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      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER ONE

      FROM his position at one side of the orchestra rostrum, Mikos swung his gaze over the crowded ballroom and brought it to rest on the woman edging closer to the table where Angelo held court. Who was she? And how come he hadn’t spotted her before? The party had been in full swing for almost three hours, yet only now, with midnight approaching, had she come to his attention.

      She seemed to be alone and, like him, giving the impression she preferred to remain an observer, rather than a participant, of the festivities. The difference was, he was very good at what he did, and only a handful of those present knew that he was more than just Angelo’s executive vice president and most favored confidant.

      She, on the other hand, was trying too hard to be inconspicuous. If you wanted to disappear into the background, koritsi mou, he thought, taking in the daring cut of a dress the same shade of misty mauve as the Aegean at dawn, you should have worn something less eye-catching.

      Surveying the room one last time, he exchanged a nod with the security guards posted at the doors, then stepped down from the dais and casually made his way to where she stood half-concealed by the ornate drapery in a window alcove. Dark haired and dark eyed, she could have passed for Greek, but he’d been around the international social set long enough to recognize a European when he saw one, and this woman didn’t fit the mold. American, he decided, and addressed her mostly in English. “Kalispera. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

      If she was startled at being accosted by a stranger, she didn’t let it show. “I believe you’re right,” she said, her gaze locking fearlessly with his. “But then, I’ve met very few people here tonight.”

      He couldn’t quite place her accent, and knew for a fact that he’d never seen her before. Hers was not a face a man would soon forget. “Then allow me to remedy the situation. I’m Mikolas Christopoulos.” And it’s my job to find out everything there is to know about you.

      “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Christopoulos,” she said composedly. “I’m Gina Hudson.”

      “And you’re not American.”

      “No,” she replied, with a laugh more melodic than anything the orchestra could hope to produce. “I’m Canadian. Is that okay with you?”

      He ran a mental check of the guest list, pretty sure no Canadians were on it. “Of course it’s okay. Who did you come with?”

      “No one. I’m alone, and here on assignment.”

      A working woman? Possibly. But one thing he knew for certain: she was not on the Tyros payroll. Apart from anything else, Angelo didn’t believe in hiring women, except as domestics, although he was happy enough, even at eighty, to occupy them in other ways. If this one happened to take his fancy…

      Mikos shuddered inwardly at the thought. “To do what?” he inquired, steering her out of Angelo’s line of vision.

      “Write an article for a magazine published in Vancouver which, in case you’re not aware, lies on the West Coast of—”

      “I’m familiar with Vancouver,” he said, stopping her dead in her attempt to sidetrack him. “I work for Hesperus International which, as I’m sure you know, is owned by the man being honored here tonight. Two of our cruise ships sail to Alaska from Vancouver during the summer season. It’s a beautiful city.”

      “Yes.” She smiled. “Spectacular, in fact.”

      As are you, he thought. If she’d appeared lovely from a distance, up close she was exquisite. A stunningly beautiful brunette with an hourglass figure, and skin the color of honey. And that smile!

      He couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s smile had hit him with such a shock of sexual awareness. Or if he’d ever felt such a compelling urge to run his hand over her skin to discover if its texture matched the satin silk of her dress. Forcing his attention back where it belonged, he remarked, “I’m surprised the residents of Vancouver even know of this event, let alone care about it. How did it come to your notice?”

      “We might strike you as people living at the back end of beyond, Mr. Christopoulos,” she said evenly, “but we’re actually quite in touch with the rest of the planet. Angelo Tyros is a world-wide celebrity, and his birthday party has aroused quite a bit of international attention. Considering Vancouver’s large Greek community, plus the fact, as you already pointed out, that his cruise ships sail out of our harbor, it shouldn’t surprise you that we find him newsworthy.”

      A beaded bag, dangling from her shoulder by a long silver chain and just large enough to hold a notepad or mini tape recorder, lent some credence to her story. “Well, it’s true that he can make headlines just by blinking,” Mikos allowed. “But for you to travel so far, for so little…”

      “I quite agree, which is why, once I’m finished here, I plan to combine business with pleasure and spend a week or two discovering the Greek islands.”

      She sounded so convincing, he almost believed her. But he didn’t get paid to be “almost” anything; he had to be one hundred percent sure. Angelo expected no less, and there’d been enough attempts on the old man’s life, as it was. No way was Mikos going to risk exposing him to another, even if the threat this time did come swathed in silk and sex appeal. That kind was the most dangerous of all.

      Ignoring the blinding dazzle of camera flashbulbs intent on recording every moment of the evening, Mikos indicated the mob of couples gyrating under the dim lights to the orchestra’s insistent beat, and adopted his most persuasive tone. “But this is a party meant to be enjoyed by everyone, including those, like the two of us, not strictly here for pleasure. So I say, let’s put work aside for a moment, and dance.”

      “You’re sure your boss won’t mind?”

      He shot a quick look at the head table where Angelo was ogling the cleavage of the woman draped over his shoulder. “I doubt he’ll even notice.”

      Following his glance, Gina compressed her lips, apparently not impressed by what she saw, and thereby heightening his suspicion of her. “You’re right. He won’t.”

      “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

      Just briefly, she hesitated, then, inclining her head, smiled again. “All right. I’d love to.”

      “You can leave this here. It’ll be perfectly safe.” He took her little beaded bag and secreted it behind the window drapery. Then, after trading significant glances with Theo Keramidis, a plainclothes security guard stationed a few meters away, he slid his arm around her waist, whisked her onto the dance floor and quickly maneuvered her into the middle of the crowd.

      The music pounded, its message one of throbbing, primitive urgency calculated to stir a man’s blood. The heat and press of the bodies surrounding them enforced an intimacy she’d probably have found offensive under any other circumstances. As it was, there was no avoiding physical contact—a fleeting touch here, a dangerously erotic brush there. Not that he minded. With business taken care of, he was more than ready to enjoy the moment for however long it