Paradise Nights: Taken by the Bad Boy

‘Happens that way sometimes.’ He pressed his lips to her cheek, a man who knew not to mess with lipstick at a time like this. ‘Time to remember who you are. What you are. And what you want.’

Oh, boy. It’d help if she knew. ‘I could use a reminder.’

‘You’re talented, educated, smart, savvy, and determined.’

‘You’re right,’ she said straightening. ‘I am.’

‘You want this job?’

‘I do.’

He put his hands to her shoulders and turned her in the direction of the door. ‘Go get it.’

Pete watched the traffic go by while he waited for Serena’s interview to finish, wondering at her lastminute hesitation. He knew her best when she wore gypsy skirts and sleeveless cotton shirts, but it came as no surprise to him that she could look perfectly at home in a business suit. If she wanted this kind of life all she had to do was reach out and take it. He was that certain of her talent and her ability to succeed.

She didn’t belong on the island; anyone with eyes could see that. Whether she belonged here was up to her.

It was a quarter to five before she reappeared. He figured it for a good sign. ‘How’d it go?’ he asked her when she stood in front of him.

‘It was a panel interview,’ she told him, chewing on her lower lip. ‘There were five of them. It was hard to tell what they thought—either collectively or individually.’ She lifted her chin a fraction. ‘They said I’d hear from them in a few days. I thought it went well.’

‘Hold that thought.’ He slung his arm around her shoulders, she wrapped her arm around his waist and together they started walking. ‘Where to now?’ he asked her. ‘Dinner? A drink? A show?’

‘Yes,’ she said with a vigorous nod for good measure. ‘All of them.’

‘Any particular order?’

‘Surprise me.’

He did surprise her. He took her to the art gallery Medusa where a modern photographic exhibition was showing, and fed her creativity. After that he took her to dinner at a restaurant that boasted candlelit corners, Spanish cuisine, and a Lebanese entertainer with a repertoireranging from ‘Zorba the Greek’ to ‘Dancing Queen’. The meal fed her stomach, the entertainment fed her sense of humour. The place was a mish-mashing clash of cultures with a boisterous crowd, a little bit of whimsy, and plenty of romance thrown in for free and it matched her mood perfectly. He matched her mood perfectly, played to it, and at the end of the evening when the music slowed he took her into his arms and the night turned to magic.

‘What next?’ he murmured when the music drew to a close.

‘You and me,’ she said without hesitation. ‘Alone.’ Always it came back to this.

The colours from the streetlights played over his face, such a beautiful face, as he hailed them a taxi. He didn’t touch her on the way back to the hotel, not until they reached the lift and then it was only to put his palm to the small of her back as they stepped inside. His hand dropped away after that. He looked like a man with a lot on his mind, not all of it welcome.

‘Penny for them,’ she said.

His smile belonged to a rogue but his eyes were somewhat more sombre. ‘I was wondering what you’d do if you landed this job. Where you’d live. Who’d take charge of the Vespas … ‘

‘I’d probably stay with my aunt and uncle—Nico’s parents—for a while until I found a place of my own.’

‘And the Vespas?’

‘Currently have my second cousin Marina’s name on them. It’s her turn to come and contemplate the universe for a while.’

‘You didn’t mind it that much,’ he said dryly.

‘You’re right,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t. I got to take some beautiful pictures and live in a beautiful part of the world. But I wouldn’t want to do it on a permanent basis. It wouldn’t satisfy me. It’s not enough.’

‘And the job you went for today will be enough?’ he asked her as they reached the hotel room.

‘Maybe,’ she muttered as he ushered her inside. She didn’t know. ‘If I get it I guess I’ll find out. But it’s a step in the right direction, that’s the main thing. I’ve already spent too much time doing things I never really wanted to do, mainly to keep my family happy.’ She shrugged out of her jacket and slipped off her shoes with a sigh of relief. ‘I got my photography and language qualifications by fitting them in around the work I’ve done in the family businesses. Had I wanted to be a restaurateur like my brother, or had a vision for growing and marketing the seafood arm of the business like my sister, everything would have worked out just fine, but unfortunately I don’t want to do either of those things. I want to tell stories. Take photos that tell stories. Use those qualifications it took me so long to get.’ Pete said nothing, just watched and listened. ‘You probably think I’m selfish,’ she said, turning away from him so she wouldn’t see the confirmation in his eyes. She’d heard that particular opinion voiced often enough times over the years that she’d learned to anticipate it, brace for it. ‘That I should appreciate all the opportunities my family have given me and take one of them.’

‘If you’re waiting for me to tell you to sacrifice your own needs for those of your family you’ll be waiting a long time, Serena,’ he said, punctuating his words with a tiny tilt of his lips. ‘I lit out of home as soon as the Navy would have me, chasing the sky and a childhood dream. I left behind a grieving father, an older brother, two younger brothers, and a sister—all of whom needed me—because I had to go my own way. I know what it is to sacrifice family for freedom. I’ve done it.’ His lips twisted. ‘The worst part is when they tell you to go and that they’ll be there when you need them and that they’re proud of you for going after what you want.’

‘I’d have been proud of you too,’ she said quietly. ‘If you’d been mine.’ His words had comforted her, settled her conscience. He knew what it was to chase a dream. He understood.

‘Tell your family what you’ve just told me,’ he said. ‘Hell, just show them your photos. If that doesn’t convince them you’re wasted on the fishing business, nothing will.’

‘They’ve seen them. To them photography is just a hobby, something to do on the side. Photojournalism is marginally more acceptable.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘So which one would you prefer to spend your time doing? Straight photography or photojournalism?’

Now there was a question. One she’d spent a great deal of time trying to answer. ‘For the sheer joy of it? Probably the photography.’

‘In that case why the hell did you just go for a photojournalist job?’

His voice was curt, his expression formidable. Maybe he didn’t understand quite as much as she thought. ‘It gets me good subject material for my camera. It’s a time-honoured road for photographers to take. The job might not be perfect, but moments of it will be, and those are the ones I’ll savour. ‘She sent him a wry smile. ‘Surely you of all people can understand that.’

He laughed abruptly; it seemed he could.

‘But enough about work,’ she said lightly. Here they were in a room with a blissfully large bed in it and an entire night at their disposal. Her thoughts turned wicked as she started pulling pins from her hair, the ones that had kept her businesslike chignon in place. ‘I’d like a shower,’ she said, shaking her hair free and dropping the pins on the bedside table before padding towards the minibar, her stockinged feet sinking into the deliciously plush carpet. ‘A glass of wine.’ She opened the fridge, selected a bottle and tossed it on the bed. ‘Some chocolate.’ She perused the selection on top of the counter, chose the Swiss variety, and tossed that on the bed too. ‘I know it sounds trite but I’d like to slip into something a little more comfortable.’ She had a white silk cami and matching panties in her luggage. She found them, threw them onto the bed as well. ‘And then I’d like you.’ She looked meaningfully at the pile on the bed and then back at Pete. Pete’s lips twitched. ‘Feel free to arrange yourself any way you like.’

‘I’d like to oblige,’ he said. ‘Really. And I’m sure we can come to some sort of mutually agreeable arrangement at some point in time.’ He was peeling off his shirt as he spoke, heading towards her, grabbing her by the hand. ‘But my fantasy started the minute you mentioned the shower.’

He made her laugh as he turned on the shower taps and pulled them both under the spray, and her still fully dressed. Made her gasp as he peeled her out of her clothes and set about devouring her body.

Later, much later, he wrapped her in a towel, carried her to the bed and fed her wine and chocolate as she relived the high points of her interview for him, and the low. And then the wine and chocolate went on the counter and the towel went on the floor and he reached for her again.

This time, the sheer perfection and intensity of his lovemaking nearly made her cry.

Pete flew her home the following morning, his body utterly exhausted and his mind fogged with the pleasure only Serena’s touch could bring. He’d had lovers before. Generous, accomplished lovers, but not one of them had ever brought to lovemaking what Serena gave to him.

A sensuality that held him breathless. A generosity that left him reeling.

And a hunger for more that he didn’t know how to deal with.

She had to get back to Sathi. He had to get her there and then go take care of Tomas’s business. That was his agenda for today. He couldn’t think any further than that. He didn’t want to think further than that. Because then he’d start thinking about what he’d begun to want from this woman and it had for ever written all over it.

And he sure as hell didn’t want to think about that.

So he took her home and he played the game she’d asked of him and grinned at the scene that greeted him when they touched down in Sathi.

There was no shark, no ten-inch boning knives, no father and uncle with narrow-eyed glares and faces carved from rock. But Theo was sitting on the bench across from the helipad sharpening a box full of frighteningly large fish hooks and the majestically built Marianne Papadopoulos was there as well, pounding octopus on a flat weathered rock with a glint to her eye and a strength to her wrist that put him in mind of a cat o nine tails and some poor unsuspecting sod’s back.

It was a warning, beautifully executed, almost effective. Serena slid him a long-suffering glance. Pete grinned at her.

‘This is the part where you leave,’ she told him dryly.

‘I knew that,’ he said.

‘And never come back.’

‘Now that’s unlikely.’ He gave Theo a nod, Marianne Papadopoulos a smile he reserved for the hardest of hearts and laughed when she narrowed her eyes and stopped pounding in favour of grinding that octopus hard against the rock with a swift, twisting motion. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said and lightly bussed her lips. ‘Count on it.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN it came to women and the wooing of them, Pete Bennett could justify just about any hare-brained scheme. Everything from a daily bombardment of flowers to remote location helicopter joyrides with a picnic basket and blanket packed for good measure. From tandem parachute jumps to Symphony Orchestra concerts by way of a spot of deep-sea marlin fishing in between. But he’d never, ever, done anything as stupid as jumping in a helicopter when he should have been working and setting off for a sleepy little Greek island that no one else seemed to want to go to on the off chance that once he got there the ache around his heart might ease.

He should have been checking into an Athens hotel, grabbing a bite to eat, and bedding down early in readiness for the five a.m. start his clients had requested the following day. He had a schedule to stick to, passengers to collect. He should have phoned Serena when he’d got the urge to talk to her. That was what a sane man would have done.

Instead he was flying the little Jet Ranger fast and low en route to Sathi, his mind firmly fixed on getting to his destination before the sun disappeared over the horizon.

After that … well … after that he didn’t much care what he did so long as Serena was a part of it.

Pete touched down just on dusk, secured the rotors, and locked the little helicopter down for the night before finally heading for Chloe’s hotel. Discretion. He knew the need for it, tried to think of a way to act with it and still make contact with Serena. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled. ‘Where are you?’ he said when she answered the phone.

‘Halfway down the goat track,’ she said somewhat breathlessly. ‘And if that wasn’t you in that damned helicopter I’m going to strangle you.’

Always nice to feel appreciated. Pete grinned. ‘Have dinner with me.’

‘Where?’

‘Anywhere. I’m heading for Chloe’s.’

‘I’m two steps in front of you. Is it too late to be coy about dinner and tell you I’ll check my calendar and get back to you?’

‘How fast are you coming down that hill?’

‘Fast.’

‘It’s too late. Besides, coy doesn’t suit you. Neither does discreet. Feel free to jump me in the foyer.’

‘Keep dreaming,’ she said. ‘I can be very discreet when I need to be. Get a room. Order something from room service. And wait.’

‘If there’s a God this fantasy will include you, a short black skirt, a frilly white apron, and not a lot else.’

‘God is not a minimalist,’ she told him blithely. ‘God is bountiful.’

‘Amen,’ he muttered, and finished the call before he fell over his feet in his haste.

‘No,’ Chloe told Serena sternly. ‘You can not be a room-service maid. Nico would kill you. Then he’d kill me for letting you.’

‘Who’s going to tell him?’ countered Serena, not begging, not yet. ‘Not me.’

‘This is Sathi, Serena. Everyone will tell him because five minutes after I put you behind the room-service trolley everyone will know. Wait. Meet the man in public, where everyone can see what you’re doing. And what you’re not.’

‘But I told him to call for room service.’

‘And I’ll tell him he can’t have any. Anticipation is good for a man.’

‘That’s all well and good, Chloe, but it’s killing me.’

‘You need a distraction.’

‘He is the distraction,’ she said earnestly.

‘Then you need another distraction. Here, read the paper. I circled a job in there for you.’

‘What is it with people thrusting newspapers with job applications in them at me?’ she grumbled, reluctantly taking the paper Chloe held out to her.

‘Gee,’ said Chloe. ‘Could it have something to do with your burning ambition to leave this place and make your mark on the world?’

There was that.

‘You can read it in my office,’ said Chloe.

‘Why can’t I read it here at the reception desk?’ While waiting for Superman to show up.

‘Office,’ said Chloe. ‘I mean it. Think of your reputation. Everyone else will be. And if that doesn’t stop you think of your family.’

‘I’m going,’ she muttered darkly. ‘But I want you to know you ruined a perfectly good fantasy. My body hates you.’

‘There’s baklava in the office. Marianne Papadopoulos brings it in as payment for letting her use one of the tables in the taverna for her bridge game.’

‘My body forgives you.’

‘Your body is fickle.’

‘No, it’s just a sucker for perfection in all its many and varied forms.’

‘Office,’ said Chloe. ‘And stay there ‘til Pilot Pete has gone to his room.’

‘I’d like a room,’ Pete said to Chloe, his duffel at his feet and his anticipation running rampant.

‘And it’s nice to see you again too,’ she said dryly, leaning against the counter and all but ignoring the credit card he held out to her. Finally, she took it and proceeded to open the bookings ledger with not nearly enough haste for his liking. ‘Looking for someone?’ she added as he scanned the foyer for a wanton goddess wielding a room-service cart.

‘If I were being indiscreet I’d say Serena, but I’m not so I can’t. And it’s nice to see you too, Chloe. How’s Sam?’

‘Waiting impatiently for the weekend, so he can go out fishing with Nico again. What kind of room?’

‘Any room.’ He paused to reconsider. ‘Something out of the way. Possibly soundproof, with a domed-glass roof and a view of the hinder stars.’

‘Uh-huh.’

A slight sound came from the direction of Chloe’s office, just behind the reception desk. The door was almost shut. Almost but not quite. ‘Did you just whimper?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Never mind.’

‘You can have room seventeen, the same room you were in last time,’ she said. ‘Or I can offer you a smaller room, discreetly placed at the back of the hotel.’

‘You have seen Serena.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘So how do I order room service?’

‘You don’t. Nico heard you fly in, along with half the island’s population. Theo’s here, Marianne Papadopoulos is here. The room service you require is not available right now. Have a drink or a meal in the taverna instead. Nico might join you there. Then perhaps Serena and I later on.’

‘So … no room service?’ he said.

‘None whatsoever.’

‘No glass ceiling and view of the stars?’

‘Lie on your side and look out the window.’

‘Chloe, Chloe, Chloe,’ he chided with a grin. ‘Where’s the romance in your soul?’

‘Buried beneath the weight of my responsibilities, which for some reason have grown to include both you and Serena. You don’t know this place or the people here. Even if you care nothing for your own reputation you need to think of Serena’s and that of her family. Trust me on this.’

‘I do trust you, Chloe. Which is why I’ll take your advice,’ he said with a sigh as he kissed his French-maid fantasies goodbye. ‘Any more advice?’

‘Yeah, it’s Theo and Marianne’s bridge night in there at table two and they’re a player short. Resist. And Peter … ‘

He waited.

‘I realise seduction comes as naturally to you as breathing, but try and travel a little slower than the speed of light this evening. Seduction’s frowned upon around these parts. Try something else.’

‘Like what?’

‘You could always try courtship.’

Courtship. Right. ‘As in bring a goat along for Serena’s grandfather?’

‘She’s Greek, Peter, not a Bedouin.’

‘So… no goat?’

‘Just respect her.’

‘You think I don’t?’

‘I think women come easily to you and always have. I think you don’t know the difference between courtship and seduction.’ She handed him the key. Not room seventeen. ‘And I think it’s time you learned.’

Pete made it to the out-of-the-way room at the back of the hotel, set his bag by the bed, took a fast shower and changed into fresh trousers and a collared white shirt. He could use a haircut, he decided after checking his appearance in the mirror. His hair was getting more and more like Tris’s mop, less and less like Luke’s regulation crew cut, but then, he didn’t need a crew cut these days anyway. He wasn’t Navy any more.

He didn’t know what he was.

Hungry, he was that, and Chloe had suggested he head for the hotel taverna. Hopefully he’d find Nico there already. There were worse chaperons. Then again, Nico might not be there at all. He might end up sitting there alone, which wouldn’t bode well for him when it came to resisting bridge invitations. He needed something to do while he waited, figured it might as well be the mail and paperwork he was supposed to have waded through a week ago.

Make that two weeks ago, he decided, eyeing the bulging black folder in his carryall with trepidation. He could run the flying component of Tomas’s business with his eyes closed. The paperwork and scheduling side, however, was a nightmare.

Tomas was out of hospital and starting to get up and around. Maybe if Pete got the paperwork up to date Tomas could take the running of that part of the business back. Pete picked up the folder and headed for the door, no further incentive required. He’d do it while he waited.

Except that Nico was already at the taverna when he got there, looking tired and not altogether sociable. Still, he nodded when he saw him and Pete figured it for an invitation of sorts.

‘So how’d they get you down here midway through a working week?’ he said by way of greeting.

‘Chloe rang and said she needed me,’ said Nico offering up a wry grin. ‘A statement guaranteed to get me down here any time of night, or day, for that matter. Then she mentioned you, Serena, room service, Theo, and Marianne Papadopoulos in her next breath and that was the end of that fantasy.’

‘I know the feeling,’ said Pete with heartfelt sincerity. ‘What do you know about courtship?’

‘Do you see Chloe standing here, breathless to be in my company?’

‘No.’

‘Exactly,’ said Nico darkly. ‘I’ve been here almost six months and I still can’t get her to notice me. I know nothing about courtship.’

‘But I do see her and Sam over in the doorway waving at you.’

Nico turned sharply, his face splitting into a grin, and then he was heading towards them. Maybe he knew more about courting than he thought. The middle-aged barman behind the counter removed Nico’s empty beer glass. ‘I’ll have one of those,’ Pete told the barman.

‘No beer for you,’ said the barman. ‘You can have coffee.’

‘In that case, I’ll have it at a table.’ He took himself and his paperwork towards a corner table, only to be stopped by the majestically built Mrs Papadopoulos greeting him and wanting to know how Tomas was. ‘He’s out of hospital and up walking around,’ said Pete. ‘The cast comes off in another few weeks.’

‘So you will leave us, once he mends, eh?’ she countered.

‘That’s the plan.’

‘Plans change,’ said the lady. ‘Isn’t that right, Theo?’

Theo scowled.

‘Tell me, Peter,’ she continued, thoroughly undaunted by Theo’s surly demeanour. ‘Do you play bridge?’

‘Never did get the hang of it, Mrs Papadopoulos. Besides, I have some paperwork to see to.’

‘And friends to greet,’ she said, eyeing the doorway behind him. ‘The taverna’s a busy place, this evening.’

He turned, following her gaze, and there stood Serena, looking exceedingly demure in an ankle length yellow sundress that, if he had to hazard a guess, he’d say belonged to Chloe. And then she smiled and he wouldn’t have been able to describe what she was wearing. ‘Excuse me.’

He made it to the door without falling over his feet, made it through small talk with Chloe and saying hello to Sam, who had homework and then bed to look forward to rather than socialising in the taverna, according to Chloe.

‘I could stay here for a while,’ said Sam. ‘With Nico and Pete and Serena. I’m not tired.’

‘Not on a school night,’ said Chloe and Sam’s frown turned mutinous.

‘I’ll do my homework in the morning.’

‘You’ve had all afternoon to do it. You’ll do it tonight.’

‘Homework being part of the renegotiated deal involving Sam fishing with Nico on Saturday and Sunday mornings,’ murmured Serena.

‘Ah.’

‘Do what your aunt says,’ said Nico. ‘She gives you more freedom than I ever had as a boy, and receives more than her share of criticism because of it. Cut her a break, Sam, and honour your bargain.’

Sam’s face grew even more thunderous, but he turned on his heel and stalked through the hotel without another word. Nico watched him go with a frown. ‘A boy needs limits,’ he said finally.

‘When I want your help, Nicholas Comino,’ said Chloe icily, ‘I’ll ask for it!’ And then she too was gone and silence reigned supreme.

‘I’m pretty sure she’ll be back,’ said Pete finally.

Serena nodded. ‘Me too.’

Nico glared at them both. ‘And if she doesn’t come back?’

‘Beer?’ said Pete.

‘Bridge?’ said Serena, looking towards Theo and Mrs Papadopoulos.

‘I like his suggestion better,’ said Nico. ‘You play bridge.’