Mediterranean Seduction

‘I’m sure it will,’ Charlotte agreed thoughtfully, and then she wondered what she had said to make him so tense.

Easing out of her, Iannis had pushed away from the banquette and straightened up. He swiped his clothes off the floor and moved towards the door.

‘Time for a shower,’ he called back, without a second glance in her direction.

Charlotte pressed her lips together, subduing the shock of his sudden departure along with the doubt invading her mind.

The room seemed very bare and empty without Iannis in it, Charlotte realised as she gathered her clothes together self-consciously. Hearing the water running in the bathroom, she slipped the dress over her head. She had no inclination to intrude. She couldn’t even be sure that she would be welcome. She would shower later, in her own bathroom at the villa…

‘Still here?’

Charlotte’s heart lurched as Iannis walked back into the room. Was he joking? She couldn’t see his face—it was buried in a towel as he rubbed his hair dry. Now that he had finished with her was she supposed to have left? Gone without a trace by the time he emerged from the bathroom?

Wearing nothing but his jeans, he looked amazing, but a different sort of hunger had overtaken Charlotte. She felt a desperate longing to know the man beneath the incredible physique; for all their intimacy she knew barely anything about him.

‘I thought you would join me in the shower,’ he said now, lifting his shoulders in an expressive shrug. ‘Shall I bathe you?’ he offered with a slanting smile.

How she wanted that, Charlotte realised, meeting his amused gaze with a degree of relief she took care to conceal.

But then other thoughts intruded, and she frowned. Article; feedback from editor; time running out. There was just so much thinking to do on the personal front—and work to catch up with on the professional front. She needed space from Iannis to do any of it.

‘I’d better get back,’ she said reluctantly.

Iannis was surprised to feel a pang of regret as Charlotte walked towards him. She looked so young, and so vulnerable again as she lifted one arm out towards him, as if inviting a final embrace. But she had her own agenda, he remembered, and he found himself straddling an impossible divide between the desire for revenge and the need to protect her. She had no idea what she was up against—how could she?

But when he felt her touch him lightly on the arm as she moved past him Iannis caught hold of her again.

‘I’ll walk you back to the villa,’ he said.

How could he not be there to protect her? he wondered, gazing down into Charlotte’s face. Tracing the freckles across the bridge of her nose very lightly with one finger, he smiled, but when she lifted her chin trustingly to meet his gaze he found he had to turn his head away and let her go.

CHAPTER TEN

MAYBE she was just being ridiculous, Charlotte told herself as they strolled back to the villa. Perhaps Iannis just liked nice things. Perhaps he had come into money. Perhaps the expensive accessories she had seen lying around were gifts from a grateful lover.

The last thought made her so angry she had to stop thinking altogether for a few moments.

She told herself that her suspicions were the product of an overactive imagination. Yes, he could be warm, and witty, and he had a breadth of knowledge she found stimulating—but there was a library on Iskos, as well as television and radio, and doubtless the village school was very good.

The deserted villa was all in darkness, and rose like a milky-white spectre amidst a gathering circle of trees. Could he really leave her alone in such a place?

Iannis was already answering his own question as his keen gaze raked the shadows.

Had he lost his appetite for revenge? he mused, steadying Charlotte as she stumbled in the darkness. He wanted to believe she was misguided rather than bad. Surely the fallout from her invasion into his privacy could be dealt with? And, not only that, she would be out of his life for good in a couple of days.

When she gave a soft cry and stumbled again, with a sound of impatience he swung her into his arms.

‘I’m perfectly capable of walking—’

‘I’m sure you are. But this is easier. I have to be at work early in the morning, so I need to get to bed. I’ve no time for detours to the hospital if you twist your ankle.’

‘You’re too kind,’ Charlotte commented wryly.

‘Aren’t I?’ Iannis countered, matching her provocative tone.

When they reached the door he set her down and held out his hand for the key. Opening the door, he stood back to let her pass and then followed her inside.

‘Are you sure you don’t get nervous when you’re here on your own?’ he said, his voice echoing around the empty hall.

‘Not really,’ Charlotte admitted as she went ahead of him to switch on the lights. ‘Staying on my own at the villa has been good for me. Sometimes it’s important to have time on your own—thinking time. Do you know what I mean?’

Iannis refrained from answering, just eased his shoulders in a shrug as he leaned back against the door.

‘Come in. Close the door,’ Charlotte said. ‘I just have to check something—do you mind?’

And what if I do? Iannis thought, irritation rising inside him as he guessed what she was about to do.

Charlotte glanced towards the kitchen door, knowing her responsibilities lay behind it. She was keen to log on, to see if there had been any reaction yet to the first draft of her article. She would offer him a drink—distract him…

Iannis watched her head straight for the scrubbed pine table where she had left her laptop. His gaze mapped out everything—the Internet connection leading from the telephone box on the wall, her notepad, and the neat stack of printed sheets.

‘I won’t be long,’ Charlotte said as she flashed him a smile.

‘No problem—why don’t I wait for you outside on the veranda?’ Something held him back from staying close by. Let her have enough rope to hang herself, Iannis thought bitterly as he moved towards the outer doors.

‘I’ll bring a nightcap outside for us when I’ve finished,’ Charlotte called after him. ‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’

‘No hurry,’ Iannis murmured. How true. He was in no hurry to read her eyes and see what the reaction had been to the work she had completed.

He could have predicted that it would be foremost in her mind when she got back, he realised, making himself comfortable on one of the outdoor chairs. And yet, he had delayed his departure in order to have one last night with her. Their relationship was beginning to show some unfortunate similarities to a tawdry series of farewell tours.

A muscle flexed in his jaw and he looked back into the villa to watch Charlotte leaning over the computer as she read from the screen. He had become far too trusting, and now he must pay the penalty for allowing her to get too close. If she hadn’t left him alone that morning when he’d come to take her to the beach he might never have seen those sheets of paper, never read the notes she had written about him. But they were emblazoned on his mind, Iannis realised, feeling his anger mounting as Charlotte continued to tap on the keyboard, apparently oblivious to his existence.

It seemed certain that her work was all she cared about. He was nothing but a vehicle through which she could boost her annual salary. It was a new angle, he allowed, struggling to contain his scorn, and it would be interesting to see just how far she was prepared to go with the deception.

He studied her face keenly. The intense concentration, the slight smile tugging at her lips only served to fuel his resentment. She had clearly received good news from her editor.

He made a harsh sound of contempt. How could anyone not appreciate her theme? The idyllic existence of a simple Greek fisherman compared to the stressful life of the reader. Even he could see it was a winner. But she would pay for the insult. No one abused a member of the Kiriakos clan and got away with it.

Use her and lose her? Iannis ground his jaw in frustration. It should have been so easy, if only he hadn’t allowed feelings to get in the way. If he had been a headstrong youth this foolhardy affair might have been defensible, but he was a thirty-five year old man, with no excuse for falling deeply and passionately in love with the one woman on earth who had chosen to betray him.

His eyes narrowed as he recalled the damning words she had used. According to Charlotte’s article he, Iannis Kiriakos, had found the meaning of life here on Iskos! Once pictures of him unguarded and relaxed were flashed around the world he would be a laughing stock. He winced as he remembered how she had mocked—what was it?—his ‘homely joys, and destiny obscure’? He only hoped he never had occasion to remind Charlotte of those words, for if he did—

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, coming towards him through the double doors onto the veranda. ‘I didn’t expect to take so long.’

Iannis lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘Keeping in touch with things back home?’ he said mildly, pretending unconcern. But inside he was seething. He had delayed his departure from the island for her—and for what? So she could finesse the article that held him up for ridicule?

As Iannis looked at Charlotte his passion flared. He had a stark choice to make: confront her now and end the relationship—or enjoy her one last time.

‘That’s right,’ Charlotte agreed, a smile hovering uncertainly on her lips as she tried to interpret the look on Iannis’s face. ‘Work,’ she explained with an apologetic shrug, ‘it just won’t go away—’ She gasped as he caught hold of her arms and dragged her to him, his eyes blazing with passion.

He was going to miss her, Charlotte reasoned, feeling her heart soar. And then he started kissing her and she knew it would be all right.

Reaching up when he drew back, she meshed her fingers through his hair and then cupped his face between her hands to bring him close and kiss his lips longingly, lovingly. Closing her eyes, she rested against his encircling arm, sighing with delicious anticipation as Iannis slipped her dress off. Swinging her onto his lap on the reclining chair, he suckled one extended nipple through the fine mesh of her bra.

It all felt so right, as Charlotte turned her attention to Iannis’s clothing. He was an incredible lover—passionate and demanding, but tender and considerate too. He had restored her self-esteem; he had shown her how lovemaking could be…should be. She moaned softly, struggling to keep her brain waves in order as he turned his attention to the neglected nipple, taking that between his lips and suckling whilst he subjected the other to some delicious torture between his thumb and forefinger.

And there was the article, Charlotte remembered, just before she sank beneath a wave of sensation. Nothing she had ever written had been so well received—she had Iannis to thank for that too.

Throwing her head back, she gasped as he began to stroke her stomach with firm downward caresses. The fire smouldering inside her flared into life again. But even as she melted beneath his touch Charlotte remembered how little time was left for them. The thought of how she might start to live without him sent a chill rippling down her spine. But then he eased her thighs apart and she could think of nothing but the pleasure to come.

‘Stand up and take your bra off.’

His voice sounded harsh, and in her groggy state Charlotte blinked at him like a wary owl.

‘Do it slowly,’ he added, in a slightly gentler tone.

Meeting his gaze, Charlotte felt reassured. Iannis liked playing games, and she liked playing the games he taught her. She sucked in a soft, eager breath and he inclined his head as an indication to begin.

She met his gaze steadily, relishing her female power when she saw the look of frank appreciation in his eyes. Freeing her breasts from their lacy constraint, she cast the flimsy piece of lingerie aside.

‘I think you know what I want you to do,’ Iannis murmured, gazing at her.

Cupping her breasts in her hands, Charlotte brought them up so that he could decide between the taut pink nipples. As he took one between his lips and laved it with his tongue his hands moved to control her hips. Slipping one hand between her legs, he started stroking her there rhythmically, until she threw back her head and cried out uncontrollably. He brought her easily to the edge, and as her legs weakened he took her waist in a firm hold and brought her astride him.

He wanted this…he needed this, Iannis realised, even though his mind was in an agony of confusion. He wanted Charlotte more than any other woman; wanted her in a way that his pride had no power to subdue. She touched his senses, his heart, his soul; she drew something from the very core of him. But she had betrayed him, he remembered, thrusting deep, and he must never forget that.

As he controlled her movements Iannis longed to draw Charlotte into his arms, to hold her and to kiss her. He wanted to reassure her, tell her it would always be like this—that he would make it so. But that would be a lie, he thought grimly, watching her face flush pink at the onset of her climax, and he never lied—which only made the pain of her deception all the harder to bear.

He held her steady until the last violent spasms of release left her limp, and then stroked her silky hair to soothe her down. It was his misfortune to love a woman who wished him only harm, and the only defence in his armoury was to harden his heart against her.

But when, still breathing raggedly, Charlotte smiled contentedly into his eyes, he felt his soul reach out and curl around her. Was she a madness that had possessed him—a folly from which he would never recover? The only answer was to make a clean break. And that break would take place in just a few short hours. He had until dawn to have his fill of her, and then it was over—Charlotte Clare would be out of his life for good.

He led her by the hand to the bathroom, where they enjoyed a languid soak in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Completely relaxed, Charlotte leaned back against Iannis, enclosed by his muscular legs. The water was silky-soft, fragrant with the scent of lavender. Peace after the storm of lovemaking, she reflected, feeling calm and sated. It was impossible not to draw up a thousand reasons for delaying her departure from the island. They seemed to have reached a point where anything was possible…

‘Warm enough?’ Iannis murmured, when he had lifted her out of the bath and wrapped her in a soft towel.

His breath on her head was like a caress, and Charlotte turned her face up for his kisses. ‘Perfect,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t you ever get tired?’ she murmured, smiling against his lips.

‘Not where you’re concerned,’ Iannis admitted, pulling back to look at her. ‘But you must sleep now—’

‘You’ll stay?’ Charlotte broke in, touching his cheek with her fingertips as she stared into his eyes.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Iannis assured her softly. Yet, he amended silently.

The first sensation Charlotte felt on waking was regret, because her stay on the island was almost over. Still with her eyes closed, she reached across the bed. There was no one there.

Instantly awake, she sat up. Thin early-morning sunlight was already slanting through the shutters and falling across the bedclothes in pale golden bands. Looking around, she saw there was no trace that Iannis had ever been in the room. Had it not been for all the signs of lovemaking her body still held she might have thought last night a dream. She sat very still, holding her breath to listen, but the silence in the villa was heavy and complete.

Leaping off the bed, she snatched her robe from the back of the door and went to search for him.

She knew he had left the villa long before she reached the kitchen, but still she ran out onto the veranda, hoping he might be there.

The veranda, like the rest of the house, was empty and silent, apart from a few leaves skittering about in the light breeze.

Leaning over the balcony, she stared down at the shore and exclaimed out loud with relief. He was there, hauling nets with the other fishermen. He must have left some time before dawn, she reasoned, seeing he had changed back into his work clothes.

So why the panic? Charlotte exhaled impatiently, remembering Iannis had told her he had to be at work early that morning. She was becoming forgetful. But how could she be expected to remember anything when her mind was full of Iannis? There was no room inside her head for anything else.

It was thrilling to watch him, to see his muscles flexing and hear him call with such authority to the other men—and know he was hers. Her gaze dropped to the powerful thighs that had so recently controlled her as he subjected her to pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. He didn’t just have a magnificent body—he knew how to use it, Charlotte mused, and a contented smile tugged at her lips.

He was at least a head taller than the other fishermen, but that was not the reason they looked to him for leadership. He possessed a natural air of authority, and something else—something indefinable. One of the other men had brought a small child with him to the beach, and Charlotte smiled to see Iannis scoop the toddler’s ball from the ground and throw it for him.

The misty seashore at dawn, the limpid water, the soft colours, the men going easily about their work—it was just like a scene from a movie, a dreamscape in the pearly light of dawn. On an impulse Charlotte pulled back, slapping the rail of the veranda as if to make everything stay just as it was in that instant. Then, dashing into the villa, she went to find her camera.

She had been taking pictures for quite a few minutes before Iannis looked up and saw what she was doing. A rush of happiness thrilled through Charlotte. Her lips widened in a smile and she waved playfully, making signs to indicate that he should back up a little, in order for her to take a group photograph.

Iannis stood motionless for a moment or two, just watching her, and then very slowly the smile dropped from Charlotte’s face. Everything about him suggested the opposite to her expectations. He was angry with her…furious.

She frowned in bewilderment, hearing him bark something at the other fishermen, and then tensed as he started striding back across the beach towards her.

There would be no more photographs today, she realised, slipping the camera strap from her neck. Hurrying back into the villa, she hung the camera on the back of a chair, then went outside again, meaning to meet him halfway.

But he was too fast for her, and Charlotte knew immediately that something was very wrong. Iannis didn’t speak, or embrace her. Instead he seized her arm and wheeled her around, steering her in the direction of the villa.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she shouted angrily.

His silence frightened her—frightened her more than anything he could have said to her. Tearing her arm from his grip, she swung around.

‘Is this how you treat women in Greece?’ She could see that the furious accusation rattled him. His face paled beneath his tan.

‘We will talk inside the villa,’ he said tensely.

‘You’re not coming in.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really!’ What had she done? Charlotte wondered angrily. ‘You owe me an explanation!’

‘What?’ The single word left his lips on an explosion of breath.

‘You heard me.’

‘I don’t owe you a thing!’ he snarled back.

‘I don’t want you at the villa!’ Charlotte assured him. ‘Not in this mood.’ When he tried to catch hold of her again, she snatched her arm away.

Iannis answered that by swinging her off the ground into his arms. Binding her arms to her sides, he strode into the villa, marched down the shady passageway and shouldered open the door into her bedroom.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether she kicked herself free or if he chose to drop her down on the bed. She didn’t wait around to find out. Moving to the door, she stood beside it, tense with anger.

‘Out!’ She stood her ground when he took a fast, angry step towards her. ‘What are you going to do now, Iannis?’ she demanded furiously. ‘Hit me?’

He looked shocked. ‘I have never laid a finger on a woman in my life,’ he said coldly, ‘and even you could never push me that far.’

As they stood confronting each other, eyes blazing, Charlotte believed him. But that neither excused nor explained his behaviour. ‘Are you going to tell me what this is about?’

‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me?’ Iannis countered harshly.

Suddenly all she could remember was the words of love he had spoken to her, his tenderness, the safe harbour she had found in his arms. ‘I think you’d better get out,’ Charlotte said, horrified to hear her voice starting to shake.

‘Not until you have explained this,’ Iannis said coldly, picking up her digital camera and brandishing it in her face.

‘My camera?’

‘And,’ he said, striding past her out of the room and indicating that she should follow him, ‘this.’

‘What?’

Stalking into the kitchen, Charlotte saw he was standing over the table where she had left her work.

‘This,’ he said again, turning to look at her.

Charlotte rushed to guard her manuscript. ‘Did you imagine I don’t work for a living? I’m a journalist—’

‘A journalist?’ he echoed sarcastically. ‘Is that what you call yourself? So, what’s this?’ Holding up her camera, he cocked his head as he waited for her reply.

‘As we’ve already established,’ Charlotte said acerbically, ‘that is a camera.’

‘I mean, what were you doing with it?’

He made a sound of disgust and Charlotte was horrified to see him starting to remove the film card. ‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed angrily.

But Iannis was too fast for her. Catching hold of her wrists in one fist he held her still. ‘I’m removing the film card,’ he said evenly.

‘How dare you?’

‘Oh, I dare,’ he said easily, and, slipping it onto the palm of his hand, closed his fingers around it.

‘You can’t steal that—’

‘Watch me.’

‘Give it back to me this minute or I’ll—’

‘You’ll what?’ Iannis demanded harshly. ‘Call your lawyers?’

Charlotte stalled a moment in bemusement as he let her go. No one in their right mind would call in lawyers to retrieve a film card with—what?—twenty shots taken. Pictures she would still have time to replace before she returned home the next day. But it was the principle that inflamed her most of all. Iannis couldn’t just walk into her bedroom, pick up her camera and steal all the photographs she had taken on Iskos.

‘Well?’

His curt question was the last straw. She snatched the camera away from him, and tried to get the film card out of his hand too.

‘Not so fast,’ Iannis warned, seizing hold of her again. He held her so close their breath mingled. ‘You haven’t given me an answer yet,’ he reminded her coldly.

‘Keep the damned photographs,’ Charlotte hissed furiously, whipping her face away because it hurt too much to see the change in him. ‘I can get plenty more where they came from!’

‘I bet you can,’ he agreed bitterly. ‘But you won’t be taking any more pictures of me.’

Charlotte’s heart banged against her ribcage. Was he going to leave the island—leave her?

‘Did you really imagine that temporary access to my body gave you rights over my life?’

Charlotte’s lips moved, but no sound came out. ‘I can’t believe you just said that,’ she said at last, shaking her head in stunned disbelief. ‘Did you have to think long and hard how to hurt me most, or does it just come naturally to you?’ And if that was the case then it was over between them, she realised. She hadn’t come to Iskos to lick her emotional wounds only to leave with a fresh set.

‘I hurt you?’ Iannis demanded with a snarl of derision. ‘I’m surprised you have the gall to accuse me of doing such a thing when you have sunk so low.’