Smokescreen Marriage

He laughed. ‘You flatter yourself, my red-headed vixen. My motives, for once, are purely altruistic.’

The lift doors opened, and Kate found herself being marched along a wide corridor towards a pair of double doors at the end.

‘No.’ There was real panic in her voice. ‘I want to go home.’

‘So you shall,’ he said. ‘In the morning when I am sure you have suffered no lasting ill effects.’

‘Ill effects?’ Kate echoed, as another wave of dizziness assailed her. ‘What are you talking about.’

He said flatly, ‘Your drink was spiked, thespinis. I saw your companion do it.’

‘Spiked,’ Kate repeated. ‘You mean—drugged? But—why?’

He shrugged. ‘To make you more amenable, perhaps.’ He opened the door, and guided her into the room beyond. ‘There is something called the date-rape drug. You may have heard of it.’

She said numbly, ‘Heard of it—yes. But you must be mistaken. It can’t be true…’

His mouth twisted. ‘If the man you were with had asked you to sleep with him tonight, would you have agreed?’

She gasped. ‘God—no. He’s repulsive.’

‘But might not take rejection well, all the same,’ he said drily. ‘Which is why you must not return to your apartment tonight.’

‘But I have to.’ Kate was shaking. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to steady herself. Collect her thoughts. ‘My—my things are there. I’m going back to England tomorrow. Besides, they may have drugged Lisa too.’

His mouth curled. ‘I doubt they would need to.’

She said hotly, ‘You have no right to say that. You don’t know her.’

He smiled faintly, ‘I admire your loyalty, thespinis, if not your judgement. Now, I think you should lie down before you fall down,’ he added with a slight frown.

‘I’m—fine,’ Kate said thickly.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said, and picked her up in his arms.

She knew she should protest—that she should kick and fight, but it was so much easier to rest her head against his shoulder and close her eyes, and let him carry her.

She could feel the warmth of his body through his clothing. Could smell the faint muskiness of some cologne he wore.

She sensed a blur of shaded light, and felt the softness of a mattress beneath her. Dimly she was aware of her zip being unfastened and her dress removed, and tried to struggle—to utter some panicked negation.

A woman’s voice spoke soothingly. ‘Rest easily, little one. All will be well.’

Kate felt the caress of clean, crisp linen against her bare skin, and then the last vestiges of reality slid away, and she slept.

She dreamed fitfully, in brief wild snatches, her body twisting away from the image of Dimitris bending towards her with hot eyes and greedy hands, her voice crying out in soundless horror.

Once, there seemed to be a man’s voice speaking right above her in Greek. ‘She could solve your immediate problem.’

And heard a cool drawl that she seemed to recognise in the wry response, ‘And create a hundred more…’

She wondered who they were—what they were talking about? But it was all too much effort when she was tired—so tired.

And, as she drifted away again, she felt a hand gently touch her hair, and stroke her cheek.

And smiled in her sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE was on fire, burning endlessly in feverish, impossible excitement. Because a man’s hands were touching her, arousing her to feverish, rapturous delight. His mouth was exploring her, his body moving against her as she lay beneath him, making her moan and writhe in helpless pleasure. In a need she had not known existed—until then.

And she forced open her heavy lids and looked at the dark face, fierce and intense above her, and saw that it was Michael Theodakis.

Kate awoke, gasping. For a moment she lay still, totally disorientated, then she propped herself up on an unsteady elbow, and looked around her.

Her first shocked realisation was that she was naked in this wide, luxurious bed, her sole covering a sheet tangled round her sweat-slicked body.

In fact, the entire bed looked as if it had been hit by an earthquake, the blue and ivory embroidered coverlet kicked to an untidy heap at its foot, and pillows on the floor.

It was a very large room, she thought, staring round her, with a cream tiled floor, and walls washed in a blue that reflected the azure of the sea and sky. The tall shutters had been opened, and the glass doors beyond stood slightly ajar, allowing a faint breeze from the sea to infiltrate the room and stir the pale voile drapes in the brilliant sunlight.

She shook the sheet loose, restoring it to a more decorous level, as she began slowly to remember the events of the previous night.

She didn’t know which was the most extraordinary—the danger she’d been in, or the fact that Michael Theodakis had come to her rescue.

He must, she thought, have been watching very closely to have noticed her drink being spiked. But his attention would have been attracted by Stavros whom he’d clearly identified as trouble.

And he’d naturally be anxious to avoid any whiff of scandal being attached to his hotel, however marginal that might be. But whatever his motivation, she couldn’t deny she’d had a lucky escape.

Shuddering, Kate sat up, shaking the tangle of red hair back from her face in an effort to dispel the faint muzziness which still plagued her—and paused, her attention suddenly, alarmingly arrested.

Because this room bore signs of occupation which had nothing to do with her, she realised, her heart thumping. Like a brush and comb and toiletries on the mirrored dressing table, a leather travel bag standing on a trestle in one corner, and a man’s jacket tossed on to one of the blue armchairs by the window. And she could have no doubt about the identity of their owner.

She whispered, ‘Oh God,’ and sank back against the pillows, her mouth dry, and her mind working overtime.

Just exactly what had happened during the night? she asked herself desperately. And to be precise, what had happened after Michael Theodakis had carried her up here in his arms? Carried her to his room. His bed.

Because that she did most certainly recall, even if the rest was just a jumble of confused impressions.

But that was the effect of the date-rape drug, she reminded herself. It rendered you insensible. And it was only some time afterwards, if at all, that you remembered what had been done to you. And while she’d been unconscious, any kind of advantage could have been taken of her, she thought, swallowing painfully against her tight throat muscles.

Was it possible that during the hours of darkness, her rescuer could have turned predator?

Slowly, reluctantly, she made herself remember her dream—that shivering, frenzied erotic ravishment that had tormented her unconscious mind.

But had it really been a dream, she wondered, staring, horrified, at the disordered bed—or stark reality?

Surely she would know—there would be some physical sign—if her body had been subjected to that level of sensual possession.

Or would she? Was this deep, unfamiliar ache inside her induced by physical frustration—or a passionate satisfaction that was entirely new to her?

Kate realised with shock that she could not be sure. And that maybe she never would be, which was, somehow, infinitely worse.

Oh, dear God, she thought, in panic. I’ve got to get out of here.

But where were her clothes? she wondered, staring fruitlessly round the room. Apart from her shoes, left by the bed, they seemed to have vanished completely.

And, as she absorbed this, a door opened and Michael Theodakis walked in.

Kate grabbed frantically at the slipping sheet holding it against her breasts, as her shocked brain registered that he himself was wearing nothing more than a towel draped round his hips. The rest of him was smooth olive skin, and rippling muscles, and in spite of herself, she found the breath catching in her throat.

He halted, looking her over slowly, brows lifted and eyes brilliant with amusement. He said ‘Kalimera. So you’re awake at last.’

She stared at him, her pulse rate growing crazy. A sick certainty welling up inside her.

She said hoarsely, ‘What—what are you doing here?’

‘Shaving,’ he said. ‘A habit I acquired in adolescence.’ He nodded towards the room he’d just left. ‘I am sorry that we have to share a bathroom, but now you have it to yourself.’

‘Share?’ she said. ‘A bathroom?’

‘This suite only has one.’ He seemed totally at ease with the situation, and with his lack of clothing too. But undoubtedly he was used to displaying himself in front of women in a towel, or even without one.

Whereas she—she was strangling in this bloody sheet.

‘Which does not matter when I am here alone, as I usually am,’ he went on.

‘But last night,’ Kate said, her voice shaking. ‘Was different.’

‘Of course,’ he said softly. ‘Because you were here.’ He paused. ‘I have ordered breakfast to be served to us on the terrace. Would you like me to run a bath for you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I think I’ve had enough personal services for one lifetime. Like being undressed and put to bed last night.’

‘You could not do it for yourself.’ He made it all sound so reasonable, she thought in helpless outrage. ‘You were barely conscious, pedhi mou.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ Kate said between her teeth. ‘And I am not your little one.’

He frowned slightly. ‘You have had a shock,’ he said. ‘But it is over now, and you have come to no harm.’

‘Perhaps I don’t see it like that.’ The sheet was slipping, and she hitched it up, anchoring it with her arms. A gesture that was not lost on him.

There was still laughter in his eyes, but that had been joined by another element. Something darker—more disturbing. Something she had glimpsed in those dark, heated hours in the night, but did not want to recognise again.

Yet, at the same time, she realised that she had to confront him—had to know. Had to…

‘Then how do you see it?’ The dark eyes moved over her in frank assessment. He was enjoying this, she thought, her anger mounting. ‘Maybe we can reach a compromise.’

Kate drew a shaky breath. ‘I’d prefer the truth. Did you come to this room during the night.’

‘Yes. I came to check that you were all right. So did the housekeeper, and also the hotel doctor. It was quite a procession,’ he added drily.

She swallowed. ‘But you were also here alone.’

He frowned. ‘I have said so.’

She touched her dry lips with her tongue.

‘Did you—touch me?’

There was a silence. Then, ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I did not mean you to know, but I could not resist. Your hair looked so beautiful spread across my pillow. I had this irresistible desire to feel it under my hand.’

She stared at him. ‘And was that all—your only irresistible desire, Kyrios Theodakis?’

He sighed. ‘There was a tear on your cheek. I brushed it away.’

‘And then you left,’ she said. ‘Is that what I’m supposed to believe?’

The dark eyes narrowed. He said softly, ‘What are you trying to say?’

Kate bit her lip. ‘Where exactly did you spend the night, Mr Theodakis?’

‘This is a suite, Kyria Dennison. There are two bedrooms. I slept in the second. And I slept well. I hope you did too,’ he added courteously.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t. I had the strangest dreams.’

The dark eyes narrowed. ‘The effect of the drug, perhaps.’

‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But this was such a vivid dream. So realistic.’

‘You are fortunate,’ he drawled. ‘I rarely remember mine.’

‘I’d give a hell of a lot,’ Kate said stormily, ‘not to remember this one.’

‘You interest me.’ He was frowning again, his eyes fixed watchfully on her flushed face. ‘You can describe it to me over breakfast.’

‘I don’t want any breakfast,’ she hurled at him. ‘And I certainly don’t want to eat with you. Because I don’t believe it was a dream at all—you unspeakable bastard. Any more than I believe you spent the night in another room.’

His brows lifted. ‘You’re saying this dream involved me in some way?’

He sounded politely interested, no more. But there was a new tension in the tall figure. A sudden electricity in the room.

‘Yes, I am. I’m saying you—used me last night.’

“‘Used”,’ Michael Theodakis said musingly. ‘An interesting choice of word. Do you mean that we made love?’

Kate’s voice shook. ‘I said exactly what I meant. And you took a filthy advantage of me. Oh, you’re so damned sure of yourself,’ she went on recklessly. ‘So convinced that you’re the answer to any woman’s prayer. I expect you thought I’d be honoured—if I ever remembered.’

‘So let us test this memory of yours,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me, agapi mou, exactly what I did to you.’

She said defensively, ‘I can’t recall the actual details.’

‘But was it good for you?’ He sounded almost casual. ‘You must remember that. For instance, did you come?’

Kate gasped, colour flooding her face. ‘How dare you.’

‘But I need to know. I would hate to think I had disappointed you in any way.’ He walked slowly towards her. ‘Perhaps I should—jog your memory a little.’

‘Keep away from me.’ Kate shrank back.

‘But why?’ There was danger in his voice. He bent lithely, retrieving one of the pillows from the floor. Tossing it on to the bed beside her. His smile did not reach his eyes as he looked at her. ‘When we have already been so close—so intimate? And this time, my beautiful one, I will make sure that you do not forget—anything.’

His hand snaked out, hooking into the folds of linen tucked above her breasts, and tugging them free, uncovering her completely.

Kate gave a small wounded cry, and turned instinctively on to her side, curling into a ball, and sheltering her body with her hands from the arrogance of his gaze, as humiliated tears burned in her throat.

‘Why so modest?’ His tone lashed her. ‘According to you, there is nothing that I have not already seen and enjoyed.’

‘Please,’ she managed, chokingly. ‘Please—don’t…’

‘But I am an unspeakable bastard, agapi mou,’ he said softly. ‘So why should I listen?’

She couldn’t think of a single reason, huddled there on his bed, her breath catching on a sob.

For a moment there was silence and a heart-stopping stillness, then he sighed harshly, and turned away. He picked up a towelling robe from a chair and tossed it down to her.

‘Put this on,’ he directed curtly. ‘You will find it safer than a sheet.’

As she obeyed hurriedly, clumsily, he went on, ‘As you have just discovered, I have a temper, thespinis, so do not provoke me again. I have never taken a woman in anger in my life,’ he added grimly. ‘I do not wish you to be the first.’

She wrapped herself in the robe, tying the sash with shaking fingers.

He came to the side of the bed and took her chin in his hands, forcing her to look up at him.

He said quietly, ‘The mind can play strange tricks, pedhi mou. But I swear I did not share your bed last night. Because if I had done so, you would have remembered, believe me.’

For a fleeting moment, his hands cupped her breasts through the thickness of the robe, his touch burning against her skin, making her nipples harden in sudden, painful need.

She heard herself gasp, then she was free, and he had stepped back from her.

He said, ‘I am going to dress. Then you will join me for breakfast.’

She found the remains of her voice. ‘My—clothes…?’

‘My housekeeper took them to be laundered—after she undressed you last night.’ He allowed her to absorb that. ‘They will be returned to you after you have eaten.’ He paused. ‘Shall we say half an hour?’

And left her, staring after him, her bottom lip caught painfully in her teeth.

As she slid down into the scented bubbles of the bath, Kate was almost tempted to go one stage further, and drown herself.

Since the moment she’d opened her eyes that morning, she’d behaved like a crazy woman. But now she was sane again, and hideously embarrassed to go with it.

Oh, God, what had possessed her to hurl those accusations at Michael Theodakis? she asked herself despairingly.

Well, she supposed it had been triggered by him strolling in, next door to naked, and behaving as if it was an ordinary occurrence. As it probably was to him, but not to her…

She stopped right there, her brows snapping together.

What on earth was she talking about? Working as a holiday rep she encountered men far more skimpily clad every day, and had never found it any kind of problem.

So, why had she over-reacted so ludicrously? It made no sense. She bit her lip, as the realisation dawned that it was nothing to do with the way he’d been dressed—or undressed, and never had been.

It was Michael Theodakis himself who’d rattled her—sent her spinning out of control.

From the moment she’d seen him, she’d been on edge, aware of him in a way that was totally outside her limited experience. She’d been on the defensive even before he’d addressed one word to her.

And the dream, she guessed miserably, had simply been a spin-off from being carried upstairs in his arms. Maybe some humiliating form of wish-fulfilment.

So, she’d behaved like an hysterical fool and, in turn, been treated pretty much with the contempt she deserved, she thought, wincing.

She should have stuck to Plan A and just left quietly. After all, she could always have rung the apartment and got Lisa to bring her a change of clothes.

Lisa…

Kate groaned aloud. Until that moment, she hadn’t spared her flatmate a thought. And anything could have happened to her.

This, she thought forcefully, is not like me.

Overnight she seemed to have turned into a stranger—and a stranger she didn’t like very much.

In spite of her red hair, she’d always been cool, levelheaded Kate, and she wanted her old self back. Michael Theodakis might be a devastatingly attractive man with a powerful sexual charisma, but that did not mean she had to go to pieces when she was around him.

Polite, grateful and unreachable. That was the way to handle the next half hour. The only way.

And then she would be gone, not just from this hotel, but from Greece too, and she would never have to set eyes on him again.

She dried herself and reluctantly donned the towelling robe again, knotting the sash for extra insurance. It masked her from throat to ankle, but it didn’t inspire the confidence her own clothes would have done, and she needed all the assurance she could get, she thought wretchedly.

She combed her hair with her fingers, and emerged reluctantly into the bedroom, steeling herself to walk to the windows.

Outside, a table had been laid, overlooking the sea. And here Michael Theodakis was waiting, leaning against the balustrade in the sunlight.

Kate drew a deep breath, stuck her hands in the pockets of the robe to hide the fact that they were trembling, and went out to join him.

He was wearing shorts, which showed off those endless legs, she observed waspishly, and a short-sleeved polo shirt, open at the throat and affording a glimpse of the shadowing of body hair she’d already had plenty of opportunity to observe.

He said quietly, ‘Kalimera—for the second time. Or shall we erase the events of the past hour, which do credit to neither of us, and pretend it is the first?’

‘Yes.’ Kate looked down at the tiled floor, aware that she was blushing. ‘Maybe we should—do that.’

‘At last,’ he said. ‘We agree on something.’

She hastily transferred her attention to the table, set with a jug of chilled fruit juice, a basket of crisp rolls, dishes of honey and dark cherry jam, a bowl of thick, creamy yoghurt, a platter of grapes, apricots and peaches, and a tall pot of coffee.

She forced a smile. ‘It all looks—delicious.’

‘Yes,’ he said softly, a quiver of amusement in his voice. ‘It does.’

She found she was trembling suddenly, hotly aware that he was still looking at her, and not the food.

‘Please sit down,’ he went on, and Kate moved round the table, choosing a chair that would be as far away from him as it was possible to get, without actually jumping off the terrace. And she might even try that if all else failed.

‘I hope you found your bath soothing,’ he said silkily, as he poured the juice into glasses, and handed her one.

‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘Thank you.’

‘But perhaps a body massage might be even more relaxing,’ he went on. ‘If you would like one, you have only to ask.’

Kate thumped an inoffensive bread roll on to her plate.

‘How kind of you,’ she said grittily. ‘But I’ll pass.’

He smiled at her. ‘It was not a personal offer, thespinis. We have an excellent masseuse at the health spa, who comes highly recommended. But it’s your decision.’

Wrong-footed again, thought Kate, taking a gulp of fruit juice and wishing dispassionately that it was hemlock.

‘Honey?’ Michael Theodakis proffered the dish. ‘It might sweeten your disposition,’ he added casually.

‘My disposition is fine.’ Kate spooned some on to her plate. ‘Perhaps you just bring out the worst in me, Kyrios Theodakis.’

‘My name is Michael,’ he said. ‘Or Mick, if you prefer. Just as you are Kate, rather than Katharina.’

She put down her knife. ‘How do you know my name?’ she demanded huskily.

He shrugged. ‘Your papers were in the purse you left in the club last night. I did not think your identity was a secret. Besides, the police needed to know.’

‘The police.’ She stared at him, lips parted in shock, eyes widening.

‘Of course.’ He sounded matter of fact. ‘Your friend Stavros also had ecstasy tablets in his possession when he was searched. Both he and his cousin spent the night in jail. The first of many, I suspect.’

‘And Lisa?’ Kate asked, with distress. ‘Oh, God, they didn’t lock her up too, surely.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I arranged for her to have her freedom. But it is as well she is leaving Zycos today, and I doubt she will ever be permitted to return. She keeps bad company.’

‘You—arranged?’ Kate said with disbelief. She shook her head. ‘How gratifying to have such power.’

‘No,’ he said, and gave her a cool smile. ‘Merely useful sometimes.’

Kate ate some bread and honey, forcing it past her dry throat.

At last she said stiltedly, ‘I must sound very ungracious, kyrie.’ She took a breath. ‘I—I have to be grateful, to you, naturally. You saved me from potential disaster, but, for the rest of it, I’m totally out of my depth here.’ She shook her head. ‘Drug dealers—jail—I’ve never experienced these things before. I don’t know how to handle them.’

He said quite gently, ‘You don’t have to, thespinis. They have been dealt with for you. Please do not allow them to cloud your memories of Zycos.’ He picked up the silver pot. ‘Coffee?’

But, as she took the cup from him with a subdued murmur of thanks, Kate knew that it would not be her brush with the horror of Dimitris that would return to haunt her in the days to come, but the thought of this man, and the smile in his dark eyes. The warmth of his body, and the remembered scent of his skin as she’d been carried in his arms.

And, even more disturbingly, that there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

It was not the easiest meal Kate had ever eaten.

The necessity to appear untroubled—to make light, social conversation without revealing her inner turmoil—was an unlooked-for struggle.

‘The weather’s still wonderful,’ she said over-brightly, after a pause. ‘But I suppose it can’t last forever.’

‘Very little does.’ He was preparing a peach, his long fingers deft, but he looked across at her and smiled. ‘Did you know that the sun turns your hair to fire?’

‘I’m aware it’s red,’ Kate said, with something of a snap. ‘You don’t need to labour the point.’