The Millionaire's Virgin

Their silent flirtation had not gone unnoticed, however. Paige, trying to concentrate on what the agent was saying, made furious gestures at her sister, but without much success. Hot and frustrated, Paige was beginning to wish they’d never left London. At least in England she could understand what was going on.

With the tickets in her hand, she eventually escaped the counter and pushed her way across to where Sophie was waiting. The youth was chatting her up now and, judging by the becoming flush in Sophie’s cheeks, she was having no trouble understanding him. Indeed, she hardly noticed Paige’s arrival, her husky laugh attracting the attention of more than one pair of eyes.

‘Sophie!’ Paige dug her in the ribs with her elbow, bending to pick up her own bags before confronting her sister with a baleful look. ‘Come on,’ she said, ignoring the boy. ‘Let’s go and find a café. I’m dying for a cool drink.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Sophie grabbed her arm, and although Paige prepared herself for an argument it didn’t come. ‘This is Paris,’ she said, as if that was of some interest to them. ‘Mr Petronides has sent him to meet us. Isn’t that great?’

Paige blinked. ‘What?’

‘Kirie Petronides,’ ventured the young man helpfully. ‘You are Kiria Tennant, ohi? And Thespinis Tennant,’ he added, smiling at Sophie. ‘Kalostone, kiria. Welcome to Greece.’

Paige dropped her bags again. ‘Kirie Petronides asked you to meet us?’ she asked disbelievingly, even as the boy’s distinction between greeting an older woman and a younger one caused her to grit her teeth. Still, she probably looked a lot older, she conceded, right at this moment. She was hot and tired, and she wasn’t in the mood for precocious youths.

‘Ne,’ he said, looping the strap of Sophie’s rucksack over his shoulder and picking up her suitcase without obvious effort. ‘If you will come with me…’

‘Wait.’ Paige hesitated. ‘How do I know—?’ she began, only to have Sophie override her protests.

‘Come on, Paige,’ she muttered in a low voice. ‘How else did he know our names?’

‘Perhaps he heard me speaking to the ticket agent,’ replied Paige uneasily. And then, realising she hadn’t mentioned Nikolas’s name, she muttered, ‘Oh—all right.’

But she wasn’t about to stagger across the quay again with both her bags. If the boy could carry one suitcase so easily, he could carry two. Tapping him on the arm, she gestured towards the other bag, and although his smile slipped a little he nodded and picked it up.

‘Isn’t he a babe?’ Sophie whispered as they followed his sinuous saunter away from the busy ferry terminal and along a narrow quay where private yachts and motor vessels bobbed on the rising swell. ‘Great buns!’

‘Sophie!’ Paige realised she sounded like an old maid, but her sister’s language was too liberally peppered with comments of that kind. ‘You watch too much television.’

‘Well, I won’t be watching it from now on, will I?’ Sophie retorted, and Paige didn’t know if that was a blessing or not. When she’d insisted on them coming out here, she hadn’t considered that there might be other distractions, and Paris—if that was his name—might be far too available.

Still, she couldn’t worry about that now. This was their first real introduction to the blue waters of the Aegean, and the breeze blowing off the water was refreshingly cool against Paige’s hot cheeks.

By the time they reached their transport, a steady trickle of perspiration was dampening the skin between her breasts and the hair on the back of her neck was wet. Although she’d warned Sophie against wearing anything skimpy to travel in, she was wishing she hadn’t taken her own advice now. The denim skirt and matching waistcoat, worn over a simple round-necked navy blue T-shirt, had seemed perfectly suitable when they’d boarded the plane in London. Now, however, the shirt was sticking to her, and she wished she’d taken the time to go into the restroom at the airport and remove the white tights that were cutting into her legs.

Sophie looked hot, too, but she’d pulled her shirt out of her cropped jeans and tied it beneath her breasts. Paige hadn’t had the heart to stop her, even though she knew no Greek girl would dress that way. Well, no Greek girl of Nikolas’s family, she amended, thinking of Ariadne. But if Nikolas didn’t like it he had only himself to blame.

The vessel that awaited them was not a yacht. Paige, who had briefly entertained the thought that Nikolas himself might have come to meet them, quickly revised her opinion. The sleek motor launch was much smaller than the other vessel and it was deserted, its fringed canopy flapping in the breeze. But at least it would provide some protection, she thought gratefully. She couldn’t wait to get out of the sun.

Paris threw their bags onto the deck and then jumped aboard. Paige felt a momentary twinge of irritation at his treatment of their luggage and then decided it was probably no worse than the handling they’d suffered on the plane. He held out his hand to Sophie, and she quickly followed after him. Then he did the same for Paige, taking a good look at her white-clad thighs as her skirt lifted in the breeze.

He grinned then, aware of her indignation, and although she wanted to be cross with him she found herself smiling, too. He was only a boy, she told herself as he took her suitcase from her and stowed it with the rest of the luggage in the steering cabin. He probably lived and worked on the island, and they were unlikely to see him again.

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