by Annie West
‘We can be in Athens in a day,’ he interrupted. ‘And when I ring ahead the doctors will be waiting for you. You can have the first blood test the next day.’ He held her gaze with his, willing her to agree. Then he forced himself to spell out what he’d left unsaid before. ‘This is my daughter’s last chance.’
The words echoed between them, appalling, unbearable.
His body was tense with the effort of control, aching with the stress of it. He broke eye contact and stared into the distance, not seeing the unfamiliar Australian scene, or the slim woman before him. Remembering instead his little Eleni, so brave and uncomplaining. So innocent. What had she done to deserve this?
Couldn’t Sophie understand his need to get this done now? As soon as humanly possible?
He flinched when she touched him, so unexpected was it. And so shockingly familiar to his hungry senses.
He looked into her upturned face. The sympathy he saw there would have broken a lesser man. Her eyes were huge in her pale face and she stared at him as if she understood just how desperate he was.
In all these nightmare months there’d been no one to share the anger and the fear, the horror of fighting the temptation of despair. He hadn’t realised till this moment just what a difference that would have made.
And now here was this girl offering him sympathy and understanding. And all the while her body spoke to his, tempting with its heady promise of ultimate physical release.
For an instant he teetered on the brink of reaching out and grasping what she offered. But he didn’t need anyone. He’d learned to stand alone long ago.
‘I understand,’ she said, the knowledge of his pain there in her husky tone. ‘And I promise if I’m compatible then I’ll be on the first plane to Athens.’
‘No!’
That wasn’t good enough. He’d exhausted every other avenue. He couldn’t afford to let her stay behind. A thousand things could happen, even in a few weeks, to prevent her trip to Greece.
‘No,’ he said again, striving for a normal tone. ‘You’ll come now. I’ll make the arrangements. And if,’ he forced himself to go on, ‘you’re incompatible, you’ll have lost nothing by it. You won’t be out of pocket. You’ll be my guest, of course.’
He watched her open her mouth as if to protest, and then close it again.
‘A short break from here won’t hurt. You haven’t any pressing engagements, have you?’ He knew from the investigator she had nothing, neither study nor work, scheduled.
Slowly she shook her head.
His spirits rose as he scented victory. ‘Look on it as a short holiday,’ he said, using the low, coaxing tones that always got him what he wanted with women.
She met his gaze and he felt something deep inside stir, unsettling him again. She was just a young woman, like so many others he’d known. Why did he have the gut-deep sensation that she saw into his very soul?
Sto Diavolo! Maybe the strain was starting to tell on him after all.
‘I’ll pay my own way,’ she responded, her soft mouth setting in a mulish line that brought back a flood of memories when he least expected it.
Practice helped him to curb his temper and persuade instead of order. ‘You’ll be visiting Greece to help my daughter. It will be my pleasure to have you stay with us.’
The girl had such pride! He knew she couldn’t even afford the airfare to Athens, would have to organise a loan for the trip.
‘It’s not Liakos money,’ he added. ‘You would not be obligated to your grandfather.’
For another long moment her gaze locked with his. Then she nodded once. ‘All right. I’ll come to Greece. And I’ll pray the tests turn out the way you hope.’
There was deep sadness in her voice. Her eyes were shadowed and he guessed she was remembering her mother. How she’d been unable to save her.
He reached out and took Sophie’s elbow. He moved slowly, his touch on her arm light, knowing how much she must be hurting. She’d never guess the sudden violent surge of adrenaline that shot through him at her words. The immediate, searing lightness that flared in the recesses of his mind.
This was going to work.
They were going to save Eleni.
CHAPTER FOUR
SOPHIE STEPPED THROUGH the airport’s sliding doors.
She was here, in Crete.
She took a deep breath, wondering how the air in Greece could be just the same as home, but somehow different enough to send a quiver of emotion through her. She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry, was she?
It wasn’t as if this place meant anything to her.
But it had meant so much to her mum. Despite the painful memories, her mother had been an optimist. She’d planned to bring Sophie here. A girls’ trip, she’d said, badgering Sophie into organising a passport in anticipation of the day when they’d have money saved to travel. And if they weren’t able to visit family, there were lots of other things to see in Crete.
Sophie blinked rapidly against the bright light. She’d planned to surprise her mum and buy their tickets after she’d been working professionally for a year.
It would never happen now.
Nearby people milled and talked, called out greetings and embraced each other. Welcomes and departures.
And Sophie had never felt so alone in her life.
‘Are you all right?’ A hand touched her elbow, guided her forward.
A frisson of awareness snaked through her at the sound of that deep voice, the fleeting warmth of his hand. She sucked in a breath and schooled her features into what she hoped was a bland expression.
Costas hadn’t touched her since their conversation in the park back in Sydney. He’d been scrupulous in keeping his distance. And she’d convinced herself she’d imagined her response to him.
But this was frighteningly real. Instantaneous. Devastating.
‘I’m OK,’ she said, scanning the bustle of activity, rather than turning to look up at him. ‘Maybe a little tired.’
‘You can rest when we reach the house.’ He dropped his hand and Sophie felt as if a constricting weight lifted off her chest, allowing her to breathe freely again.
‘We’ll soon be on our way. And it’s not too far along the coast to my home.’ He gestured to a limousine parked straight ahead. It was long, dark and gleaming.
She should have expected no less. Obviously she’d stepped into another world: one of wealth and privilege. There had been the assiduously helpful airline staff, the VIP treatment through Customs and the discovery that, far from spending the long flight to Athens with hundreds of other economy travellers, Costas had obtained the whole first-class cabin for them alone.
That had astounded her. But anything was possible to the man who owned the airline, she’d discovered.
Had this been the world her mother had given up for love? No wonder Petros Liakos had been shocked at her choice of a penniless Australian for her husband.
Sophie walked slowly towards the limousine, suddenly dreading the idea of what awaited her at the end of this journey. How would she ever live up to Costas Palamidis’ expectations? What if she couldn’t help?
But she hadn’t been able to refuse him.
She’d almost been convinced that if she didn’t leave Sydney willingly, he’d scoop her up into his arms and bring her here by force. The grim, absolute determination in his face, in his battle-ready stance, in his piercing dark eyes, had spoken of a man who stood outside the civilised conventions of polite request and negotiation. He’d looked as if he welcomed any excuse for action. As if he was prepared to bundle her over his shoulder and smuggle her away to his private lair in Greece.
The fantastical notion still sent a shiver of appalled excitement through her.
But what had decided her to come was the vulnerability she could only guess at, hidden behind his obstinate determination and aura of aggressive, macho power. She’d caught a glimpse of it in his eyes when he’d spoken of Eleni. She knew it was there, deep inside him. The
love for his daughter, the fear for her. Sophie could relate to it far too well.
‘Here we are.’ Costas gestured her towards the rear door of the vehicle. A young man in uniform stood smiling, holding it open for her.
The discreet buzz of a phone sounded and Costas stopped, frowning at the number displayed. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said. ‘It’s a call from the house. I’d better take it.’
Sophie sensed the immediate tension in him as he stepped aside, saw the grimness around his mouth as he lifted the phone to his ear. He was expecting bad news.
Sophie paused, couldn’t help but watch. Just how bad could the news be?
Then she saw his lips curve up in a smile. His tender expression stole her breath away. ‘Eleni,’ he said. And what she heard in his voice made her turn back to the car and the waiting driver, feeling like a voyeur. It didn’t matter that the conversation was in rapid Greek, too quick for her to follow. It was far too personal for her to intrude.
Costas stared up at the vivid blue bowl of the open sky, heard his little girl’s chatter in his ear and thanked the lord he was home again at last.
And with such excellent news! The hope he’d been searching for so frantically.
He listened to Eleni’s story of the kittens she’d seen just yesterday, and of how useful a cat would be, to keep the non-existent mice at bay. He almost laughed aloud at her transparent tactics.
There was a grin on his face as he promised once more that he’d be home soon and said goodbye. He swung around towards the car, eager to be on his way.
There was Sophie, the embodiment of their last hope. He quickened his step. She wasn’t in the car, but stood, talking to Yiorgos. The driver had lost some of his professional aloofness and was standing close, gesticulating as he spoke. As Costas watched, Sophie smiled, then started to laugh, a light sound that teased at his senses.
He paused, watching the play of expression across her face. The shadows of grief lifted from her face and he saw her as she must have been before her mother’s illness. Carefree, happy…stunningly beautiful. Her vibrant loveliness tugged at him, stirred deep-buried feelings into life.
Yiorgos said something and Sophie laughed again, her eyes smiling appreciatively at her companion. Costas’ breath hissed between his teeth as a stab of sensation speared into his chest.
Discomfort. Annoyance.
Jealousy?
No. That wasn’t possible. He barely knew the woman. Had no claim over her. No interest in a personal relationship. The idea was ludicrous.
He shoved the cellphone into his pocket and strode over to the car. ‘Ready?’ His voice was brusque.
Yiorgos immediately snapped to attention and into position beside the door. Sophie’s smile faded and she looked away.
Costas felt disappointment percolate through his elation at being home.
What more did he want? He had what he’d sought: the chance to save Eleni. That was all that mattered. There was nothing else he needed. Not this woman’s smiles nor her company.
This persistent awareness, his physical response to her, was damned unsettling. Especially to a man like him, who relied on no one but himself. Who had learned to doubt rather than to trust. To be cautious rather than impulsive.
He waited for Sophie to settle herself into the car, then sat in the far corner of the wide back seat.
Avoiding her gaze, he began explaining their surroundings, giving her a tourist’s guide to Heraklion. Detailed, informative and totally impersonal.
It reinforced his role as host and helped him erect the barriers that weakened whenever he looked at her. Barriers that were essential if he was to get through the next few days.
Sophie leaned back in her corner of the seat and listened to Costas describe the bustle of Heraklion harbour and some of the city’s history and traditions. He really did love the place.
But despite his enthusiasm for his home town, she sensed a change in him. The man beside her didn’t meet her eyes. He spoke with the clipped, precise tones of a professional guide.
Had she done something to offend him?
Not that she could think of. Despite her long sleep on the plane she was probably jet-lagged, imagining things. And after all, wasn’t this distant Costas Palamidis easier to cope with than the man she’d faced in Sydney? With his raw passion that both scared and fascinated her? She’d felt almost powerless against the force of his personality and his dark emotions.
She told herself she was glad of the change in him.
They drew up before a sprawling, modern house twenty minutes later. A house unlike any Sophie had ever seen, let alone entered. One glance confirmed what she’d already discovered: this man had more money than she’d ever dreamed of.
As the car pulled to a halt in the turning circle, the large front doors opened and a woman stepped out. A tall, grey-haired woman, holding a small child in her arms.
Costas flung open his door and was out of the car as it stopped. Sophie watched through the tinted glass as Costas strode across the gravel, arms open to take the tiny child in his arms. She must only be about three or four, Sophie decided, her heart wrenching as she took in the little girl’s pallor and her bald head, evidence of her medical treatment.
A lump the size of Sydney Harbour settled in her throat and she blinked back tears. Oh, lord, let it be all right. Let me be able to help her.
Her own door opened and she looked up into the smiling face of Yiorgos, the chauffeur.
Now or never.
Sophie took a deep breath and swung her legs out of the car, registering but ignoring the sudden onset of exhaustion as she stood up. It had been a long trip. And now she felt every kilometre of it: the weariness of travel and the burden of expectation. She walked slowly towards the house, unwilling to interrupt the family reunion.
There was a trill of laughter from the little girl in response to Costas’ deep murmur. Then he turned and Sophie stopped dead, anchored to the spot by the change in him.
The shadows had fled from his face. There was love in his eyes as he hugged his daughter, a softness about his mouth. He looked younger, sexier, more vibrantly alive. A grin a mile wide transformed him from the brooding man she’d known into someone new. Someone who had the power to knock her off balance even at a distance of ten metres.
Then, as Eleni moved in his arms, Sophie’s gaze turned to her, taking in her tiny, fragile form and her huge dark eyes, so much like her father’s.
The little girl stared at her for a long moment. Then she wriggled in Costas’ embrace and held out her arms towards Sophie.
Clearly, unmistakably, she called, ‘Mamá.’
CHAPTER FIVE
GRATEFULLY SOPHIE SIPPED the scalding coffee. It was too sweet for her taste, but it was just what she needed. The coffee traced a welcome trail of heat that counteracted the deep chill of shock still gripping her.
She listened to the retreating sound of high heels tapping across the polished floor in the foyer. To the soft stream of rapid-fire Greek as Costas’ mother spoke to her son on her way out.
For the first time in years Sophie wished her language skills were better. She’d rebelled early, refusing to attend Greek classes as soon as she was old enough to understand the rift between her mother and her family in Greece. But now she’d have given a lot to understand what Mrs Palamidis said to her son. And more to know what his murmured responses were. Even from here, the sound of his deep voice made her stomach muscles clench in awareness.
Mrs Palamidis had been so welcoming. So understanding and sympathetic, apologising for the shock of Eleni’s words, ushering Sophie in here to the elegant sitting room to recuperate while Costas went to settle his daughter for an overdue nap.
But now she’d left and Sophie would be alone with Costas. And later, with little Eleni.
That moment when Eleni had looked at her with such excitement and called her Mamá…
Sophie shuddered. She’d been horrified. She felt as if she’d stepped straight int
o her dead cousin’s shoes. Her stunned gaze had turned from the little girl to Costas and she saw in his face a flash of emotion so strong and tortured that she knew without doubt he was remembering his wife. And the knowledge had been like a knife twisting in her breast.
Why hadn’t he told her that there was a family resemblance between her and her cousin? Had he been afraid she wouldn’t agree to come to Greece?
She couldn’t escape it, could she? Everything came back to family. Costas’ driven determination to save his daughter. The precious DNA linking Sophie to Eleni. The uncanny physical similarity to a dead woman she’d never met. The bond that bridged half a world and still couldn’t be denied, despite the high-handed rejection by her grandfather.
No wonder the very air had seemed alive with tension and old remembrances when she’d stepped out of the airport.
Sophie’s eyes filled with burning tears as she thought of her mother. How much she’d have loved to reconnect to the family she’d left behind.
Her mum would have taken it for granted that Sophie would take the first plane to Greece in the circumstances. She wouldn’t have thought twice about the pain of reopening old family wounds if it meant helping a child.
Inevitably Sophie thought of her grandfather, recovering from his stroke somewhere on this very island. But her sympathy didn’t extend that far. The man who’d disowned her mother could be on another planet as far as she was concerned.
A shadow of movement at the far end of the massive sitting room caught Sophie’s eye and she looked up. There, filling the doorway with his broad shoulders, stood Costas. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes at this distance, but there was a watchful quality about his stance that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She shivered and straightened in her seat. ‘Your mother has left?’
‘That’s right,’ he said, and the timbre of his deep voice was like the brush of fine sandpaper across Sophie’s nerves, stirring life and awareness where before there was chilled numbness. ‘My parents live several kilometres away.’
