Greek Affairs: Claiming His Child: The Greek's Million-Dollar Baby Bargain / The Greek Millionaire's Secret Child / The Greek's Long-Lost Son

She had no doubt that that was what he was doing. Long after the last tangle was gone he went on combing down the length of her hair—soothingly, rhythmically, murmuring soft words in his own native language. It might have been a shopping list for all she knew. She knew it wasn’t. He was telling her how much he wanted her, how much his body yearned for hers. How even now—had it not been for the child playing there on the rocks, for the interfering presence of the silky fabric of their bathing clothes—he would have lifted her back on to the hard muscle of his splayed thighs, thigh against thigh, cradling his hips against hers so that she could feel the hardening of his body against her contours.

He would take her soft breasts in the palms of his hands and caress them until her nipples hardened like peaks, and then he would roll them in his long fingers until she cried out, tiny moans in her throat that told him she was ready. Then his hand would splay down over the soft swell of her belly to ease her firm thighs apart, exposing the very heart of her, and he would let his clever, skilful fingers explore her secret folds until they found the pathway to delight. They would rouse her to such a point of glistening ecstasy that her back would arch away from him, her head would drop back, exposing the long line of her tender throat, which he would kiss and bite with soft, devouring kisses while her cry of ecstasy reverberated against his mouth as he possessed her with his body …

Ann felt the heat pool between her thighs and begin to quicken. Her breasts tautened, nipples peaking beneath the damp swimsuit. Her head started to drop as the murmuring voice told her of all the delights he would give her, and her scalp tingled at the touch of the comb he wielded so soothingly. So arousingly.

Her body began to melt against his waiting hardness.

In slow motion she saw the little figure at the edge of her vision reach the top of the highest rock and wave triumphantly. Then, as her eyes widened in shock, she saw him wobble, arms flailing wildly, and start to tumble.

Which of them moved faster she didn’t know. Ann only knew that she had hurled herself forward like a bullet from a gun, scrambling desperately over the rocks to try and break Ari’s fall. She caught at him, gasping out words.

‘I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re safe.’

Then Ari was slithering down through her weakened arms, before being halted again by a pair of much stronger, harder arms, scooping him out of Ann’s, holding his kicking, frightened little body against a broad, strong chest. Rapid Greek urgently reassured the child, soothing him.

Carefully, Nikos lowered the crying child down to a towel. Swiftly the pair of them examined him for damage, but apart from a nasty scrape down one calf Ari seemed nothing more than shocked. And being fussed over, plus a packet of crisps, soon put his woes behind him.

‘Tina will put a plaster on it,’ he informed his aunt and uncle as he inspected his scrape again, crunching crisps as he spoke.

‘It won’t need one, poppet,’ Ann said reassuringly. ‘It isn’t bleeding.’

‘It bleeds if I squeeze it,’ Ari corrected her, and proceeded to demonstrate the truth of this with ghoulish pleasure.

Ann looked away, meeting Nikos’ eye. For a moment a gleam of mutual humour passed between them, then he looked back at his nephew.

‘Repellent boy,’ he said.

Ari looked pleased.

The journey back to the villa was conducted at a far more sedate pace than their outward journey. Nikos was deaf to Ari’s pleas to speed up, and took the rough road slowly this time.

‘Thank you,’ said Ann stiffly, conscious that Nikos had driven slowly for her.

She was still shaken. Not because of Ari’s fall—though that had been a horribly sobering moment. Because of what had preceded it. How the hell had it happened? In the space of a handful of seconds she’d gone from being in control of herself to being …

Helpless. Completely helpless to do anything at all except let the extraordinary velvet seduction of the man take her over completely. Fatally. Lethally.

The moment the Jeep was back at the villa she was out of it, extracting Ari as fast as she could. To her relief, Nikos kept the engine running, and the moment Ari was down drove straight off round to the villa’s garages. Ari, seizing Ann’s hand, headed indoors, where he was intercepted by Maria, the nursery maid, who exclaimed dutifully at Ari’s grievous wound, then whisked him off to get cleaned up. Gratefully, Ann escaped to her room. Under a punishingly hot shower she mercilessly berated herself. How could she have let Nikos Theakis do that to her? Touch her, caress her, kiss her …

And why had he done it? But she knew, with a hollowing damning of herself. It had been a power play, pure and simple. He’d done it deliberately, calculatingly, just to show her that he could. To show that she would succumb because he could make it impossible for her not to! That she was powerless against him …

I can’t let him have that kind of power! I can’t!

No—she had to fight it. And at least now, she told herself urgently, in her head, she was now prepared for his new battle against her. He’d shown his hand, made his move, and that meant he could no longer launch a surprise attack on her the way he’d done on the beach. She was forewarned now, and that meant forearmed. All she had to do was be on her absolute guard against him.

Whatever it took.

Because the alternative was—unthinkable.

Nikos stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror of his self-contained apartment in the villa, his razor stilled in one hand.

He was playing with fire.

His mouth tightened. That was the only word for it. He hadn’t thought it would be. Had thought it would simply be a matter of killing two birds with one very satisfying stone—gratifying the increasingly persistent desire to enjoy a woman he wanted whilst simultaneously ensuring that Ann Turner was led very nicely up the garden path to a position where she could be ejected, once and for all, from his family.

But that incident on the beach had proved otherwise. Had proved that he was, indeed, playing with fire in what he was doing.

I was out of control so much I didn’t even notice when Ari was in danger.

The words formed in his head, sobering and grim. A warning, clear as a bell. And one he would be insane not to heed.

Whatever Ann Turner had, he had to ensure that the only person who got burnt was her. Not him.

With controlled, precise strokes, he started to shave.

Outside the door to the salon, Ann paused. She could feel her chest was tight, her nerves taut. She wanted to bolt back to her room, but it was impossible. She had to get through this evening—the rest of her time on Sospiris. Ignoring completely the man who’d turned her into a quivering, sensuous, conscienceless fool.

Gritting her teeth, she walked in.

Her eyes went to him immediately, sucked to him. Her stomach hollowed, taking in, in a devastating instant, the way he stood there, casually dressed in dark blue trousers, open necked shirt, freshly shaved, lifting his martini glass to his mouth, his unreadable eyes resting on her. For a second so brief it hardly existed she felt his gaze make contact. Then it was gone. His attention was back on Tina, who was talking about archaeology.

Smiling awkwardly, Ann went across to Mrs Theakis and Cousin Eupheme.

How she got through dinner she wasn’t sure, but she managed it somehow. Inevitably the conversation included a discussion of the day’s expedition, and Ann had to fight the colour seeking to mount in her cheeks. Her comments were disjointed, and in the end she pleaded a headache from too much sun, and fled back to her room before coffee was served. She felt Nikos Theakis’s dark gaze on her as she left the dining room.

For the next two days Ann stuck to Tina and Ari like glue. It was easy enough. The following day Ari had a playdate on Maxos, with the young son of wealthy friends of the Theakises, and after handing him over to the family’s nanny at their sumptuous holiday villa, Tina took Ann off to spend the afternoon at the dig her fiancé was directing, before heading back to collect Ari again. That evening she was relieved to discover that Nikos was out.

‘He is dining with the family that little Ari spent the day with,’ said Mrs Theakis, when Ann joined her. ‘One of their house guests has a tendre for him,’ she said dryly. She looked directly at Ann. ‘My son is very … popular with our sex, my dear. He has much of what they want. Most noticeably, considerable wealth.’ Was there the slightest snap in her voice as she spoke? Ann wondered. Then another thought crossed her mind—a horrible one.

Is she warning me off? She felt cold at the thought.

‘And so handsome, too!’ This from Cousin Eupheme, who had, Ann had already observed, a visible soft spot for Nikos Theakis.

‘Yes,’ allowed Mrs Theakis. ‘It is a dangerous combination. For him, that is. A man who is both rich and handsome.’ Again she looked directly at Ann, and now Ann knew that indeed she was being specifically warned. ‘Such a man can be tempted not to treat women with the respect they should have from him.’

Ann stared. This was not what she had thought Mrs Theakis had been going to say.

Mrs Theakis continued, in the same gentle, contemplative voice she always used. ‘I would hesitate to call my own son spoilt, and yet—Ah, Yannis—epharisto!’ This last to the manservant, who had approached with the customary tray of pre-dinner drinks.

To Ann’s relief, the subject of the conversation turned, with Mrs Theakis asking Ann what she had made of both Tina’s fiancé’s dig and her fiancé himself. Tina was still with Sam, Ann having brought Ari back to Sospiris on her own. Ari had been full of his enjoyable adventures on his playdate—except for one aspect.

‘She kept kissing me, and I did not like it!’ he’d complained.

‘Who was that?’ Ann had asked, amused.

‘A grown-up lady. She asked me about Uncle Nikki. I said he was busy working. That is what he tells Yannis to tell ladies when they phone him. I told her that too. She did not like it and went away. I was glad. I didn’t like her kissing me.’ He looked at Ann. ‘Uncle Nikki does not kiss. He hugs. And he carries me on his shoulders. If,’ he’d added, punctiliously, ‘I do not pull his hair.’

Now, over dinner, Ann wondered what Ari’s admirer was like. She would be elegant and well bred—one of his own circle. As socially acceptable as Carla, Ann thought darkly, had not been suitable to marry into the wealthy Theakis family.

There was no sign of Nikos the following day, or the one thereafter, and Ann assumed that he was still on Maxos. But wherever he was—providing it was not on Sospiris—she couldn’t care less. It was taking all her strength, even with him not around, to force herself not to think about what had happened on the beach. But it was essential to banish the memory—vital not to think about Nikos Theakis. Not to conjure his image in her mind. Not to let him into her consciousness. To think of something else—anything else—that would take her mind into safer pathways again.

She was glad when Tina returned mid-morning, bearing with her an invitation to join her and her fiancé for the birthday celebrations of one of Sam’s colleagues the following night.

‘You will come, won’t you?’ Tina pressed. ‘Oh, it won’t be anything grand like here, of course, but it will be good fun, I promise!’

Mrs Theakis added her own urging. ‘My dear—young people, and a lovely, lively evening for you!’ She smiled her warm, kind smile at Ann.

So, in the early evening of the next day, she set off with Tina to cross the strait to Maxos in the Theakis launch. Ari had been consigned to Maria’s care, and mollified with the reminder that the following day his playdate friend was coming over to Sospiris on a return invitation. Tina was looking very pretty, with her curly brown hair, and was wearing a flirty red sundress jazzed up with some locally crafted jewellery. Ann was a fair-haired foil, with an ivory-white lacy cross-over top and a floaty turquoise skirt which she’d bought the day they’d come over to Maxos between with Ari.

Sam met them at the harbour, his eyes dwelling with open appreciation on his fiancée and with practised masculine appreciation on Ann’s pale beauty. Gallantly, he offered an arm to each, and they started to stroll towards the quayside lined with tavernas. The Theakis launch had dropped them at the marina end of the harbour, which was visibly upmarket—as were the gleaming yachts at moorage and the smart bars along this section of the quayside. At that hour of the evening, with the dusk gathering in the sky and the last pale bars of daylight dying in the west, both Greeks and such tourists as there were at that season were making their traditional volta—the slow procession of both seeing and being seen.

Sam and Tina paused to greet acquaintances as they passed, and halfway along stopped more decisively when they were hailed by a party sitting outside a particularly smart cocktail bar.

Nikos Theakis had hailed them—sitting back, looking relaxed, his shirt open at the collar, a sweater loosely draped over broad shoulders, long legs extended, glass in his hand. A very elegant, sultry-looking brunette was sitting close enough beside him on the white cushioned padded cane seat to signal that her physical proximity to him was usually a lot closer.

‘Tina,’ said Nikos with smiling extravagance, his white teeth gleaming wolfishly, ‘you’re looking stunning tonight. Sam’s a lucky man.’ His dark eyes paid tribute to her, before moving on to exchange pleasantries with her fiancé. Then, without warning, his gaze flicked to Ann.

She’d been standing stiffly, trying to act normally, trying not to be instantly, horribly, mega-aware of Nikos Theakis’s impact. She had been quite unprepared for this, and was desperately scrabbling for her guard.

Too late. Those dark long-lashed eyes rested on her, and sucked hers into his gaze.

For a blinding moment it felt intimate—shockingly, searingly intimate. As if there was no one else there at all. As if his eyes were branding her.

Then, abruptly, his head turned towards the woman at his side, whose hand, Ann slowly registered, was now curved possessively around his forearm.

‘Nikos, darling,’ she announced in overloud English, ‘we mustn’t keep your nephew’s nanny and her friends from their evening out—you’ll lose your reputation for being such a generous employer to your household staff!’

At her side, Ann could feel Sam tense with anger at this dismissive put-down of his fiancée.

‘True,’ Sam said with deceptive ease. ‘But one must, of course, also be careful not to gain reputations, either—such as one for hunting rich husbands, Kyria Constantis.’

He bestowed a sardonic smile on the woman, whose expression darkened furiously, and strode off, taking his fiancée and Ann with him. Only Ann, it seemed, registered the low chuckle that emanated from Nikos Theakis, and the hiss of outrage from his companion at the scarcely veiled insult.

‘Isn’t Elena Constantis a complete cow?’ Tina quizzed Ann, visibly pleased that her fiancé had supported her so ruthlessly.

‘Nikos doesn’t seem to think so,’ retorted Ann. She was still trying to recover from that scorching eye contact—which had seared so effortlessly through the guard she’d barely had time to scrabble for—and she was also trying to ignore the fact that she had seen Nikos Theakis cosying up to another woman.

Too late she caught the fatal admission she’d just made. Using the word ‘another’…. as if she herself had anything to do with the man in that way.

Tina was speaking again, and Ann latched on to the diversion. Unfortunately, she was still on the same subject.

‘Oh, Nikos won’t marry Elena Constantis—however much she wants him to. Apart from anything else he’d never marry someone Ari didn’t approve of, and Ari’s made it clear he doesn’t like Elena Constantis. He says she keeps trying to kiss him.’

Ann felt her spirits lift illogically, though she knew there was absolutely no reason for it. She made herself remember that as they reached the taverna where Sam’s colleagues were gathering. She was glad of the party. The mix of professional archaeologists and students was a lively, polyglot gathering, and the taverna in the old port was a world away from the swish marina. Not a place for a Theakis, thought Ann, and found the thought reassuring.

As the evening wore on, and the local wine went round, she felt herself relaxing. It was good to get away from the constant threat of encountering Nikos, from keeping her guard high, as she must around him.

The convivial meal culminated in a large birthday cake, with ouzo, brandy and coffee doing the rounds, followed by some very inexpert and woozy dancing to bouzoukis. It was all very good humoured, but finally the taverna owner could bear it no longer. With a clap of his hands he banished them all back to their table, and summoned the males of his establishment, who obligingly formed the appropriate line in front of their enthusiastic audience.

A voice in Greek from the doorway halted them. Ann looked round. Half shadowed against the night, a tall figure peeled itself away from the entrance.

The taverna owner hurried forward, exclaiming volubly in his own language, and held out his arms welcomingly.

Nikos Theakis strolled in.

CHAPTER FIVE

ANN WAS SITTING sandwiched between Tina and one of Sam’s colleagues, and as she realised what was happening she felt her stomach hollow.

It was the last thing she had expected. The last thing she had been prepared for.

What is he doing here?

The question ricocheted through her like an assassin’s bullet shot out of nowhere. Then something else fired straight through her. Far worse than shock. She could feel it in every nerve-ending in her skin, every synapse in her wine-inflamed brain. It was a quickening of her breath, her pulse, making her instantly, totally aware of him as if everyone else in the taverna had ceased to exist. Dismay washed through her, but it was too late—far too late. All she could do was gaze helplessly at him, as he raised a hand in casual greeting to Sam and the others and made some remark in Greek to the taverna owner. The latter smiled vigorously, and gestured Nikos further in. The honoured guest murmured his thanks, casually deposited his sweater on a spare chair, and took his place in the row of men.

The music started again.

The hypnotic thrum of the music started to reverberate through the room, and very slowly the line of men, shoulder to shoulder, started to weave to the soft, but intensely rhythmic music. Hypnotically, the music started to quicken, becoming insistent, mesmerising. Overpowering.

Ann watched, feeling her heart swelling. Even without the presence of Nikos Theakis she would have been riveted by the unconscious grace, the intense dignity, the suffused sensuality of the dancers. These men dancing were real men. Every one of them. Masculinity and virility radiated from each of them, from the oldest white-haired elder to the youngest teenage grandson. As their interlinked bodies stepped with flawless unison through the paces Ann could feel the tension mount, excitement thrum in the air.

It was a magnificent sight. And none so magnificent than that of Nikos Theakis, dancing like one of his own ancestors, binding the stones of Greece to the wine-dark sea of Homer, grace and power and sensuality personified.

In the subdued light his white shirt gleamed like a sail, its open collar exposing the powerful column of his throat and his raised arms, embracing the shoulder of the man next to him in the line stretching the material over his muscled torso. The way his dark head turned, the way his long legs flexed and stepped—Ann felt her stomach clench. He was stunningly, overpoweringly beautiful. Heat flowed through her body. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Not for a moment, not for a second. She didn’t care if people saw her looking. Didn’t care if Nikos Theakis saw her watching him. And if his eyes met hers, held them completely, totally, never letting her go, as if she were their captive …

It was as if he were dancing for her, displaying his prowess, his masculinity, for her alone …

She felt dazed—dazzled and aware.

Responding to him. Weakening to him.

As the music and the dance reached its rampant finale to a volley of applause and vociferous appreciation by its audience, she dropped her head, shaken with what she was feeling. Yet there was still that quickening in her veins that seemed to make the whole world more vivid.

She lifted her head again, and her eyes clashed straight into his.

He had joined the party at the table, finding a space, somehow, immediately opposite her. For a moment—how long or brief it was she could not tell—he simply held her gaze.

Then he was accepting a glass of brandy from the taverna owner, exchanging something with him in Greek which brought a comment from Sam in the same language. Nikos made an airy gesture with his free hand, lounging back in his seat.

‘It is my pleasure—a token of appreciation for all the hard work you and your team put in on the excavation,’ he said smoothly, and Ann gathered that he’d picked up the tab for the evening.

It brought back the question that had originally struck her when he’d strolled in. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he with the elegant, chic Elena Constantis? And where was she? She would not have relinquished her prize easily. And why should Nikos have relinquished her?

He wasn’t looking at her now, and she was grateful. He was talking across the table to Sam and a couple of his colleagues, asking them about progress on the dig. She dragged her eyes away, occupying herself with drinking her coffee until the party finally broke up. Outside, after the warmth of the taverna, the night air struck chill. But Ann was glad of it. There was enough heat in her body.

Her blood.

Yet the fresh air seemed to bring on an increase in the effects of her evening’s consumption of wine. Where was Tina? She looked around, but Tina was standing beside Sam, who had his arm around her.

‘I’ve told Tina she can stay here with Sam,’ said a deep, accented voice behind her.

She turned abruptly. Nikos was draping his sweater casually around his shoulders. ‘I’ll see you back to Sospiris,’ he said to her.

Where her stomach had been, a hollow opened up. Dismay filled it. And something else. Something she really, really didn’t want—

Her hands clutched at her bag. ‘No, really—that’s quite unnecessary,’ she began, flustered.

But her protest was ignored. Nikos was saying something to the taverna-owner again. And when she looked pleadingly at Tina the other girl was grinning delightedly up at Sam. Ann felt the words die on her lips. Of course Tina would be pleased that her boss had given her the night off! How selfish would it be to expect her to give that up? And it was only a short journey across on the launch. She could survive that.

But why was Nikos Theakis coming back to Sospiris anyway? Why wasn’t he with Elena Constantis?

Mentally, she shook herself. Who cares? What does it matter? It’s nothing to do with me! I’ve just got to tough it out and get to the other side, that’s all.

‘Ready?’

A hand was on her spine. Large, warm. Its heat reached through her thin top. She jerked forward, managing to get out a last ‘goodnight’ to Tina and Sam and the others, who were heading back to their accommodation on the edge of the town. Then the hand was pressing into her back, urging her forward. She took a jerky step and started walking. The hand dropped.

Self-consciousness possessed her. She felt dangerously affected by the wine, the chill evening air in her lungs—the heat in her veins. Her pulse seemed to have the hypnotic rhythm of the bouzouki music in it still. Yet, though she felt hot, she shivered.