He fixed her with an unamused stare but his lips twitched. ‘I tried.’
‘The others all seemed to really enjoy it. Did you?’
Instead of answering her, as she’d expected, he frowned ever so slightly at her question. Eventually he said, ‘Come and have a drink with me.’
He didn’t wait for a response, but instead led her into the villa’s main living room.
The square high-ceilinged room had blue-painted windows and French doors facing out towards the Mediterranean. A trio of luxurious white sofas surrounded an antique dark wood coffee table.
She removed her coat and sat when Loukas gestured for her to do so, and ran her hands over the white upholstery. ‘Good job you don’t have any children; these sofas wouldn’t last long with sticky little hands.’
Without missing a beat, he answered drily. ‘I’d lock them out. Confine them to their nursery. Now, what can I get you to drink?’
She cast him a sceptical stare. ‘A white wine would be nice—and no way would you lock them out, I bet you’d be a complete softy when it comes to children.’
He shrugged. Took off his own coat. ‘Would you like children some day?’
Something intense beat in the air between them. She thought about saying no. But there was something in his eyes, something stirring deep inside her that had her wanting to speak the truth.
‘I’d like to, but given my wanderlust I don’t see it ever happening.’
Loukas stared at her for five, ten seconds, his gaze unconvinced. Eventually he said curtly, ‘I’ll go and get our drinks.’
When he left the room Georgie laid her head on the back of the sofa and stared at the ornate cornicing on the ceiling. For a moment she placed her hand on her stomach, imagining what it would be like to have a baby growing inside her. To create a life with another person. A person who would stick around. A person who would love her with abandon.
She straightened up when she heard Loukas’s footsteps out on the corridor and accepted the glass of wine he passed to her.
He sat opposite, close to the edge of the sofa, placing a tumbler of brandy on the coffee table.
‘Maybe your ex simply wasn’t the right person for you. Should you be ruling out all further relationships on that basis alone?’
Did they really have to talk about this?
‘It’s not just Alain, though. Before and after Alain, I dated other guys but it never worked out.’
Lifting his glass, he shrugged. ‘But that’s no different to a lot of people—maybe you just haven’t met the right guy.’
‘It’s not the people I date who are at fault, though. It’s me.’ She grabbed a scatter cushion from the sofa and held it on her lap. ‘I’m just not cut out for relationships. I want to focus on my guesthouse for now, and get to know the people of Talos. Have a fun summer. That’s enough for me.’
‘Is it?’
Oh, how she wished that he wouldn’t look at her so intently. That his softly spoken questions didn’t feel as if they were pulling a protective layer of her skin off.
Thick emotion clogged her throat. ‘It has to be.’
Annoyed by the scepticism in his expression, she sat upright.
‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Will a marriage of convenience really be enough? What about love and children?’
Loukas took a gulp of his drink. Dropped the glass heavily back on the coffee table. ‘As I said before, I don’t have room in my life for either.’ And before she could argue with him he added, ‘Why is making other people happy so important to you?’
Thrown by the sudden change in the direction of their conversation, she looked at him blankly before asking, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Take my family. You want to fix us. Why? You barely know us. We’re not your problem. It’s the same with everyone you encounter. I’ve seen how you’ve put Vasilis’s carvings in the most prominent position in Reception.’
‘You’re my friends...at least I’d like to think you are. And Vasilis’s carvings deserve to be sold. They are beautiful pieces of work.’
She stopped and thought of Vasilis, living out in such a remote spot all on his own, an ache for the elderly farmer twisting in her chest.
‘Actually, I was wondering if it would be okay if I invite Vasilis to the Easter lunch here at the hotel. His son isn’t returning to the island and he’s all alone.’
Loukas rolled his eyes. ‘You’ve just proved my point. You’re constantly thinking about other people. You go about the hotel as though you have an inbuilt radar that picks up on people’s moods. I saw you taking care of Sofia’s niece Arianna yesterday, when they arrived. And today you spent a good half an hour talking with Mrs Hoffman.’
Cecilia Hoffman was well into her seventies, had a major crush on Loukas, and the most wicked sense of humour ever. Georgie’s mouth twitched as she remembered Cecilia fanning herself when Loukas had walked by her in the terrace bar that afternoon, and her description of him as a ‘bed bunny’.
‘Her arthritis is getting her down. We were chatting about swimming and how it might help her.’
Loukas raised his hands in a See what I mean gesture. ‘You practically glow when you talk about helping others...why is it so important to you?’
‘You make it sound like I’m doing something wrong.’
‘No, it’s admirable. But at what cost to you, Georgie? Maybe you should focus on your own happiness too?’
Georgie drew the scatter cushion in closer to her, her fingers playing with the tassels along the edge. ‘I’m happy.’
‘Really? You can’t commit to a relationship... You’d like children but can never see yourself having them...’
Georgie placed the cushion back on the sofa with a little more force than she had intended. ‘Why are you making such a big deal about all this?’
Loukas ran his hand over his jaw. His chest rose and fell as he inhaled deeply. ‘Because I care for you.’
Why won’t he stop staring at me? She took a slug of her wine. He cares for me? That shouldn’t sound so significant, but it does.
She dropped her head. Closed her eyes for a few seconds. Tried to clear her brain of the intensity in his voice, in his eyes, when he had said those words.
Because I care for you.
Words that thrilled her and yet sent a flutter of panic through her.
She opened her eyes. Reached for her glass. Found brief relief in the coolness of the glass against her fingertips.
‘I suppose I’ve always liked helping others... Well, for as long as I can remember.’ She stopped and thought back to some of her earliest memories—how she’d used to call in on their elderly neighbour Mrs Burton after her mum had left. Had run errands for her every day after school. She had loved the cosy warmth of her kitchen, the way Mrs Burton had allowed her to bake with her. Bakewell tarts on a Tuesday...scones on a Thursday.
‘When my mum left, my dad and I stayed in Brighton. But a year later he was offered a position in a restaurant in Barcelona so we moved. For my dad it was a way of starting again. But he didn’t settle—didn’t settle anywhere, in fact. He’d stay eighteen months, two years in a job and then move again.’
She took a drink of her wine and realised that her hands were trembling. She stared at them in astonishment, then glanced towards Loukas. Her throat closed over at his sombre expression. At how intently he was staring at her.
She winced. She should stop talking. It was making her feel a little dizzy. But there was something in his calmness, in the way he waited for her to speak, that had her saying, ‘Every time we moved I’d have to start a new school and make new friends. I found that the easiest way to make friends was to see how I could help them. That might sound cynical...it wasn’t. I do like helping others, and it helped me too—to integrate, I suppose, and to survive. I’m an extrovert. I need people.’
‘You don’t have to help others, to try to fix whatever’s wrong in their lives, for them to like you, Georgie.’
Georgie sat up. Her defensive hackles rose at how pathetic she sounded when he phrased it like that. ‘I know that.’
In the silence that followed she bit her inner lip. Flicked her thumb against the stem of her glass. She was puzzled as to why her heart was hammering so much. Was her helping others really just about getting them to like her?
The image of her mum pushing her on a swing in the local park came back to her: her mum had been laughing as Georgie begged her to push her higher and higher.
How could she have walked away from that? Why didn’t she stay for me? What didn’t she like about me?
She dropped her head again. Ran a hand over the back of her neck. And jumped when Loukas sat down next to her, his knees almost touching hers.
‘My guess is that in helping others you don’t have to reveal too much of yourself. Because you’re in control and the focus is on the other person all the time.’
‘What? No! Why would I do that?’
Eyes that were much too intelligent held her gaze. ‘I don’t know. What do you think?’
What did she think? She had no idea, other than knowing that Loukas was hitting on some buttons she hadn’t even realised she had.
‘I think this conversation is getting way too heavy.’
He twisted even more towards her. She shifted away. Placed her wine glass on the coffee table. Crossed her legs. Heat was blooming inside her at having him sitting so close by.
‘I’ve spoken to your builder, Sokratis. Your windows will be installed tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? I didn’t think he would be working.’
‘I persuaded him to.’
Georgie would wager that Sokratis hadn’t had a hope against Loukas; she had heard him on the phone all week, adapting his style depending on who he spoke with, charming with some, dogged with others. Always getting what he wanted.
Thrown, she frowned, not sure how she felt about him interfering in her house renovations.
‘I’ve also told him to get extra men in there to get it finished by the end of next week. And I’ve scheduled interviews to recruit a permanent PA next week.’
He had...?
Her heart sank with disappointment...and then a rush of shame had her clasping her hands together. Determined not to show it, she angled herself towards him and raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’
‘You really don’t like people helping you, do you?’
Was that all he was doing? Helping her? But what if she was right and he did want to be shot of her?
Her stomach churned. ‘No... It’s... Oh, I don’t know.’
His hand touched against her leg. ‘I want you to be able to focus on growing your business—not worrying about this hotel, my family, moody teenagers, or lovestruck olive farmers with huge crushes on you.’
She swallowed. ‘You do?’
Intrigued, and also terrified about what he was obviously trying to get around to saying, she stared at him. He flicked his soft brown gaze away from her. Worked his jaw. And then he turned back to her and swallowed her up with the smallest of smiles...a little hesitant, yet blazing with sincerity.
‘I want to make sure that you stay on Talos for at least the summer.’
Lost for words, she nodded, shrugged, then nodded again. She laughed when his smile grew even wider. Yes, he was mocking her, but it was cute and affectionate. His hand shifted on her leg. Upwards. Her laugh died. Her heartbeat upped yet another notch.
His gaze ran from her eyes down to mouth. Darkened.
He drew in closer.
Her hand reached out...touched his biceps.
His lips hovered over hers.
Dizzy, she rifled through her muddled brain for some reason to stop this. In a bare whisper she breathed out, ‘I’m your matchmaker...’
His lips touched the corner of her mouth. ‘You’re off duty right now.’
And then his mouth was on hers, playing with her, teasing her with featherlight barely there kisses that stoked the fire inside her to burning point within seconds.
Chapter Seven
ON SATURDAY MORNING, with his HQ staff on their Easter holiday, Loukas took advantage of the silence in the office to clear some paperwork and read through the quarterly briefings from his management teams. The financial returns were just about on target, but the property acquisitions were way behind schedule—in particular the Convento San Francesco.
Reading the reports, it became increasingly clear to him that he needed to focus all his attention on expanding the business—especially with the growth that they’d have to achieve in the coming years to remain a dominant force in the industry. Large consortiums were already sweeping up hotels throughout Europe and using their buying power to pressurise smaller groups to sell.
To facilitate the growth they needed he’d have to make management changes throughout his HQ staff. Which was why he had earlier called Nikos and asked him to pop up to his office for a meeting.
It had been a tense meeting, with Nikos sceptical and wary. But Loukas had forced himself to be open with him, outlining the issues they were facing as a group and for the first time ever asking for Nikos’s advice and opinions.
Initially Nikos had been reluctant to share his thoughts, wary of Loukas’s motives. But as the meeting had progressed, and Loukas had shared his ideas for managing the business, all the time remembering Georgie’s words about showing the others that he trusted in them, Nikos had come on board, often disagreeing, but at least they were talking.
It went against Loukas’s management style and sense of responsibility to have to admit to someone else the problems within the business. For so long he had kept those details to himself, not wanting to burden anyone else. But talking with Nikos had helped him clarify his thoughts and plans, and—okay, he’d admit it—it had felt good to share some of the issues troubling him with his brother.
By the end of the meeting they had agreed that Marios would move over to be in charge of introducing new recreational activities to all the hotels, which would tie in with his scuba-diving business. Angeliki would remain as Front of House Manager, but they would encourage her to attend university, or alternatively to take on a deputy management role in one of their other hotels, or even outside the group, in order to expand her horizons. And Nikos would take the role of general manager at The Korinna.
Loukas had shaken Nikos’s hand to congratulate him on his new role. Nikos had nodded, turned to leave, but then turned back. They had embraced awkwardly for a brief second. Both unable to look each other in the eye. They had years of quarrelling to overcome, but it was a start.
He clicked on his email. He would draft an announcement of Nikos’s appointment and issue it next week, once he had briefed Angeliki and Marios.
There was a new message waiting for him from Georgie. He stared at the subject line: Potential Candidates.
He drew back from the desk.
Grimaced.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her last night. But her honesty, her bravado, her vulnerability in talking about her past, her insistence that relationships weren’t for her, had had him both wanting to protect and care for her, and yet to test her resolve. Which wasn’t a great reflection on him.
He inhaled a deep breath. He had to face facts. He was developing feelings for Georgie. Somehow she had managed to bash through the wall he had erected around his emotions. A wall that had its foundations in his childhood tug of love with his parents. A wall that had grown to impossible heights the year his parents had died.
Having feelings for Georgie defied all logic. There was no future in what there was between them. He should be focused on getting himself a wife of convenience—a wife who would make no emotional demands on him. But
when he was with Georgie logic seemed to fly right out through the door.
Their kiss had been slow and intense. Several times they had tried to end it, but time and time again they had relented, their touches growing more intimate each time.
Her deep gasp when his fingers had undone the buttons of her blouse and his thumb had brushed against the fine lace of her bra had stunned him into pulling away. At that point it had been either pull away or finish what they’d started. And he didn’t even want to begin to think about how that would complicate everything.
This morning they had acted as though nothing had happened. Georgie was spending the day out at her house, gardening and painting. No wonder the palms of her hands were callused. He inhaled a deep breath, remembering the feel of those hands on his skin when she had untucked his shirt last night, their warmth, the slight roughness that had been so strangely thrilling.
He leant forward and clicked on her email.
Dear Mr Christou,
I have given thought and consideration to your requirement to find a suitable wife, and after a further search of potential candidates I would like to suggest the following:
Candidate One: Sofia Zisimos
Age: Twenty-nine
Occupation: EU Trade Lawyer
Association to Talos: Holidayed here as a child. Keen to return. May need to change profession.
Personality: Outgoing, socially connected, reputation as a tough negotiator and ambitious—as reported in the Brussels Times.
Candidate Two: Anna Psarra
Age: Thirty-three
Occupation: Head of Marketing, Psarra Mineral Water.
Association to Talos: Family owns a holiday villa here. Sponsors and organisers of annual Talos triathlon.
Personality: Organised. Professional. Straight-talking—as described by Marios.
Candidate Three: Ourania Riga
Age: Thirty-one
Occupation: Head chef at Koozina Restaurant.
Association to Talos: Ourania has just moved to the island.
Personality: Ambitious. Likes to party. Talented chef. Hot—as described by Nikos.
Tempted by Her Greek Tycoon Page 12
