Tempted by Her Greek Tycoon

by Katrina Cudmore

  Sofia and Anna are on Talos until Monday evening. I would suggest that you meet both over the weekend. I am happy to facilitate those meetings...although you can arrange your date with Sofia direct if you prefer. I can organise for you to meet Ourania later in the week.

  Trusting that the above is to your satisfaction,

  Georgie Jones

  Loukas sighed. Looked up at the ceiling of his office. Rubbed a hand against the stiffness in his neck. Then he hit the reply button and banged out his response.

  As we’ve already discussed, I’m too busy to meet anyone this weekend.

  He got an instant response.

  You can make time. Which would you like to meet first?

  He sent back a one-word response.

  None.

  Her reply was immediate.

  All three are successful, ambitious and will stand up to you. What more do you want?

  He stared at the screen. Only one answer to that question was looping in his brain. I want you.

  He hit the reply button again, all reason having left him.

  Come to the midnight Easter celebrations with me tonight.

  Her response didn’t come for at least five minutes.

  I’ll let the others know that we’re going.

  He stabbed the reply button.

  Don’t. I’ll collect you at eleven.

  * * *

  A little after eleven, sitting at the top of Loukas’s curved staircase, hidden from view, Georgie shot up when she heard the front door open and close.

  Play it cool, Georgie. Don’t overthink this. He’s invited you to watch some celebrations. Nothing more.

  Fanning her hot cheeks, she attempted a saunter as she made her way down the stairs.

  Wearing a silver-grey suit, white shirt and black and silver striped tie, he lifted his eyebrows and a sexy smile danced on his lips as she neared him. His gaze travelled over the fitted bodice of her white lace dress, down over the flared skirt that stopped at her knee, and his eyes lingered for a moment on the ankle straps of her black kitten-heeled sandals.

  She had bumped into Angeliki earlier and learn from her that Holy Saturday night was a night when people dressed up in their finery to celebrate this important holiday.

  She popped her phone into the pocket of her black leather jacket for want of something to do, her insides burning up in the heat of his gaze as she remembered the scorching intensity of their kiss last night.

  Still standing on the bottom step of the stairs, she went to move down but he placed a foot on the step and leant towards her.

  ‘Eisai omorfh—you look beautiful.’

  Her heart wobbled. ‘Thank you...’

  For crying out loud, Georgie, play it cool. Treat him as you would Nikos and Marios, with some teasing banter.

  ‘You’re looking pretty good yourself.’

  His mouth twitched.

  And, though she didn’t want to, she forced herself to say the right thing. ‘So, have you given any more thought to the candidates I put forward?’

  His expression hardened and he hit her with an intense stare. ‘No.’

  ‘You should.’

  He tilted his head and in that low baritone voice of his said, in an almost-whisper that somehow caressed her, ‘I know I should, but I don’t want to.’

  With that he turned and picked up his coat, and two tapered white candles from the console table beside the front door. He opened the door and as she passed him they shared a look. A look full of acute awareness of one another.

  Her heart somersaulted and anticipation zigzagged through her body in pleasurable bursts of energy, while her logical brain slowly shook its head in despair and said, Oh, boy, Georgie, you’re in big trouble here.

  In silence he led her to the church, which sat high above Talos Town. The small square at the front of the church was crowded. Through the open church doors she could see that it too was packed to capacity.

  They passed through the crowd, nodding to those they knew. At the wall overlooking the harbour and the rooftops of the town below them Loukas found a gap for them to stand in, his hand ever so lightly settling on her waist as they turned to face the church.

  Without warning the square and the church were suddenly plunged into darkness. Beside her, Loukas whispered, ‘It’s time for the lighting of the candles,’ and passed her a candle.

  Slowly the church began to fill with faint glimmering lights, and then the priest emerged out into the square and in a slow-moving ripple a sea of flames filled the square as the islanders lit their candles from their neighbours.

  Loukas lit his from a beaming older woman who patted his arm approvingly before he turned and held his candle out to Georgie. Their eyes met as his candle’s flame ignited the wick of hers with a bright flash, and his hand on her waist tightened even more.

  The priest re-entered the church and the crowd outside joined in with the prayers being said inside, loudspeakers beaming them out to the square. There was a soothing rhythm to the prayers and Georgie felt herself relax against Loukas, her hip leaning against his hard thigh.

  There was a pause in the praying and then the priest’s voice called out joyously, ‘Christos anesti!’ Christ is risen!

  Around them the crowd began to cheer, and friends and families hugged and kissed. Georgie, taken by surprise by the jubilant celebrations, looked around her in amazement. The closest she had come to this kind of rejoicing was in New Year’s Eve celebrations.

  Beside her, Loukas moved. He drew her in closer while twisting them both round to face out into the harbour. He shifted again, so that he was standing directly behind her, his hands wrapped around her waist, drawing her back into his embrace.

  A shiver ran through her.

  She should pull away.

  But it was too nice, too wonderful, too perfect. She’d allow herself just this moment.

  She arched her back as his hand moved against her loose hair, tucking some strands behind her ear before he whispered into it, ‘Kalo Pasxa. Happy Easter, Georgie.’

  His voice was way too sexy, his warm breath way too tempting. She arched even further into him as the open sky before them exploded in a multicolour blaze of glorious fireworks.

  * * *

  Later they walked home, following the candle flames of those ahead—a luminous sea filling the streets of Talos Town in celebration.

  They carried their candles through the orchard, where the sea was the only sound reaching them. At the villa door he showed her the traditional blessing for houses in the coming year. Using the smoke of the candle he marked the frame of the front door in a cross.

  Inside, they stood in the darkness of the hallway and she stared at him, watching the faint flickering of the candle dance on the hard planes of his face.

  He blew out his flame. And then, taking her candle from her, blew hers out too.

  They stood in the dark silence and she wondered if he could hear how her heart was pounding.

  Thick, delicious tension whirled around them in the silence of the house.

  She gasped when his hand landed on her cheek, his thumb running against her skin and then skimming over her lips.

  In a whisper, she stuttered, ‘I’m your PA...your matchmaker...we shouldn’t be doing this.’

  In the near darkness she saw him raise an eyebrow.

  ‘True...and then there’s your intolerance—we should be thinking about that.’ His quietly spoken sensible words were negated by his fingers, which were stroking the sensitive skin of her throat.

  She arched her neck. Her head was spinning with the need to have him kiss her again. Her body was aching for his touch.

  He shifted so that his head was lowered towards hers. Into her hair he whispered urgently, passionately, ‘I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want you, Georgie.’r />
  She let out an unsteady breath, her knees about to give way in the face of his bone-melting touch, the heat radiating from his body, the sheer size of him leaning over her.

  She wanted him. She wanted his lips on hers. She wanted his hard body crushing hers. She wanted that beautiful mouth on every inch of her skin.

  ‘I’m okay with brief flings...’

  His hand on the back of her neck eased her forward while his eyes held hers, as though he wanted to make sure she was certain of this. And then his mouth was on hers, dominant and demanding. She answered back with her own desperation, her hands as frantic against his body as his were on hers.

  Her body was pressed against his, and his hardness emphasised the soft, yielding curves of her own.

  His hands moved to her breasts. She gasped at the shock wave that went through her as his thumb travelled across their weight.

  And then he was leading her upstairs to his bedroom, guiding her to his bed, with the white walls and white linen illuminated by the bright moon in the sky outside.

  Chapter Eight

  ON EASTER SUNDAY morning Loukas stepped out on to the villa terrace from the kitchen, unease twisting in his stomach despite the blue skies and the warm breeze that greeted him.

  He had expected to wake and find Georgie at his side. Instead he had woken to an empty bed and an empty house. She hadn’t even left him a note.

  Had she bolted? Was she regretting last night?

  He inhaled deeply as a cinema reel of images from last night flashed in his mind and held him hostage—the sight of Georgie standing before him naked, all soft curves and delicious smiles. The fall of her mouth, her gasp, the astonishment in her eyes when they joined together for the first time. Her laughter and the sharp intake of breath later, when they had stolen out to swim off the small sandy cove beneath his villa...laughter that had shifted to low whispers and then silence as they had lost themselves in each other again.

  After all that, why had she left him without a word?

  Where was she?

  He stalked back into the house, went upstairs to grab his phone and suit jacket, and was back downstairs within a minute. And in that time Georgie had miraculously reappeared.

  Working at the kitchen counter, dressed in a navy and white striped T-shirt, cute cutoff denim shorts and a pair of pink flip-flops, she had her back to him. His heart kicked hard. Memories of his mouth trailing down the soft insides of her thighs distracted him from the fact that he was annoyed with her.

  Her hair was damp. She must have gone to her own room to shower. Unease stirred even more. At what point during the night had she left?

  She turned as he entered the room.

  The initial disquiet in her eyes gave way to uncertainty and then a shy smile.

  He came to a stop, suddenly unsure what to do. He wanted to hold her. Kiss her again. He wanted the laughter and closeness of last night. But hadn’t last night been no more than a one-off between them?

  But knowing something was one thing...doing something was an entirely different prospect, and one that required a self-discipline that seemed to disappear whenever Georgie Jones was within ten metres of him.

  He ran a hand along the back of his neck, attempted a smile. ‘Are you okay?’

  Her smile faded. She shrugged. ‘Of course—why shouldn’t I be?’

  They regarded each other in an awkward silence for a moment. Loukas clenched his hands, knowing he should play it cool. But what they’d shared last night, the looks and the tenderness, were all too raw inside him, so without thinking he said, ‘I thought you had disappeared because you regretted last night.’

  She blinked. And in that moment he saw indecision in her eyes. But then just as quickly she shook herself, as though clearing her head of whatever thoughts and doubts were there.

  ‘Of course I don’t regret last night.’ She gave him a smile that was a beguiling mix of shyness and sensuality. ‘How could I when it was so great?’

  Unable to stop himself, he muttered a curse, crossed the floor in record time and pulled her in to him, taking pleasure in how her soft body melted against his.

  Pushing back her hair to expose the long length of her neck, he nipped the skin just below her ear. ‘Where were you?’

  Her body curved even further in to him. On a low exhale she said, ‘Getting breakfast.’

  He nipped her skin even harder. Her breathless whisper was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. Thee mou! She tasted good, smelled good enough to eat.

  ‘Breakfast I can do without...you, I can’t.’

  She arched her neck, groaned low in the base of her throat. Her cheeks were hot, her eyes blazing with the same heavy desire that was pounding through him. They gazed at each other and a connection, a recognition of mutual need, beat heavily in the air between them.

  Twisting around, she grabbed something from the silver breakfast tray behind her. She turned back to him and dangled a slice of mango in front of him. Slowly she bit into it, her eyes shining playfully. She chewed slowly. Toying with him.

  ‘I thought you’d be hungry so I went up to the hotel kitchen and stole a breakfast tray while Chef Jean-Louis wasn’t looking.’

  She bit into the glistening piece of fruit again.

  His eyes fixed on the sensual movement of her lips, he warned distractedly, ‘You’re treading on dangerous ground. I’ve known Chef to ban people from his kitchen for far less.’

  She reached around and held up a fat strawberry, bit her lip playfully and hit him with a sexy look. ‘Trust me—you’re worth it.’

  He eyed the strawberry...her now-parted lips. ‘Today is one of the busiest days in the hotel...’ He found it almost impossible to talk, as though he was drugged and trying to speak in a desire-fuelled haze. ‘I need to get to work.’

  But both of them knew that was not going to happen anytime soon.

  He wrapped his hand around hers, holding the strawberry. He lifted the strawberry towards his own mouth and bit down on it. The sweetness zinged in his mouth.

  And then his mouth was on hers.

  Lifting her up, he carried her upstairs, determined to start the morning again. The way it should have started. With Georgie lying naked beside him in his bed.

  * * *

  She was late. Seriously late. She really should get going. But instead Georgie stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror.

  Popping her hands into the side pockets of her dress, she readjusted the fitted bodice so that the deep narrow slit at the front of the dress that ran from the base of her throat to the start of her cleavage was perfectly centred.

  She had worn this knee-length rose-pink brocade dress and matching sandals to her colleague’s wedding last summer. It was her favourite ‘special occasion’ dress. But would it be special enough for today’s Easter celebration lunch at the hotel? Would its high-street credentials stand out for all the wrong reasons against the designer clothes The Korinna’s guests always wore?

  And then there was the matter of her hair. For the wedding last year her hairdresser in Malaga, Valeria, had styled it into a sleek bun. Unfortunately, no matter how many online videos Georgie watched, she had never manged to master styling her own hair, and now she was staring at her feeble attempt to replicate Valeria’s creation.

  She had pulled her hair back way too tightly, and now she looked as if she had had plastic surgery that had gone seriously wrong. And her bun looked like a beaten-up doughnut.

  She rolled her eyes and began to yank out the clips. She flicked her gaze to the digital clock on her bedside table. It was one-twenty already. The champagne reception had started at one.

  She dropped the clips on to her bedroom’s dark wood dressing table, disquiet rattling through her.

  What on earth had she done in sleeping with Loukas?

  Last night it had been glori
ous and fun and sexy.

  But when she had awoken this morning and stared at him as he slept panic had started to pound through her veins. Loukas was looking for a wife. She wasn’t interested in relationships, and even if she was she wasn’t what he wanted—a tough and ambitious career professional. And they were from different worlds. He was from the five-star luxury hotel fraternity, while she was from the rustic guesthouse brigade. He was all sleek and efficient...he owned luxury hotels and powerful motorboats, for crying out loud. While she was a tracksuit-and-hot-chocolate-following-a-swim type of girl.

  Her temples were starting to throb. She needed to get a move on. But her hair, released from its bun prison, was now lying in a cloud of kinks and bumps.

  She groaned out loud. Tried to run her fingers through her hair. It still looked a mess.

  If her mum had stayed would she have taught her how to style her hair? Would she have created the sleek French plaits her classmates had often worn while she’d had one of her dad’s lopsided ponytails that had always made her look a little demented? Would her mum have taken her for her first bra fitting? Shown her how to apply mascara? Listened to her sob over her first boyfriend even though it was she who had broken it off? Would she have been proud of her? Would her mum have loved her?

  Georgie grabbed her hairbrush off the dressing table and yanked it through her hair.

  Sleeping with Loukas had been glorious. He had been tender, attentive, slow...oh, so sensually slow...his mouth pausing at every inch of her body until she had begged him to hurry up. Time and time again she had lost herself in a world of pleasure and soul-searing connection with him, with their eyes locked together, silently acknowledging the enormity and significance of what they were doing.

  It had all felt so right when they were in each other’s arms. But afterwards, they didn’t know how to act around one another.

  This morning when he had been about to leave for work they had both stood awkwardly in the hallway, neither of them knowing what the protocol was for saying goodbye to each other—he had eventually given her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

  What was going to happen to them?

  She twisted back the sides of her hair and secured them with two silver clips, leaving her hair hanging loose at the back.