Won by the Wealthy Greek: The Greek's Seven-Day Seduction / Constantinou's Mistress / The Greek Doctor's Rescue

‘Good?’ he enquired, and with that one softly spoken word he drew her back into the ambit of his stunning gaze.

‘Absolutely delicious,’ Charlotte admitted softly. ‘I’ve never tasted sardines like this before.’

‘Because they are freshly caught,’ Iannis explained. ‘They are a different class of food altogether to those fish that have travelled for many hours before reaching their destination.’

‘I couldn’t agree more—’ Charlotte stopped, hearing that her voice had changed subtly to a tone she might employ at a drinks party back home. A foodie chat with Iannis Kiriakos?

‘Are you not lonely on your own at the villa?’

Charlotte took a moment to refocus as he changed the subject. ‘If you mean do I need a man to feel secure there—or anywhere else, for that matter—the answer’s no, Iannis.’

Charlotte knew the strength of her retort was unnecessary, but for some reason he had put her on the defensive. She studied him again, and as he turned to look at her she held his gaze a moment, to show she was quite capable of looking after herself.

Iannis merely huffed a small silent laugh, as if in wry acceptance of the fact, and then turned back to face out to sea.

‘You don’t have to be defensive with me,’ he observed gently. ‘I like my own space too. I am content in my own company. I have learned that solitude can be as invigorating, as instructive as even the very best company.’

Charlotte relaxed a little. It was so refreshing, so unexpected to find Iannis understood her without the need for lengthy explanation. They sat in silence together until he murmured, ‘I value silence too…time to listen to the sounds all around me, and the thoughts and feelings inside me.’

She’d had no idea they shared so much, and the urge to question him about his thoughts and feelings was something Charlotte had to fight to subdue. Without words or physical contact, without much happening at all, they were growing closer, she realised warily.

‘Fisherman have to be patient,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘They must know their territory intimately and be prepared for the worst.’

While Iannis conveniently chose to gaze out to sea, Charlotte forced herself to take an objective look at his faded tee shirt and battered shorts, his bare feet and tousled hair. She was not Shirley Valentine; she could not give up her successful career to live with a simple fisherman on a remote Greek island.

‘Has someone hurt you?’ he demanded, keeping his gaze fixed on some middle point.

Probing her subconscious by stealth? ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘So they have,’ Iannis observed steadily, turning around to look at her.

His eyes were full of concern, and something else…understanding?

Something she had never expected.

A ball of emotion lodged in Charlotte’s throat. In that moment she wanted to tell him everything, share everything, throw her past open to him, let him be her judge… But reality intruded just in time and she bit down hard on her lip and made a flippant gesture with her hand. ‘I’m over it,’ she said dismissively.

‘Tell me more about yourself,’ Iannis insisted, refusing to let her off so lightly. The suggestion of a smile was tugging at his lips as he warned her softly, ‘I’m waiting, and I’m not going anywhere.’

Charlotte made a few false starts, and then became more animated when she found that he really was listening, and smiling into her eyes, as she shared a carefully edited version of her past with him. Her husband had never asked questions, never listened to anything she had to say, never maintained eye contact for longer than a millisecond…

‘So you organised a sit-down strike at school when your favourite dinner lady was sacked?’

He really was listening! ‘She didn’t get her job back.’

‘You tried,’ Iannis remarked softly. ‘And then you climbed out of a window and shinned down the drainpipe to escape from a swimming gala?’

‘Some workmen brought a ladder when I got stuck.’

‘A real rebel!’

There was approval, even humour in his voice. He made it sound like the most wonderful compliment she had ever been paid. Maybe he wasn’t such a dinosaur after all, Charlotte mused, and for a few moments she felt warm and happy. But then she frowned. Why did things have to get complicated? This was only supposed to be a holiday fling—no depth, no consequences. Everyone did it. Why couldn’t she?

Would a holiday fling be enough for her? They had both let their guard down…both forgotten to be mistrustful. There was a harmony and warmth between them that hadn’t existed before. It was dangerous, she recognised. In fact it was the worst thing that could possibly have happened. They shouldn’t be getting to know each other. It was much better…far safer for them both…if Iannis just was. She didn’t want him to take on substance and become someone she cared about. He was supposed to smoulder and deliver—nothing more. Was it already too late for that?

Charlotte cleared her mind for a moment and tried to look at things rationally. But Iannis’s sexual aura was the most potent thing she had ever encountered. It was like being in a force field she wanted to run from, while another part of her never wanted to leave his side—ever. This was madness, she realised.

‘Swim?’

‘Yes!’ Cold water! Fast! Now!

‘Okay,’ Iannis said, holding up his hands palms flat, as if to calm a small child.

‘I’d really like to swim,’ Charlotte said, springing to her feet as she spoke.

Moving away from Iannis as fast as she could, she tugged off her top as she ran, tossing it behind her and pausing only briefly at the water’s edge to rip off her shorts. Maybe the shock of meeting the waves head-on might knock some sense into her, she reasoned—nothing else had helped her so far.

Plunging into a rising wave, Charlotte felt the cool water close around her and gasped before powering away, directing her energies straight out to sea. She didn’t risk stopping to plot a course. The tiger was on her tail, and she felt him closing in on her fast. She threw everything behind her stroke, desperate to escape—from Iannis, from the promised article, and most of all from herself, from the new person she had become the moment she broke with the past and tossed her wedding ring into the sea.

Reinventing herself was taking a lot more courage than she had bargained for—and she hadn’t reckoned on Iannis Kiriakos being around to lend a hand.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IANNIS caught up with her quickly. He was as easy in the water as he was on land, swimming like a dolphin—next to her, in front, beneath and behind—diving effortlessly, his pace and agility astonishing. Soon even Charlotte was laughing, half with incredulity at his skill, and half with pleasure because he was playing with her. She hadn’t played in a long time—or maybe ever.

He had moored his boat close up to the red floats, where it drifted lazily on the idle swell. Still laughing, Charlotte grabbed hold of the side and clung on while she caught her breath. Iannis went one better and swung himself aboard the small craft.

The flash of bronzed torso was the only encouragement she needed. It looked so easy. But Charlotte only succeeded in pulling her side of the boat so close to the surface it almost capsized. As the boat yawed perilously Charlotte slipped underneath, and, disorientated, held on instead of letting go. Stretched out underwater, with her arms extended over her head and her torso wrapped around the boat, her legs rose upwards on the far side of the boat, anchoring her in position.

But Iannis was with her almost at once. She felt his arms lock around her waist and in seconds she was floating safely in the water beside him.

‘Wait for me next time,’ he suggested dryly. ‘I will lift you into the boat.’

Charlotte knew she should stoutly declare her independence, but her heart was hammering uncontrollably so she just said, ‘Thank you,’ as she struggled to get her breath back. The near-accident had really shocked her—but not half as much as the sensation of Iannis’s warmth and strength closing around her half-naked body.

‘Stop shivering,’ Iannis insisted. There was a suggestion of laughter in his voice. ‘There’s nothing to be worried about now. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I won’t let you drown.’

‘Really?’ Charlotte said dryly as her confidence returned. Their faces were very close—too close. It was one of those moments when anything might have happened. Warding off disappointment, she turned quickly, ready to get on board the rowing boat.

Iannis positioned her hands on the side. His hands were warm and strong as he closed her fingers over the smooth wooden surface.

‘Stay there until I’m ready,’ he said, ‘and don’t pull down this time—wait for me to lift you.’

She watched him spring out of the water and vault over the side, hardly affecting the balance of the boat at all. Water streamed off his muscular physique highlighting every contour as he leaned towards her with the sun at his back. Beneath the battered denim shorts she saw now that he had been wearing black bathing shorts. Charlotte forced her gaze away.

‘Are you coming or not?’ Iannis demanded sharply.

‘Of course.’

‘Give me your hands,’ he instructed.

One moment Charlotte was treading water, the next she was standing in front of him, with the sea pulsing rhythmically beneath her feet on the rough wooden planking.

Straddling the boat to keep it balanced, his legs firmly planted, Iannis stared down at her.

‘Thank you…’

Charlotte gasped in surprise when Iannis traced the swell of her bottom lip with his thumb. She found it both restrained and astonishingly seductive. Closing her eyes, she was sure he was about to say something tender and reassuring—or even kiss her.

He did neither.

‘Thank you,’ she said again, as he moved away.

‘For what?’ he demanded, slanting her a look.

‘For diving in, for helping me.’ Charlotte shrugged, wondering why he couldn’t accept her simple thanks. But then she noticed one corner of his mouth tugging up. ‘Don’t tease me, Iannis. I know I panicked. I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the effects of the wine.’

‘You only had one glass,’ he pointed out. ‘Knowing we were going to swim, I made sure of that. Just forget it,’ he said, relaxing onto one hip when she looked as if she’d say something more.

But she couldn’t relax, Charlotte realised, wishing she could find some reason for him to take hold of her again. Her feelings were all mixed up. She could still feel the touch of his thumb on her lip and wanted more. But those intoxicating sensations were getting in the way of her journalistic skills. She should be pumping him for information. Once that was done she could let herself go in every sense—and maybe even return home with a contented smile on her face instead of just an article. But there was something else going on inside her, something she had not anticipated—and it had no connection with sex, or her wretched job.

They had only shared a meal together, Charlotte reasoned, trying to make light of it, but then she smiled, recalling how relaxed she had been with him. They had played in the sea like children, and she’d had fun, she remembered wistfully. She had got into difficulties, but Iannis had been there for her… She sighed with impatience. There were so few days left. It was nonsense to even contemplate falling in love. She hardly knew him. It was just a feeling…and feelings wore off.

But here in his own world, the sea, Iannis was even more assured, even more powerful—and it drew her to him, making her wish all sorts of things could come true. She felt his gaze on her face, felt the power emanating from him. And powerful men need a powerful foil, Charlotte reminded herself as she tilted her chin up to stare back at him.

Iannis wasn’t quite sure how he held himself in check. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to slip his arms around her waist and drag her to him. But she was too tender, too vulnerable—why did he always sense that about her? And she could save that defiant look she was giving him. He wasn’t fooled for a moment. In fact, it was all he could do to stop himself smiling. She was such a mass of contradictions—and it was obvious she had forgotten the white swimsuit was virtually transparent when it was wet. It left nothing, absolutely nothing to his imagination.

Bracing himself, Iannis gazed skywards as he waited for the tug of desire to abate. If he had been interested in Charlotte Clare before, he was doubly so now. She was blatantly aroused, even after the shock she had just sustained in the water. Her nipples were almost painfully extended, and that only accentuated the natural uplift of her breasts. She had a true hourglass figure, with not one angular surface to distract him from her curves. He wanted to grab hold of her, turn her around to admire every inch of her and rid her of the hideous white skin that supposedly passed for a swimming costume. She was more beautiful than Aphrodite, and had no need to wear a magic girdle around her waist to snare him.

But that in itself was a danger, Iannis reminded himself, putting a brake on his erotic reverie. He would have to be on his guard all the time. He would give her the physical pleasure she so obviously craved—but he must never give her his trust.

Holding back on emotion was hard for him—almost impossible for a Greek. But he must not fall under her spell, like the mythical mariners who had allowed themselves to be lured onto the rocks by the Sirens. What else were myths other than lessons in life set down in ancient times in allegorical form in order to protect future generations? Who was he to ignore them now? He had some sympathy with those sailors of old. He was finding it increasingly impossible to keep his own thoughts under control.

He viewed Charlotte lazily, as a connoisseur might view a piece of precious porcelain. The sun had warmed her skin to a shade of softest honey gold, and it was as smooth as silk, as lush as his favourite fruit, the peach. He longed to taste her, to sample her juices, to lave, nibble and kiss every inch of her delectable body. He knew she would taste every bit as sweet as she looked. He even had cause to be thankful for the vile costume. It moulded every inch of her with intimate attention to detail, forcing him to look into her eyes for the sake of his sanity.

But he would have to find out more about her. Why had she made Iskos her base? Coincidence? He thought not. What was she working on so busily at her laptop? He remembered the folded sheets, still in the back pocket of his shorts on the shore, and felt a rush of anticipation and dread. Why did she feel the need to hide her work from him if it was innocent?

Too many questions still awaiting answers. He would be mad to soften, to get to know the warm, headstrong woman beneath the incredible body. Be satisfied with the goods on display, Iannis thought cynically—and then, remembering the Sirens, he added silently to himself, And only sample those when it is safe to do so.

Charlotte felt the sexual tension ebb away without understanding what had happened. But still warmth persisted in trickling through her veins—and not just because Iannis looked so incredible, with locks of wet hair flicked around his face and his lips set in a firm line that seemed to demand she tease them apart and entice them to soften. His eyes were like black gold, with jewels of intelligence sparking at their core, and at that moment she wanted him on any terms. But what did she have to do to get the response she longed for from him?

‘I’ll take you back,’ he said.

Iannis could think of nothing but the sheets of paper in the pocket of his shorts. He could not wait to return to shore and read them. He had to know what she had written. Indicating that Charlotte should sit down, he picked up the oars before she had a chance to complain.

He didn’t speak a word to her as he pulled for shore.

It had been a good day. He had made lunch, as he’d said he would, and Charlotte should be content. But she was not content—far from it. She couldn’t even enjoy watching his muscles flex as he worked the oars, because it was clear he was intent on returning to land as fast as possible. He didn’t trouble to hide the fact that he’d had enough of her. And what had she learned for her article? Nothing. What had she learned about Iannis the man? Nothing! Apart from the fact that she liked him a lot more than was good for her.

And now he was aloof, closed off to her…after everything they had shared—she had shared, Charlotte realised, compressing her lips together in a flat, angry line. While she had been giving Iannis an insight into her formative years he had given her precisely nothing in return. He had used her—for what? His amusement? To laugh about with his friends in the taverna?

She was damned well going to find out just exactly what was going on—who he was. Did he have a wife? The thought made her feel physically sick, but more determined than ever. She had to know the truth, and the only way to do that was to follow him when they got back to shore. Even if he lived alone, a home was like a car, or clothes, his choice of friends—it would say so much about him…there would be clues. At least she would know something of him that way. And anything she saw would be meat for her article.

That was how she must regard him from now on—a subject for her article and nothing more. Two could play at the ‘give it all, then snatch it back’ emotional game, Charlotte mused tensely.

‘Thank you for taking me out on the boat,’ she said after they had disembarked, watching Iannis pull it clear of the shallows. ‘Will you be rowing home?’

‘No,’ he told her over his shoulder. ‘I’ve already arranged for someone to come and get the boat—and the barbecue,’ he added, jerking his chin towards it.

Charlotte contained her excitement as she watched Iannis settle the boat between some rocks, where even a freak tide couldn’t hope to drag it out to sea. It would make it so much easier to follow him if he was on foot.

It was a great hiding place for the boat, she realised as he straightened up. That was why she hadn’t spotted it before. What else was he hiding from her? She had to know, to save anyone else who might be involved—and save herself, Charlotte accepted grimly. Normally she wouldn’t consider sneaking about, but she wasn’t going to be a doormat either.

Charlotte concealed her impatience as she waited for Iannis to leave. ‘I’m going to sunbathe a little before I go back,’ she said, stretching her arms languidly, as if to emphasise the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere fast.

‘Well, don’t take your costume off,’ he warned in a low growl. ‘Marianna’s son will be down here soon, to collect up everything I’ve left behind.’ Slanting her a glance, he frowned. ‘Do you frequently sunbathe at dusk?’

The day was slipping away fast, and Charlotte realised she needed to come up with a reasonable explanation. ‘I have fair skin. I prefer to sunbathe when it is cooler.’

‘In that case you will have your wish,’ Iannis agreed sardonically, dipping his head towards the sun, suspended like a giant orange balloon above the horizon. ‘I will call on you before I set my bait this evening.’ By which time I will have read your notes, he thought with satisfaction, and will have judged you guilty or not guilty.

Would she make it back in time after following him home? Charlotte wondered anxiously. Iannis would move fast, and he knew the island far better than she did. He might take some shortcut…

‘Is that not convenient?’ he demanded when she remained silent.

‘When, exactly?’ Charlotte pressed cautiously.

‘Some time before Marianna leaves,’ Iannis replied. ‘I wish to speak with her, and I think it may be easier for me to find her at your villa than to catch her at home.’

Was he resentful of her relationship with Marianna? Charlotte wondered curiously. ‘If you call after seven you will miss her,’ she said. And if you call much before half-past six I won’t be there. ‘Six forty-five?’ she offered with a shrug.

‘A small window of opportunity,’ Iannis remarked ironically.

‘I’ll need a bath…wash my hair—’

‘I am coming to see Marianna,’ he reminded her coolly.

‘Ah, yes, but that is the best time to see Marianna,’ Charlotte said, making it up as she went along. ‘She doesn’t like to be disturbed when she is working—she will be getting ready to leave at that time.’

‘Very well. I will try and accommodate Marianna’s hectic schedule,’ Iannis agreed with a mocking bow.

And by then I will know a lot more about you, Charlotte thought with satisfaction as she watched him collect his things. ‘Why don’t you use this?’ she suggested, pressing Marianna’s basket into his hands to make her own task easier. ‘You can return it to Marianna tonight.’

‘That would be useful,’ he conceded with a nod.

‘Thanks again,’ Charlotte called, hopping with impatience until he finally made off towards the cliff path.

Anticipation was coiled up inside her like a tightly wound spring, and she was barely able to wait until he disappeared out of sight. But Charlotte made herself count up to twenty, and then ran lightly across the sand in his tracks.

As she had suspected, he moved fast over the rugged terrain. As they dropped down towards the town Charlotte pictured him in a bare room somewhere amidst the brightly painted houses that fringed the small harbour. He would have few luxuries, and everything would have been carefully chosen. Usefulness would be all that mattered where his possessions were concerned.

Marianna had explained to her that the colourful harbour dwellings, so unlike the stark white houses clinging to the hillsides, owed their individuality to a time when only fishermen had lived there. If a distress signal was raised at any one of them, men fishing out in the bay could easily identify the household in question.

But Iannis strode straight past each gaily painted doorway without a second glance, and apart from acknowledging the greetings of the local inhabitants didn’t break stride once. He would be in a hurry, Charlotte reasoned. There was hardly time for him to get back home, shower, change, and then return to the villa to see Marianna.

She tried to keep the chase low-key, but it was hard not to draw attention when she was the only newcomer in the area. Seeing her anxiety, the local women were keen to help, and she was forced to stop every few steps and back into the shadows to reassure them with signs and the few words of Greek she had picked up. But it worked to her advantage too. She was able to take cover amongst the friendly groups and wait until Iannis was a safe distance away before starting after him again.

He took a steep path out of the village—little more than a track hidden between two buildings. Charlotte might have missed it completely had she not been close behind. She saw that it wound up the hill that rose behind the village, and would be completely inaccessible except by foot.

The light was dwindling fast. It was time to make a decision. Maybe she should turn back and try tomorrow, earlier in the day? But then Iannis suddenly veered off to the right and disappeared into a parched clump of trees.

Starting up the track after him, Charlotte began to run. But once she had followed him into the trees she had to move more carefully. The woodland path was strewn with dried twigs that crunched beneath her feet, and each time she stopped she had to strain to hear over the noise of her thundering heart that he was still moving ahead of her.

Then, quite abruptly, the trees opened out and she found herself back on top of the cliff, at the opposite side of the horseshoe bay to where her own villa was situated. She caught a brief glimpse of Iannis, but then he disappeared completely, taking a route she could only guess led down to the beach again. There was no cover as she crept forward to the cliff-edge, and she was forced to lie flat and crawl on her belly in order to peer down.