by -Julia James
They nodded their assent, and he bowed and took his leave again, and the moment had gone. It was just as well. She must not get the slightest suspicion of what he felt about her.
He changed the subject, telling her of his itinerary for the following day. A general tour of the island, to get the feel of the place, and then see what was already available, should he wish to buy something immediately. There had been some villas built along the coast, and conversions made of old Venetian merchant houses around the harbour at Skarios Town, or farms and village houses in the interior.
Whether or not he found something he wanted to buy, he would definitely need something to rent for the next week or two. He wanted Janine Fareham to himself, in his company . A tucked-away villa would be ideal.
A perfect little love-nest...
He suppressed a mocking smile.
Love wasn't a currency Janine Fareham dealt in.
She wouldn't know the meaning of the word.
CHAPTER THREE
JANINE stood on her balcony, her eyes dreamy. The soft night wind played in her hair; the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle wafted from the gardens below. She should go indoors, she knew, and take off the beautiful dress, and all her make-up, brush out her hair and slip into bed, go to sleep...
And dream of Nikos Kiriakis...dream about every moment she had spent with him.
Confusion filled her. What was he doing to her, making her think about him like this? Making her want to dream about him? Making her want to think about nothing and no one except him.
What was it about Nikos Kiriakis that filled her with yearning like this? Feelings she had never felt before.
Never let herself feel before. Never wanted to feel before.
She'd always been so wary of falling for men—all her life. Always on her guard. She'd grown up watching her mother flit from one affair to another, one man to another, like a butterfly sipping nectar from an endless procession of flowers. At first, at the beginning of every affair, her mother would be ecstatic, devoting herself totally to whoever her latest lover was, and then it would always fall flat, and she would mope and be miserable—until the next man came along.
And there had always been a next man. One had never been enough, whoever he was. She had never looked for commitment, or any kind of permanent relationship—had said it was stifling, claustrophobic. She had always wanted to be free—free to have another affair, and another...
Janine's eyes shadowed. She could not live her life like that. She had more sense.
And the life she'd chosen to lead had made it easy to be sensible about men. Very easy. She'd had other things to occupy her mind.
But now you haven't—and till now you've never met a man like Nikos Kiriakis...
The voice whispered in her ear—enticing, insidious.
The image of his face swam before her eyes.
For a few precious moments she let it linger, luxuriating in delineating every superb feature, recalling every look in his gold-flecked eyes, every smile of that beautiful, sensual mouth.
For once, just for once, she wanted to forget everything else, ignore everything else except thinking, feeling about the man she could not get out of her head. Who was simply sweeping her away...
She wasn't her mother. Wasn't going to become like her. Hadn't her life so far proved that? Hadn't she followed a completely different path from the one her mother had taken? Surely for once she could indulge in going weak at the knees over a man? A man who took the breath from her body.
She sighed. Oh, yes, falling for Nikos Kiriakis would be so very, very easy.
And totally insane!
Don't do it! Just—don't do it!
She sighed again. And went to bed.
She dreamt of him all night. She tried desperately not to. Kept waking and trying to dream of something else—anything else. Anything! But still he came back in every dream. She could not banish him.
And in the morning, when she finally awoke, she found her heart was filled with a lightness, an eagerness for which there was only one explanation.
She was going to spend the day with Nikos Kiriakis.
And she didn't care that she should want to. The sun was shining down like gold on the world outside, the crimson bougainvillea was vivid on the white, white stone of the buildings, and the blue of the sea and the sky and the pool almost blinded her with their brilliance. Everything seemed brighter, more vivid, more vibrant—and she knew why, and didn't care. Excitement filled her, and anticipation, and her heart skittered, missing little beats as she got herself ready. Ready for Nikos Kiriakis.
Getting dressed took for ever. She discarded at least six outfits. Too casual, too overdressed, too beachy, too stuffy, too revealing, too con cealing...
In the end she settled for a short pale green flared skirt and a white tank-top that rode up a fraction over her tummy, but not much. It was sleeveless, but not too decollete. With it she wore a bead necklace and bangle, and flat, strappy sandals. She pulled her hair back into a long ponytail, clipped on a pair of looped earrings, and stared critically at her reflection.
It would have to do. She put on some lip gloss, a twist of mascara—that was enough. This was a daytime expedition on a holiday island. Anything more by way of makeup would look ridiculous. She grabbed a floppy white sun-hat, her dark glasses and her bag. Then, without looking any further in the mirror, she set off downstairs.
Her heart was beating faster already.
He was waiting for her in the lobby, as they'd agreed the night before. He was casually dressed himself, in polo shirt and chinos, and even though they were obviously designer they gave him a relaxed air. Not that he looked relaxed, she thought suddenly. He'd tensed as she'd approached, and his eyes had narrowed slightly.
Or had they flared?
She could tell. Tell he was reacting to her. Was suddenly excruciatingly self-conscious about it. About herself. The way he was looking at her. The way she wanted to look at him. She had to force herself to keep walking up to him, putting a natural-looking smile on her face.
'Hi,' she said. Her voice sounded breathy.
'Kalimera,' said Nikos Kiriakis. His eyes were doing that rapid, totalising flicker over her face, her figure, and she could feel the moment her pulse started to race as he did so. Then his eyes came to rest on hers.
Whoosh! She just about heard the rocket go off in her head.
How could she have forgotten—in the few short hours since her last vivid, oh, so vivid dream of Nikos Kiriakis— just what it was like to have those night-dark gold-flecked eyes looking into hers?
'Are you ready?'
His voice was deep, accented. She wanted him to speak again, to go on speaking, so she could hear that beautiful dark voice talking to her. Wanted to go on staring into those beautiful dark eyes...
'Janine?'
There was no tension in his face now, only a thread of amusement in his voice, as though he well understood her reason for standing there and staring at him like an idiot. She started, and tried to collect herself.
'Yes. Thanks. Um—shall we go?'
A smile tugged at his lips. She tried not to look. Her pulse was shooting all over the place.
She shifted her weight to her other leg and tightened her grip on her shoulder bag.
'Then let us be off.'
He guided her from the hotel. The heat hit her like a hammer the moment she stepped out from the air-conditioned interior into the shaded portico. A car was drawn up, a large, expensive German-marque four-door saloon—obviously the best the hire car company possessed, she surmised. Nikos opened the door for her and she climbed in, sinking down low in the passenger seat, grateful for the air-conditioning which was already taking effect. He crossed around the front of the car and got in on his side, folding his long limbs beside her. Suddenly the car, which had seemed huge, seemed very small.
'Seat belt,' he prompted. Hastily Janine fumbled with the belt and drew it down across her. It seemed to slide very tightl
y between her breasts, tautening the material of her tank top so that each globe was conspicuously outlined.
She saw his eyes hover on them and dipped her head, feeling flustered, trying to get the buckle of the seat belt into its socket.
'Allow me,' said Nikos, and twisted slightly to complete the task for her.
She yanked her hands away as soon as she could, but not before she felt the touch of his fingers against hers as he guided in the buckle.
It felt like an electric shock.
She buried her hands in her lap, gazing resolutely out through the windscreen as he gunned the engine and eased out of the parking slot. Even more resolutely she did not let her eyes glance down and sideways, to where his hand had curved over the gear lever.
'Where did you want to go first?' she said with determined brightness, as he moved the car forward and down the hotel's driveway towards the road.
She'd gone into hyper-aware mode again; she could tell. It was as if he were radiating some incredibly powerful forcefield that held her motionless in position, all her molecules charged, taken up into a higher energy level. Everything seemed more vivid, more real, than it had ever done before.
He gained the road, swung out onto the right-hand side, and stepped on the accelerator. The powerful car moved forward effortlessly.
'I'm going to follow the coast road south, then drop down to Lethoni and take a look round there. Then rejoin the road and circle round to Skarios Town. Have you been there yet?'
He turned his head to glance at her, and she felt she needed to give him an answering look.
He'd slid a pair of sunglasses on, and she was grateful. It meant she wasn't exposed to that dark gold-flecked gaze directly. On the other hand, Nikos Kiriakis in a pair of dark glasses took her breath away...
'Er—no. Not yet,' she managed to get out. 'I've not really left the hotel. Stephanos wasn't too keen on me going out and about on my own.'
Nikos felt his mouth tighten. Smart guy, Stephanos. Letting Janine Fareham wander around looking the way she did would be an open invitation to have her snapped up by the first passing predatory male.
Did the girl have any idea what she looked like?
Emotions conflicted within him. She'd sauntered up to him, looking so breathakingly lovely, even in that simple outfit, that he'd felt his whole body respond. Her figure was perfection. Legs not too long, breasts not too slight—not too thin, and certainly not too fat. Some slim girls simply ended up looking like a bag of bones—but not Janine Fareham! There was a softness about her, but a fitness—in both senses of the word!—too. Yet she didn't look like some muscular athletic type. She just looked—
Beautiful. That was the word that kept thumping back into his mind. Beautiful. Nothing more, nothing less. Beautiful.
Natural.
Breathtaking.
Desirable.
Beautiful.
She wasn't wearing any perfume—she knew enough not to wear scent in the sun—yet there was her own scent about her. Shampoo, maybe, or skin cream, or just—just Janine. He wanted to inhale it, breathe it in.
He wanted to taste it...
Taste her.
No! He slammed a lid down on his reaction.
Not yet. He might want Janine Fareham, want to feel that soft body in his arms, want to feel her breasts tighten against him, want to taste that sweet, honeyed mouth, taste all of her, every inch—but not yet. He had to play this carefully. Very carefully. If he came on to her too strong she might get nervous.
Worse than nervous.
Suspicious.
She seemed to have swallowed it whole, that Stephanos had asked him to look after her...
Theos! He smothered a savage laugh. What lover in his right sense would send another man to look after his mistress? Let alone a man with the kind of reputation that Nikos enjoyed in Athens!
Yet she had believed it. Believed him.
A slight frown threatened between his eyes. As before— yesterday, in the sea—he felt a thread of reluctance take shape within him. Reluctance to do to Janine Fareham what he knew he was going to do. What he had to do.
As before, he put it aside. It didn't matter that he was deceiving her, was following his own private agenda with her. She was threatening his sister—his sister who had enough troubles in her life without the added anguish of a husband besotted with another woman.
A woman any man could so easily become besotted with...
His eyes narrowed.
Well, not him. Definitely not him.
He was here to do a job. Complete a task. Help his sister.
His expression lightened again. He did not need to feel any compunction about what he was going to do. Janine
Fareham had made a mistake when she'd selected his brother-in-law for her next protector. His face hardened when he thought of the damage she was so thoughtlessly doing by having this affair with Stephanos. No, he told himself reassuringly, he did not need to feel anything for the girl except desire. And it wasn't, he went on, as if she wouldn't get a great deal of pleasure from what he intended for her. He knew he would.
That sense of satisfaction filled him again. He was here to seduce Janine Fareham, save his sister's marriage, and, into the bargain, have a very enjoyable brief affair with a very lovely woman. How could he feel bad about that?
He revved the engine, changed gear with a fast, fluent movement, and stepped on the accelerator, pulling out sharply. Two seconds later the camper van that had been slowing him down was far behind.
Janine smothered a sharp gasp of fear. Nikos had pulled out to overtake so abruptly she hadn't realised what he intended, and for a second she had been staring out of the windscreen on the wrong side of the road, with a blind corner coming up in what had seemed nothing more than a handful of yards ahead. Then, just as abruptly, Nikos had swung the car back onto the right side of the road, and taken the corner in a smooth, powerful movement.
Her nails, she discovered, were digging into the palms of her hands, and her spine ached from where she'd had to exert all her muscles not to sway precipitously.
He turned to her and grinned as he sped the car up the ascending slope of the road towards yet another hairpin. Thankfully, this time there were no other cars in the way for him to overtake.
'Frightened I'll crash?' he asked, his mouth tugging back.
She felt her heart crunch again as she took in the full impact of his smile.
'You wouldn't like to slow down a bit, would you?' she asked faintly.
His grin deepened . He changed gear again, glancing briefly back at the road, then at her again, and then finally— thankfully—the road, curling around the next hairpin in a tight, engine-revving manoeuvre.
'I've never had an accident yet,' he assured her, 'and I don't intend to.'
No, she thought, he wouldn't crash. Nikos Kiriakis would speed through life, foot down on the accelerator, and other cars—everything else—would get out of his way. He was a man who would get where he wanted. Get what he wanted.
Especially women.
She bit her lip. When Nikos Kiriakis wanted a woman he'd just go and get her. Help himself.
And what woman would say no?
What woman in their right mind would say no?
Would I? Would I say no?
A warm, shivery languor stole through her. In her mind's eye she saw herself, saw Nikos Kiriakis walking up to her, purpose in his eye, walking up to her and taking her hand, leading her to his bed and helping himself to her. Making her his own...
She felt the warmth of her blood, felt the soft, persistent vibration of the car beneath her thighs, felt her breath quicken. The vision seemed so real, the fantasy so tangible, she could hardly believe it existed only in her own imagination.
The fantasy of Nikos Kiriakis helping himself to her. Would she say no? Could she say no?
The question teased at her. The answer crushed her.
He hasn 't asked you yet... and what makes you think he's going to?
She risked another glance at him.
In profile he was even more fantastic than full-on—if that were possible. His cheekbones were high, his nose strong and straight, his jaw clearly defined. And then there was that mouth—so beautifully sculpted.
She had a sudden vivid vision of that mouth moving over her skin...
Determinedly she dragged her gaze away, and looked out over the countryside instead.
That was what she must focus on. "Nikos Kiriakis might be looking for a villa, but she—she was looking for Greece. At Greece.
Stephanos's country.
And now hers. Thanks to Stephanos, who had brought her here. To his home.
That was to be her home now.
A strangeness went through her. Her eyes stole back to Nikos Kiriakis. His land too. His home. His country.
All around—from islands to mountains, from seas to forests—this ancient, timeless country was his. The country that had been the cradle of western civilisation, whose art and thought still illuminated the world, twenty-five centuries later.
She looked around her. The ancient landscape was bathed in the light of the sun, unchanged, it seemed to her, for thousands of years. The olive groves, trees with their clusters of ripening fruits, their silvery leaves so carefully pruned and tended. A tethered donkey, grazing in the shade of a tree. Vineyards, low and lush, and, where there was space, the dark splash of purple on the ground, where rich grapes spread out to dry into sweet raisins.
As he drove the expensive, powerful car along this road, which wound and meandered as it had done for centuries, even when nothing more than an unmetalled track, she watched him. They closed in on a tractor drawing a cart. She could see the back of the farmer driving it. Nikos slowed down. Unlike the camper van, he did not pass it immediately, did not roar past in his expensive car. Instead he waited patiently, until the tractor turned off into a field, before speeding up. It was a small gesture, but illuminating.
She found it reassuring.
They had climbed over a spur of the land as it headed down towards the most southerly promontory of the island. The hairpins were done now, and Janine felt herself relax more as they cruised through this fertile landscape.
