Hired by the Impossible Greek

by Clare Connelly

  He was quiet for a time, so that only the sound of the ocean rolling towards the island broke the silence. A moment later, she shifted her weight away from him. ‘I should get back to my room.’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t.’ He grabbed her arms and tumbled her to the bed, his body weight on top of hers now.

  She laughed, pressing a palm to his chest. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You can’t wake a man up like that without giving him the honour of repaying the favour.’

  ‘I think I’m still well and truly in your debt,’ she said, her lips twitching with amusement, her heart hammering with anticipation.

  ‘But who’s keeping score?’

  She couldn’t reply. Not when his mouth wrapped around one of her nipples and his fingers moved between her legs, pushing all thoughts from her mind completely.

  * * *

  ‘What are you doing tonight?’

  He watched as she pulled her clothes on, each movement unknowingly graceful, her body lithe and beautiful.

  ‘I’m going to double-check some equations before I email them off, and then Talia and I had talked about taking Cameron to look for shells.’

  He nodded distractedly, the activity perfectly suitable for a day such as this. And he had a mountain of work. But, in the back of his mind, he was conscious of the days racing past. Nights were a sensual blur, nights in which he could indulge his cravings for this woman piece by piece until—momentarily—he was satisfied. But mornings broke faster than he’d have liked, and she was always gone, a phantom of her in the throbbing of his pulse and the hardness of his body. In two weeks, she’d leave the island for good, and he was mostly relieved by that, because already he could see how easily he could become addicted to her. Addicted to her body, he reminded himself forcefully, because that was what he found himself waking up craving.

  Sex.

  And sex was something he understood. But there was something different with Amelia, the way being with her made him feel. Perhaps it was simply her presence on his island, a haven he generally kept private. Or perhaps her fierce intelligence added another dimension to their dynamic—he certainly found them sparking off each other in a way that was wholly new. Or perhaps it was everything about her.

  Whatever the reason for his fascination with her, he’d be glad when she left. It would be liberating not to feel this drugging sense of desire in every waking moment, and once she left the island she’d take with her temptation. He wouldn’t think of her again—not often, anyway.

  But for now, she was here, and he wasn’t foolish enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. ‘I have to go to the office this morning, but I thought I could come back earlier. Around lunchtime.’

  She slowly turned to face him. ‘Oh.’

  It wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d expected. That dredged a grim smile to his face—since when had Amelia reacted as he’d expected?

  ‘I’m not invited to collect shells?’

  ‘Of course.’ She shook her head. ‘I could use a full day to work.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘I meant to come with you.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ She tucked her shirt into her trousers, her narrow waist drawing his attention before he transferred it back to her eyes.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because we agreed Cameron—no one—would find out about us.’

  ‘And you think collecting shells will be some sort of public declaration of intimacy?’

  A blush coloured her cheeks. He loved how easily she did that.

  ‘No, of course not.’ And then a second later, ‘But there’s an inherent risk to it. When you and I are together, and no one else is around, there is a zero per cent chance of someone learning about this. Those odds increase exponentially if we throw in an afternoon with Talia and Cameron.’

  ‘Fine, then,’ he said, wondering why her response was so frustrating to him. ‘Then come to Athens with me today.’ Her eyes were huge in her face, and she shook her head numbly.

  ‘If I wouldn’t agree to an afternoon here on your private island, why in the world would I agree to go to Athens?’

  Exasperation made him expel a harsh sigh. ‘Because it’s beautiful and you’d love it?’

  ‘I’ve been to Athens.’

  Something like impatience burst through him. ‘Not with me.’

  ‘Besides.’ She changed tack. ‘Cameron is looking forward to looking for shells, and it would mean the world to him if you’d go with him. He’s really warming to you.’ She hesitated. ‘You’re making such progress.’

  And he was. He’d followed her advice of a few weeks earlier, waiting for Cameron to calm down before approaching him again, keeping a safe distance, simply watching, letting him know he was there. He’d discovered a love for block building and, over time, he and Cameron had begun to work on a project together. As they worked, they talked, so that they were really getting to know one another. She didn’t need to push him to spend time with Cameron any more; he did so because he enjoyed it.

  ‘Let’s make a deal.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I’ll spend the afternoon with Cameron.’

  Her smile was like a burst of lightning, bright and fascinating, her nod one of obvious approval.

  ‘And you’ll have dinner with me.’

  Her smile dropped and he tried not to think about how unusual that response was to a dinner invitation. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because that’s not... We agreed...’

  ‘We agreed we wouldn’t fall in love.’ He laughed. ‘Do you think you’re so irresistible I can’t sit across a table from you without formulating marriage plans?’

  He intentionally turned her own words back on her, reminding her of how she’d sneered at his arrogance early on in their relationship—or whatever this was.

  ‘Fine, then. You’ve got yourself a deal. But don’t you start getting all starry-eyed at my witty dinner repartee.’

  He grinned, feeling a lightness move through him. ‘I’ll try my hardest.’

  * * *

  ‘This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,’ she drawled, staring out at the Acropolis. It was illuminated gently in the evening, golden lights washing over the ancient pillars.

  ‘It’s the best food in town.’

  ‘And is it always empty on a Friday night?’

  ‘You were worried about someone finding out about us.’

  She shook her head. ‘And so what? You booked out the restaurant?’

  ‘Damen has known me a long time. He didn’t mind.’

  She shook her head, but she smiled—how could she not? ‘Just as well I know how you feel about relationships because otherwise this could be construed as incredibly romantic.’

  His skin paled so she had to bite back a laugh. ‘It’s not.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m joking.’

  He relaxed visibly.

  ‘How was shell hunting?’

  His smile was natural and she felt something like relief spread through her. Cameron had been through so much. She wanted, more than anything, for him to connect with his father. It wasn’t necessarily easy, given what he’d lost and the age he was at, but they were already making such inroads.

  ‘He was quite excited by several of the “specimens”, as he insisted on referring to them. I didn’t want to tell him that shells such as these wash up along the shore all summer long.’

  ‘He’s a budding scientist,’ she said proudly. ‘He’s got keen observation powers and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.’

  ‘And you are an excellent teacher to harness that.’

  A man appeared, wearing dark trousers and white shirt. ‘Here we are,’ he said, a broad smile on his face. ‘For the lady.’ He placed a champagne flute in front of Amelia, and
a beer for Santos, who nodded his thanks.

  ‘Damen, this is Amelia Ashford, my son’s teacher. Amelia, Damen has been running this restaurant since the dark ages.’

  The older man laughed, rocking back on his heels. ‘You make me feel old now, eh?’ He reached out and, to Amelia’s surprise, patted Santos on the head. He lifted a single brow but otherwise didn’t respond.

  ‘I’ve been coming here since I was an infant,’ Santos explained when they were alone again.

  Amelia couldn’t hold back her grin. ‘That’s pretty sweet.’

  ‘Sweet?’ His laugh was gruff. ‘I don’t think I’ve been called that before.’

  ‘I was calling Damen sweet,’ she corrected with a saccharine tone. She sipped her champagne, then recalled what they’d been discussing before Damen had arrived.

  ‘Where will Cameron go to school?’

  Something tightened on Santos’s face. A look of alertness. ‘I’ll meet with some headmasters next week.’

  Her stomach rolled. ‘Here in Athens?’

  ‘Most likely.’

  ‘So he’d travel over from the island? Or do you have a home nearby?’

  He looked towards the window. ‘I have a place not far from here. I prefer the island but the city will be more practical during term time.’

  ‘I suppose this will mean a lot of changes to your life.’

  He took a drink from his beer, holding her gaze over the rim. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you’re usually based on the island?’

  ‘I consider it my home, but I spend a lot of time travelling.’

  ‘Will you be able to curtail that now?’

  ‘As much as possible.’ He dipped his head forward. ‘At least until he’s settled into school and his new life.’

  Her heart panged in her chest, his consideration not completely unexpected, yet it did surprise her. He obviously read that on her expression because his smile was almost self-mocking.

  ‘You thought I would just carry on as I had before?’

  ‘I hoped not,’ she offered in response, running her fingers down the stem of her glass. ‘He’s a very special child and, after what he’s been through, I’d love to think you could make him happy again.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘The thing is.’ She shook her head, surprised by the admission she’d been about to make.

  ‘The thing is?’ he prompted when she didn’t finish her sentence.

  She sipped her drink and searched for the right words. ‘He can be quite anxious; nervous. I think that’s one of the reasons I’ve always felt protective of him.’ She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. ‘As a little boy, when he first came to Elesmore, he and I were in our first year together and I think we had the same first-day nerves.’ Her smile was laced with nostalgia.

  ‘Why did you decide to become a teacher?’

  She sighed a little. ‘Do you think it’s strange?’

  ‘Unusual,’ he clarified, his grasp on the nuances of English flawless despite the fact it was a second language.

  ‘I suppose it is. I could have done anything, and I did. I loved my work with the space agency, but it’s teaching that I enjoy most.’ She considered how to best explain that. ‘I was given a lot of opportunities because of my IQ, but there’s something valuable about helping everyone reach their potential, even kids who have to struggle to learn to read and get their heads around early maths.’

  ‘And this is also why you chose a local comprehensive?’

  ‘Instead of some kind of toffee-nosed public school? Is that the kind of place you went to?’ she queried.

  He tilted his head in silent confirmation. ‘I went to the same school as my father, and his father and his father, went to.’

  She smiled. ‘Of course you did. Sometimes I forget you’re part of some kind of dynasty.’

  His smile quirked.

  ‘I was drawn to a comprehensive, yes. I’m not so sure financial status should have any place in education.’

  He sipped his beer, his eyes holding hers over the glass.

  ‘Additionally, I felt that a public school would be more interested in promoting me to their parent body—the fact they had someone with my academic background on faculty would have become a selling point. Elesmore knew that anonymity was one of my requirements for accepting the job.’

  ‘So none of the parents know about your previous life?’

  ‘I prefer it that way. It’s been my experience that, once people learn about that one fact of who I am, it becomes all they can see in me. I don’t particularly like that.’

  ‘You’re more than your IQ?’ He said it in a way that was teasing, so she smiled—an unusual response when she was discussing the pain and isolation that had resulted from her genius.

  ‘It’s just how my brain works.’ She shrugged her slender shoulders and his eyes flicked lower, taking in the hint of cleavage exposed by the silk dress she was wearing. He reached across the table, lacing their fingers together in a simple gesture of intimacy.

  ‘I like the way your brain works.’

  She smiled, her eyes resting on their hands, hers a light gold and his a deep tan. ‘Anyway, I met Cameron, and I’ve always felt an affinity with him. He’s a very bright student, and quite sensitive. He feels things strongly, and that sometimes puts him out of step with his peers. Cynthia’s death rocked him to the core.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘I guess, I’m saying that I’m glad he has you—and that you seem to realise the importance of being there for him right now.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘I want to be a good father to him but it’s not something I ever planned for. I was actually determined that I wouldn’t have children.’

  ‘Don’t you need to continue the family name or whatever?’

  ‘I have a half-brother for that.’

  Surprise was evident on Amelia’s face. ‘You do?’

  ‘Andreo, yes. He’s married, and far more likely—or so I thought until recently—to be the one to provide the Anastakos heirs.’

  ‘How does he feel about Cameron?’

  ‘He’s surprised, but looking forward to meeting him.’

  ‘Does he work with you?’

  ‘He runs our Asia Pacific operations.’

  ‘You’re close?’

  ‘We’re...products of the same upbringing.’ He flashed a tight smile and she knew him well enough to know it foretold a subject change. She was getting close to something he didn’t want to discuss.

  ‘You had an unhappy childhood?’ She squeezed his hand back, drawing his gaze there.

  ‘You know about my childhood.’

  ‘Your father’s divorces.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And you were unhappy?’ she pushed.

  ‘I was ambivalent.’

  She tilted her head to one side, analysing his explanation. ‘In what way?’

  His sigh was a fierce expulsion of air. ‘Our home life changed dramatically, year to year. Children cannot help forming attachments to the people they live with. I would come to care for my latest “stepmother” before my father would invariably end the marriage and I’d never see her again.’

  Amelia’s stomach rolled. ‘You don’t keep in touch with any of them?’

  ‘Andreo’s mother,’ he said quietly. ‘But not the others.’

  ‘God, it sounds like some kind of club: the Ex Anastakos Wives.’

  ‘With a costly entrance fee.’ He shook his head.

  ‘That’s why you’re so dead set against relationships?’

  ‘Yes.’ The directness of his answer surprised her. ‘In my experience, nothing good comes from fooling yourself into believing you need another person to “complete” you, or whatever it is that makes people pledge their undying love.’ His cynicism was ob
vious.

  Damen appeared then, placing some delicious-looking meals before them—fried cheese, rice wrapped in vine leaves, lamb croquettes and some pitta bread with dips. The smell made Amelia’s stomach growl—she hadn’t realised how hungry she was.

  ‘I saw these women almost broken by my father—their hurt and pain.’ He shook his head in condemnation. ‘I have no difficulty understanding his short attention span. I think in this way he and I are similar.’ She ignored the sharp barb in her side. ‘But he could simply have dated them and moved on when the interest faded. Marriage is so inherently filled with hope and promise—to offer himself to these women, only to bore of them within months.’ Santos shook his head again, irritated. ‘He is a living example of what I do not want to become.’

  ‘And so you also view women as disposable, but you make sure they know that in advance,’ she pointed out archly, only to encounter a heated look from him.

  ‘Disposable is not the right word.’ He frowned as he re-evaluated that. ‘Or, if I were to describe a woman as disposable, I would expect her to say the same of me. I’m very careful on this score, Amelia. I don’t enjoy the idea of hurting anyone.’

  ‘You’re afraid of hurting someone,’ she corrected subtly. ‘Your father has made you that way.’

  His expression changed to one of shock. ‘I don’t think I’m afraid of anything.’

  She laughed then, a soft sound. ‘You’re too tough for fear, right?’

  He grinned in response, and the seriousness that his confession brought shifted, leaving an air of relaxed intimacy between them. ‘Absolutely, agapitós.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘DID YOU KNOW it took just a little over fifty years to build?’ she asked, pointing up to the Acropolis. He resisted an impulse to tell her he knew pretty much everything about the world-famous landmark. Pride in his heritage had made him a scholar of the local history.

  ‘And it is taking almost that long to repair it,’ he joked, casually slinging an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his body. It was a balmy summer’s night and, though the sun had set, the air was still warm and humid. She was wearing a simple dress, but no less distracting for its simplicity. All night he’d been pulled between two desires—firstly to enjoy her company and conversation, and secondly to push at the flimsy spaghetti straps until the silk dropped low enough to reveal her neat, round breasts.