His Forbidden Bride (7 page)

enough for us to share for a short while.'

'I'm not sure your employer would agree,' she said tautly. 'Does he know this

is how you spend your time?'

'He would certainly consider it one of my duties to offer hospitality to his

guest.'

'I am not,' she said. 'His guest. Officially. And you have a very strange idea

of hospitality.'

'Why?' His brows lifted. 'I have brought you food, drink and shelter.' He

stood, hands on hips, and looked her up and down slowly, and with

unconcealed appreciation, his eyes lingering on the smooth rise of her

breasts above the flimsy cups of her bikini. 'But if there is any requirement I

have not supplied, you have only to tel me,' he added silkily.

'Thank you,' Zoe said through gritted teeth. 'You've already done more than

enough.'

He laughed. 'Then shal we declare a trace,
thespinis
? It is too beautiful a day to fight. And if you won't eat with me, at least drink some water.'

Zoe gave him a mutinous look, then knelt, and carefully decanted some of

the water he'd brought into her own container. 'Thank you.' Stonily, she

placed the bottle on the outermost corner of the towel, where he had now

stretched himself, very much at his ease.

'
Efharisto
,' he corrected, lazily. 'If you are going to stay on the island for any length of time, you need to learn a little Greek.'

'I have a phrase book,' she said. 'So I don't need personal tutoring—thanks.'

His brows drew together. 'You also have attitude,' he told her drily. 'Maybe

you could learn, instead, a little
philoxenia—
the Greek warmth towards

strangers. Because others may not understand.'

'Perhaps,' Zoe said, lifting her chin cool y, 'this is not a situation where

warmth is advisable.'

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her measuringly. 'What

makes you so nervous?' he asked. 'You think that I intend, maybe, to force

myself upon you?' He shook his head. 'No,
thespinis
. In the first place, it is far too hot. In the second, rape has no appeal for me.'

He lay back, looking up at the cloudless sky, lacing his fingers behind his

head, his voice meditative.

'I prefer a cool room, with the shutters drawn, a comfortable bed, a bottle of

good wine, and a girl who wishes to be with me as much as I want her.'

He turned his head, sending her a faint smile. 'And nothing less will do. So,

you see, you are quite safe.'

Her face warmed. She said huskily, 'You paint—a vivid picture.'

'And, I hope, a reassuring one.'

'Yes,' she said. 'Oh, yes.' And tried to subdue the betraying quiver deep

inside her.

'Enough to tel me your name?'

She hesitated. 'It's—Zoe.'

'A Greek name,' he approved softly. 'And I am Andreas.' He paused. 'So

now that we are properly acquainted, wil you share some lunch with me?'

There seemed no good reason to refuse. And perhaps it would be sensible

to be a little conciliatory to someone who might be in a position to help her.

So she gave a constrained smile, and murmured, 'That would be—nice.'

The cool-box contained cold chicken, a bag of salad leaves, black olives,

tomatoes, feta cheese and some fresh bread. There was also, she noted, a

plastic box containing dark grapes and peaches, as wel as two chil ed

bottles of beer, two glasses wrapped in napkins, paper plates, and some

cutlery.

This had never been planned as a solitary meal, she thought. And her

agreement, it seemed, had been taken for granted. But then he probably

didn't get many refusals, she thought, with an inward grimace. And at least

he'd brought beer, and not the bottle of good wine he'd mentioned earlier.

So attempted seduction did not appear to be on the menu.

It was also clear that she was expected to set out the plates, and divide the

food between them. Woman's work, she supposed with irony. And found

herself wondering who had assembled the picnic in the first place.

Yet, in spite of her reservations, she enjoyed the meal. The chicken was

succulent and the olives and tomatoes had a superb tangy flavour that

made those in the supermarket at home seem pal id by comparison.

'Would you like a peach?' He peeled it for her deftly, and she watched his

hands, observing the long fingers and wel -kept nails. Pretty fastidious for a

gardener, she thought. And although his deep voice with its husky timbre

was faintly accented, his English seemed faultless.

Andreas, she thought, and wondered…

The fruit was marvel ous, too, ripe and sweet, although she was

embarrassed to find the juice running down heir chin, and into the cleft

between her breasts. Something that was not lost on him, she realised with

vexation, trying to mop herself discreetly with her napkin.

To deflect his attention, she said, 'Do you like gardening?'

'I enjoy seeing the results,' he said. 'Why? Are you thinking of hiring my

services when you come to live at the house?'

She dried her fingers. 'I haven't given it a thought,' she fibbed.

He shrugged a shoulder. 'Then think of it now.'

'Are you so much in demand?'

'Of course,' he said promptly. 'But I could be persuaded to make time for you

in my busy schedule.'

He either had the biggest ego in the western world, Zoe told herself

seething, or it was a wind-up, and she was sure it was the latter.

But whichever it was, it remained light years away from the taciturn attitude

of Mr Harbutt, who wore heavy boots and corduroy trousers summer and

winter, and smel ed faintly of compost, and who'd done the heavy digging at

the cottage for her mother.

She said cool y, 'I think you could prove too expensive for me.'

'You devastate me,' Andreas said lightly. 'Perhaps we could work out a deal

together—some kind of reciprocal arrangement.' He watched her stiffen,

then went on silkily, 'Much of the island's economy is conducted on the

barter system. If you are to live here you will have to accustom yourself.' He

paused. 'Tel me, Zoe
mou
, what do you do for a living?'

'I teach,' she said shortly. 'English.'

'Then there is no problem,' he said. 'I wil look after your garden. You can

give me English lessons.'

Zoe sent him a fulminating look. 'I think your English is quite good enough

already.'

His own eyes danced. There were, she noticed unwillingly, tiny gold flecks in

their dark depths. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I think.' He sighed elaborately. 'Then

we wil just have to come up with something else.'

'Or I could simply find another gardener.' She paused. 'But perhaps your

boss wil refuse to rent the house to me.'

'I do not see how he could resist you, Zoe
mou
. Particularly when I shall give you my strongest endorsement.'

'You think mowing grass and removing weeds gives you special insight into

character?' Her brows lifted. 'How fascinating. And your boss wil listen to

you?'

'He trusts my judgement,' Andreas said slowly. 'When I tel him which plants

will grow and thrive, and those that are weak and not worth the trouble. I find

human nature is much the same.'

Aghast, she heard herself say, 'And which am I?'

There was a sudden hard edge to his smile. 'When I have come to a

decision, Zoe
mou
, I wil tel you.'

He col ected up the debris from their meal and put it back in the cool-box.

Then he stood up, unzipped his shorts unhurriedly, and stepped out of them,

revealing brief black swimming trunks, and walked off down the beach.

She felt her mouth dry as she watched him go. He had a miraculous body,

she thought, lean, hard and perfectly proportioned. And a long, lithe stride

like the prowl of some great cat.

And while the predator was away, the mouse would be wise to make a dash

for it, she told herself, swiftly pulling herself together as he plunged into the

water and began to swim away, out to sea, with a strong, clean stroke.

She put on her dress, shook out her towel, grabbed her bag and made for

the steps. With every yard, she expected to hear him shout after her, or

even to feel his hand, damp and salty, on her shoulder halting her. Turning

her towards him.

At the top of the steps, Zoe risked one swift look back. His dark head was

perfectly visible, his lean body cutting effortlessly through the water. A man

in his physical prime enjoying the challenge of tough exercise, and,

thankfully, oblivious to her departure.

Al the same, once she reached the shade of the olive trees she began to

run, pausing only when she reached the road, a hand pressed to her side.

I think, she told herself, her flurried breath hoarse in her throat, that's what

they cal a lucky escape.

She was hot and sticky by the time she reached the hotel. She col ected her

key from the hook and went up to her room, guiltily glad that Sherry wasn't

around to ask about her day.

By the time she sat down for dinner, she would hopefully be feeling more

composed, with some bland comment about Thania's undeniable charm

carefully lined up.

Something on the lines of 'Nice island, shame about the natives'? Wel ,

perhaps not, she thought, her mouth twisting.

Or maybe she could make a joke of it al . 'Up at the vil a, I ran into the

gardener from hel . Who does that guy think he is?' And perhaps Sherry

would know, and tel her.

But why did she even want to know?

Because this is a very smal island, she thought. And although she intended

to avoid the Vil a Danaë until its supposed owner returned from Athens, she

was bound to run into Andreas at some future point, so needed some plan

to respond to the situation.

She sighed impatiently. Don't fool yourself, she muttered under her breath.

He won't waste any more time on you. You can't be the only female tourist

under twenty-five on Thania, and he wants someone warm and willing. He

told you so himself.

In the shower, she turned the water to cool, letting it run through her hair

and cascade down her overheated body.

It was annoying to contemplate how easily Andreas had been able to get

under her skin.

Face it, she thought. You've been out of the mating game too long to know

how to deal with someone like that. If you ever knew at all, that is. Dear old

George with his bumbling proposal is more your mark, my dear. Not

someone who's clearly been sex on legs since the day he was born.

She towel ed herself dry, and put on her thin silk wrap, then helped herself

to a can of lemonade from the mini-fridge in the corner, and took it out onto

the balcony with the papers for the Vil a Danaë.

What she needed was someone to verify the translation of the original

document gifting the villa to her mother. She supposed she could ask

Stavros, but the gift was clearly the action of a rich man, and she

remembered what Sherry had said about her husband not wishing to offend

any of the influential residents on Thania.

She also had to find out the identity of Andreas' employer in Athens. If she

hadn't been caught total y on the wrong foot, she would have asked. But

being caught in the vil a had thrown her mental processes into turmoil.

And her emotions had fol owed, she thought, biting savagely at her lower lip.

Andreas had knocked her sideways, in a way that was completely foreign to

her nature, and it was pointless to deny it. Thank God her instinct for

self-preservation had stil been working, she thought, shifting restlessly in

the cushioned chair.

And anyway, she'd had enough sun for one day. Against the concealing silk,

her skin felt warm, but not burning. And for that, she supposed, moving her

shoulders experimental y, she had to thank Andreas' ministrations with the

sun lotion.

She could stil feel the glide of his hands on her back, and yet with Mick,

who'd been her only lover to date, she could not remember a single detail of

their intimacy.

I shouldn't be able to remember Andreas' touch like this, she thought almost

frantically. I was asleep, for God's sake.

But if you hadn't gone on sleeping, said a small, sly voice in her head. If

you'd woken, what would you have done? Would you have lain stil ,

pretending? Or would you have turned over, offering your bare breasts?

Drawing him down to you, because you could not help yourself?

She felt her throat tighten uncontrol ably. Her breathing quicken.

This, she told herself forcefully, is not good. Don't even go there.

Nothing had happened. Nothing was going to happen. But she would have

to watch every step she took from now on.

I had no idea, she thought drearily, fanning herself with the papers, that I

could be so susceptible.

The ferry was just leaving, and for a moment she almost wished she were

on it.

I really shouldn't have come here, she thought, frowning. Not without

knowing the score in advance. And I certainly shouldn't have betrayed my

interest in the house so soon. But what real choice did I have between that,

and being hauled off by the local police for trespass?

She sighed again, ruefully. It was all just an unfortunate combination of