by Sara Wood
She grinned. ‘I’m sure John chose somewhere utterly charming and cosy,’ she defended.
Leon took her elbow. ‘Forget him. Come and explore. There’s a ground-floor bedroom this way, with its own terrace and bathroom,’ he said, guiding her through to the living room end.
‘I’m not quite sure what’s happened. You were so hostile when we met,’ she mused, reluctant to believe in his conversion. ‘I was somewhere to the left of Satan’s auntie.’
He chuckled, smiling down at her and she wished he wouldn’t. His hand slid casually up her arm and his fingers absently stroked her sensitised skin. It was all she could do not to let out a gasp but she kept it lodged in her chest, hard and hurting.
‘I know. Can you blame me? I have to protect Lexi’s interests.’ He smiled again, less certainly, but the warmth in his eyes melted her doubts. ‘But I realise now that I have no choice. For Lexi’s sake we must try to be civil to one another.’
Emma released her breath and smiled back, deliriously happy. In these surroundings, away from Leon’s interference, she could spend long hours with Lexi. Picnics. Reading stories. Learning about her child. She felt dizzy with excitement.
‘When can I see her, Leon?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Bath, shower and so on through there, bedroom here…’ he went on, urging her forward as if he hadn’t heard. A light came on in the darkened room. ‘What do you think?’
Spectacular. His designer had an enviable style. She couldn’t believe her luck.
She glanced around the spacious bedroom with its cool tiles and beautifully carved four-poster. Leon had detached himself and was drawing back the two sets of fine lawn drapes—royal blue and a contrasting white to tone in with the colour scheme in the room. He lifted the latch of the full-length shutters and the room was instantly bright with sunshine.
‘Terrace.’ His arm swept out in an invitation.
Emma pushed aside the fluttering drapes and went out. She murmured something complimentary about the fabulous roses and persevered.
‘I’d like to meet Lexi tomorrow,’ she said firmly.
‘Of course. Come upstairs.’
She was dumbfounded. Ecstatic! Had it really been that easy? ‘Leon!’ she cried in glee, hurrying after his retreating figure. ‘Do you really mean that?’
At the top of the stairs he turned and she, lost in her world of dreams and delight, almost bumped into him.
‘Whoa!’ he said, amused.
His hands steadied her and the dancing light in his eyes clouded. Emma could feel the heavy pulses in his thumbs where they pressed into the soft flesh of her arms. She wilted beneath his silence, the intensity of his gaze liquefying her bones and driving all sense out of her head.
‘Leon…’
She felt him quiver. His name had been but a whisper from her dry throat. The sexual tension held her as his captive, and she found her head tipping back so that her hair flowed down her back like ribbons of honey. A gesture of surrender.
Bewildered, she tried in vain to say something banal to hide her overwhelming desire to be kissed by those laughing, edible lips. But all she could do was to stare into his eyes, her mouth ready and her entire body waiting, hoping.
‘I think,’ he muttered brusquely, suddenly whisking away and collecting her case, ‘you’re overtired. I’ll put this in the downstairs bedroom for you and then I’ll leave you in peace—’
‘Yes,’ she croaked hastily, horrified and shame-faced at her shocking reaction. She was tired. Emotionally muddled. That was it. Mortified, she realised that Leon must have interpreted the message in her eyes—in her explicit body language. And yet he’d rejected the chance to kiss her.
She stood in the middle of the room, scarlet to the roots of her hair. Clearly, she’d been wrong about him. Maybe he had flirted. Or perhaps he couldn’t help projecting sex appeal. Or she’d wanted… Yes, she had to admit—shaming though it was—that she found him intensely attractive.
It was perfectly possible then that she’d read all the wrong things in the way he’d looked at her. It was the only explanation. Because when she’d let her hunger surface, he’d been horrified because he genuinely despised her.
Was that it? Her mind was so befuddled and tired she couldn’t think straight. She had to explain…
He was already in the bedroom, slamming down her case. In a temper, it seemed—annoyed that he’d got himself trapped with a sex-starved wimp. She inhaled several times to calm herself. She’d almost made a disastrous mistake.
‘I’m so exhausted I hardly know what I’m doing,’ she called, her voice genuinely shaky.
‘Thought so. You’ll need food. I’ll have some things delivered.’
Nerves jangling, she waited till he emerged, avoiding her eyes. Her brain was beginning to function again. He’d said he was leaving… She felt a stab of fear when she realised that she didn’t know where she was.
‘You…you haven’t dumped me somewhere inaccessible?’ she asked anxiously as he strode purposefully to the door and opened it. For all she knew, his house was miles away. And she had no transport. She was virtually a prisoner… ‘Leon, don’t leave me!’ she began in panic.
His burning gaze flicked to meet hers. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. She knew shock when she saw it. Emma’s hand flew to her mouth.
‘I meant… I—meant…’ she stammered incoherently.
‘Later,’ he said thickly. And marched out.
Later, she thought. Later…what? Had he said, See you later, and she’d missed the first part? He had mumbled.
She stood with her eyes closed, waiting for the waves of warmth to stop running in her veins and directing her leaping pulses to settle down. Foolishly she thought of him and instantly the sensations returned: the hammering heartbeat, the sense of reckless abandon, the terrible desire to melt into his arms.
The past was not done with. Because he’d left her so abruptly all those years ago, she had never really wiped him from her memory. Taki had accused her of that once, when she’d refused his drunken attentions.
‘It’s him!’ he’d screamed, totally losing control. ‘You think of him when we make love. You speak his name in your sleep!’
She’d been horrified. Because it was true—she had thought of Leon and his tender, passionate and sensitive lovemaking. It had been the only way to cope with Taki’s rough and coarse approach. And her silence had fuelled Taki’s anger.
He had taken her then, brutally stifling her cries with a crushing hand. But he’d never touched her again.
She shuddered. Her knowledge of men was minimal. Just the two brothers. One who’d taken her beyond herself, to the outermost reaches of pleasure. The other had kept her too close to harsh reality, the discomfort, the ugliness, the baseness of sex.
So, she mused, she had mistakenly put Leon and his ability to arouse her in a category he didn’t deserve. All these years, despite her hatred of him, she’d thought of him as a great lover. And now she was face to face with him again, that myth was being perpetuated in her stupid brain.
Idiot. He couldn’t be the only man in the world who took his time and was unselfish! It was just technique. Nothing more. And she had missed sex, and was very much in her prime, so all she had to do was to keep her distance from him and concentrate on Lexi.
She heaved a huge sigh and forced herself to begin unpacking. Halfway through, she realised she was shaking with fatigue, her strength sapped by the long and tension-filled day. Wearily she stripped off her clothes and showered, then closed the bedroom shutters to exclude the light. Fumbling in the darkness, she slid thankfully into bed.
Maybe she had no idea where she was on the island. But in a few hours she’d be seeing her child. She felt a lurch of apprehension in her chest and tried not to think about it yet. Her instincts would direct her.
Two years was a long time. So much had happened! In the warm darkness her fingers tentatively touched the deep scar on her breast, with its pinpoint tattoo
marks which had guided the radiographer.
She’d been lucky. She might have died if the lump hadn’t been discovered in time. And she was almost well again. The skin wasn’t red there any more and the soreness had gone—the nausea too. Only the tiredness persisted and soon that would go too.
When the lump in her breast was diagnosed as malignant, she’d had just one reaction. Not fear for her own life, not regret or anger, but, I want to see my child if I am to die.
Well, she’d cheated death. In fact, she had a normal life-expectation. The future stretched ahead invitingly and she counted her blessings every single day. Every hour, she had vowed, would be lived to the full. She wouldn’t waste the precious gift of life.
The thought of dying prematurely had stripped her world to the bone. Some things were important, most were trivial. It didn’t matter if it rained. She was there to see it, to feel and smell it. It didn’t matter if a bus or a train was late. She was there to catch the next one.
But Lexi…she was important. Emma felt the passion fill her heart. She must have her child back, for both their sakes. Leon didn’t care for anything other than his precious honour and reputation. Only she, Emma, would devote herself utterly to Lexi. Only she could truly love her child.
Leon would also realise that after a short while, she mused. He’d see her with Lexi and… Her heart thundered as her thoughts leapt ahead. Perhaps he’d even surrender Lexi willingly and she could forget the idea of abduction! The thought of going through with that terrified her now. But she would, if she had to.
Deeply happy, she conjured up the image of her daughter, now burned indelibly into her mind from the photographs she’d seen. Lexi was gorgeous. Emma’s eyes glistened with tears. And she couldn’t wait to see her in reality.
‘Tomorrow, sweetheart!’ she promised, as she curled up in the big, comfortable bed. ‘The first day of our lives together.’
No more pain. No heartbreak. Just Lexi.
She’d never been happier. Everything she wanted lay within her grasp. Life was good again. Emma let out a deep, satisfied sigh. And let sleep enfold her.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN she woke it was a moment or two before she remembered where she was. By then she was aware of noises in the living room. She clutched the sheet to her chest, listening in alarm.
Leon had a key. The designer-blonde, presumably. Who else?
Wary of being surprised by a drug-crazed burglar whilst still stark naked, she slipped her feet to the floor and felt her way to where she’d left her clothes.
‘Bother!’ she said, yelping, when her fumbling hand knocked her small glass pill pots and her camera to the tiled floor.
‘Emma? Are you all right?’
Leon, she registered in relief. But she couldn’t find the pills. Didn’t know if they’d spilled out… Worse, if anyone on the island stocked the unusual remedies…
‘Emma,’ bellowed the voice, right by the door.
‘No, I’m not all right,’ she yelled, still grovelling. At least it was only Leon. Only! ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ she cried, locating the tiny pots—intact. ‘Don’t come in,’ she squealed in panic. ‘Where’s the light? Oh, darn it, where—?’
‘I’m coming in!’
She heard the door handle turning. ‘No! I’m not dressed!’
There was a silence. The handle creaked back into place again and she grabbed the sheet, twisting it around her body securely before heading for the direction of the door. For a moment she hesitated then eased it open to find Leon apparently frozen to the spot on the other side.
‘I knocked something over,’ she explained with rather breathless dignity, as his startled gaze flicked over her mummified figure. ‘I couldn’t find the light switch.’
He drew in a long, slow breath. ‘Left of door.’
‘Thanks.’ She located it but decided to leave herself in relative shadow. She frowned, and broke the stiff silence. ‘What exactly are you doing here?’
Leon seemed to be interested in the space just above her head. ‘I brought your groceries. Supper. Breakfast.’
‘Supper?’ Startled, she looked at her watch. It was nine-thirty. Presumably, since the light was on in the living room, it was evening rather than morning. ‘Oh. That’s really kind of you, but…’ This was awkward. Uncertain as to the etiquette of such a situation, she decided on a graceful retreat and a regrouping. ‘Stay there. I’ll be out in a minute.’
Closing the door she flicked on the light and hastily unwound the sheet. Supper. Was he staying? Her pulses began their remorseless tattoo and she gritted her teeth to outwit them. But she couldn’t ignore her tingling, naked body and stomped to the wardrobe to find something to wear.
For some reason she was sorting through her clothes and tossing up between her only two decent outfits. A flirty red dress with a cleavage-displaying bodice and short skirt which she’d bought from a second-hand shop when she’d been several pounds thinner, and a green halter-neck top whose matching skirt slunk closely over her hips to the floor.
Or there was always a nice, safe shirt and jeans.
She smiled ruefully. Who was she kidding? She’d seen Leon. He’d been wearing a long-sleeved cream shirt with a toffee-coloured tie and beautifully cut trousers in a dark honey shade. With toning shoes.
Green, she decided impetuously, wriggling into the top. At least most of her was covered, except for her back which was hardly an erogenous zone.
She, too, could look groomed and expensive. She, too, was worthy to be a Kyriakis. Leon couldn’t complain that she wasn’t good enough for Lexi in this, she thought, reaching back to knot the ties securely.
‘Sure you’re OK?’
She flung up her tousled head. ‘Yes. Coming.’ And grabbed the skirt. Her fingers stilled as an awful realisation dawned. No bra—because of the low back. Mini briefs because of visible panty line. Help! How unwise could she be?
‘I’ve put the potatoes on.’
‘What?’
‘Do you want aubergine salad or feta for starters?’
Starters? ‘Aubergine,’ she shouted. ‘But—’
Her fingers dithered. She could wear the top with jeans—
‘Stifado, OK?’
Muttering under her breath, she hauled the skirt up and fastened its zip hastily. He was safe. He’d proved that earlier. She wanted to look her best. And she was starving.
‘Depends what that is,’ she said uncertainly, walking barefoot to where Leon stood, chopping and stirring.
‘Beef. Red wine, garlic, onions, tomatoes and bay…’
He looked. And looked away fast, ruthlessly attacking the garlic innocently waiting for the pestle. Something had happened to his breathing system.
‘Leon,’ she said, unnervingly close. About two feet away, he reckoned. He’d have preferred twenty. Or the next village. ‘I—I don’t like to be difficult, but…I only eat organic food. It might sound cranky, but I don’t want my body to deal with pesticides—’
‘This is from my land,’ he told her. ‘It’s completely organic, so there aren’t any chemicals or pesticides and I don’t think it’s cranky at all. I think people should make up their own minds about what they eat. But it makes sense to play safe with children. I keep an eye on the things Lexi eats.’
She beamed, impressed and surprised. ‘I’m really pleased. That means so much to me.’ She surveyed his preparations. ‘Leon, this is totally unexpected. You’re being unnecessarily generous,’ she said warmly.
He could see her bare arm out of the corner of his eye. It was smooth and golden and he wanted to touch it. Melt his mouth along it. Now.
The garlic suffered a ferocious pulverising.
‘The main course was virtually cooked. My supper from home. You needed to eat and so did I. And we had to talk before you met up with Lexi.’
Frowning, he mixed the garlic with the lemon juice and herbs, wishing he could beat the hell out of it with a hand whisk and get rid of his tightly suppressed physical
energy.
He’d thought he could handle this, that his desire to kiss her could be mastered. It was vital that it didn’t look as if he was taking the initiative. But she was tearing into his self-control with every breath she took and every glance from those soft blue eyes.
She drifted somewhere behind him and the hairs rose on the back of his neck. And that wasn’t all. He gritted his teeth, knowing he must get a grip of himself.
The seduction must seem to be her idea. Then he could go to the courts and block her attempts to see Lexi again, on the grounds that she was amoral. If he was going to huff and pant like an adolescent male over centrefolds then his plan wouldn’t work.
‘Leon.’ She touched his arm and he jumped.
‘What?’
‘You are engrossed in the cooking.’ She laughed, her face, her smile, her beautiful body right next to him. ‘I said, who’s looking after Lexi?’
He moved away and slammed a pan on for the rice. ‘Marina.’
‘Your ex-wife.’ There was a chilly pause. ‘You’re on friendly terms with her, then?’ she asked, but it was clear from her dubious tone that she didn’t like the arrangement.
What did he tell her? At least, he thought ruefully, the mere mention of Marina had sent his hormones into hiding. He felt able to face the green goddess without revealing his intentions.
‘We still live together in the same house.’
‘Good grief!’ she cried, not unnaturally stunned.
‘It’s a large house.’
‘Are you together for the sake of your daughter?’ she asked, her eyes still wide with surprise.
‘Yes,’ he said in a low tone. ‘For Soula’s sake.’
Emma absorbed this for a moment. ‘And how does Lexi fit into this?’
She was beautiful. No make-up but perfect skin, tousled hair straight from bed, making him think—
‘Oh, dear. What’s wrong?’ she asked anxiously, noting his eyes were fixed intently upon her.
‘Your hair. Not wrong…’ His voice petered out.
She had raised her hands to her sexily tumbling waves, the action lifting her breasts to high, hard-tipped globes beneath the clinging material. She was near-naked, he thought, his throat drying.
