Ten Brides for Ten Hot Guys

by Donna Fasano

  It was too late for his Yaya now. His dear grandmother had died five weeks ago. She hadn’t minded his suggestion to build a beautiful resort on the lot of the old house, but she’d insisted he notify the American co-owner, George Zanis. The snake had protested long and loud, threatened to take all the Kostapoulos to court, and promised to send his attorney.

  Next Monday—after forty days of mourning according to the Greek custom—their family lawyer would read the will. Stefano straightened, never doubting the outcome of the meeting and the court’s decision. Soon the despicable Pink Villa would be his to demolish. With the reminder of the painful past crushed to the ground, he’d build a luxury resort on the premium land and replace the painful past with the laughter of joyful visitors.

  The sooner, the better.

  “Stefano, the lawyer is a Miss Sheppard. She’s staying at the Poseidon Hotel and she visited the Pink Villa this morning. She will appear in court on Monday with a local attorney to contest your petition to demolish the villa.”

  “I’ll be damned.” The image of a lovely figure with blazing hair and gorgeous breasts popped into his mind. The opposition lawyer. Pity.

  Tomorrow, he’d have to fight her in court, rip her apart if needed. “Ted, arrange a meeting with this woman without telling her who I am. My name is a mouthful anyway. Instead of Dimitri Stefano Alexios Kostapoulos, use Stefano Alexios. I’ll try to prevent her from appearing in court. We need to demolish the Pink Villa. No matter what it takes. I don’t want my family to suffer any longer.”

  The yacht had swiftly reached the bay where it usually anchored.

  Stefano pitched a savage look beyond the turquoise waves unfurling on the golden sand of Mykonos, the island where he’d lived all his life. With the villa gone, his parents and relatives would regain peace of mind and stop cursing the coward George Zanis who’d dishonored and abandoned Yaya Elena years ago.

  ~*~

  Ashley Sheppard blew out a breath of exasperation. Following the local customs hadn’t prevented her from attracting unwanted attention. What more could she do? She had donned a skimpy bikini and taken off the darn bra to blend with the crowd of topless sunbathers. And yet strollers kept staring at her as if she wore a sign labeled, “It’s my first time here.” She couldn’t spend the rest of the afternoon with her arms crossed over her chest.

  Behind her sunglasses she narrowed her eyes, examining the colorful throng swarming the beach for a clue. What could be different about her? Other women walked around or lay almost nude without eliciting any special interest from their neighbors. Young and old, blonde-haired and brunettes, tanned or...white. White? Could that be her problem?

  With a scowl, she reached into her beach bag for a plastic bottle and squirted out a generous portion of sunscreen to slather over her lily-white breasts. In a sudden frenzy, she emptied the bottle all over her body and furiously rubbed it in. Too bad the lotion couldn’t dye her skin instantaneously. But its strong perfume overpowered the refreshing smell of the sea and warm sand.

  Keeping one arm strategically positioned to hide part of her breasts, she smoothed her hair to tame the unruly strands flying over her face. It suddenly occurred to her she was the only redhead around here. Easy enough to fix. She dug out her cap from the bag and fumbled to tuck up her hair without uncovering her chest. Exhaling with relief, she relaxed, determined to enjoy a quiet afternoon before starting serious work tomorrow.

  “Kyria, separakalo.” Ashley raised her head toward the young man in a waiter’s apron. “Miss, please,” he repeated in broken English, “two gentlemen, there.” He pointed to the sidewalk café across the street. “They ask you, for kaffe and pastry.” He held out a card.

  Annoyed, she ignored the card. Her arms still wrapped around her chest, she spun her head toward the street and saw the two men, in shorts and t-shirts, sitting at a table, one of them smoking a cigarette. They acknowledged her with a nod.

  The gall of these locals.

  “Kyria, please. The card,” the waiter insisted, probably worried about losing his tip.

  With a sigh, she took the card and frowned while reading the name. Her heart double-flipped. Theodore Pastroudis. The lawyer of that Greek SOB, Dimitri Kostapoulos, who was responsible for her dear grandpa’s heart attack. The same devil’s spawn who wanted to destroy her grandfather’s villa. She’d immediately studied the case when she got wind of their sneaky deal. They could both go to hell. She wouldn’t meet with the enemy’s lawyer.

  “Kyria, look at back, please,” the waiter begged.

  What now? Her brow arched and she flipped the card impatiently. “Miss Sheppard, it would be in our best interests to get acquainted today in a friendly environment before meeting in court.” She deciphered the words scribbled and gasped, hardly believing her eyes.

  “How on earth did he find out my name? Has he been following me?”

  Taken aback by her glare, the waiter lowered his head with uncertainty. “Scuse-me, kyria? Me no understand.” She shouldn’t blame him for the message he’d delivered. She took a deep breath to calm her jumbled nerves.

  “There will be no answer.” She reached into her bag for her wallet and dropped a coin in his hand. “You may go now,” she added in a tone of voice that brooked no discussion.

  “Efkharisto, kyria. Thank you, Miss.” He turned his back and rushed away.

  Her sunbathing spoiled by the unpleasant episode, Ashley decided not to linger half naked around the beach. The nasty lawyer might not take no for an answer. The last thing she needed now was for him to show up in front of her while she used her arms in lieu of a bra. Bending forward, she fumbled in her bag for the top of her bikini.

  “Miss Sheppard. A moment, please.”

  An American voice? Oh no. And he knew her name. Her fingers buried in the bag, she frantically searched for the tiny piece of material, while her other arm covered her breasts. “Go away. Please, go away.” Where was her towel? Already spread on the sand but too far out of reach.

  “I need to speak to you.” Too close for comfort, the deep masculine voice scattered goose bumps along her arms and froze her hand inside the bag.

  “Not now,” she said with the forceful tone she used in court. No way she’d carry a conversation in the buff. Or semi-buff. Especially with a compatriot. “I’m very busy.”

  “Really?” Heavy sarcasm underlined his question.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the man approaching her chair. In a second, he’d be staring at...

  Without hesitation, she plunged forward and landed half on the towel and half on the sand. At least now, she didn’t feel exposed. Still she flattened herself on her stomach and stiffened, both arms bent against her sides for a partial shield of her vulnerability.

  “Miss Sheppard, I just need a minute of your time.” The jerk now stood in front of her, his ankles at the level of her eyes. “I’m Ted Pastroudis.”

  The opposition lawyer. Lifting her head a tiny bit, she scowled at his hairy legs. “Mr. Pastroudis, don’t you think you’re going too far?”

  The man crouched in front of her, holding her gaze. “What are you doing here? Why did you come, Miss Sheppard?”

  Pressing her arms closer to the curves of her breasts, she twisted her head to his side. “Mr. Pastroudis,” she spat, her anger escalating with her desperation at hiding the topless part of her body. “This is harassment.”

  Irritating man. She glared at him, and then frowned. She’d never seen Pastroudis before and yet she could swear he looked familiar. Dark hair, hazel eyes, aquiline nose, and the general appearance of a thin, nervous man always on the go.

  His brows shot up as he surveyed her. Surprise replaced his professional aggressiveness.

  “Ashley? From Harvard Law School?”

  “Yes. And you are...Teddy,” she said, after a brief hesitation to scan her memory.

  “We worked together on a student paper in second year, remember?”

  She nodded and lowered her head. Of al
l the awkward situations. She couldn’t continue to converse in this position. With a former comrade from school. “I never knew your last name.”

  “And I didn’t make the connection. I’ll be damned.” He offered her a congenial smile.

  “Teddy.” Her hiss should warn him she wasn’t in a mood to exchange niceties right now. “Please go away.”

  “Pastroudis, stop.” A strong male voice called from behind them, and continued in Greek with an authoritative edge.

  Ted straightened up. His legs finally ambled out of her field of vision.

  “Miss,” the newcomer said with a softer tone. “I’m sorry we’ve intruded on your privacy.” He spoke perfect English with a hint of Greek accent. “Here are your things. Ted will be waiting at the boardwalk to apologize.”

  A sigh of relief escaped her when her bag and see-through wrap landed in a heap next to her hands. “Thank you.” She twisted her neck and caught a glimpse of a pair of bronzed legs elongated into muscled thighs that could make a woman drool. “I really appreciate it,” she called after Strong-Legs. He strutted away from her umbrella.

  Without bothering to wipe off the sand sticking to her skin, she pulled her bra from the bag, slipped it on, and fastened the clasp. While still lying on her stomach, she threw the wrap over her back. Finally decent again. The stiffness in her shoulders relaxed and she scrambled up to tie the edges of the soft material between her breasts.

  Gathering her bag and flip-flops, she folded her towel and turned around. Teddy stood by himself fifty feet away. Where had Strong-Legs gone?

  Sunshine burned her naked back and sensitive neck as she trudged through the blazing sand to reach the boardwalk.

  Teddy waved to her but remained in place until she reached him. “Is everything okay?”

  “You could say that.” At least, now, she was ready to talk with her usual calm.

  “Ashley, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you or embarrass you.” The meekness in his voice surprised her. Was it due to the tongue-lashing he’d received a moment ago?

  “It’s okay. What was so important to discuss?”

  “My client saw you coming out of the Pink Villa. Are you representing Mr. George Zanis or is your presence here a coincidence?”

  She tilted her head, arching a brow. “We learned in Law School that most coincidences have logical causes.”

  “I see. So you are here to work on the Pink Villa case.”

  “Yes, with a Greek attorney. Tomorrow, we’ll meet in court.”

  “And we’ll tear each other apart.”

  “Probably.” Since she’d graduated from Harvard, Ashley had joined a well-known firm and built a solid reputation, fighting tooth and nail in court to defend her clients. In this case, her client was her cherished grandfather who had entrusted her with the villa so dear to his heart.

  “Ashley, I’ve never lost a case. It may be ugly tomorrow.”

  She shrugged. “It’s always ugly.”

  “Yeah, but you’re my former classmate, and it’s your first day in Mykonos.”

  “Having premature remorse?” she asked without smiling. “Tell your client to drop his request to level the house. It’s not his to destroy.”

  “Fifty percent of the shares belong to his grandmother. My client is ready to generously compensate Mr. Zanis for his part.”

  “For sentimental reasons you’ll never understand, Mr. Zanis refuses to see the Pink Villa demolished. And that is not negotiable.”

  “Careful, Ashley, we’ll have a war tomorrow.”

  “So be it. See you later.”

  Ted fiddled with his sunglasses and threw a glance toward the café. Was he waiting for reinforcement? She turned to leave, but he touched her arm. “At least, can I invite you for a cup of coffee? For old-time’s sake?”

  Not knowing what to make of his invitation, she narrowed her eyes at him. “We’re lawyers. Do I need to remind you, it’s unethical to discuss a case, even though we’re not in the U.S.”

  He burst out laughing. “Deal. We won’t talk about the case. This way, please. I have a friend waiting for me at the café.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yes, he handed you your things a moment ago. Please, join us.”

  The man with strong legs and broad shoulders. The one who talked with enough authority to intimidate a lawyer of Pastroudis’ caliber. She’d like to meet this Greek. Hanging the straps of her bag on her shoulder, she nodded. “Only for a short while. I have work to do.”

  Teddy led her to a sidewalk café where a sign greeted the tourists in Greek and English: Welcome to Kaffe Paradizio. Proper attire required. NO bikinis or half bikinis on premises.

  Ashley snorted inwardly. At least here, she wouldn’t feel out of place.

  To hell with local customs. For once she’d given in to well-intended advice about blending with the crowd, and ended up with a wasted day and a severe headache. She should have remained locked in her grandfather’s house to work on her case—the Pink Villa her grandpa had bought for the woman he loved half a century ago. So romantic… and frustrating. Envy and puzzlement filled Ashley’s heart, and she glanced in the direction of the Pink Villa.

  How had that Greek woman, Elena, managed to inflame Grandpa George with a love that endured a fifty-year separation?

  Irritation pinched Ashley’s insides. Her own romances had never lasted more than a year, earning Grandpa’s reproachful looks and his never-wavering advice. Look for a Greek man who can love you unconditionally.

  Did Greek men belong to a special brand of lovers whose passion could survive the test of time and distance?

  Well, the few locals who had stared—leered at her was more correct—didn’t strike her as the kind of heroes who’d love forever, or even long enough to walk to the altar. But maybe all Greeks were not that bad. A moment ago, Strong-Legs had acted like a gentleman.

  Ted navigated his way through the crowded area and waved his hand. “Here’s my friend.”

  A hunk sprang to his feet and waved back. Tall, lean, solid, his body matched the legs she’d admired a moment ago. Bulging muscles stretched the beige t-shirt that contrasted with the bronze of his skin. And she thought gods belonged only to mythology.

  “Ashley, this is Stefano, my lifelong friend and former roommate. He also spent eight years in Boston, but he studied Architecture and then went on for a Master in Business Administration. Stefano, Ashley Sheppard is another Harvard graduate.”

  Ted had forgotten to mention Stefano’s last name. By mistake or on purpose? She flicked a guarded glance from the lawyer to his friend.

  “Stefano Alexios,” the hunk specified.

  She nodded and extended her hand. He enfolded it in his warm palm and held it a moment too long. “Nice to meet you, Ashley.” His voice drifted velvet-smooth, tinged with a hint of accent. A faint scent of lemon and spice tickled her senses while his heart-stopping smile numbed her mind. He pulled a chair for her into the shade of the white and blue canopy. “You’ll be more comfortable here.” He sat next to her at the small table.

  Dark curls ruffled in the breeze and fluttered over his gold-rimmed, polarized sunglasses. She’d bet her bikini bra he’d have dark chocolate eyes to match that tanned skin. As if reading her thoughts, he took off his glasses.

  Lo and behold, his eyes were turquoise blue, similar in color to the sea surrounding his island. She’d eat her tongue before making another bet in her life. The noon temperature suddenly seemed unbearable. A rush of blood coursed to her face, creating a tiny sheen of perspiration. She wiped her forehead and removed her sunglasses to rub at her temples.

  Stefano peered at her face. What was wrong now? She stilled.

  “Forgive me for staring.” His eyebrows quirked. Yet he didn’t avert his gaze, his admiration almost palpable. “Green eyes and reddish blond hair. An unusual combination we’re not used to seeing around here.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks aflame, she fiddled with her sunglasses and debated whether she
should put them back on to hide her embarrassment.

  Ted settled across from them and asked, “Coffee?”

  Grateful for his interruption, she glanced at him. Today, Ted would be kind and courteous for old-time’s sake before verbally shredding her in court tomorrow, on behalf of his client.

  “I’d rather have a cold Coke.” Her throat felt like dry parchment.

  “And a baklava, of course,” Stefano suggested with a bone-melting smile that turned her insides to jelly.

  So much sex-appeal in one body should be forbidden. He looked at her, waiting. She inwardly groaned. What had he said? Oh, the baklava. With a nod, she mentally slapped herself back into consciousness and smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss the chance to taste the local pastry.”

  “Ted told me you’re here on a business trip.” Stefano reclined against the back of his chair. “For how long, if I may ask?”

  “As long as needed.”

  Ted laughed. “I promised Ashley we wouldn’t talk about work.”

  “Who’s talking about work in this dream place?” Stefano emphatically gestured toward the sea. “Actually, I was going to suggest a boat ride around the island.”

  “It would have been lovely, but I really can’t. Tomorrow, I’ll be very busy.”

  The waiter deposited a tray with their orders on the table. Ashley reached for her glass of coke with ice cubes floating in it and sipped with delight.

  Stefano ate his pastry slowly. His gaze trailed over her face and flicked to the transparent beach wrap. Energy and potent masculinity zeroed in on her and clutched her inescapably. Heat whooshed to her throat creating an intolerable frustration. After toying with the knot of her wrap, she flattened her hand on her chest to create an extra layer of insulation. She was used to intimidating lawyers and criminals with her acerbic attacks, but now she suppressed a squirm as if she stood at the examination table herself.

  Counselor Sheppard. Please. Get a grip.

  A flicker of amusement danced over his striking features. “Well, how about this afternoon? Do you plan to go back to the beach?”