Greek Affairs. Кейт Хьюит
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shook his head, amazed that Lucy could have seen him and Pia together and not have known that he’d all but itched to go back across the room to her. Then he remembered the moment before Helen had come into the room and asked to speak to him. Lucy had been with Anatolios, looking at him and laughing gaily. Anatolios had been practically sitting in her lap.
Dark anger surged. ‘From what I saw of you and my brother, you looked very cosy also … Are you sure it’s not you who wants to go back to him?’
Lucy couldn’t help the shudder of disgust run through her as she said quickly, ‘No. I was just—we were just … talking.’
The relief that surged through Ari made him feel weak. He pressed a kiss to Lucy’s bare shoulder and she shivered again, but this time he recognised desire and it was heady.
‘Then, please believe me, I too have no desire to go back to that house. Pia Kyriapoulos is a woman who is looking for her next wealthy protector. She thinks I could be it, but this evening I told her in no uncertain terms that I have no interest in signing up for the job. And anyway …’ Ari brought Lucy’s hand between them to his lap, where she could feel the stirrings of his growing arousal. ‘She doesn’t have this effect on me.’
Ari felt Lucy’s fingers flutter over him and held back a low groan as his arousal soared. In that second he had a flash of an idea. Without stopping to consider what he was doing, he said, ‘When we get back to the hotel, pack some things for the weekend. We’re getting out of Athens …’
When Lucy woke the next morning she knew immediately that she was alone in the strange bed, but she was too deliciously lethargic and sated to worry about it. She heard nothing except beautiful stillness and the gentle lapping of water nearby.
They had travelled here, to this island, which Ari had told her was called Paros, by helicopter last night. It had all been a little overwhelming to Lucy. When they’d arrived Ari had driven them in a Jeep to this place, which Lucy hadn’t been able to make out in the dark.
Now, without opening her eyes yet, as if superstitious for a moment that it might disappear, Lucy knew that there were doors open nearby. She could feel the warm breeze, could smell the tang of the sea and feel the bright sunlight.
Finally she opened her eyes. They took a second to adjust, and then as if in a dream she got up, blindly threw on a T-shirt and walked to the open French doors and the tiny balcony. She simply could not take in the beauty of her surroundings for a moment. The balcony seemed to be perched right over the Aegean Sea, which stretched out in glittering blue before her, other islands visible as shapes in the hazy distance under a clear cerulean sky.
The modest house was whitewashed and all but clinging onto the rocky coast, nestling alongside equally bright houses either side. Lucy frowned slightly. She’d seen Ari’s portfolio of extensive properties around the world, and knew he had a luxurious villa on Santorini, but she’d never seen pictures of this house. She looked around. Admittedly, it was more humble than anything she might have expected of him. And all the more intriguing.
She heard a sound behind her and turned to see Ari, shouldering his way in through the door with arms full of supplies. Her breath snagged at remembering how he’d stripped her bare last night and taken her to heaven and back on the modest double bed. He was wearing long shorts and a faded T-shirt, and looked impossibly young and handsome at that moment—a million miles from the proud, successful, arrogant billionaire.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth and proceeded to spread out a veritable feast of a breakfast on an ancient wrought-iron table. Bread, jams, fruit … Then he disappeared, presumably to the tiny kitchen downstairs, and came back with steaming fragrant coffee in two cups.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ he asked lightly as they sat down and Lucy still hadn’t said a word.
She shook her head and tried to communicate with him what she was thinking, feeling. She made a half-gesture around them, encompassing the view. ‘It’s so beautiful … I can’t even begin to describe …’ She looked at him then. His face was shuttered, dark glasses shielding his eyes. ‘This property isn’t listed with your other ones …’
Ari’s jaw clenched. He looked out towards the glittering Aegean. When he’d made the decision to come here he hadn’t stopped to consider Lucy’s reaction to the basic nature of the house. He knew very few women who wouldn’t have turned up their noses and shuddered disdainfully. A ridiculous feeling of disappointment ran through him and he drawled, ‘You’d prefer to be on Santorini? The villa there certainly is … larger.’
Shock coursed through Lucy. ‘No! That’s not what I meant at all. I’d much prefer to be here …’ She hated that he’d jumped to that conclusion. ‘I just mentioned it because I hadn’t seen it. That’s all.’
Ari flicked her a glance. ‘It’s not listed because I’ve deliberately kept it private. It was my mother’s house—where she grew up.’
‘Oh.’ There didn’t seem to be anything more to say, and Lucy could feel a wall spring up between them. Clearly he wasn’t going to elaborate. It seemed important to make him believe so she leaned across and took his hand. ‘Ari, I’m glad you brought me here. Really.’
After a long day in the sun, exploring the island’s beaches and eating a basic picnic, drinking sparkling wine in the shade on an empty beach, making love until their bodies seemed boneless and sated, Ari couldn’t stop thinking about Lucy’s words and expression from that morning. She’d seemed sincere. He’d believed her to be sincere when she’d professed to liking the place.
He held her hand in his now, as they wandered through the ancient winding streets of his mother’s birthplace. He repressed the urge to ask her if she’d really meant what she’d said—if she really loved this humble little place as much as she seemed to—because he hated how important it felt to him that she did.
A little later Ari sat back in his chair in the small taverna he’d brought her to, and Lucy’s belly flipped over at his expression. He was looking at her so intensely she had to ask, ‘What …? Have I got something on my face?’
He shook his head and smiled, and her heart turned over. She had once thought he was incapable of smiling, but the younger-seeming, softer side of this man was altogether far too enticing.
‘Just a lot of freckles. Who would have known you’d freckle so easily?’
Lucy grimaced. ‘I have celtic ancestry.’
He smiled wider, lounging back, cradling a half-empty wine glass. ‘They’re cute.’
Lucy scowled at the word. ‘Unfortunately we can’t all go a deeper shade of bronze in the sun.’
She tried to stop her eyes roving over his powerful form but couldn’t resist. His T-shirt strained over broad shoulders and clung to that lean torso; low-slung jeans were so low slung that she could see a sliver of taut dark flesh just above the button, the dark shading of hair making her heart trip.
‘Stop devouring me with your eyes, or I’ll carry you back to bed over my shoulder, Lucy Proctor.’
She looked up again and blushed. He leant forward and captured her hand.
‘It’s amazing that you can blush when you’re so incredibly sensual … when you wear such decadent underwear …’
Lucy groaned.
‘… and have a body to put the Venus de Milo to shame …’
‘I don’t … Stop.’ Lucy glanced around, mortified, in case someone had heard him. He laughed out loud.
‘Yes, you do—and it’s entirely appropriate that we’re here, because this is the island that supplied the Parian marble for the sculpture.’ He kept her hand and asked then, ‘Tell me, Lucy, why is it that you have these two different sides? And why did you fight not to fall into my bed? Was it all a game?’
His voice had hardened, his hand had tightened,