Mediterranean Seduction

Charlotte knew she had allowed things to get out of hand at the taverna, and the result was she hadn’t had a moment’s sleep. She had as much energy to spare as a highly bred mare—waiting for a stallion, Charlotte thought restlessly, progressing the metaphor into a cul-de-sac of frustration.

Another few thumps on the pillow left her feeling fractionally better. But there was still a long way to go—and only a short time left to get there, she remembered, making a dry, angry sound in her throat. Now it was almost dawn, and she was so tired she knew she wouldn’t write a word all day. Another twenty-four hours slipping through her fingers like sand—she would soon be on a flight home.

She wouldn’t panic. She would swim. Maybe the cool water would clear her head. It was almost light enough. She would wear a proper costume this time: an all-concealing, breast-flattening, passion-killing sensible number that she wore at the serious swimming club she had joined back home. There wasn’t a thong in sight there. Her clubmates were more interested in the latest high-tech gear to reduce drag and improve their time by maybe a tenth of a second.

That should do it, Charlotte thought, mutinously pulling the costume she had in mind out of a drawer. She could just imagine the arrogant expression on the fisherman’s face turning to disappointment and surprise when he saw her wearing it. She held it up, revelling in the shapeless form and the dismal bottle-green shade in particular.

Glamour personified, Charlotte decided happily when she had dragged it on and examined her reflection. Even a Greek chauvinist like Iannis Kiriakos could not possibly find such a hideous garment provocative. She turned to view herself again in the full-length mirror. The costume was desexing, dehumanising—absolutely perfect. She looked like a porpoise with a wig on.

Beautiful, Iannis mused, looking down at Charlotte on the beach. She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life—and he’d seen a few. But her swimming costume was an insult to that glorious frame. He watched as she tossed back her hair and then secured it on top of her head with a band. He could sit all day just watching her, Iannis realised, easing his position on the uncomfortable rocky ledge.

Settling back to enjoy himself, he sighed, feeling his whole body relax. When had that last happened? When was the last time he had slowed down long enough to take account of the scent of myrtle and thyme mixing with the faintly salty tang of the sea?

A sleepless night had brought him back to the cliff overlooking the bay. When he’d woken he’d hardly been able to wait to pull on his shorts and an old vest. He hadn’t even bothered with sandals, such had been his need to get out of the cottage and marvel at the Technicolor light show that was dawn on Iskos. But it was more than that…much more than just the promise of a visual treat, Iannis accepted, as he watched Charlotte tiptoe into the sea.

Need, he mused thoughtfully. Need drove everything. Where would he be without it? What would he ever have accomplished?

She was taking it slowly this morning, he noticed, leaning forward a little with concern.

Oblivious to the fact that she was being observed, Charlotte stretched out her arms above her head, stretching her fingertips towards the sky as if reaching for something.

Like a salutation to the rising sun, Iannis thought, questioning his sanity at the romantic image as he caught himself smiling faintly, indulgently.

Charlotte Clare was dangerous—if only because he could think of nothing else while she was here on his island. Did she call out to the sky as she made her gesture? He couldn’t be sure and wished he had been closer to hear. But then, almost before he’d realised what she meant to do, she turned and bolted towards the rising surf, plunging in head first without a moment’s hesitation.

He watched her swimming out strongly towards his floats and smiled, wondering what the attraction could be. If he had known she was going to make them her goal each morning he would have left a pontoon instead, and joined her there.

The thought was enough to arouse him, and the tug of sexual attraction reminded him all too painfully of Marianna’s unwelcome interference in his plans. If it had been anyone else but Marianna he would have ignored her interference—the Englishwoman was clearly looking for adventure. Why did it have to be Marianna of all people who took her part?

A muscle worked in his jaw as Iannis wondered about the older woman’s interest in Charlotte Clare. Had her judgement become suspect with age? He thought not—but this just didn’t make sense. Nevertheless, on Iskos, on his island, like everyone else he was subject to tradition, and Marianna had earned the position of matriarch through long years of wise council and selfless service to everyone connected with the island. She was respected and listened to by all, and even Iannis Kiriakos would not presume to go against her.

Springing to his feet, Iannis made a rough sound of impatience. Discretion at the taverna in front of half the island was one thing, but that situation was no longer in play. Marianna would not overstep the mark by interfering in his private life.

His glance swept the tranquil surface of the ocean. Charlotte was already turning for the shore and making swift headway towards the apple-green shallows. It seemed important for him to know that she was safe, Iannis realised, making a short dismissive sound—goodness knows why he should care when Charlotte Clare, if her behaviour the previous night had been any guide, chose to live her life on the edge. But she was obviously needy, he thought with an ironic and very masculine smile, and he felt like being accommodating. Seeing her dressed like an overripe fruit had made the urge to peel her clothes off a priority. Maybe he could do them both a favour.

Turning for the cliff path that led down to the road, Iannis smiled to himself, a plan already brewing in his mind.

Her work was going so well Charlotte’s fingers could barely keep up with her thoughts. Iannis Kiriakos close up and personal had provided more inspiration for her to work on than the word-count for her article allowed. She was having trouble deciding what to leave out rather than finding enough material to include. And the cooling swim in the sea had worked its magic, as she’d hoped it would. The beauty of dawn on Iskos had been like balm to her troubled mind, unscrambling her thought processes so that by the time she’d returned to the villa she had had the article at her fingertips.

All she had to do was allow Iannis to float into her mind and the words flowed effortlessly onto the screen. She felt she knew him, this fabulous-looking man who was king in his own way of his Greek island paradise. Why should he want for anything more when he had everything he needed right here?

Gazing out to sea, Charlotte sighed. There was no sign of either Iannis or his boat. There were just the two red floats to remind her that he really was a flesh and blood man. As her thoughts travelled back to the taverna she felt a ripple of awareness shimmer down her spine and a smile of satisfaction curl around her lips. He wanted her. There was no doubt in her mind. Just knowing that was intoxicating—and exciting. She could never remember feeling like this before. She had never reacted with such schoolgirl enthusiasm, never felt such gut-wrenching hope where a man was concerned.

There had been more fall-out from her marriage than she knew, Charlotte realised suddenly. The internal wounds had cut far deeper than those carved by harsh words and insults. Spiritual neglect, spiritual abuse had led to spiritual shrinkage, but the time had come when she could do something about it. Good-looking men were rare enough, and men who attracted her were an endangered species—but Iannis Kiriakos was most definitely in a category of his own.

Hearing a movement behind her, she whirled around.

‘Pardon me, Thespinis Clare,’ Iannis Kiriakos murmured, slouching on one hip as he regarded her from the shady end of the terrace. ‘I did not mean to alarm you.’

But she was alarmed—more than alarmed. Something fundamental rocked on its axis deep inside her—and it had nothing to do with the fact that this man’s towering presence didn’t reveal the slightest degree of repentance, either for his intrusion or for frightening her half out of her wits.

When Marianna had come between them the previous night Charlotte’s first reaction had been bitter disappointment, but as they had walked away from the seaside restaurant she had been overwhelmed with relief. The fisherman’s gaze boring into her back, much as it was scorching her face right now, had been enough to tell her she was mad to imagine she could ever be ready to embark on an affair with a man like Iannis Kiriakos—a man who was infinitely more sexually experienced than she was, and who inhabited a very different world from her own.

‘Am I interrupting your work?’

Work! She had forgotten all about it! Charlotte covered the notepad she had been scribbling rough ideas on with her hands, in an instinctive gesture of concealment, but it was one she knew too late would only arouse his suspicions.

How would you feel if you discovered someone was writing about you—passing opinions, leaping to conclusions to make good copy and generally judging you?

Not too pleased, Charlotte answered herself grudgingly—though looking up at Iannis she guessed ‘not too pleased’ would be putting it mildly. He had the pride of his Grecian ancestry combined with something extra, something indefinable—something she guessed must come from his prowess as a fisherman, battling the elements on a daily basis. She could feel it now. There was a stillness about him, and it was the stillness of a hunter assessing his prey.

Feeling the need to keep watching him, she reached for her pen and jotted rapidly. Reflective and insightful. Sees things in life that you and I miss. She laid her pen down with an air of finality.

‘I was just finishing,’ she said, pinning a confident smile to her face.

‘Are you working on something interesting?’ he asked, with the crazy crooked smile that could so easily put her off her guard.

Charlotte’s smile faltered. ‘Just something I have to finish before I go home.’

‘Which is when?’ he asked bluntly.

‘Sunday.’ Charlotte tensed as he moved towards her, out of the shadows. She swallowed convulsively, still holding his gaze as she began sweeping up the untidy stack of printed sheets.

His mouth tugged down at the corners in an expression of wry understanding. ‘You don’t have too much time left, then.’

Charlotte’s heart lurched. Then she saw his gaze switch to her littered workstation. ‘Three days. Look, I’m sorry,’ she said, anxious to change the subject, ‘did you want to see Marianna? Only you’ve just missed her.’

The rhythmic pulse of the cicadas stilled suddenly, as if they too were keen to hear his reply.

‘I came to see you.’

‘I see.’ Charlotte cleared her throat. Her heart was trying to set a new record. He came a step closer. As if he was testing her.

She brought the lid of her laptop down to hide the screen and scrabbled some blank sheets of paper across her handwritten notes. She reached for the travelling rug on the back of her chair and tossed that across everything for good measure.

‘The wind gets up here on top of the cliff,’ Charlotte explained lamely, as if he wouldn’t already know that.

Scrambling to her feet, she almost knocked the chair over in her haste to draw his attention away from the table, and failed to notice the couple of pages that went floating to the floor.

‘Now, then.’ Charlotte clasped her hands, stopping just short of wringing them. ‘How can I help you?’

Iannis leaned over the balcony and rested his own strong hands on the low balustrade overlooking the sea, cupping his supple fingers over the edge to enclose the smooth round rail. ‘I thought you might like to come down to the beach and have lunch with me.’ He inclined his head towards her as he waited for her answer.

Might… Might like! Charlotte dragged in a few necessary breaths. Lunch was a harmless activity—and he said down on the beach, the public beach. She could do that.

‘Well?’ Iannis pressed in a low voice. ‘I have some fresh sardines I caught this morning. I will barbecue them.’

‘Oh!’ Charlotte cursed herself for sounding so obviously relieved. It was just that a barbecue was so wonderfully innocent. She was struck once again by his command of her language, and wished she could see his face clearly and judge his expression. But with the heat haze shimmering around him even his form was indistinct.

He was still waiting for an answer, she realised. Charlotte’s eyes flickered back to her temporary workplace. Had Iannis realised that she was trying to hide something?

‘So, will you come?’

He came towards her now, and at last she could see him clearly. She had forgotten how tall, how imposing he was. In one stomach-churning moment she took in everything—naked feet tanned to the colour of nutmeg, faded denim shorts cut off from some old jeans, so that their edges were frayed and bleached white. Hard-muscled thighs, and an impressive spread of chest. The wide sweep of his shoulders led her gaze with inevitable finality to the familiar watchful expression on his improbably handsome face. His hair was tousled and he needed to shave.

Did she prefer him this way—rough and earthy in fisherman mode? Or polished like a hard black diamond, for dancing?

‘I need an answer. I’m hungry,’ he said abruptly, slicing through her cogitations.

There was an acuity flaring in his gaze that made her uncomfortable. It was as if he knew everything about her just by searching her eyes. She was beginning to feel as if her whole body might just surge towards him if she didn’t wake up fast. There was such an air of arrogance about him too. Charlotte knew she should feel needled by it—infuriated. But instead all she wanted to do was to rest her arms around his waist and gaze adoringly into his eyes.

What the hell had got into her? Charlotte wondered angrily. The logical side of her brain gave an answer: something primal, some irresistible; she was in lust.

Iannis angled his head as he waited for her reply, and there was a suggestion of amusement in his eyes, as if mind-reading skills should be added to his list of accomplishments.

‘I…I’d like that. Thank you,’ Charlotte said, consciously making herself relax when she realised she was hugging herself defensively.

‘Should you clear up your work first?’ he suggested in a low drawl

‘Yes, yes. Good idea,’ Charlotte agreed, flashing him a strained smile as she hurried to the table. Flipping back the rug, she gathered everything up as quickly as she could. ‘There. All done,’ she said ingenuously.

‘Why don’t you go and change? Put on your swimming costume?’

How was it drawled questions became commands when they issued from this man’s lips? Charlotte wondered, tensing up again. There was something in his gaze that warned her that he was remembering their first encounter. He must have seen her naked—she just couldn’t mistake that look in his eyes. Even Iannis Kiriakos couldn’t resist gloating a little.

Maddeningly, it only made her body ache the more. Her nipples were painfully engorged, while her lips, her breasts—in fact every sexual organ she possessed—were in the same painful condition, and likely to remain so until something was done about it. She had no doubt he would be only too pleased to oblige. But erotic daydreams were one thing—they were safe. Iannis Kiriakos in the flesh was not.

The fisherman in her article was safe, and predictable too—simply because she pulled his strings. But the man standing in front of her now was a very different proposition. Charlotte doubted Iannis Kiriakos possessed strings.

‘Well?’ he prompted, with more than a hint of impatience.

Charlotte got the impression that he was unaccustomed to having to ask for anything twice. But this was her home—at least until the end of the week. He had to know that she was in charge here at least. ‘I’ll go and get changed,’ she said, with a flash in her eyes that warned him not to push too hard.

His hard mouth quirked slightly, as if her show of spirit only pleased him more, and once again to her annoyance Charlotte found her body responded eagerly to even the smallest sign of his approval. He would be incredible in bed. But the reality of sleeping with a man like Iannis was too frightening even to contemplate. Just the thought of thighs like those straddling her, controlling her, was enough—never mind imagining what it might feel like to be crushed beneath his powerful torso.

He was not the sort of man for her. She would do better to concentrate on the part he would play in her work… But she still had to learn more about him. Iannis Kiriakos was the magic ingredient that would make her article live.

‘Why don’t you make yourself comfortable over here?’ Charlotte suggested, pointing to a comfortable recliner well away from her work. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘I’ll stand,’ Iannis replied as he stared out at the sea.

Charlotte hesitated. She would have preferred to see him settled further away from her work, rather than have him plant his hands on the rail of the veranda in such a proprietary fashion. There was something alarmingly temporary about his posture—as if at any moment he might spring back and begin to prowl around in search of new distractions.

‘Don’t be long,’ he said.

I don’t like to be kept waiting, he implied, Charlotte thought, biting back the rejoinder that sprang to her lips. She had to keep her cool, however much he provoked her. If her stay on Iskos was to be of any benefit at all she had to keep the article at the forefront of her mind.

Charlotte paused on the threshold, turned around and cast a thoughtful stare at the expressive span of uncompromising back currently angled towards her. The likelihood of Iannis Kiriakos ever picking up a copy of Street Style, the magazine she was writing for, on Iskos was a million to one. There was no reason for him ever to find out about the article.

As her gaze lingered she realised that it was quite easy to strip away his clothes in her mind. She should stick to her original intention and kill two birds with one stone, Charlotte decided, feeling her throat dry. How hard could it be to sleep with a man like Iannis? A shiver of anticipation ran through her as she continued to appraise him. There was a little matter of sexual frustration and low self-esteem to address, and he was just the person for the job. And, of course, she could delve into his psyche at the same time, to discover what made him tick—absolutely essential research for her article. So why was she hesitating? What on earth did she have to lose?

Lust did terrible things to you, Charlotte mused as she foraged in the chest where she kept her clothes. Here she was now, for instance—rifling through her swimming costumes in search of the most provocative. But none of them really answered her requirements. Most were faded and thin from too much exposure to the chemicals in the indoor pools at home. Finally she settled on an old white one. It was possibly the most disreputable of the lot—when wet it was practically transparent…

She would be some time, Iannis reasoned as he leaned over to pick up the sheets of paper Charlotte had carelessly dropped. He felt a rush of victory as he straightened up. By the time she returned he would have read them. He would know exactly what she was up to—

‘Iannis.’

He whirled around, his mouth tensing into an angry line. ‘Marianna!’ Iannis curbed his initial reaction. ‘How good to see you,’ he added in a softer voice.

‘Here. Give that to me,’ Marianna insisted, smiling as she advanced towards him. ‘Thespinis Charlotte is not going to want to lose any of her work.’

‘No,’ Iannis said, making nothing of it as he folded the sheets and slipped them into the back pocket of his denim shorts. ‘This is something of mine.’ He touched Marianna’s arm reassuringly.

Lifting her shoulders in an accepting shrug, she flashed him a quick smile and disappeared into the house.

Waiting a few moments, until he was sure he was alone, Iannis felt for the sheets of paper in his back pocket.

‘Sorry to keep you.’

His lips pressed down briefly with disappointment. So, reading Charlotte Clare’s work would have to wait. But there were compensations—in the form of this very lovely young woman, who was clearly prepared for whatever he had in mind.

This was going to be easier than taking candy from a baby, Iannis mused as Charlotte came towards him wearing a white bathing costume that left very little to his imagination. Yet again the costume looked like a relic from a museum. Possibly it had been bought from a thrift shop, or passed down through the generations. He kept his cynical thoughts to himself and his expression bland. It hardly mattered—she wouldn’t be wearing it for long.

Iannis led the way down to the beach, knowing Charlotte would be close behind. The only question was how far was he going to be able to push the offhanded manner. He smiled grimly to himself as he quickened his step and heard her slithering down the loose shale to keep up with him. She wouldn’t let him get away; that much was certain. He had met plenty of women like Charlotte Clare before—they would do anything for the chance to sleep with Iannis Kiriakos.

‘I’m sorry…’

He halted abruptly at the sound of Charlotte’s voice.

‘I’m sorry,’ Charlotte repeated. ‘I have to go back. I won’t keep you waiting long, Iannis. I promise.’ She wanted some clothes from the villa. Iannis was far too arrogant. She had made a huge mistake coming down to the beach half naked.

Iannis turned with impatience. They were almost halfway down the cliff—and Charlotte was right. She wouldn’t keep him waiting long.

‘Look,’ Charlotte said persuasively, ‘why don’t you go on? I’ve kept you waiting for ages already, and I know you’re ready—’

He swung round to look at her and had the satisfaction of seeing the words freeze on her lips. He was definitely ready. She was right about that. The barbecue could wait. But they’d need some sustenance by the time he’d finished with her.

‘Well? What is it now?’ he said, frowning impatiently as he grated out the words.

It would make his life easier if she could try and look less like a sun-kissed urchin and more the brazen seductress. Even the ancient costume only succeeded in adding to her air of innocence—her total lack of practice in the art of seduction. Iannis obliterated the thought before it could take root in his mind. Anyway, there were benefits to being alone for a few minutes, he reminded himself, thinking of the sheets of paper he had retrieved from her floor.

‘Be quick, then,’ he said, waving her away.

Perfect. Now he had the chance to read her papers and find out just what she’d been hiding…

‘Thespinis Charlotte!’

Planting his hands on his hips, Iannis swore softly in Greek as Marianna hurried towards them with a large basket hanging from her arm. He moved Charlotte aside to go and help Marianna, seeing she was slithering out of control down the steep track in her smooth-bottomed shoes.

‘What are you thinking of, Marianna?’ he said. ‘You might have hurt yourself.’

‘What is it, Marianna?’ Charlotte said with concern.

‘Only this,’ Marianna said, widening her eyes as she fanned herself vigorously. ‘You forgot towels. You forgot suncream. You forgot clothes. You forgot everything,’ she exclaimed, looking Charlotte up and down with concern. ‘You must not let this man hurry you off like that again. Make him wait,’ she counselled sternly, plucking out a suitably modest pair of knee-length shorts and a baggy tee shirt for Charlotte to wear.