The Greek Tycoon's Bride. HELEN BROOKS
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Jill at picking up any undercurrents, and she was doubly glad she had made the effort and accompanied Jill out here.
The Karydises might find Jill accommodating to a fault and somewhat naive, but they would discover her sister was a different kettle of fish if they tried to pull any fast ones!
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS another half an hour before Andreas announced they were close to his parents’s home, but the journey through the Greek countryside where the vivid blue backdrop of the sky had provided a perfect setting for small square whitewashed houses with red tiled roofs, pretty villages and countless olive groves, and the odd dome-shaped spire dazzling in the sunshine, could have continued for much longer as far as Sophy was concerned. Apart from one factor, that was—the proximity of Andreas in the close confines of the car.
Since the moment he had caught her watching him she had been very careful to avoid any eye contact, but she knew without looking at him every time the grey gaze was levelled in her direction and it was unnerving. He was unnerving.
She hadn’t met a man who exuded such a stark, virile masculinity before, and the open-necked shirt he was wearing had enabled her to catch a glimpse of the bronzed, hair-roughened flesh beneath which had caused her stomach muscles to tighten. And she liked that reaction even less than her earlier irritation and dislike because it suggested a kind of weakness.
It wasn’t as though she liked the caveman type, she told herself crossly. Matthew had had the sort of looks she was drawn to: thick fair hair and blue eyes, a slim, almost boyish frame and classical fine features in an academic sort of face. Matthew had been gentle and mild, non-threatening, and that was her ideal man. Matthew. Poor, dear Matthew.
As the car turned off the main road into what was virtually a narrow lane, Sophy’s thoughts were far away. She and Matthew had met at university and she had liked him right away. He had been funny and warm and easy to be with and, although at uni they had just been friends, once she had moved up to London—Matthew’s home territory—their relationship had moved up a gear, and they had slowly begun to get to know each other better.
They had been married for just eight months before Matthew had fallen ill, and it had been a happy time. He had been her first lover and their sex life had been tender and comfortable, which had summed up their life together really, Sophy silently reflected, as the car came to a halt outside a pair of eight-foot-high wrought-iron gates set in a gleaming white wall.
And then, within two months of the liver cancer being diagnosed, Matthew had died, leaving her alone and utterly devastated.
Friends had rallied round and her job had helped, but it had been a full twelve months before she had felt she was beginning to enjoy life once again. And she hadn’t dated since, in spite of several offers; shallow affairs weren’t her style, and whether she had just been unlucky or men as a whole assumed a young widow was fair game she didn’t know, but certainly the ones of her acquaintance seemed to assume a dinner and a bottle of wine meant a bed partner. And the married ones were the worst of the lot. It had been quite a disillusioning time, if she thought about it. She frowned to herself, oblivious of her surroundings.
‘…Aunty Sophy?’
She came out of her reminiscences to the realisation that Michael’s chatter had been directed at her for the last few moments and she hadn’t heard a word. ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ she said quickly. ‘I was day-dreaming. What did you say?’
But Michael was talking to his mother now, and it was left to Andreas to say quietly, ‘He was merely pointing out the gates opened by themselves, courtesy of Paul’s remote control of course.’
Sophy nodded, forcing herself to meet the level gaze without blinking. She noticed his grey eyes had turned almost silvery in the blinding white sunlight, throwing the darkness of his thick black lashes into startling prominence and yet earlier, at the airport, the grey had been nearly black. A human chameleon, she thought drily, and no doubt his nature was as enigmatic as his appearance. Some men liked to project an air of mystery.
More in an effort to show she was not intimidated than anything else, she said politely—the car having passed through the gates and into the spectacular gardens beyond—‘It must be wonderful to live in such beautiful surroundings. Have your parents always lived here?’
‘For the last thirty-two years,’ Andreas said softly. ‘I was actually born here twelve months after they first moved in.’
So he was only thirty-one; he seemed older somehow. And then her attention was taken by Jill who touched her arm, her voice awe-struck as she said, ‘Look, Sophy, banana trees.’
They were travelling very slowly down a long winding gravel drive, the tyres scrunching on the tiny pebbles, and either side of the car was a cascade of vibrant colour. Masses of exotic, brilliantly coloured flowers and small shrubs were set strategically among silver spindrift olive trees, and the feathered leaves of jacarandas and the broad polished leaves of banana trees were also etched against the blue sky. The effect was riveting.
And then the car turned a corner and a long and very beautiful house was in front of them, its white walls and deep red roof perfectly complemented by the riot of colour at its many balconies, the same lacy ironwork reflected in the veranda which ran the full length of the house and which again had bougainvillaea, anemones, lobelia and a host of other trailing flowers winding over it.
‘Oh, wow!’ Michael, with the innocent ingenuousness of a child, verbalised what both women were thinking as he turned to his uncle, his brown eyes wide, and said, ‘Are my grandparents very rich, Uncle Andreas?’
‘Michael!’ Jill turned as red as the scarlet roof. ‘You mustn’t ask things like that, darling,’ she said reprovingly.
‘Why?’ Michael stared at his mother in surprise.
‘Because it isn’t polite.’
Polite or not, it was a pretty valid point, Sophy thought bemusedly. She could see tennis courts to the left of the house and Andreas had already mentioned the swimming pool; these people were loaded. She had always thought Theodore was nicely set up—what with his restaurant business and the lovely house he and Jill had lived in—but this, this was something else. Why hadn’t Theodore ever said he came from such a wealthy family?
Jill must have had the same thought because her voice was small when she turned to Andreas and said, ‘Theodore never talked about his family, Andreas, as I suppose you’ve guessed. You’ll have to excuse our surprise.’
There was a moment’s hesitation on Andreas’s part, and then he surprised both women as he leant forward slightly, saying quickly under his breath, ‘I understand this, Jill, but I would implore you not to reveal it to my mother. My father and I would expect nothing else, but she…she is desolate and it would serve no useful purpose to know he has not mentioned her to his wife and child. You understand?’ he added urgently.
‘Yes, yes of course.’ Jill stared at Andreas as he settled back into his seat and then glanced once at Sophy.
Understand? She didn’t understand anything about this family, Sophy thought militantly, but she was so glad she had come here with Jill. If the parents were anything like their offspring, they might soon be on the next plane home rather than enjoying a couple of weeks in the sun! Overwhelming wasn’t the word for it.
However, she had no time to reflect further as the car had drawn to a halt at the bottom of the wide, semi-circular stone steps leading up to the house, and Andreas had already exited, turning to extend his hand as he helped both women out on to the immaculate drive.
The heat struck again with renewed vigour after the cool air-conditioning inside the limousine, but it wasn’t that which caused the colour to flare in Sophy’s cheeks. For a brief moment as she had slid out of the car and risen to stand beside her sister, she had been just a little too close to Andreas. Close enough to sense the muscled power in the big frame next to her and smell the faint, intoxicatingly delicious scent of his aftershave, and she couldn’t believe how her body had reacted.