The Greek s Convenient Mistress Read online

  ‘Ela,’ said Eleni insistently, pulling her hand. Come.

  Out in the garden, he’d been told. But where? Costas scanned the pool, the lawn and all the areas closest to the house. As long as Sophie hadn’t decided to go for a long walk along the shore. The doctor was waiting inside, ready to take her blood sample for the initial compatibility test.

  Costas strode past the formal gardens and headed for the path that led through fruit trees to the olive grove and then to the beach.

  The doctor would wait, that wasn’t a problem. But he, Costas, wanted it done now. He had to know what chance there was for this to work.

  He had to—

  His head shot up as he heard laughter, lilting and evocative, ahead. His steps slowed as he rounded a hedge. And then he stopped.

  Bright sunlight illuminated two heads, one bare and pale, the other dark, with a thick mane of hair that gleamed with the tiniest, seductive hint of auburn.

  Eleni and Sophie. Cross-legged in the grass of the old orchard, bending over something in the meadow grass.

  ‘Beetle,’ said Eleni in Greek.

  ‘Beetle,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Green beetle.’

  ‘Green beetle,’ mimicked Sophie.

  His daughter was teaching Sophie Greek. Behind them, on the stone wall, sat her nanny, making a daisy chain.

  ‘Nose.’ Eleni placed her finger on Sophie’s nose.

  ‘Nose.’ Sophie copied the gesture and then gave Eleni’s button nose a tiny tweak, making Eleni giggle.

  Costas swallowed down hard on the lump that rose in his throat. He’d heard his little girl laugh so rarely in recent months. It was the best sound he’d heard in ages.

  He must have moved then. Something made the pair of them look up. Immediately Eleni clambered to her feet and raced across to wrap her arms around his legs. ‘Papa!’

  He’d never grow tired of her embraces. Even if, the good lord willing, she grew to be a mother herself.

  He bent down and swung her up high in his arms and around till she squealed with delight. Then he tucked her close against his torso, inhaling her sweet, fresh soap scent. Felt her tiny, warm body wriggling against his.

  And over her shoulder his eyes locked with Sophie’s. The laughter had faded from hers and now he saw there the welling emotion he battled so often himself.

  A shaft of heat pierced his chest, warming places that had been frozen against the pain. The knowledge of her understanding did that to him. It promised so much.

  But it also threatened his control.

  ‘Come,’ he said, turning abruptly away. ‘There’s someone to see you.’

  Costas stood on the front steps, watching the doctor’s car disappear down the driveway. The warmth of the sun was on his face, the light sea breeze tickled his collar. He registered the physical sensations but that was all.

  He didn’t feel anything else. Not excitement, not the fervent hope of yesterday. Not even the impatient anticipation he’d expected.

  His emotions had shut down.

  Or was he lying to himself? Pretending he didn’t feel anything so he wouldn’t have to face the yawning chasm of fear that might suck him down if he let it? Fear that the test result would be negative.

  ‘Costas?’ The voice was soft, tentative.

  He’d never heard his name on her lips, he realised. And he liked it. Liked it too much for a man whose emotions were supposed to have shut down.

  ‘Costas, is everything all right?’ Closer now, Sophie’s voice came from just beside him. Her hand settled on his sleeve, feather-light, tentative, and immediately fire sparked in his bloodstream. He clenched his fists to prevent his instinctive response: to cover her hand with his own and keep it there.

  He turned to find her looking up at him. The sun caught the highlights in her hair, illuminated the purity of her classically beautiful features. But they were nothing to the impact of her gold-flecked eyes. She returned his gaze openly, with such candour and sympathy, that he felt the warmth of her compassion like a caress.

  How had he ever, even for an instant, thought she looked like Fotini’s mirror image? There was no comparison between the two.

  Fotini had been so alive, so full of passion, but there’d been precious little generosity in her. She’d been too wrapped up in herself. She’d been vivacious, but never, not once, had she connected with him the way Sophie did with just this single, heartfelt look.

  A shudder rippled up his spine, a presentiment of destiny drawing close.

  No! He didn’t believe in such things.

  Sophie didn’t understand him. How could she? He barely understood his own feelings. There was no connection.

  He thrust away the desire to lean down and draw whatever comfort he could from her. She tempted him to forget how fickle women could be. However sweet the illusion, experience had taught him well.

  Yet it disconcerted him to realise how much he wished the illusion were real.

  ‘Yes, everything is fine,’ he said, surprised to find his voice had dropped to a gravelly murmur. He stepped back, felt her hand fall, and knew it was better that way.

  ‘The doctor said he’d ring as soon as he could with the results,’ she said. ‘It won’t be a long wait.’

  Costas experienced a sudden, futile wish that the results might be delayed. What would he do if the news was bad? If a transplant wasn’t possible? How would he face Eleni? The thought of it scared him as nothing else had.

  He needed to get away, do something to fill the next few hours, he suddenly decided. Waiting here for news would drive him crazy.

  ‘It’s almost time for Eleni’s lunch,’ he found himself saying. ‘Then she has a long nap. Would you like to do a little sightseeing? Or are you too tired from the journey?

  He watched her intently, waiting for her response.

  He wanted to spend time with this girl, he acknowledged. Despite the way she got under his skin, challenging his composure and his expectations. Despite the turmoil, the confusion he experienced whenever they were together, something about her drew him every time. And it wasn’t just sex.

  Maybe, if he got to know her, he could work out what it was—that indefinable something that set her apart from other women he’d known.

  ‘Thanks,’ she was saying, not quite meeting his eyes. ‘I’d like that. If you’ve got the time.’

  ‘Of course.’ He’d already put in several hours’ intensive work this morning on the phone and the email. An afternoon off wouldn’t hurt. ‘It will be my pleasure.’

  An hour later he strode out of the house. Eleni was tucked up in bed, asleep after a story on his lap. He’d postponed his afternoon teleconference and he was eager to get away.

  Just a sightseeing drive, he told himself. Simple, uncomplicated. A host’s duty. But that didn’t prevent the sizzle of anticipation he experienced as he remembered Sophie’s warm gaze meshing with his. The subtle temptation of her body when she stood close.

  He slid on his sunglasses and turned towards the garages. Strange that Yiorgos didn’t have the limousine waiting at the front door as instructed.

  Her voice alerted him first. Automatically his step quickened. Sure enough, there she was, deep in conversation with his driver. The pair had their heads together over a map spread on the bonnet of the limo. Yiorgos was tracing a finger along some route, all the while leaning closer than necessary towards the woman at his side.

  But Sophie didn’t mind. She was laughing, flicking her hair back over her shoulder in a gesture obviously designed to encourage the driver’s attention.

  Déjà vu.

  It slammed into him with nauseating brutality.

  In the shadows of the garage it could have been Fotini standing there, flirting. That siren’s smile, the provocative angle of her head, the ripple of laughter. The two women were so alike in that moment.

  Fotini had never done more than flirt with anyone else after their marriage—he’d made sure of that. But when the mood was upon her she�
�d found a perverse delight in flaunting herself with other men, teasing Costas with the sight of her sharing an emotional intimacy she denied him.

  A cloud blocked the sun and Costas registered a sudden chill in the sea breeze.

  Yiorgos said something and Sophie leaned forward, peering over the map. The movement stretched her jeans taut, emphasising feminine curves in a way that made the muscles in Costas’ belly spasm tight and his throat dry. His hands itched to reach for her.

  Silently he cursed himself for his inevitable reaction. And for being so disappointed in her. Hadn’t he told himself she was no different?

  ‘Ready to go?’ His tone was carefully even, revealing none of his simmering anger.

  Yiorgos jumped, clear evidence of a guilty conscience, and put a decent distance between himself and Sophie.

  She swung round, a tentative smile on her lips. The look of welcome on her face made it seem as if she’d been filling in time, waiting for Costas’ arrival. Unbidden, answering warmth flared in his belly.

  But he wasn’t fooled by her.

  ‘Not the limo today, I think.’ He gestured curtly to one of the other vehicles. ‘We’ll take the Jaguar. No need for you to drive us,’ he said over his shoulder to Yiorgos.

  Minutes later they were heading along the coast road, Costas describing the local highlights. That should have distracted him from the unreasoning disappointment that had taken hold when he’d seen her amusing herself with Yiorgos.

  Why was he surprised? It must be second nature to her, as it had been to Fotini, to seek male attention. Hadn’t the investigator’s report specifically mentioned Sophie’s popularity with the opposite sex?

  The knowledge should make it easier for him to resist the temptation she represented. After all, he had discriminating tastes. He didn’t share his women.

  Yet still he burned for her. And that made him furious.

  ‘You do not mind driving alone with me?’ Costas asked. ‘I should have asked if you’d prefer the limousine.’

  ‘No, this is lovely. It’s a beautiful car.’ Sophie smoothed her hand over the seat—she’d never felt leather so soft.

  ‘I’m glad you like it.’ Costas’ deep voice thrummed across her skin, drawing it tight. She looked up and for a moment met his eyes, dark and glowing with an intense emotion she couldn’t identify. Then he turned his attention back to the road and she let out a slow breath, wondering how he managed to affect her so with just a glance.

  ‘Some women prefer not to be alone with a man who is not a close friend or family member.’

  Sophie frowned at the edge in his voice. He was showing her the local sights—what was there to object to in that? ‘In Australia no one would think anything of it.’

  She turned and stared at the coastal development they were approaching. It was modern and brand-new. But her attention was caught by the figure of an old, black-clad woman, leading a laden donkey down a narrow lane right beside the massive new structures.

  ‘I suppose the customs here are different from those at home,’ she murmured.

  ‘Things have changed, but some of the old ways linger. We still have a strong tradition of protecting our women.’

  Her mouth pursed at the idea. Much good it would have done her or her mother to wait for their male relatives to protect them! ‘In Australia we’re independent. Women look after themselves.’ It came out as a challenge. But then he’d hit a raw nerve. Far from looking after his womenfolk, Petros Liakos had shunned them, left them utterly alone to sink or swim. If that was an example of Greek male protectiveness she wanted nothing to do with it.

  Her mother had made her own way, against the odds, in a new country. Sophie remembered how exhausted her mum had used to be after her long shifts and how that never stopped her putting in a few more hours, taking in ironing for extra money. Never once had she complained.

  ‘You never felt the need for protection? Not even from unwanted male attention?’

  Why the sudden interest? He wasn’t thinking of setting himself up as some sort of male guardian, was he? Instantly she rejected the disturbing idea.

  ‘I find there’s safety in numbers.’ It was much better having a large group of friends.

  He sent a piercing stare her way. ‘So, you have many male friends? Doesn’t that make life complicated?’

  She frowned. ‘Not at all. Sticking with one guy isn’t all it’s made out to be.’ Her one serious boyfriend had turned out to be a disappointment. And after that experience Sophie wasn’t eager to rush into intimacy again.

  Now she found it easier to be part of a group. There was no pressure to pair off and she could go out and enjoy herself without worrying about sexual politics. Simpler. Safer.

  Sophie felt Costas’ scrutiny and turned to meet his brooding look. His expression had settled into grim lines that accentuated the stern set of his face.

  His disapproval was obvious.

  So, he didn’t think women should take charge of their lives? She tilted her chin and looked out at the view, surprised at her disappointment.

  For a while there she’d felt as if she and Costas were developing a tentative understanding. She was dismayed to discover how strongly she felt his rejection.

  Why should it matter so much to her?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SOPHIE LEANED BACK against the trunk of an old pine tree and felt her body relax, muscle by muscle. It was so peaceful here, so quiet. She didn’t ever want to move.

  Only Costas’ presence, so temptingly close, marred her contentment. He was silent, absorbed in his own dark thoughts, staring up at the snow-covered peaks where Mt Ida caught the clouds.

  He couldn’t see how hungrily she followed the crisp line of his profile against the sky. The angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the lean strength of his broad shoulders.

  If only he’d…what? Turn and talk to her? Share his thoughts?

  Or look at her again the way he sometimes did—so that her blood seemed to thicken in her arteries, beating slower and harder as excitement dried her mouth.

  She needed to get a grip, cultivate some distance from the man. That was what common sense told her. But if she was honest with herself she’d admit common sense had little to do with the growing feelings she had for Costas Palamidis.

  She’d seen him battling fear and despair. His elation when that first test had shown positive and she’d gone to hospital for a bone-marrow sample. The demons of doubt that rode him now, days later, as he waited for news. She’d seen him so heartbreakingly gentle with Eleni and couldn’t help wishing he’d share some of that tenderness with her.

  She had no business wanting more from a man who’d recently lost his wife. But she did.

  These past days in Crete Sophie had let herself be lulled into hoping something…meaningful was developing between her and Costas.

  Each afternoon, while Eleni slept, she and Costas drove out, exploring the countryside. These trips were a source of secret anticipation and intense disappointment. Sometimes she felt as if she and Costas connected in a way she never had with anyone. There was a warmth of shared understanding, a spark of something special between them, that made her blood sing and the shadows fall away. And then, in the next instant, it disappeared. She could feel his withdrawal.

  Did she imagine their growing understanding? Sometimes she’d swear it was real. And others…

  The one constant was the undeniable thread of simmering attraction that bound them. Even when Costas’ expression was dark, almost disapproving, the magnetism drew them, like polar opposites, together.

  He threatened her peace in ways no man ever had. Her mind turned to mush if ever his suddenly hot gaze trawled over her face, or he drew so close she could inhale his scent. Awareness, expectation, excitement were a constant throb in her blood whenever he was near.

  Nothing had prepared her for it. Her one intimate relationship hadn’t been even a poor reflection of these intense feelings.

  How she wished her mo
ther were here to advise her. To share her experience and wisdom. But Sophie was on her own.

  Abruptly she turned away. Perhaps if she stared at the ruins spread out before her she could imagine it as a thriving city. Anything to take her mind off Costas and this see-saw of emotions.

  But ancient Phaestos stubbornly remained a confusion of stone foundations. Not nearly as fascinating as the man beside her.

  ‘Have you thought any more about your grandfather?’ he asked so suddenly that she jumped. She felt her eyes widen as she swung round to meet his gaze.

  Of course she’d thought about him. How could she not when she knew he was so close, on this very island? She nodded.

  ‘But you’re not willing to let the feud go?’

  ‘It was his feud, not mine!’ She felt the familiar, instant surge of hot fury. ‘It was up to him to end it.’ Her chest rose and fell with her angry breathing. ‘And I did try, remember? I rang him and never got a response.’

  She read sympathy in his expression and something else. Something that made the hairs rise on her nape. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I think perhaps he does want to end it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  ‘I’ve heard something that may change your views.’ He paused. ‘According to his housekeeper, Petros Liakos intended to call your mother.’

  A jolt of something—shock? Disbelief?—slammed into her.

  ‘You mean that’s what he says now?’ So he’d changed his tune now it was he who lay in a solitary sick bed.

  Costas’ expression grew severe. ‘No. He hasn’t spoken about it. When the housekeeper told him of your call, he asked her to bring the letter from your mother. Apparently when she first wrote he instructed his staff that any mail from her should be set aside and not delivered to him.’

  ‘Unfeeling bastard,’ Sophie murmured, her heart clenching at the memories of her mother enclosing a photo with the letter she wrote to Petros Liakos each year on her daughter’s name day.