British Bachelors: Gorgeous and Impossible. Jessica Hart
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And with that he calmly unfastened a second crash helmet from the back seat and presented her with it. The helmet was red, with a white lightning arrow down each side and the words Paxos Pizza in large black letters across the front. Not something you could easily miss.
‘Ah. Yes. Cassie’s helmet came at a bargain price. That was the only one my pal Spiro had left in a medium.’
She looked dubiously at the helmet that he was holding out to her.
‘The only one? I see. And you’re quite positive that we shouldn’t take my hire car?’
‘Quite,’ he replied. ‘I would hate to disturb the cats.’
‘Ah,’ she said, ‘of course. The cats. A man clearly has to have priorities.’
Without saying another word she slid her shoulder bag over her head and across her chest, took the helmet out of his hands, swept back her hair and slipped the helmet on. All in one single sleek movement. She fastened the chinstrap as though she had been doing it all her life.
His silent admiration just clicked up two points.
‘Don’t say a word,’ she murmured, glaring at him through slitted eyes.
‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Mark patted the seat behind him. ‘You might want to hold on to me when we set off.’
‘Oh, I think I can manage. Thank you all the same.’
She was standing next to him now, one hand planted firmly on each hip, weighing up her options. Although she was only two feet away, he could hear her mind ticking. The air crackled with tension.
‘You should be warm enough,’ he said quite calmly. ‘We’re not going far.’
And with that he started the engine and clicked down into first gear.
Then he checked the chinstrap on his helmet, wriggled his bottom into the driver’s position and faced directly ahead. Without looking back even once to check what she was doing.
Ten seconds later the bike lurched slightly to one side as she settled herself on the small pillion passenger seat.
That was his cue to enjoy a totally secret wide-mouthed smile, which he knew she wouldn’t see.
‘Hang on!’ he called, and without waiting for a reply opened up the throttle and set off slowly down the drive. He checked the road was clear and they were on their way.
Warm summer air, thick with pollen from the olive trees and scented with pine resin, caressed Lexi’s arms and bare legs as the scooter tootled down the main road heading for the coast.
She leaned back on her arms and gripped on to the grab-rail behind her seat, her muscles clenching and rattling with every bump in the road. Strange how she hadn’t noticed the potholes in the comfort of her hire car. She was certainly feeling every one of them now.
She hated being a passenger. But she had to admit that the view in front of her was impressive enough. Mark’s broad shoulders filled his shirt, and as he stretched forward on the scooter she could see the muscles in his arms move effortlessly through the controls. His top wasn’t quite long enough, which meant she had occasional tantalising glimpses of the band of skin above his snug-fitting trousers.
Far too tantalising.
Dratted tingles.
Lexi turned her head slowly from side to side, looking for distraction in the stunning Greek countryside as they sped along at about twenty miles an hour. Lemon trees, bright purple and pink bougainvillaea, and pale oleander bushes filled the gardens of the houses they passed on the small country road. Dark green cypresses and pine trees created a perfect skyline of light and shade under the deep azure blue of the sky.
And all the time she could glimpse a narrow line of darker blue in between the trees, where the Ionian Sea met the horizon.
The sun shone warmly on her exposed skin and she felt free and wild and ready to explore. She felt so completely liberated that, without thinking about it, she closed her eyes and relaxed back to let the wind cool her throat and neck. Just as she did so the bike slowed, making a sharp turn to the left off the main road onto what felt like a farm track.
Lexi snapped her eyes open and instinctively grabbed Mark around the waist, her heart thumping. She could feel his muscles tighten under her hands, warm and solid and mightily reassuring.
He glanced back just once, to give her a reassuring smile, before reducing his speed and leaning the scooter through bend after bend of steadily narrowing and even more bumpy road until they came to a passing point outside a stunning tiny white church and he came to a slow, graceful stop.
They had arrived. At the end of the road.
‘Did I mention that the rest of the way is on foot?’ he asked in an innocent voice.
Lexi replied with a scathing look and glanced down at her gold wedge sandals. ‘How far do I have to walk?’
‘Five minutes. Tops. It’s just at the end of the donkey trail and then through the olives.’
‘Five minutes? I’ll hold you to that. Of course you do realise that your terrible secret is now out in the open?’ Lexi grinned, heading down the rocky path between the high drystone walls that separated the olive groves. Pine needles from the conifers softened her tread.
Mark swallowed hard. ‘Any one in particular? I have so many.’
‘This is undoubtedly true. I was, of course, referring to the secret life of The Honourable Mark Belmont, Company Director. The outside world knows him as the suave financial wizard of the London stock market. But when Mr Belmont comes to Paxos? Ah, then the other Mark emerges from his chrysalis. This version enjoys riding his scooter—in public—drinking the local wine and entertaining cats. So that only leaves one question. What other hidden talents are yet to emerge?’
His reply was a quick snort.
‘Landscape painting, perhaps? No. Too sedate. How about speedboat-racing?’ Lexi stretched up and ran her fingers through the low-hanging branch of an olive tree. ‘Or perhaps you’re the olive king of the island and have vats of the stuff back at Belmont Manor, ready to challenge the Greek olive-oil market? That’d suit your aristocratic swashbuckling style.’
He chuckled out loud now. A real laugh, displaying his perfect teeth. ‘Swashbuckling? Not exactly my style. And, in answer to your question, I’m no water baby. But I can heartily recommend the local olive oil.’
‘You don’t swashbuckle or swim?’
‘Never.’
‘Seriously? When you have that lovely pool at the villa?
He froze, half turned and then looked at her for a split second, still smiling. ‘Swimming was for pupils who preferred sport to studying. Apart from my stellar football experience, which was definitely a one-off, sport was not on my timetable. And it strikes me that I’ve been answering a lot of questions. Your turn. What hidden talents does Lexi Sloane have up her sleeve? What’s her guilty pleasure?’
Now it was Lexi’s turn to smile, but she shot him a quick glance as they walked along before speaking again.
‘Apart from good food and wine, you mean? Ah. Well, as a matter of fact I do have a guilty pleasure. I write children’s stories.’
Mark made a strange strangled sound but carried on walking.
‘Children’s stories? You mean teen vampire love and schools for wizards?’
She sniggered. ‘Mine are meant for a much younger audience. Think talking animals and fairies.’ She stopped walking, dived into her shoulder bag, brought out her favourite notebook and flicked to a particular page. ‘I worked on this one during the night when I couldn’t sleep.’
Mark turned around on the narrow path and took a step towards her, peering at