‘Should I?’ Another matchmaker, he’d thought, groaning inwardly.
But this matchmaker was different, he thought, remembering Thea’s dramatically mournful expression as she’d explained, ‘My mother’s young, and very beautiful, and she’s all alone.’
‘Tragic,’ he’d agreed, playing along. ‘But I’m sure that if she’s anything like you she won’t be alone for long.’
After which he’d thought he should extricate himself as diplomatically as possible. Thea might have the makings of a great matchmaker, but he wasn’t looking for a match.
* * *
Stavros had saved Lizzie. His cousin had a beach restaurant on the island owned by the Gavros family, and his cousin just happened to be desperate for more staff...according to Stavros.
Another coincidence? Or not?
Lizzie had known she couldn’t afford to be picky when Stavros had adopted a dreamy expression as he’d described the island of his birth, adding, ‘You haven’t heard from Damon, I suppose?’
‘No,’ Lizzie had admitted, thinking it better to break it to him that, sooner rather than later, that Cupid had failed. ‘And I don’t expect to.’
So here she was, standing outside Cousin Iannis’s restaurant, on what looked and sounded like a party night. She was feeling optimistic. How could she not, when Thea had called to say she had settled in and everything was going really well, and she’d made a lot of new friends on the island?
It was hard not to fall in love with the island, Lizzie thought as she stared up at the star-peppered sky. It was warm even this late at night, and the candles glowing inside the restaurant gave everything such a welcoming glow. Traditional music was playing, and the scent of delicious food made her hungry.
Iannis had picked her up at the airport, and now he ushered her inside and directed her towards the kitchen.
‘We’re in training for the big birthday party next week,’ he explained above the din of crashing plates and shouts of, ‘Oopa!’
Iannis was the double of his cousin Stavros, and Lizzie doubted either man needed an excuse to hold a party. They were both kindness personified. Stavros had insisted on paying for her flight, saying he owed her holiday money, and now there was this—the warmest of welcomes.
‘No work tonight!’ Iannis insisted as she glanced at the row of servers’ aprons hanging on pegs in the lobby outside the kitchen. ‘You’ve only just arrived, so tonight you’re my guest at the party. Your apartment is just up those stairs by the entrance door—’ he indicated where ‘—and your luggage is already on its way up to your room.’
‘You’re too kind.’
‘No. You’re too kind,’ Iannis argued. ‘Stavros has told me all about you—and he has insisted that I mustn’t work you too hard. No buts,’ he warned. ‘Your time here is to be a holiday. It’s all arranged.’
Flinging the door to the kitchen wide, he ushered Lizzie in to meet his staff.
She froze on the threshold. ‘Damon?’
What was he doing here?
Leaning back against the wall, looking as hot as sin, Damon raised a brow and smiled faintly as she walked in.
‘Are you stalking me?’ she challenged lightly.
‘Surely it’s the other way around?’ he countered in his low, husky drawl.
She was instantly tense, thinking of Thea just a few miles down the road.
‘Lizzie?’ Damon pressed.
He was instantly suspicious. ‘Damon,’ she replied coolly.
Lifting her chin, she met his stare steadily. Pulses of heat rushed through her. He was so unbelievably good-looking, and she needed thinking time. She should have known he would be on the island—after all, his family owned it—but somehow she’d just blanked the possibility from her mind.
‘Is something distracting you?’ he asked.
Oh, so much! ‘The sight of such delicious food,’ she lied.
He looked at her as if he didn’t believe a word of it. ‘It certainly is a distraction.’
‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ she admitted.
He raised a brow, and his eyes burned with amusement as his gaze roved openly over the outline of her body beneath her jeans and simple top. She would have said something, but with Iannis looking on with interest she knew that wouldn’t be wise. She hated to disappoint her matchmakers, and she wouldn’t be rude in front of them, but neither Iannis nor Stavros knew her history with Damon. And nor would they, if she had anything to do with it.
‘Damon has been working all day to make things special for my staff,’ Iannis explained. ‘We are catering the big birthday party next week.’
That was all she needed to know. Why else would Damon be here if it weren’t for the fact that it was his father’s birthday they were talking about?
‘He wanted my people to have a night off,’ Iannis was explaining proudly.
Lizzie quickly pulled herself together. ‘That’s very good of him,’ she agreed.
‘And as soon as you’ve settled in you must come down to the party,’ Iannis insisted. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Damon?’ he pressed.
‘Most definitely,’ Damon confirmed, with a look at Lizzie that sucked the breath clean out of her lungs.
‘Eat—drink—dance—make love!’ Iannis exclaimed helpfully, with a wide smile. ‘That’s all that’s allowed tonight.’
So long as they weren’t all compulsory, Lizzie thought, while Damon’s wicked smile reached his eyes and stayed there.
‘Oh, and there are some gifts waiting for you on the bed upstairs,’ Iannis added.
‘Gifts for me?’ Lizzie glanced at Damon.
‘They’re nothing to do with me,’ he said.
So gifts from whom? Lizzie wondered.
‘I’ll see you downstairs as soon as you’ve had chance to freshen up,’ Damon called after her as she left the kitchen.
She turned at the door. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be coming down again.’
‘Of course you will.’
He said this in a way that made her run up the stairs as if the hounds of hell were after her.
Closing the door on her apartment, she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep, steadying breath. Damon only had to look at her for lust to surge through her veins, and that was dangerous. She was a very different person now from the girl she’d been at eighteen. She had far more sense, Lizzie told herself firmly as she switched on the light and looked around.
The first thing she saw were the ‘gifts’ laid out on the bed. She knew immediately who they were from, and rushed across the room to pick the dresses up and hold them to her face. Then she reached for her phone.
‘Sundresses for the old lady!’ she said, laughing happily as Thea came on the line.
Thea giggled. ‘Do you like them?’
‘I love them—but you shouldn’t be spending your money on me.’
‘I bought them at the market on our first day here. As soon as I saw them I knew I had to buy them for you. I fell in love with the sunny yellow one right away, and the blue’s so pretty.’
‘I love them both,’ Lizzie admitted. She would never have wasted her scant funds on buying anything so frivolous for herself.
‘Do they fit?’ Thea demanded.
‘They’re perfect.’ Hugging the dresses close, she battled to contain her emotions.
‘Be sure to wear one of them for the concert.’
‘I will,’ Lizzie promised. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear you play.’
‘Playing the violin isn’t everything,’ Thea informed Lizzie, stalling her thoughts in a way that had never happened before.
‘What do you mean?’ Lizzie asked, wondering if she’d said or done something to discourage Thea.
‘Just that. Love’s far more important t
han anything else,’ Thea explained loftily. ‘Love is all I care about now. I’m in a romantic phase.’
‘I see...’ Lizzie said faintly.
She didn’t see at all. Instead she wondered if she’d ruined two people’s lives now.
She had to stop this, Lizzie accepted. She was always feeling guilty about something, and she had done so since her father’s trial. As soon as she had discovered how many innocent people he’d harmed, and thought about the many expensive gifts he’d bought for her over the years, she had been plagued with guilt until it had become part of her psyche.
‘Gotta go,’ Thea said, startling Lizzie back into the moment. ‘I’ll send you a text!’
‘Bye, sweetheart...’
She was the luckiest woman on earth, Lizzie thought, smiling as she stared at the small screen filled with kisses. She was so lucky to have Thea in her life, and she would never take that joy for granted.
The joy in which Damon should be sharing?
CHAPTER FIVE
GUILT HAD SNUFFED out Lizzie’s happiness. She hated deception above all things. It was too strong a reminder of her father’s betrayal. But the rules still applied. She had to tell Thea before Damon. And she couldn’t just blurt it out down the phone. Thea had to be warned first...prepared. It would have to be done with the utmost sensitivity, and it was hard to find enough time to do that with a child who was always rehearsing.
Clinging to practicalities—as she always did when she couldn’t see her way ahead clearly—Lizzie explored her small apartment. It was such a luxury to have all this space after the confines of her tiny bedsit back in London. The walls were simply whitewashed, and the floor was polished wood. There was a small kitchen at one end, with a fridge thoughtfully stocked with essentials, and a balcony where she could eat breakfast overlooking the sea. The bed looked big and felt comfy, and it had a lovely sky-blue throw at the foot that matched the rug on the floor... All the colours of Greece.
So, had she finished procrastinating? Was she going to freshen up now and go downstairs to see Damon?
Of course she was. Soon...
She spotted a local bus timetable amongst some magazines. She’d need those times for when she went to the school tomorrow to hear Thea play...
Glancing at her watch, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. So, heading to the bathroom, she stripped off and took a shower. Turning her face up to the refreshing spray, she hugged herself and thought of Damon... Damon holding her... Damon kissing her... Damon making love to her—
She had to forget about it!
Forget Damon making love to her when he was in the same building, downstairs?
And another thing—if she didn’t tell him about Thea soon he’d find out for himself.
Thea first and then Damon.
It seemed a long time ago since she’d discovered she was pregnant with Thea, and now every second seemed to be flying past, Lizzie thought as she towelled down.
On an impulse, she chose to wear one of the sundresses Thea had bought. She smiled when she put it on and felt better immediately. There was a lot of truth behind Thea’s statement. Love was all that mattered. Sometimes Lizzie wished she could see life as clearly as a child. One thing was certain. She had to right this wrong.
Putting it off over the years had a lot to do with the heartache she’d felt when her father had rejected her. Add to that her fear of losing Thea, and Lizzie would be the first to admit that she was just plain scared. She had always met problems head-on before, but the problems had never carried such a risk before.
* * *
Where was she? He shot another impatient look towards the stairs. His work was done. The second shift of people in his team had just arrived to take over the work in the kitchen. He was determined that Iannis and his staff would have a wonderful evening to thank them for all the work to come. He and his team had made sure of it. There was no reason for him to stick around.
No reason except Lizzie.
‘Leaving so soon?’
His stare flashed up. Lizzie’s comment had surprised him. She was calling to him from the top of the stairs.
He rested his fist on the wall. ‘And if I am...?’
She shrugged. Her face was in shadow, so he couldn’t see her expression. ‘If you want to go—go. I won’t hold you to your promise’
As she came slowly down the stairs her wildflower scent assaulted his senses. Her hair was still a little damp, and was hanging in tight curls, and her face was make-up-free. She was wearing a pretty sundress that exposed her pale, fragile skin and clung lovingly to the outline of her breasts. She had teamed this with simple sandals.
The punch to his senses was extraordinary. She eclipsed all the society beauties he’d dated put together. His body responded accordingly, and it took all his willpower to rein it in.
He’d wasted a lot of time dating women who made no demands on him and barely scratched the surface of his interest. Lizzie was different. She’d always been different. She was the one woman who intrigued him, who made him want to know more.
‘Are we going to stand here in the passage?’ she asked him as people squeezed past.
‘After you,’ he invited.
He watched her walk ahead of him, small and proud, pale and sexy, with her striking red hair bouncing freely around her shoulders like a shimmering cloak of fire. The desire to grab a hank of that hair in his fist, so he could kiss her neck and see if that tiny tattoo of a tiger cub was still there, was overwhelming.
His libido badly needed a break, he concluded as they joined the couples dancing between the tables.
The next moment she had turned to face him and her arms were wrapped around him.
‘What?’ he murmured, staring down.
‘Are we going to dance, or are we just going to stand here?’
He’d forgotten nothing.
‘I’m glad you didn’t leave,’ she admitted as he took her hand in his.
She held his stare levelly, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite put it into words. There was something driving her to be with him, to stay with him, but if it wasn’t sex what could it be?
‘I think we’d better dance,’ he agreed. The urge to feel her pressed up against him was irresistible.
‘If you’re brave enough.’ She laughed.
‘I’ve never flinched from a pair of sandals in my life.’
She looked at him and almost smiled openly, frankly, as she had eleven years ago, but she looked away as they began to move. She didn’t need to hold his stare for them both to know that the contact between them was electric.
They were just relaxing into the rhythm when a band of partygoers crashed into the restaurant from the beach, performing a no-holds-barred version of the Conga.
Letting go of him, Lizzie pressed back against the wall to let the line of whooping dancers through. They stared at each other when they could as the seemingly endless line of bodies passed between them. Lizzie shrugged as it went on and on. He smiled ruefully. The wait seemed interminable, but finally the last of the revellers went by and, reaching out, he linked their fingers.
No other woman came close to making him feel this way, he thought as he slowly drew her towards him, and when every part of them was touching as they danced he knew he’d missed her even more than he could say.
* * *
She only had to hold Damon’s hand and feel his other hand settle in the small of her back for nuclear explosions to be set off inside her. How could she have forgotten how good it felt to be this close to him? If only life weren’t so complicated, she thought as he greeted old friends with warmth and good humour.
She had to get real, Lizzie accepted. Life was that complicated. Damon was a billionaire. She was nothing and no one. She could either enjoy this interlu
de for what it was, or invite trouble back into her life.
It was all very well, coming up with these good reasons for remaining detached, but when Damon drew her close and his hands became seductive spells she started trembling with awareness. She hated herself for being so weak, but she couldn’t do anything about it. He had to feel how she responded to him—he must.
He did, Lizzie realised as her pulse went off the scale. The dark humour in Damon’s eyes was all the proof she needed.
And then the band slowed the tempo and the music grew seductive. The melody wrapped a cord around her heart and pulled it tight. Music could always strip her emotions bare. She might not be a musician, like her mother or like Thea, but she responded as they did, and the plangent tune was currently ripping chunks out of her heart.
As if he sensed this, Damon tightened his arms around her, and in spite of all her sensible reservations she went to him as willingly as a boat slipping into its mooring. Her body burned with heat as he linked their fingers, bringing them to rest on his chest where she could feel his heart beating.
This was as close as two people could be without making love. Her body was floating in an erotic net. She was made of sensation. Her worries dwindled as reality faded away. She had often daydreamed of being reunited with Damon, but this was so much better than her dreams.
If she closed her eyes the years melted away and she could think herself back into his bedroom, where whispers and touches had been magic spells and the smallest shift of Damon’s fingers had delivered messages only she had been able to read. She wanted that back. She wanted to recapture the trust they’d shared for that one night. But would Damon ever trust her again when he learned about Thea? And could she blame him?
‘Tense again?’ he said. ‘What’s wrong now?’
When Damon stared into her eyes it was impossible to lie to him. ‘You,’ she said. ‘It’s time I went to bed. It’s been a long day. Thanks for the dance.’
He caught hold of her hand. ‘You can’t leave it like that.’
‘I just did. The mood is wrong. Too many people.’
‘Sounds serious,’ he said.
The Secret Kept from the Greek Page 5
