Won by the Wealthy Greek. Cathy Williams
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as she shared a carefully edited version of her past with him. Her husband had never asked questions, never listened to anything she had to say, never maintained eye contact for longer than a millisecond…
‘So you organised a sit-down strike at school when your favourite dinner lady was sacked?’
He really was listening! ‘She didn’t get her job back.’
‘You tried,’ Iannis remarked softly. ‘And then you climbed out of a window and shinned down the drainpipe to escape from a swimming gala?’
‘Some workmen brought a ladder when I got stuck.’
‘A real rebel!’
There was approval, even humour in his voice. He made it sound like the most wonderful compliment she had ever been paid. Maybe he wasn’t such a dinosaur after all, Charlotte mused, and for a few moments she felt warm and happy. But then she frowned. Why did things have to get complicated? This was only supposed to be a holiday fling—no depth, no consequences. Everyone did it. Why couldn’t she?
Would a holiday fling be enough for her? They had both let their guard down…both forgotten to be mistrustful. There was a harmony and warmth between them that hadn’t existed before. It was dangerous, she recognised. In fact it was the worst thing that could possibly have happened. They shouldn’t be getting to know each other. It was much better…far safer for them both…if Iannis just was. She didn’t want him to take on substance and become someone she cared about. He was supposed to smoulder and deliver—nothing more. Was it already too late for that?
Charlotte cleared her mind for a moment and tried to look at things rationally. But Iannis’s sexual aura was the most potent thing she had ever encountered. It was like being in a force field she wanted to run from, while another part of her never wanted to leave his side—ever. This was madness, she realised.
‘Swim?’
‘Yes!’ Cold water! Fast! Now!
‘Okay,’ Iannis said, holding up his hands palms flat, as if to calm a small child.
‘I’d really like to swim,’ Charlotte said, springing to her feet as she spoke.
Moving away from Iannis as fast as she could, she tugged off her top as she ran, tossing it behind her and pausing only briefly at the water’s edge to rip off her shorts. Maybe the shock of meeting the waves head-on might knock some sense into her, she reasoned—nothing else had helped her so far.
Plunging into a rising wave, Charlotte felt the cool water close around her and gasped before powering away, directing her energies straight out to sea. She didn’t risk stopping to plot a course. The tiger was on her tail, and she felt him closing in on her fast. She threw everything behind her stroke, desperate to escape—from Iannis, from the promised article, and most of all from herself, from the new person she had become the moment she broke with the past and tossed her wedding ring into the sea.
Reinventing herself was taking a lot more courage than she had bargained for—and she hadn’t reckoned on Iannis Kiriakos being around to lend a hand.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IANNIS caught up with her quickly. He was as easy in the water as he was on land, swimming like a dolphin—next to her, in front, beneath and behind—diving effortlessly, his pace and agility astonishing. Soon even Charlotte was laughing, half with incredulity at his skill, and half with pleasure because he was playing with her. She hadn’t played in a long time—or maybe ever.
He had moored his boat close up to the red floats, where it drifted lazily on the idle swell. Still laughing, Charlotte grabbed hold of the side and clung on while she caught her breath. Iannis went one better and swung himself aboard the small craft.
The flash of bronzed torso was the only encouragement she needed. It looked so easy. But Charlotte only succeeded in pulling her side of the boat so close to the surface it almost capsized. As the boat yawed perilously Charlotte slipped underneath, and, disorientated, held on instead of letting go. Stretched out underwater, with her arms extended over her head and her torso wrapped around the boat, her legs rose upwards on the far side of the boat, anchoring her in position.
But Iannis was with her almost at once. She felt his arms lock around her waist and in seconds she was floating safely in the water beside him.
‘Wait for me next time,’ he suggested dryly. ‘I will lift you into the boat.’
Charlotte knew she should stoutly declare her independence, but her heart was hammering uncontrollably so she just said, ‘Thank you,’ as she struggled to get her breath back. The near-accident had really shocked her—but not half as much as the sensation of Iannis’s warmth and strength closing around her half-naked body.
‘Stop shivering,’ Iannis insisted. There was a suggestion of laughter in his voice. ‘There’s nothing to be worried about now. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I won’t let you drown.’
‘Really?’ Charlotte said dryly as her confidence returned. Their faces were very close—too close. It was one of those moments when anything might have happened. Warding off disappointment, she turned quickly, ready to get on board the rowing boat.
Iannis positioned her hands on the side. His hands were warm and strong as he closed her fingers over the smooth wooden surface.
‘Stay there until I’m ready,’ he said, ‘and don’t pull down this time—wait for me to lift you.’
She watched him spring out of the water and vault over the side, hardly affecting the balance of the boat at all. Water streamed off his muscular physique highlighting every contour as he leaned towards her with the sun at his back. Beneath the battered denim shorts she saw now that he had been wearing black bathing shorts. Charlotte forced her gaze away.
‘Are you coming or not?’ Iannis demanded sharply.
‘Of course.’
‘Give me your hands,’ he instructed.
One moment Charlotte was treading water, the next she was standing in front of him, with the sea pulsing rhythmically beneath her feet on the rough wooden planking.
Straddling the boat to keep it balanced, his legs firmly planted, Iannis stared down at her.
‘Thank you…’
Charlotte gasped in surprise when Iannis traced the swell of her bottom lip with his thumb. She found it both restrained and astonishingly seductive. Closing her eyes, she was sure he was about to say something tender and reassuring—or even kiss her.
He did neither.
‘Thank you,’ she said again, as he moved away.
‘For what?’ he demanded, slanting her a look.
‘For diving in, for helping me.’ Charlotte shrugged, wondering why he couldn’t accept her simple thanks. But then she noticed one corner of his mouth tugging up. ‘Don’t tease me, Iannis. I know I panicked. I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the effects of the wine.’
‘You only had one glass,’ he pointed out. ‘Knowing we were going to swim, I made sure of that. Just forget it,’ he said, relaxing onto one hip when she looked as if she’d say something more.
But she couldn’t relax, Charlotte realised, wishing she could find some reason for him to take hold of her again. Her feelings were all mixed up. She could still feel the touch of his thumb on her lip and wanted more. But those intoxicating sensations were getting in the way of her journalistic skills. She should be pumping him for information. Once that was done she could let herself go in every sense—and maybe even return home with a contented smile on her face instead of just an article. But there was something else going on inside her, something she had not anticipated—and it had no connection with sex, or her wretched job.
They had only shared a meal together, Charlotte reasoned, trying to make light of it, but then she smiled, recalling how relaxed she had been with him. They