Australia: Wicked Mistresses

by Robyn Grady

  What was Cleo doing today? He’d left her snug in bed, the scent of their recent love-making perfuming the air. Had she decided on a late breakfast and a swim? Or had she decided to explore the streets of Fira on her own after he’d curtailed her exploration yesterday? She didn’t speak Greek. Santorini’s tourist venues catered for tourists of course, but still…

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he told Petra as he strode past. ‘Later.’

  An hour later he was back, his mood foul because he’d missed her, still no call back from Con and still the damned papers made no sense. He opened another file. Signed some papers awaiting his signature, relegated some more marked for his attention to the out-tray, read and reread another batch of files before he decided his heart wasn’t in it and he pushed his chair back with a rush.

  Where was she? He’d told the staff to let him know the moment she returned, and he’d heard nothing. Surely they couldn’t have forgotten his instructions.

  Maybe they had. By four o’clock he’d had enough of waiting and guessing. How much time did one woman need for shopping? Fira wasn’t that big a town.

  He found her in the suite preparing to take a shower, already in her robe, and he knew he’d been right to suspect she was up to something because not one shopping bag littered the room. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  She turned, startled, her cheeks reddening. ‘You told me I could go out.’

  And he had. He exhaled, trying to rid himself of hours of frustration in one single breath. ‘You were gone a long time. You clearly weren’t shopping. What were you doing?’

  Her face brightened again, warily at first, gaining enthusiasm as she spoke. ‘Fira is amazing! The paths and the houses and even the gates. Did you realise how wonderful the doorways are here? They beckon you with a glimpse of paradise, a snatch of view, like some wicked temptation, and opening to stairs you don’t even know are there and that lead to terraces hidden below. It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  She was like a powerhouse, so lit up with the joy of her discoveries that her joy fed into him. He should be used to the everyday sights that surrounded him but she made them all fresh and new and now he wished he’d been there to see it through her eyes and feel the joy of her discovery with her.

  ‘And there are donkeys with ribbons and beaded headbands that carry people all the way up and down to the port…’ For a moment her blue eyes misted and lost a little of their joy. She shook her head. ‘I walked. I felt a bit sorry for them. But then,’ she said breathlessly, her eyes lighting up again as if she’d discovered the meaning of life itself, ‘then I found the Archaeological Museum.’

  ‘You what?’He smothered a snort of disbelief, but it was only just. Nobody he’d ever brought to Santorini had bothered to look it up. Not one of his former women had ever been interested, preferring to shop for the gold jewellery the island was renowned for or designer trinkets to take home. ‘Why did you go there?’

  ‘I was curious about Santorini, and it was amazing! I couldn’t believe the history of this place. There was an entire city buried under ash. A whole city buried, just like Pompeii, but thousands of years earlier and they’d found pots and urns and the most incredible artworks.’ She held out her hands and sighed, her blue eyes bright with discovery, her cheeks alive with colour and all he knew was that he wanted that enthusiasm and joy wrapped around him. He wanted her. Now.

  He saw the change in her eyes as she realised, saw the movement in her chest as she hauled down air and felt the air crackle between them as if it were alive. ‘Andreas?’ And then she was in his arms as they tumbled together onto the bed.

  Last night’s tenderness was history. They came together in a heated rush, Cleo grappling with his shirt buttons and his belt while he plundered her mouth with his kisses and drove her to the edge with the hot sweep of his hands before plunging into her depths. It was brutal and savage and fast but they both wanted it that way, needed it to be that way, the all-consuming fire of their need driving them on. Her cries melded with his as he drove into her one final time, sending them both spinning and weightless and once more into the crater.

  Panting and slick with sweat, he cursed himself for his lack of control. That was no way to take a woman with so little experience ‘Are you all right?’

  She blinked her blue eyes up at him, eyes that were still dizzy and lacking focus. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Was I too fast? Did I hurt you?’

  ‘Oh, no. Just, wow.’

  Strangely, in a place he didn’t even know he had, he felt a surge of pride. Still inside her, not caring that he was still half dressed because he didn’t want to be apart, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her softly. ‘What was that for?’ she breathed.

  ‘Just because.’ He traced a hand down her throat and up the incline to one perfect breast. ‘Did you see the women, how they were portrayed in the wall paintings?’ She gasped as his fingers circled her nipples, her flesh firming, responding to his touch. He growled in appreciation. So responsive and yet she’d just come. And in turn, so was he. He felt the change in direction in his blood. Felt the heat return. ‘Did you see how they were dressed?’

  She blushed the delightful way she did. ‘Did the women really go bare-breasted? I wasn’t sure.’

  He arched over her and flicked her nipple with his tongue. ‘They did. The Minoans celebrated life and nature and all things beautiful. And these…’ he dipped his head to her other breast ‘…are beautiful. You would have been a goddess in those times,’ he said, feeling himself swell once again, feeling the need to take her once more. ‘A fair-headed goddess from across the seas.’

  This time the rhythm was slower, more languid and controlled and he watched the storm once more build inside her, her arms woven around his neck, her legs anchored at his back. He watched her face as she neared the summit, he watched her azure eyes widen as the waves of pleasure lifted her higher and ever higher and then he watched her features freeze into that mask of ecstasy as her muscles clamped down around him and took him with her.

  It seemed like for ever until he could breathe normally again. Slowly, gently, he withdrew and found reason to curse himself all over again.

  Vlaka! Like some hot-under-the-collar schoolboy he’d forgotten to use protection. What the hell had he been thinking? But he hadn’t been thinking, not beyond being inside her and sharing that glorious enthusiasm that had streamed out of her like sunshine.

  ‘Cleo, are you safe?’

  The words made no sense in the context of their love-making. She was safe. She felt safe being withAndreas. Until a cold wave of realisation washed over her. They hadn’t used protection!

  ‘Oh. I…’ When was her last period? Was it three weeks, or only two? ‘I don’t know. I can work it out, though.’

  ‘So work it out,’ he said gruffly as he tore off what was left of his clothes and headed for the shower.

  She curled up behind him on the bed. ‘You make out like it’s my fault.’

  He took a deep breath. In a way it was. He’d never lost control like that before. Never been so obsessed with being inside a woman that he’d forgotten something as basic—as necessary—as protection. Who else’s fault was it?

  His.

  He looked over his shoulder to where she now sat, huddled on the bed, her robe drawn back tightly around her like a shield. ‘You’re right.’ He forced the words through his teeth. ‘I’m sorry. But sorry isn’t much good if you become pregnant.’

  Pregnant? Oh, God. She’d been so blown away by Andreas’ love-making that she hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences Pregnant. No wonder he was so angry. It couldn’t happen, could it? Surely life wouldn’t be that unfair when she was going home in just a few weeks.

  Although knowing her luck…

  She swallowed. She’d be going home pregnant and unmarried A loser. Again.

  Or would she?

  The bright side, she thought, k
nowing she was probably being irresponsible to even think this way. The bright side was she’d be going home with Andreas’ baby. Would it matter that she was pregnant if she had something of Andreas to keep for ever? Was it wrong to think that way? At least the money she was going home with would ensure that their baby would want for nothing.

  And the chances were, nothing would happen, and she would go home alone.

  She jacked up her chin. ‘We’ll deal with that if it happens. But I don’t have stars in my eyes, Andreas. I know I have a use-by date. I’m not looking for more.’

  He nodded and told her she was welcome to join him before stepping into the bathroom. He didn’t expect she would now, he thought as he turned on the powerful jet of spray and adjusted the temperature, the familiar smell of salt from the mineral-rich water thick in the steamy atmosphere. Which was a shame. He would enjoy her body slick with soap and water.

  Another time.

  He could see he’d hurt her and that bothered him. Not that he’d hurt her, but that he even cared. Especially when her words should have given him comfort. She didn’t want any more from him. That was good, wasn’t it?

  He lifted his face up into the stream of water and soaped his body. He’d make it up to her. Petra could hold the fort for a few days. He’d show Cleo his Santorini, the world that he loved, seeing as she was interested in more than just the usual souvenir shops.

  After all, if they only had a month, they might as well enjoy it.

  The next few days passed in a blur for Cleo. Andreas surprised her by wanting to tour the island with her and he was a consummate tour guide. He took her to the town of Oia at the very tip of the island and let her explore the narrow laneways and discover the blue-domed churches and the elegant remnants of Venetian occupation and the windmills that clung to the sides of the cliff.

  And then he delighted her by taking her to the mountain of Mesa Vouno where hand in hand they climbed the path to the ruins of Ancient Thera, the remnants of an ancient Greek and later Roman city. With the wind whipping in her hair she discovered more of that fascination for the ancient that she’d found while touring the museum. People had lived here, thousands of years ago. They had left their mark on the earth in the walls and the columns still standing and in the engravings on the rocks, of eagles and dolphins and strong-featured men.

  Andreas could be one of them, she thought, chiselled and strong-jawed and handsome beyond belief. He caught her watching him, the wind in his hair so that it looked alive. ‘What are you thinking?’

  And she smiled and celebrated a brand-new discovery: that a girl with no education and no career wasn’t necessarily doomed to clean rooms all her life, that she’d found something she could be passionate about. ‘I’m going to go home,’ she announced on the top of a mountain overlooking the entire island, ‘and study. I’m going to find a course where I can learn about the people who lived here and left these marks on the rocks. I want to know more.’ And she spun around laughing.

  And he laughed too, because her mood was infectious, even though he suspected she’d go home and the memories would fade and she’d forget all about a bunch of old rocks on the top of a mountain somewhere halfway across the world.

  They stopped for lunch at a kafenio in a nearby village on the way back and enjoyed simple fare of the freshest vegetables and seafood cooked superbly and that tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten before, and they walked it off again along a black sandy beach.

  And wherever they went, it was to a backdrop of azure seas and sky, black volcanic rock and whitewashed buildings that all melded with incredible beauty.

  ‘You are so lucky,’ she sighed later that night as together they watched another fiery sun sink into the ocean, the sky a painter’s dream of scorching red and gold. They hadn’t missed a sunset since that aborted ball and she knew that she would never get sick of the sight.

  She turned to see if he’d heard and caught him watching her, the intensity of his eyes sending vibrations down her spine that converged on her heart and made it lurch. ‘The sunset. You’re not watching.’

  And he smiled. ‘I’m watching it reflected in your expression I never knew how beautiful our sunset was until this moment.’ He curved a hand around her neck, drawing her closer into a kiss. ‘How long do we have left?’ he murmured, his lips in her hair, his breath tickling her ear.

  She trembled against him. She knew exactly what he was asking. She’d been counting off the days and nights since she’d arrived, at first with enthusiasm, and lately with a sense of dread. ‘Um, two weeks and four days.’

  And he pulled her closer until their bodies were aligned, length to length. ‘Then let’s not waste a minute of it.’

  Half an hour in the mornings was all he needed these days to clear his desk of anything needing his attention. He was sick of looking at files that meant nothing, sick of worrying about unreturned calls and he’d discovered the joy of delegation and the freedom it brought. Half an hour was enough to clear his desk and his day for Cleo. So it was lucky she chose then to call.

  ‘Sofia.’ He grimaced, remembering he was supposed to call his mother back days ago. ‘I was just about to call you.’

  ‘We need to talk,’ she said. ‘It’s been too long.’

  It had been. And he had things he needed to tell her, things he’d meant to tell her when he’d returned from London. ‘Aren’t we talking now?’

  ‘Come to Athens,’ she said. ‘I need to see my son. I have news I can’t tell you over the phone.’

  Ice slid down his spine. ‘What’s wrong?’

  There was a moment’s hesitation and he sensed her wavering almost able to see his mother holding onto the edge of the table for support. ‘Come to Athens.’

  There would no doubt be a breeze later, she’d learned enough about the weather since she’d been here to know that it would whip up over the clifftops around midday, but for now the waters of the caldera showed barely a ripple under the perfect spring sun, and the waters of the infinity pool stretching out before Cleo showed even less. In the distance she could hear the odd group of tourists passing by, exclaiming over the perfect photo opportunity—there seemed to be one around every corner on Santorini—but the pool deck was private and tucked away from the main tourist trails and their voices and snatched words drifted away and all was quiet again. She was breathless from the slow laps she’d done but that was good. She had a pile of books on Santorini, its history and archaeological treasures to read, and that was good too. She needed to keep busy, given Andreas wouldn’t be back until at least tomorrow.

  She clamped down on the stab of disappointment that accompanied that thought. Soon enough she wouldn’t see him at all. Surely she could live with his absence for a couple of days?

  But after the bliss of their last few days and nights together, the news that Andreas had taken the helicopter to Athens and would be away overnight had been a major disappointment. She liked being with him. She liked his company and his conversation and she’d surprised herself by loving being in his bed. Then she’d received the message he would be another night at least.

  Two days to fill. Two nights alone in his bed, with the smell of him on his pillow and the empty space alongside her where he should be.

  How quickly she’d become accustomed to his touch. And how quickly she’d abandoned the concept of pretending to be his mistress.

  Every night they made love. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t have to pretend. To all intents and purposes, she was his mistress, in every sense of the word.

  She put down the book she couldn’t concentrate on and dived back into the pool. She needed to do more laps. The more tired she was, the less she would notice the empty space beside her in bed and the better she would sleep. And the better she slept, the less she would miss his magic touch.

  Strange, how she could think his touch so magic after just a few nights. But for the first time in her life, she had felt like a woman. Andreas had done that, unleashi
ng sensations within her that she’d never imagined were there, sensations that yearned to be released again.

  Lap after lap she drove herself until, weak limbed and gasping, she staggered from the pool and collapsed into a lounger. She closed her eyes and tried to blank her mind, but it was still pictures of Andreas she saw, pictures of what they might do together on his return. She’d already decided it was time to be more proactive, to take matters into her own hands.

  She could hardly wait to surprise him.

  ‘Kalimera. I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

  Cleo came to with a start. With Andreas away she’d assumed Petra would be busy in charge of the office. She hadn’t expected her to turn up poolside wearing the black-scrap-of-nothing bikini with tie-around skirt that, given its brevity, did nothing to protect her modesty and everything to accentuate her endless legs.

  ‘Kalimera,’ Cleo replied with almost the extent of her Greek, instantly on edge. Her own bikini was a Moontide original that Mme Bernadette had insisted she take, swirls of blue and green that accentuated her eyes and complemented her skin now that it was starting to take on the tan she’d lost while in England. She knew she looked good in it, but compared to the tall, slender Petra she felt awkward and lumpy. And definitely too exposed. ‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ she said, reaching for a towel to cover her on the pretext of drying her knotted hair. Anything to protect her from the other woman’s laser-sharp scrutiny. ‘I thought you’d be flat out in the office with Andreas away.’

  Petra unhitched the tiny skirt and let it flutter to the lounger alongside, an action clearly designed to draw attention to her legs. It worked. Cleo instantly felt short and squat. ‘It is very busy, of course, but I was feeling a little queasy this morning and thought a swim would refresh me before the afternoon’s appointments’ She put an impeccably manicured hand to her waist.