaxed a fraction, the hectic look fading a little from her eyes.
‘I knew I could count on you—I knew it!’ There was relief in her voice now—relief and gratitude. ‘You’ll go right away, won’t you, Nik? Won’t you? You’ll go and find her and get her claws out of Stephanos?’
‘Very well.’ His voice was sombre. Then he took another breath, quicker this time. ‘But you, Demi, must promise me that you will start treatment immediately! No more prevaricating. The doctors have told you what can be done—there is considerable hope; you know there is. But these things take time—the doctors must have told you that—and you must delay no more.’ His eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘It might be a good idea,’ he said slowly, ‘to consult a fertility expert abroad—somewhere requiring quite a journey. Say, America. Get your doctor here to recommend someone in America. Tell Stephanos that he is the best and you insist on seeing him—and that he must come too. He will do that for you, I am sure. But I need time, Demi—you understand?’
Her eyes had lit up as she understood what he was suggesting. ‘Sophia’s daughter’s wedding!’ she added suddenly. ‘I told her we couldn’t come—but I think, oh, I really think that we might be able to make it after all. We could go on to Long Island after I’ve seen a consultant in New York.’
The hectic flush was fading now, and hope was filling her again—he could see it. She was speaking rationally—eagerly.
Her brother gave a tight smile.
‘Two weeks. I need at least that long to do what you want,’ he told her. ‘Make sure Stephanos is away from Greece for two weeks. And Demi?’ His eyes were hard. ‘Keep him out of contact with the girl! I don’t want her distracted.’ His eyes hardened even more. ‘Except,’ he finished, his mouth twisting, ‘by me.’
‘Two weeks,’ she promised him. Already her expression was less gaunt, her eyes less haunted. ‘Oh, Nik,’ she cried suddenly. ‘You are the best, the very best of brothers! I knew you would help me. I knew it!’
As he handed Demetria over to the care of a nurse and left the private room, to stride on long legs down the lushly carpeted corridors of the exclusive clinic, his face grew grim. Stephanos was being a fool, all right. Even if he hadn’t been married, and to a wife tormented by infertility, at fifty-two he had no business running after a girl of twenty-five. He was more than twice her age, for heaven’s sake!
His expression darkened even more. But of course men in their fifties trying to recapture their youth were prime meat for girls like the one who had snared his brother-in-law. And if they were rich, as Stephanos Ephandrou undoubtedly was, they were even more attractive.
His eyes took on a cynical light. Well, if it was meat such girls wanted to feed on, then he was primest of the prime! On the Richter scale of desirable protectors he had to score even higher than Stephanos. His wealth was as great as Stephanos’s, he had no inconvenient wife to circumvent, and, best of all, he was nearly twenty years younger than Stephanos.
He gave a cold, sardonic smile. Demetria had known exactly what she was doing when she’d turned to him for help—she knew very well what his reputation with her sex was. It was something she usually vigorously berated him over, as it came between her and her hopes for him finally marrying and settling down—as she longed, with sisterly affection, for him to do.
Well, he hadn’t earned that reputation emptily—and now he could put it at his sister’s service.
As he swung out of the clinic and climbed into his low-slung car, occupying one of the guest parking spaces, Nikos’s face hardened.
Time to go and visit Miss Janine Fareham—a visit that he intended her to find quite, quite unforgettable. And one that would finish her affair with his brother-in-law once and for all.
CHAPTER ONE
JANINE eased herself over onto her stomach and sighed languorously, giving her body to the sun. In front of her the sunlight danced dazzlingly off the azure swimming pool. Beyond, slender cypresses pierced the cerulean sky.
The sound of children splashing and calling in the pool was the only noise. She felt the warmth of the sun like a blessing on her naked back.
The hotel was a haven of peace and luxury, brand-new, and Stephanos had shown it off to her with pride—the latest addition to his hotel empire.
A smile played around her lips.
Stephanos. It had been amazing, encountering him like that at Heathrow. He’d stopped dead, transfixed by her looks—and that had been it! He’d simply swept her off and taken her with him back to Greece. Her life would never be the same again.
A shadow flickered in her face. She just wished he could spend more time with her! Oh, he’d been completely honest with her, and she understood—of course she understood—that it was impossible for him to formally acknowledge her existence. All she could have of him would be snatched moments, all too brief. That was why he’d installed her here.
‘Even if I cannot be with you, my darling girl, I want you to have the very best I can give you!’ he had said to her.
She smiled fondly at the memory. Then the smile faded. His phone call last night, brief and hurried, as all his calls had to be, had not been good news. But she’d done her best to reassure him.
‘I shall be fine,’ she’d told him. ‘You mustn’t worry about me while you are in America.’
The trouble was, she thought ruefully, that Stephanos obviously did worry about her. His protectiveness was touching—he seemed so fearful that she would disappear from his life as unexpectedly as she had entered it. She smiled to herself again. He need have no fears. None at all. Nothing could part her from him now—she wanted to be part of his life for ever, however much of a secret it had to be.
She closed her eyes, letting the heat of the afternoon feed her drowsiness. For once she would enjoy this luxury beneath the golden sun.
So totally different from the life she usually led…
Nikos stood on the terrace, looking down over the pool. His eyes beneath the dark glasses were hard. So that was the girl, splayed out on a lounger. The girl who was wrecking his sister’s marriage.
He paused a moment in the dappled shade, where the grapes were already ripening to a rich purple, and gazed down at her.
Emotions warred within him. The first was bitter anger—anger that the creature down there had the power to make Demetria weep in his arms, filled with despair.
The second was quite different.
She was, quite simply, delectable.
He had a vast experience of women, but this one was, he could see, in the very top rank. Her face was turned sideways, eyes closed, lashes lying long against her cheek as she lay relaxed on the lounger, but he could see that it was breath-catchingly lovely. A long, sun-bleached mane of pale hair swept across the pillow of the lounger, gently wisping across her smooth forehead. As for her body—
His eyes swept on, down the exposed length of her. She was naked apart from a tiny bikini bottom that barely covered her softly rounded cheeks. Her bikini top had been unfastened so that its ties would not mar the tanned perfection of her back. She did not look to be particularly tall, but she was very slender, with the kind of natural grace that girls of her age and type had in abundance.
She was sun-kissed, soft-limbed and sexy.
Oh, yes. Very, very sexy.
He could see immediately why Stephanos had not been able to resist her.
But Stephanos was married and should have made himself resist her. He, Nikos, was hampered no such impediment. Indeed, quite the opposite. He had given his betrayed sister his word on that.
His mission was very clear. He would quite deliberately, quite calculatingly, seduce Janine Fareham away from Demetria’s husband.
Relief—no, more than relief eased through him. Satisfaction. Carrying out his mission would be no ordeal at all. In fact, he felt his body stir, and indulged it for a moment. It would be a positive pleasure.
For a brief while he let himself luxuriate in surveying her in all her enticing blonde beauty. Then, as he let his eyes feast on the nymph-like, softly rounded curves of her near naked body, as if a knife had come slicing down another image imposed itself, vivid and painful. His sister’s gaunt, strained face as she begged him to help her sprang in front of his eyes.
His eyes hardened and he began to walk forward.
In her half-dozing state it took a moment for Janine to register that she could hear footsteps. A second later a shadow fell over her. Her eyes flew open and she looked up.
A man was standing there, looking down at her. He was very tall and dark. A generation younger than Stephanos. Was it one of the hotel staff? What did he want?
‘Kyria Fareham?’ The voice was deep and accented. There was something about the tone that told her instinctively that this man was not a member of the hotel staff. This was a man who gave orders, not took them.
And he certainly didn’t look like a guest either. Guests were all casually dressed—but this man was wearing an immaculately cut lightweight business suit and looked as if he had just walked out of a board meeting. Her eyes travelled on up to his face.
She felt her heartbeat lurch.
Eyes veiled by dark glasses bored down on her, surveying her as she lay there displayed for him. Suddenly she was acutely conscious that she was almost naked—and he was dressed in a formal suit. The disparity made her feel vulnerable, exposed.
Instinctively she pushed herself up to a sitting position, taking the sarong she’d been lying on with her, swinging her feet down to the warm paving. Even then she felt at a disadvantage. He still towered over her. For a Greek—and his looks and accent told her he had to be—he was very tall: easily six feet.
She stood up, knotting her sarong hurriedly around her in a fluid movement.
As her eyes focused on him properly she felt her breath catch. Her lips parted soundlessly, eyes widening.
She was looking at the most devastating male she had ever seen in her life.
What nature had bestowed on him his obvious wealth had accentuated. The superbly tailored suit fitted him like a glove, and she could see it had most definitely not been an off-the-peg purchase. But the man wearing it did not look off-the-peg either. He looked, she assessed instantly, expensive. His dark hair was expertly cut, feathering very slightly across his wide brow, and the dark glasses he wore did not need to have the discreet designer logo on them for her to know they had not been purchased from a market stall.
His nose was strong, and straight, with deep lines curving from it to the edges of his mouth.
His mouth—
Sculpted. That was the only word for it. With a sensuous lower lip she had to drag her eyes from, forcing herself to gaze into the blankness of his shaded regard.
There was something about this man that was making her heart race—and it was not just because he’d all but woken her out of a sun-beaten slumber. She felt the world shift around her and resettle.
As if something had changed for ever.
Then a different emotion surfaced. She’d been too busy gaping at this fantastic-looking man to take on board that he seemed to know who she was.
‘Who wants to know?’ She countered his enquiry warily. If he wasn’t from the hotel who else knew she was here, except for Stephanos?
She pushed her hair back over her shoulders, feeling it tumbling warm and heavy down her back, and gazed at him, lips parted slightly.
Theos, thought Nikos, absorbing the sensuous gesture, she was perfect. Just perfect. The dream image of a sexy blonde.
But she wasn’t cheap or tarty. Nothing so resistible! She was beautiful—head-turningly so. In an instant Nikos’s expert eye took in the fact that she had one of those faces where every feature complemented every other, from her chestnut eyes, set in a heart-shaped face, to her generous mouth below a delicate nose. A golden tan gilded her flawless skin and her hair hung like pale spun gold down to her slender waist, faintly visible through the gauze of the turquoise sarong.
Desire flashed through him. Instant and insistent.
For a moment he felt consumed by it, overwhelmed. Then, with deliberate control, he subdued his reaction.
It was good that he desired her, it would make his task so much easier, but that was the only reason he should feel desire for her. It was a means to an end, that was all, and the end was the removal—permanently—of this girl from his brother-in-law’s marriage.
And to that end it was also necessary that this girl should be sexually vulnerable to him, Nikos. His eyes flickered over her again.
She was sexually aware of him all right. He knew the signs. Knew them well.
Beneath his regard Janine felt colour stealing out along her cheekbones. Heat flushing into her blood.
She could feel herself reacting to this man. She couldn’t stop herself. There was something about him that was more than his devastating looks, more than that potent aura of wealth, or even the potent frisson of the power that a man like this must surely wield in the world he moved in. There was a raw sexuality beneath that tailored suit, hidden in those veiled eyes. She felt it licking at her.
Making her want him.
The realisation shocked her.
How could she be responding so strongly to a man she’d just set eyes on—whose eyes she couldn’t even see yet? But she was, and she couldn’t stop it. She felt her breasts tighten, her pupils flare, the colour flood to her cheeks.
Nikos watched her responding to him. That was good, very good. He wanted her responsive, wanted her physically aware of him—wanted her vulnerable to him.
There would be no problem seducing her, he knew.
Women came easily to him. They always had. Despite Demetria’s bewailing, in his twenties he had indulged himself to the hilt. Now, in his thirties, he was more selective, preferring to choose women who could move in his world, who were sophisticated and discreet. Who understood what he wanted—and then moved on when he gave them the indication, as he always did.
Such women would neither know nor care that he was about to make a temporary diversion, in a call of duty, to seduce away this female who threatened his sister’s marriage, who was making a fool of a man who, up till now, he had always held in the greatest respect.
Now he let the female he was about to seduce, deliberately and calculatedly, respond to him, heighten her awareness of him, begin to make herself vulnerable to him.
He smiled.
Janine felt a kick go through her, powerful and shocking. The sculpted mouth parted, lines indenting around it, showing strong white teeth. It was an easy smile, yet it sent a frisson through her.
‘We have a mutual—acquaintance,’ he said, pausing minutely over the word. ‘Stephanos Ephandrou.’ He could see her stiffen fractionally as he dropped the name into the space between them.
‘Oh?’ responded Janine. Out of the blue he had mentioned Stephanos—what should she say? She knew Stephanos wanted her to be discreet about their relationship—yet here was a complete stranger who seemed to know there was a connection.
Her concern showed in her eyes. Nikos saw it and felt a stab of anger. Any lingering doubts he might have had that Demetria had somehow imagined her husband was having an affair vanished. The girl was carrying on with Stephanos. No doubt about it. His name had registered with her as loudly as if he’d rung a bell in her ear!
He forced his natural anger down. To display it now would ruin his strategy. Janine Fareham must have no idea of his hostility to her—indeed, she must think quite the opposite.
He bestowed another smile on her, and knew without vanity that it had distracted her attention from wondering why he seemed to know that she was connected to Stephanos Ephandrou.
He had been in two minds as to which approach to take with her. He could, indeed, have simply engineered her acquaintance and set out to seduce her as a complete stranger. That approach had its advantages—it would have been simple and straightforward. But a female who made her living from the protection of rich, besotted older men might well be worldly enough to be wary of quick seductions that would jeopardise her lucrative relationship with her current protector. Instead, Nikos planned to use his acknowledged ‘acquaintance’ with Stephanos as a lever with which to gain the girl’s confidence as swiftly as possible.
‘Perhaps you will take a coffee with me and I can explain?’ he went on, in that same smooth tone. He glanced towards the little poolside bar set back under the shade of some olive trees.
Still wary, but feeling she was being effortlessly manipulated by an expert, Janine let herself be ushered towards the seating area of the bar. It was a breath cooler under the trees, but she still felt her skin was flushed. The heat that was filling it, however, did not come from the sun.
She sat down on one of the canvas-backed chairs and the man did likewise, pausing only to beckon to the barman, who was already hurrying forward. Whatever it was that this man had, thought Janine, he had a lot of it! He wasn’t the type to get ignored by a barman—or anyone else.
And certainly not women. Janine watched as a couple of female guests with small children in tow, seated at a table further off drinking fizzy drinks, immediately turned their heads in their direction. Their eyes were not for Janine. One of them said something to the other in Greek, and they laughed before turning their attention back to their children.
Janine didn’t blame them for looking. The man sitting opposite her in his hand-tailored suit, would turn female heads wherever he went! Sexual magnetism radiated from him like a forcefield, pulling at everything in sight with a double X chromosome!
The barman was hovering, ready to take their orders.
‘A frappe, please, no sugar,’ requested Janine abstractedly. She had already discovered that iced frappes were the ideal way to take coffee in the heat of the day, and were delicious and cooling. Her companion ordered coffee—Greek, she assumed.
The barman nodded acquiescently and hurried off.
Nikos turned his attention back to the girl. She was still wary, he could see—but still radiating sexual awareness. Not that she was flaunting her reaction to him. If anything, judging by the way she was sitting—pulled back in her chair, legs slanted neatly out of the way, her hand resting on the knot of her sarong, shielding her breasts—she was trying to conceal it.
Her lack of immediate sexual forwardness—despite his blatant appreciation of her charms—confirmed that he had been right to acknowledge Stephanos’s presence in her life. The girl had landed herself a very soft number indeed—and she clearly realised it would be folly for her to risk her position as Stephanos’s mistress, with all the guaranteed cashflow that it promised, for the sake of a brief interlude with a passing stranger. However much sexual pleasure she might gain from the encounter.
Hence her wariness.
Time to dispel it.
He slid his dark glasses off and slipped them into his jacket pocket. He relaxed back in his chair.
‘Perhaps I should explain that I am here at Stephanos’s suggestion,’ he told her smilingly. ‘Stephanos is a close friend and business associate, and when he heard I was coming to Skarios he suggested I stay at his hotel and asked me to seek you out,’ he went on, the lie coming smoothly and fluently. He felt no guilt about lying to her. He only had to remember Demetria’s tears and pleadings to absolve himself of all such guilt.
Janine made no answer. She was simply staring.
She felt her stomach clench. Dark, gold-flecked eyes flickered over her, long lashes sweeping down over his cheeks. Her lips parted in a silent exhalation.
If she had thought his mouth hard to tear her gaze from, those eyes made such an act totally impossible. They were eyes she could drown in…making her feel weak…
For one long, endless moment she let herself gaze into those gold-flecked orbs, and felt her stomach churning like a cement mixer.
What was happening to her?
She’d never reacted this strongly to a man! Never! But this man—this complete stranger, whose name she didn’t even know—was making the blood race in her veins, her face flush with heat…
Just by looking at her…
Their drinks arrived and she was grateful for the distraction. As the barman walked away she resisted the temptation to go back to gazing at the man opposite her, and instead forced herself to focus on what he had just said, not what he looked like.
‘Stephanos asked you to seek me out?’ she echoed dimly.
She sank back into gazing, riveted, into those magnetic, night-dark eyes.
They seemed to be looking into the heart of her. She felt herself go weak all over. All over again.
Nikos flashed another smile at her—and watched the girl’s pupils flare.
‘I hope you do not mind,’ he said softly, ‘that I have sought you out.’
His eyes rested on her and Janine felt her heart quicken. Oh, good grief, her bones were dissolving…. She just wanted to stare and stare.
Forcibly she dragged her mind back, fighting for composure. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.
‘Oh—no. Of course not,’ she managed to say. ‘It’s very good of you, Mr—er—?’
There was the slightest hesitation before Nikos spoke, but Janine did not notice it. Was quite incapable of noticing it.
‘Kiriakis,’ said Nikos smoothly. ‘Nikos Kiriakis.’
Through veiled eyes he studied her for a reaction but saw none. The name meant nothing to her. He’d gambled that it wouldn’t. Why should Stephanos talk about his brother-in-law to his mistress?
Nikos Kiriakis. Janine rolled the fluid syllables around in her head.
He was speaking again, and she brought her dazed attention back to what he was saying.
‘Stephanos also had another suggestion,’ Nikos went on, ‘which for my part I would be very happy to comply with.’ The lie rolled as smoothly as the first.
Janine stared. ‘What suggestion?’ Her voice still sounded totally abstracted.
Nikos was not offended. Usually he expected—and got—a hundred per cent attention from those he spoke to. But that Janine Fareham was incapable of bringing such focus to their conversation was only a good sign. A very good sign. He wanted her dazzled by him—lured by him.
‘As you know, Stephanos is currently en route to the States,’ began Nikos. He studied her reaction to this information—he calculated. Stephanos would have told her he was going to be abroad, although he doubted he would have told her that the reason for his sudden trip to New York was to take his wife to a fertility expert there.
‘He is concerned that you may not have anything to do while he is away,’ he continued. ‘So he asked me if I would look after you while I am here—stop you getting bored.’
Janine’s wandering thoughts snapped back. Suddenly the stomach-churning impact of Nikos Kiriakis’s physical presence vanished. There was something far more important to focus on.
What had he just said to her? What was all that about Stephanos telling him she might be bored? Telling him to look after her? Surely, considering Stephanos’s determination to keep her role in his life quiet, it was madness to send this Nikos Kiriakis to look her up?
Nikos saw the consternation in her face. It would not help his strategy.
‘Perhaps I should tell you,’ he said, his eyes resting on her, ‘that, as a close friend of Stephanos Ephandrou, I am aware of the relationship between you, Ms Fareham—’
Her eyes widened, her consternation deepening.
‘You are?’
CHAPTER TWO
OH, YES, thought Nikos savagely—that was good, Ms Fareham, that was very good! That little touch of surprise, and widening those big, beautiful eyes of yours. What the hell did you suppose everyone would think about your relationship with a fifty-two-year-old man? His mouth tightened.
She was sitting there, gazing at him, her eyes wide in her beautiful face. As if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. As if neglected wives, heartbroken and despairing, had nothing to do with her. As if she were not responsible for his sister weeping in his arms.
The dark current of his anger surged dangerously near the surface. He forced it down. It had no part to play in his scheme now. The time for venting his anger on her would come later.
He made his mouth give a brief smile.
‘Do not look so surprised. Such relationships are not unknown,’ he remarked. For all his intentions, a sardonic tone was audible in his voice. He took a mouthful of coffee, then set back his cup with a click on the metal surface of the table.
Janine eyed him cautiously. Stephanos had urged such discretion that she was taken aback by this man calmly referring to it. But then, she reasoned, presumably such relationships were not unusual. Especially not with non-Greek women, with their more relaxed attitude to sexual behaviour. Clearly Nikos Kiriakis saw nothing exceptional about it.
Even so, it was disconcerting to hear this complete stranger refer to it. Although, of course, she realised belatedly, he wasn’t a stranger to Stephanos. It was odd that they were friends, though—Nikos Kiriakis was easily a generation younger than Stephanos. He didn’t look much over thirty, really. Thirty-five at the most. He was certainly in incredible physical condition…
‘Please don’t look so alarmed,’ he went on, the smooth note back in his voice. ‘I appreciate that Stephanos wishes to be discreet about your relationship. It is very understandable. You may be assured of my discretion.’ He smiled again, a warm, reassuring smile, and she felt suddenly breathless.
‘So,’ said Nikos, knowing he had overcome that barrier successfully, ‘would you care to undertake a little sightseeing? It would be very useful to me as, amongst other business matters, I am here to see whether this island would be suitable for a summer villa for myself.’
That was true enough, he thought. From what little he’d seen of the island firsthand so far, and from what Stephanos had already told him, it might well be suitable. The most southerly of the Ionian islands, Skarios was dryer and hotter than the others, and far less developed. The airport had recently been extended to allow tourist planes to land, but there was general agreement that any development should be both upmarket and sympathetic to the landscape—like his brother-in-law’s luxury hotel, which had been designed to be low-rise and traditionally styled.
‘Well,’ he went on, ‘what do you think?’
About what? thought Janine, trying to drag her mind back, because she had resumed gazing raptly at the incredible man sitting opposite her.
‘Showing me the island?’ he prompted, well aware of the reason for her vagueness, and well pleased by it. Her reaction was exactly what he’d hoped it would be.
Janine felt her breath catch. Those gold-flecked eyes were resting on her, making her feel…feel…
Breathless. Totally breathless….
‘What do you say?’ pursued Nikos. He was in no doubt as to her answer. Not in the slightest.
‘It sounds wonderful!’ said Janine, unable to stop herself sounding enthusiastic.
Suddenly Nikos Kiriakis’s arrival could not have seemed more timely.
Stephanos had extracted a reluctant promise from her not to hire a car and explore the island herself—‘The roads are far too dangerous!’ he’d said anxiously—which had left only the not very appealing prospect of taking taxis or restricting herself to the very limited tour buses.
She’d be an idiot to turn down the opportunity of keeping company with the most breathtaking man she’d ever set eyes on…
Careful, a voice inside her cautioned. This Nikos Kiriakis might be gorgeous, but, believe me, he has the same effect on every female he comes across. Just because he eyed you up it doesn’t mean you should start getting ideas.
She sobered. Anyway, this isn’t a good time for getting ideas like that. This time should be devoted to Stephanos.
But Stephanos isn’t here…and he’s sent Nikos Kiriakis to me…
To show you around, stop you getting bored, she reminded herself acidly. Nothing else…
He was talking again, and she brought her mind back with a snap.
‘Good. Then we are agreed. We shall make our first excursion tomorrow!’ There was satisfaction in his voice. He had made contact, and got her agreement—incredibly easily!—to spend time with him alone. Now it was time for the next step in his carefully planned campaign.
‘For today—’ he shot back his cuff and glanced at the gold watch circling his wrist ‘—it is too late to make any kind of expedition. Besides—’ the smile quirked again ‘—I have only just flown in from Athens, and that pool looks far too inviting to resist.’ He frowned, as his gaze took in just how thronged with children it was. ‘Perhaps it will get quieter later.’
‘Yes, it empties out around six-ish,’ confirmed Janine. Her spirits were zipping around in her, whooshing like crazy. ‘The sea is a better bet right now. A path goes down to the beach just beyond the pool.’ She indicated with her hand.
He nodded. ‘The sea it shall be, then,’ he said. His eyes swept over her once more. ‘Perhaps you would care to join me there later when you have finished your sunbathing?’
Janine’s eyes flickered. ‘Thank you—yes.’
Her voice was still breathless, and she felt light-headed.
Nikos got to his feet. ‘I’ll see you down there,’ he told her, and bestowed one last smile on her for good measure before he walked away towards the hotel.
Janine gazed after him until he disappeared from view.
Slowly, she bent her head to drink her frappe through the twin straws in the glass.
Her pulse was racing.
Nikos plugged his laptop cable into the wall-jack in his room and dialled into his e-mail. As he waited for his latest messages to download, the image of Janine Fareham floated enticingly in his mind. He let himself indulge in recollecting her charms, plentiful as they were, and replayed the exchange he had had with her.
Satisfaction filled him. Things were going exactly to plan. She was responding to him very satisfactorily.
And you are responding to her—definitely responding…
But that was good, he reasoned immediately. It was good that he should feel such desire for a woman he needed to seduce. It would lend great verisimilitude to the undertaking.
And danger?
He rebuffed the notion immediately. What danger was there for him in this enterprise? None. He would seduce Janine Fareham, enjoy her—because she looked as if she were going to be very enjoyable indeed—and that would be that. She would not be returning to Stephanos.
Without conceit he knew that he had a lot more to offer than a man of Stephanos’s age! And even if she thought she could go back she would discover otherwise. Once Stephanos knew of her defection there would be no way that he would take her back after she had fallen into his, Nikos’s, bed!
No, his plan was entirely without danger—least of all to himself. Janine Fareham was a stunningly attractive female, and he would certainly enjoy taking her to bed—but then he always enjoyed taking beautiful women to bed.
And so many were so willing…
A caustic smile parted his lips. Demetria might volubly yearn for the day she saw him finally married, and berate him for his sexual lifestyle, but it was hardly a problem for him. The stream of women wanting him to desire them was endless, so even if he did tire of them—as he always did—it caused him no difficulty. He simply moved on to the next one.
There was always a next one.
And there would certainly be another one once he had finished with his brother-in-law’s mistress.
Irritated with himself for giving form to such pointless musing, he stabbed at the mouse button to open the first e-mail his PA had forwarded as worthy of his attention. In an instant his mind was preoccupied, diverted totally on to business matters.
By the time he had surfaced from his business affairs, the sun was setting. The room temperature was pleasantly cool, thanks to the background air-conditioning, but when he stepped out onto the wide balcony of his room the afternoon warmth enveloped him. Even without his jacket he was far too hot.
Returning indoors, he stripped off and donned a pair of swimming trunks, before reaching for a pair of crisply cut cotton shorts and a casual shirt. As he reached for a beach towel the image of Janine Fareham in her skimpy bikini wafted once more through his mind. She would be waiting for him by now, no doubt.
Time to go to work.
At the bottom of the flight of steps that cut into the rock between the gardens and the sea he paused, looking around him. To one side of the hotel beach and further out to sea the windsurfers were clearly in action, skimming and twisting over the surface of the water. Immediately in front of him were two rows of loungers and parasols, and a bar café was set back from the beach, to save guests having to go back up to the pool level.
Out to sea, the westering sun was turning the water to turquoise.
He could see no sign of the girl.
And then he spotted her.
She was out to sea, swimming offshore in a leisurely breast-stroke. Her hair, he could just tell at this distance, seemed to be knotted on her head, out of the water.
Casting around to see which lounger she had taken, he saw the beach bag she’d had up by the pool and walked across to toss his towel down on it. Then he undressed down to his trunks to wade into the water. It caressed him like silk, and, with a lithe movement, he dived forward, striking out to sea in a powerful, fast stroke.
He closed the distance between the shore and the girl in a few moments, and then went right on past her. He needed exercise after the inactivity of the day. Besides, the vigorous exercise would help to drain off that layer of submerged, persistent anger he had felt ever since Demetria had dropped her bombshell. It wouldn’t drain out completely, of course. Nothing could make it do that until the cause of his anger was removed. But he knew he had to keep his feelings under tight control—he must not, must not, let it show. Janine Fareham must get no inkling of it—not until it was far, far too late for her.
Just thinking of her, of the pain she was causing Demetria, the damage she was doing to Stephanos’s marriage, made the anger surge through him again. It flared through him, urging his muscles forward, pushing him past the pain barrier as he churned through the water at a punishing speed.
Only when he was several hundred metres out to sea did he finally slow, his burst of energy and aggression spent. He turned over onto his back, temporarily exhausted, floating on the swell of the sea for a while, letting his heart-rate slow and his muscles recover.
His anger seemed abstract now, far away. Demetria and her suffering seemed far away too. Another image formed in his mind. The image of a beautiful blonde with a sun-kissed body and softly rounded limbs.
The woman he was going to calculatedly and deliberately seduce—because she was his sister’s husband’s mistress.
For a few brief seconds another emotion surfaced. An alien one. Unwelcome.
Reluctance.
Reluctance at the task ahead of him.
And reluctance to question why he felt that way. What was wrong with what he was planning to do? The girl was threatening to destroy his sister’s marriage—he was simply trying to help Demetria, who had quite enough torment in her life coping with her infertility. She did not need her husband cheating on her with a younger woman!
And just because, he reminded himself tightly, the younger woman in question had turned out to be so incredibly desirable, that was no reason to flinch from what he had promised Demetria he would do. No reason to feel reluctant to pursue his carefully planned strategy of calculated seduction.
He put his reluctance aside. There was no reason why he should not do what he was setting out to do. The girl had got her claws into his brother-in-law—he was going to remove them. End of story. He had set out on this course and he would pursue it to the end. He would accomplish what he had set out to do—what he knew he had to do.
And use whatever it took to achieve that goal.
There was nothing else to be done.
He flipped over and headed back to shore with a steady, unhurried stroke, making for the girl who was his target and his mission. She too had circled round to head back towards the beach, still kicking with her leisurely breast-stroke, head held high out of the water. As he neared her he dived and swam underwater for some metres, emerging just in front of her in a shower of spray.
Janine’s breast-stroke stalled abruptly. She’d been miles away mentally, using the smooth, rhythmic movement of her body in the sea to let her mind drift miles away.
But not too many miles. Just as far as the memory of the man whose face had been burning into her retinas since she had laid eyes on him. Once he’d disappeared from view, heading back up to the hotel, she’d gone back to her pool lounger and scooped up her things, heading down to the beach.
She’d tried to sunbathe again, but it had been impossible. Impossible to relax. She’d been fizzing with electricity—electricity generated by Nikos Kiriakis.
She’d given up trying to relax and instead had knotted up her hair, retied her bikini straps firmly, and gone into the water. Here, cool blue satin slipping past her heated body, she had given herself to the indulgence of recalling every last detail of the most breathtaking man she’d ever laid eyes on.
And suddenly now here he was, in the flesh, beside her.
And such flesh…
They were both out of their depths, still treading water, but the translucent liquid did little to hide from her the power and perfection of his body. Broad, bare shoulders topped a muscled chest, fuzzed with hair, every ab and pec lovingly outlined. No wonder he’d been able to swim at speed! His body was in superb condition.
Just like the rest of him…
His dark, wet hair was slicked back from his face. Diamonds glittered on those lush, long lashes of his.
White teeth flashed in a grin.
‘If you swam any slower you’d go backwards!’ said Nikos Kiriakis to her teasingly.
Janine trod water, trying to regain her composure and trying not to stare open-mouthed at Nikos Kiriakis with hardly a stitch on him.
‘You go ahead,’ she managed. ‘I’ll catch you up.’
He gave a laugh and swam away. Janine watched him carve through the water.
Like a shark, she thought…
Lean, dark and dangerous…
Now, why should she think that? What was dangerous about Nikos Kiriakis? He was a fantastic-looking male, but that was the only dangerous thing about him—and it was a danger every female who set eyes on him would experience.
A danger that she would end up doing something totally stupid over him.
Her lips pressed together. Well, she was not stupid. She’d got this far in life by not being stupid—not in the way that the likes of Nikos Kiriakis made women stupid. Women like her mother. Always falling for a handsome face. Oh, her mother had thought it ‘romantic’ to have one fervid affair after another, but Janine had never seen it like that. And where had it got her mother? Louise’s flitting butterfly existence, lover after lover, had been a gilded existence, filled with nothing but parties and self-indulgence. Filled with men like Nikos Kiriakis.
She knew what men like Nikos Kiriakis were like. They were too rich, too handsome, too damn sexy to be anything but bad. And Nikos Kiriakis was definitely bad. He would be used to women swooning at his feet in droves!
Well, she mustn’t be one of them.
She made a face.
She didn’t need to tell herself that! Didn’t need to warn herself. Nikos Kiriakis had the seal of approval from Stephanos—he wasn’t going to be any kind of danger. OK, so he’d eyed her up, but that didn’t mean anything. And she’d eyed him up—it had been impossible not to. But that didn’t mean anything either. She wouldn’t let it.
Her impeccable logic as to her own state of safety from Nikos Kiriakis lasted as long as it took to follow him to shore. By the time she was wading out of the water he had already towelled himself dry and had calmly appropriated her lounger. Nikos lay back and let her look, hands behind his head, shoulders slightly raised by the adjustable headrest, and he was subjecting her to a long and thorough examination.
In the space of less than a second Janine felt more aware of her body than she had ever felt in her life. And of just how close to being totally naked she was.
Suddenly, from being a quite unexceptional item of swimwear, her bikini seemed to shrink on her body, clinging damply to her tautened breasts and barely concealing her pubis.
As for the rest of her, every inch of flesh was totally exposed to him.
And every inch of it tingled as if an electric current were passing through it.
Every step she made to her lounger, she felt that dark, gold-flecked gaze resting on her appraisingly.
Being able to seize her towel and wrap it around her like a cocoon was a moment of exquisite relief. And then, just like a switch being thrown, she realised that she had become the one doing the appraising.
He lay back and let her look.
Oh, she didn’t do it as blatantly as he had her, he acknowledged. She made some pretence of unknotting her hair and shaking it loose. But he could see perfectly well that her eyes were fixed on him, covertly working over him through those long lashes of hers. Working over his body.
Well, that was good. That was very good. He wanted her to like what she saw. Wanted her to want him.
It made him want her too…
With a sudden movement he jack-knifed to his feet. It took a lot of control to make it look like an intentional movement.
Where the hell had that come from? The strength and immediacy of his reaction to her perusal shocked him.
With iron discipline he crushed his response. A public beach was not the place for it!
Immediately his imagination leapt to provide another venue—one where his reaction would be exactly what he wanted. A private beach—just the two of them—and Janine Fareham raising her arms to let the golden fall of her hair cascade over her bared breasts…
Again he crushed his response, forcing himself to regain control.
‘Here,’ he said, gesturing at the lounger he’d just vacated. ‘This was yours. I’ll use this one.’
He turned to the adjacent lounger, flicking his towel over it. But his gesture went unappreciated.
‘I think I’ll head back,’ replied Janine. Her voice was not quite steady, she noticed, and it dismayed her. She mustn’t react like this to this man. She just mustn’t! ‘I’ll take a shower and wash off the salt.’
She flickered a smile at him, not meeting his eye, and grabbed her bag, stuffing her feet into her beach sandals haphazardly. She had to get out of here—fast.
Behind her, Nikos watched her hurry off, his eyes narrowing. Then, slowly, he lowered himself back down on the lounger, gazing blindly out to sea. OK, so she could turn him on. Fast.
Quite something for a man of his experience.
And very enjoyable…
And dangerous?
He frowned.
But it was good. That he was responding to her sexually like this. After all, he reasoned, he had to make this deliberate seduction of his look real. Convincing.
Convincing? He’d damn near convinced everyone on the entire beach!
With a rasp of irritation he pushed the mocking comment aside. It wasn’t helpful. Instead he made a lightning review of the situation—the same as he would if this were a business deal he was pushing through. OK, so where was he on this?
Fact: he needed to get Janine Fareham into bed with him ASAP. The sooner she was in, the sooner she’d be out. And out of Stephanos’s bed as well.
Fact: Janine Fareham turned him on.
Fact: that was good. Very good. Just as he could leverage her desire for him, so he could leverage his desire for her. The more leverage, the sooner he’d achieve his goal.
Saving Demetria’s marriage.
Because that, and only that, was the object of this exercise. Enjoying Janine Fareham in bed was nothing more than incidental to that objective.
He’d better not forget it.
He closed his eyes. The westering sun was warm on his bare, damp skin.
Might as well catch some rays and chill out. Take a break before Act II of his fast-track seduction of Janine Fareham got underway.
He let his muscles relax.
It had been a long day. A long week. A long month. In fact it was a long time since he’d simply relaxed in the sun like this. Doing nothing. Letting the light breeze play over his body, the sun bathe his skin.
No one could contact him, no one could make demands on him. He didn’t need to check e-mails, or stock prices, or take conference calls.
He could just stay totally out of touch and let the world outside take care of itself.
Time enough to pursue and put paid to Janine Fareham.
Right now he felt like relaxing.
Halfway up, the stone steps widened into a little parapet, affording a view down to the beach through the vegetation. Janine paused. She couldn’t resist looking back.
Immediately she saw him. He’d occupied the other lounger and was lying there, hands behind his head, face tilted into the sun. She let her eyes move over his body. From here, at this safe distance, she could let herself do that. Let her eyes run over the smooth, bronzed, muscled torso, down over the taut, tight abs, and pick out the darker arrow that disappeared under the drawstring of his trunks. For a second her gaze lingered, then hastily moved on, down over the powerful hair-fuzzed thighs and down the long length of his legs.
He did not move—lay there completely motionless.
He looked, she thought, like a leopard drowsing in the sun.
The little shiver came again, that disturbing eddy that set her nerves tingling.
She wanted to go on gazing at him.
No! With an effort she pulled away, pushing back from the wooden railing that edged the pathway. Resolutely she twisted around and went on up the steps, not looking back.
The pool area was emptying now, much quieter. She did not linger but made her way indoors, her sandals flapping on the stone tiles, under the arching honeysuckle whose fragrance caught at her. Inside the hotel it was cooler, but only just. Her room was much colder, chilly even, with its background air-conditioning.
For the next hour she occupied herself showering, washing her hair, giving herself a facial and manicure, washing out her underwear, and finally pulling a sundress over her head. She phoned Room Service for coffee and watched an international news channel on television until it arrived. Then, tray in hand, she went out onto her balcony.
The sun was nearly setting now, licking the sea with gold. Janine sat herself down at the little table, stretching out her legs as she poured her coffee. Her still damp hair curled around her shoulders and she idly fingered it as she sipped her coffee, gazing out over the view.
It certainly was a fantastic setting for a hotel. From here the sea spread out before her as far as the eastern coast of Sicily. She sat and watched the sun slipping over the horizon, silhouetting the tall cypress trees, sure that she could see Pheobus’s fiery chariot pulling the sun to its watery bed.
A strange, powerful feeling went through her. My first visit to Greece, she thought. All these years and I’ve never been here. Never known why it’s so emotional a place for me.
Her thoughts slipped to Stephanos. If he wasn’t in New York yet he must be very shortly, surely. He seemed very far away. Very distant from her.
Something—she did not know what—made her glance down, over the hotel gardens. Someone was strolling around the edge of the pool, shirt pulled on but unbuttoned, towel casually slung over his shoulder.
Nikos Kiriakis.
Hastily, lest he suddenly glance up and see her looking down at him, she dipped her head, pouring out more coffee. By the time she had lifted the cup to drink from it he had reached the hotel and she could see him no more.
The phone rang in her room some twenty minutes later. She was reading her book still out on the warm balcony, though she could hardly see to read any more. Already the lights in the gardens had been illuminated, including those in the pool, which glowed brilliantly. People had started to stroll out for the evening, making their way to the pool bar for a drink before dinner. Children’s voices piped.
She would have an early dinner in the buffet dining room, where all the families ate with their children. Nikos Kiriakis would doubtless eat much later, and in the à la carte dining room reserved for adults.
The soft beeping of the phone interrupted her. Assuming it was Reception, she was completely unprepared for the dark, liquid tones of Nikos Kiriakis in her ear.
‘I’ve reserved a table for nine. I’ll meet you on the terrace at half past eight. Does that give you enough time to be ready?’
There was a note of humour in the voice, as though its owner were acknowledging that a woman needed a large amount of time to be ready to dine.
It took Janine a good few seconds to gather her wits. Even then she sounded no better than half-witted.
‘Um—you don’t have to reserve tables. You just wander in whenever you want. The buffet runs till ten.’
‘We are not dining in the buffet restaurant.’ The smile in his voice was even more pronounced now. ‘Fond as I am of children, I prefer something a little more peaceful for dinner.’
‘Please—you don’t have to ask me to dinner.’ The words blurted from her.
‘But I would like very much to dine with you, Janine,’ replied Nikos. ‘So I look forward to seeing you at half past eight, ne?’
He rang off, giving her no chance to argue the point any more. For a moment she stood there, receiver in hand. Feeling dazed.
She bit her lip. The way he had looked at her as she came out of the water sprang vivid in her mind. The way he had looked at her when she’d been lying by the pool. The way he had looked at her at the pool bar.
It doesn’t mean squat! He’s the kind of male who does that to every female. And every female does it back to him. I bet you every single female head will turn when he walks into the dining room tonight—and so what? He’s only having dinner with you because of Stephanos. Got it?
She drew in her breath and felt better.
Promptly, a different cause for anxiety assailed her. She hurried over to her wardrobe and flung it open, staring at the contents.
She didn’t have a thing to wear! Not for dinner in the à la carte restaurant! When Stephanos had been here she hadn’t really bothered much with anything other than the expensive beachwear he’d bought her from the hotel’s boutique. It had been perfectly OK to wear a long hibiscus-print wrap-around skirt and matching bolero top when she’d spent time in his suite.
But the à la carte restaurant was sophisticated and glizty—and her wardrobe definitely wasn’t!
For a moment it seemed like fate. No suitable clothes, therefore a sign that she should not dine with Nikos Kiriakis. She would dial Reception and get them to put her through to his room, and she would make her excuses.
Or, of course, she could simply go down to the hotel boutique and buy something that would pass muster…
The boutique certainly did stock evening wear. Very expensive evening wear too. But then those who could afford to stay here could afford those prices. Not that she would have to pay—Stephanos had made it clear she could get anything she wanted from the hotel’s select collection of shops and simply charge it to her room.
With sudden decision, she fetched her room key and set off for the boutique.
Nikos glanced at his watch. She was late. Well, that was no surprise. Women usually were. He sipped his beer contemplatively, eyes scanning the gardens, artfully spotlit here and there, and splashed with light from the pool’s underwater lighting.
There was a swish of skirts, and someone hurried up to the table.
‘I’m sorry I’m late!’ The voice sounded slightly breathless.
He turned his head.
Slowly, very slowly, he drank her in. He felt his gut kick as if in slow motion.
She looked—breathtaking!
And as he slowly, very slowly, exhaled he realised that that was exactly what she had done. Taken his breath away.
She was wearing saffron. It shouldn’t have gone with her fair hair and golden looks. It was a colour meant for a Greek complexion, dark hair, dark eyes.
Yet on this particular blonde it looked, quite simply, ravishing.
It was chiffon, layers of it, and it seemed to float, skimming over that beautiful body of hers like a kiss. Her hair was caught up—not in a rough-and-ready knot, the way it had been when she was swimming—but in an elegant, flawless style that lent her height and grace. A few tendrils whispered at her face, the nape of her neck.
He felt himself relax back in his seat as he drank her in.
Tiny earrings glinted at her lobes. Gold, like the delicate chain that encircled her neck, and each wrist. Her waist was very slender—he could have spanned it with his hands. The bones of her shoulders were exquisitely sculpted. Her neck was graceful, holding her head poised, erect.
Her eyes were deepened by make-up, her mouth accentuated with lipstick, the colours toning with the saffron. Her cheekbones seemed higher than they had been—more artful make-up, he surmised. A scent came from her—a light, haunting fragrance.
It caught at him.
She caught at him.
Slowly, he got to his feet.
‘Won’t you sit down?’
Janine took her place. Her breathing was quick, and shallow. It was because she’d been rushing, she told herself. Rushing ever since she’d realised that she’d taken ages and ages in the boutique, trying on just about every evening dress they’d had in her size. The assistant had been very patient, assuring her that the shop would not close until late that night, and that she could take all the time she wanted.
Choosing had been impossible—she didn’t know why, but it had. In the end she’d followed her instinct, not her reason, and gone for the saffron. Her reason had told her that it should be worn by someone with much darker, more dramatic colouring than she possessed, but there had been something about the way the dress felt on her, whispered over her flesh, that had made her know that this was the one she wanted. So eventually, having tried on everything else again, she’d gone back to the saffron.
And now she was getting proof that she’d made the right choice!
With that same quick breathing she settled into her chair. Her dining partner was not wearing a suit, but his open-necked shirt was clearly not off the peg. It clung with tailored perfection to his broad shoulders, smoothing down over his torso, exposing the strong column of his throat.
She dragged her eyes away and let herself meet his gaze. He was sitting looking at her, and appreciating everything he saw!
‘Hi,’ she said idiotically. She had to recover her composure. She had to appear normal. Right now she was having palpitations like some Victorian maiden!
‘Kalispera,’ replied Nikos, his voice soft with amusement.
He liked what he saw—he liked it a lot. Oh, not just the exquisite appearance of this extraordinarily beautiful girl, but the fact that she was so clearly responding to him, and the way he was looking at her.
A waiter was there, hovering discreetly, but attentively.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Nikos asked her.
For a moment she wanted to say Something strong, to calm my nerves, but then she realised that strong liquor was the last thing she should drink right now. So instead she murmured, ‘Oh, orange juice, please.’
He raised a slight eyebrow at this, and she went on lightly, ‘To go with my frock!’
A smile indented his mouth and he nodded, relaying the order to the waiter in Greek—unnecessary though it was, since the hotel staff all spoke English. The man disappeared.
‘It’s extremely beautiful.’ Nikos indicated her dress with a slight inclination of his head.
‘I got it from the boutique just now. That’s why I’m running late!’
She could hear her own breathlessness in her voice. It annoyed her—alarmed her. She was sounding like some wet-behind-the-ears teenage girl on her first date! It was ridiculous.
But the thing was she did feel like a teenager again! Excitement was running through her, and it was because of the man sitting opposite her. She could tell herself all she liked that Stephanos had simply sent him to babysit her, but her body wasn’t taking that on board. Her body was shimmering like a fairy light on a Christmas tree!
‘It was worth the wait,’ said Nikos. He let his eyes wash over her again, to confirm his words.
The waiter’s arrival with her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice was a reprieve, and she sipped eagerly. Then the maître d’ arrived with two large leatherbound menus, bowing copiously to Nikos and running through the specialities of the day in rapid Greek.
Janine gazed down virtually blindly at the menu, forcing herself to read the words. As the maître d’ bowed one last time, and glided away, Nikos listed the day’s catch.
‘Oh, not calamari!’ Janine exclaimed. ‘It’s the suckers on the tentacles. They’re disgusting!’
Nikos laughed. ‘It can be served without those appendages,’ he assured her. ‘Have you not eaten squid yet?’
Janine gave an exaggerated shudder.
‘I’ll stick to real fish, please.’
She settled on red mullet, with a seafood terrine to start, and closed the menu. She gazed out at the gardens.
‘Isn’t it the most beautiful place?’ she sighed. A wonderful feeling of well-being was suffusing her. It was everything—the beautiful gardens, the soft Mediterranean night and, above all, the presence of Nikos Kiriakis sitting opposite her, drawing her eye inexorably to him.
‘The view is certainly quite stunning,’ her companion murmured.
She glanced back to smile at him—and saw that he was not looking out over the gardens at all. Instead, his dark eyes were fixed on her face, and there was an expression in them she’d have had to be blind not to recognise…
She felt the colour run again, and hastily took a drink.
Nikos watched her reach for her glass. For a woman who made her living out of the touch of wealthy men, she really was remarkably unflirtatious. Perhaps, he found himself thinking, that was her allure. That she did not come on to her targets—she let them come on to her.
After all, she was so very much worth coming on to…
Emotions twisted inside him.
She might be sitting there, with a beauty as breathtaking as it was alluring, but it did not—could not—take away what she did, what she used that beauty for. That was what he had to remember. And her looks were of interest to him for one reason only—they would make his seduction of her palatable to him. He would get his revenge for the pain she was causing his sister.
He let his gaze rest on her, with the eyes of a connoisseur. She really was extraordiny. Some women couldn’t make the transition from bikini to evening gown—but she could. By the pool and on the beach, she had looked sexy and sun-kissed. Now she looked graceful and soft, like a gazelle—her slender neck, her parted lips, the soft swell of her breasts beneath the chiffon of her dress.
As he watched he could see her nipples just graze against the filmy material, each one outlined for him.
All he had to do was reach out his hand, and touch with the tips of his fingers. Close his palm over their sweet ripeness…
Like a sheet of flame, desire sucked at him. Wanting to be sated. Now. Right now.
With visible effort he slammed down on his reaction.
He felt shaken.
Just as on the beach, his reaction had come out of nowhere, like a flashflood, thundering suddenly through his veins. Desire—hot, tearing, urgent. And out of control.
With gritted teeth he dragged back control over his body, his reaction. What the hell was he doing?
He was acting like a man besotted, and with some foxy little piece like Janine Fareham.
Yes, that was what he had to remember! That Janine Fareham used men’s desires for her own ends—to buy gowns like the one she was displaying her body in tonight! He let his anger at her, deep and unrelenting and unforgiving, seep back, filling him like a dark tide. That was the only response he should be having to her. Oh, sexual desire, yes—but at his bidding, not hers. Under his control, not hers.
He relaxed again, back in control of his reaction to her.
He would take Janine Fareham, possess her and enjoy her.
And then get rid of her from his life—and Stephanos’s life.
A line from Shakespeare snaked into his mind—‘I’ll have her, but I’ll not keep her long.’
It would do very well for Janine Fareham.
Janine carefully removed some bones from her fish and took a forkful of the delicious dish. It was weird. She seemed hyper-aware of every movement she made. Aware of everything.
Especially Nikos Kiriakis. In its own disturbing way, dining with him was nerve-racking. She wanted to do nothing more than just sit there and stare at him open-mouthed. But she knew she could not. Must not. Instead she had to make conversation, or rather let him make conversation, and she had to respond as if she had her brain in place, instead of just wanting to gaze and gaze at him. She had to chat away—talking about innocuous subjects, like what there was to see on Skarios, and what kind of villa he was interested in buying, and things like snorkelling and windsurfing.
Not that she wasn’t grateful for the ordinariness of the conversation. She didn’t think she could deal with anything more.
Windsurfing was nice and safe, and since it was something she knew nothing about it meant she didn’t really have to do anything other than prompt with a question and Nikos Kiriakis would do all the talking. So she could sit there, chin on her hand, and indulge herself wondering just what it was about his eyes that were so compelling, watching how his mouth moved when he talked, and how his dark, silky hair shaped his beautiful face…
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