Powerful Greek, Housekeeper Wife

by Robyn Donald

  In lust with.

  Amusement didn’t soften the autocratic lines and angles of Luke’s face, but it did make him more approachable when he said lazily, ‘It was convenient for me to arrive early. The rest of my party will be here at the given time.’

  Going by the bedrooms she’d checked there were at least two other people to come. Was he planning to share that big bed with someone? A stupid pang of pain seared through Iona, as though the possibility was a kind of betrayal.

  Startled and afraid, she said briskly, ‘All that needs to be done now is for the beds to be made. And if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and help the maid and then you’ll have the apartment to yourself.’

  ‘It is not necessary,’ he said negligently, eyes intent. A slow smile curled his beautifully chiselled mouth. ‘I am in no hurry to see you go. Tell me how you’ve been since you left Tahiti so swiftly.’

  This was exactly the sort of thing ex-lovers might say to each other when they were being civilised and sensible and sophisticated about a past affair.

  Well, she was just as capable as Luke of being all those things—perhaps not quite so sophisticated…

  Yet it took a considerable amount of control for Iona to say as casually, ‘I’ve been fine, thank you.’

  ‘You didn’t go back to teaching your little nursery school pupils?’

  ‘No. I was offered this position.’

  She knew she sounded stiff, but she couldn’t be as relaxed as he was. Apart from Gavin he was the only man she’d ever made love to, but, more than that, his heated, generously sensual expertise had drawn her back into the world of the living, the world of emotions and joy and the ability to respond. He’d got too close to her during those passionate days and nights in Tahiti.

  She flicked a glance up at him, noting the glimmer of amusement in the tawny eyes. A strange constriction of her heart took her by surprise, as though she’d spent the intervening months waiting for this moment.

  It had to be his powerful physical presence. Luke was the best-looking man she’d ever seen, but that wasn’t why her throat had dried. He was so much more than the strong, thrusting bone structure that framed his features, the beautiful lines of the mouth that had given her so much pleasure, the strong, elegant hands…

  He interrupted her thoughts with another question. ‘And you enjoy managing other people’s lives for them?’

  ‘Very much, thank you,’ she said sedately.

  Obviously she was only too eager to get the hell out of there. Luke fought back an unexpected spurt of temper. He wasn’t foolish enough to fall in love with his mistresses; experience had taught him not to let down his guard. So Iona’s calm lack of warmth should not only reassure him that she was in control of her life, but allow him to snap the tenuous bonds of an insignificant affair.

  Instead he found himself resisting a wild impulse to touch her.

  Alarm bells should be screaming, yet it took every shred of self-control not to reach out to her, run the tip of his forefinger around the luscious curve of her top lip, and then down the pale line of her throat, watch her changeable eyes darken into desire.

  To prove she was no more immune to him than he was to her…

  The doorbell rang. Iona started, then stepped back, blinking shadowed eyes. Luke felt as though he’d been poised on the edge of some dangerous precipice, and realised savagely that he’d just been about to make an idiot of himself.

  She swivelled and said huskily, ‘That’s probably Angie—my employer.’

  Luke’s voice was cold and deliberate, chilling her right through. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  It was Angie. Iona hoped Luke didn’t notice the flicker of unease in the older woman’s expression.

  It was masked by the calm professionalism in her tone when she said, ‘I’m Angela Makepeace; you must be one of the guests expected here?’

  ‘Yes. I am Lukas Michelakis.’

  Angie held out her hand. ‘How do you do? I’m sorry, Mr Michelakis, but we were told you wouldn’t be here until late this afternoon.’

  Somewhat to Iona’s surprise Luke accepted the courtesy, long tanned fingers enveloping Angie’s in a brisk shake. ‘As you see, I am early,’ he said, as though it were explanation enough.

  Angie nodded, and went on, ‘I assume you’ve met Iona?’

  ‘Iona and I already knew each other,’ he said without expression.

  Angie’s glance swivelled to Iona’s still face, then back to the dark countenance of the man towering over her. ‘What a coincidence,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘An amazing one.’

  Angry at being talked about as though she weren’t there, Iona said abruptly, ‘The beds should be made up by now—I’ll just go and check.’

  As she turned away she heard Luke say, ‘I wish to speak to you, Ms Makepeace.’

  Angie’s reply was muffled as they moved towards the drawing room. Questions buzzed around Iona’s mind. Why did he want to talk to her cousin?

  And what had happened in that final intense moment when his gaze had dropped to her lips and tension had drummed between them, an insistent beat that drowned out every sensible thought in her mind?

  Forget it, she told herself angrily, and checked the first and second bedroom. The maid had just finished making up the big king-size one in the master suite; she looked up as Iona came in and gave a swift smile. ‘All done.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Iona said as she slipped into the bathroom to make sure it was free of any trace of spilt detergent.

  It was clear, and she’d just emerged from the suite when she heard her cousin call her name. Angie was on her own.

  ‘He’s on the phone, and it’s looking good,’ Angie said softly. ‘We might be put on retainer while he’s staying in New Zealand. Why is your smock wet?’

  Hurriedly Iona explained, ending, ‘I hope you’ve got a spare one in the car?’

  ‘Yep.’ She handed over the keys. ‘Your Lukas hoped so too.’

  ‘He’s not my Lukas!’ He’d never corrected her when she’d called him Luke.

  Angie grinned. ‘Go down and get the smock from the back seat, then get changed here.’ Reading Iona’s instinctive objection she said, ‘It’s OK—he suggested it. I’m waiting while he runs a check on the business.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s a very rich man,’ Angie said with a shrug. ‘They’re not into trust. Off you go.’

  When Iona got back with the clean smock she heard the sound of voices in the drawing room, and hastily shot into the powder room, gratefully pulled the crisp dry garment on and, after stuffing the wet one into her bag, examined the room to make sure it was pristine.

  ‘Good, not a rose petal out of place,’ she muttered, and came through the door, stopping abruptly when she met Luke’s eyes.

  One eyebrow lifted, and his smile was brief as he said, ‘You look much more comfortable.’

  ‘Thanks for letting me use the room.’

  That eyebrow cocked again, giving him a sardonic air. Hard eyes fixed on her face, as though he could read both her thoughts and the emotions rioting through her, he asked, ‘Are you and your employer sisters?’

  Iona’s surprise must have shown because his broad shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. ‘Your colouring is different, but the shape of your face is identical to hers. The curve of your lips also, as well as a certain silken texture to your skin.’

  His sculpted mouth curled in a narrow smile, and after a deliberate pause that set her nerves jangling he said lazily, ‘I have never forgotten it.’

  Sensation prickled along her nerves, pooled inside her, reminding her of the bold, masculine virility that had swept her into an affair that now seemed like a dangerous fantasy.

  It took all of her self-control to be able to say shortly, ‘We’re cousins.’

  Chapter Two

  GOING down in the lift, Angie said, ‘Where did you meet him, and why haven’t I heard about it?’

  Iona had been bracing herself for ques
tions, but even so, she paused as the lift came to a halt in the basement car park. ‘We met in Tahiti,’ she said, keeping her tone casual and matter-of-fact. ‘On the second anniversary of Gavin’s death. I was walking along a deserted beach—’

  ‘Wallowing in grief and guilt, I bet,’ Angie said astringently. ‘Iona, nobody knew Gavin had a heart weakness. Yes, saving you exhausted him and he drowned, but it was an unexpected, shocking tragedy, not your fault.’

  Iona said quietly, ‘Intellectually I knew that, but I just couldn’t accept it.’

  Angie unlocked the car and got in. Once they were settled she said, ‘And then your parents were killed by that damned drunk driver. It’s no wonder you were a mess. Then you met Lukas Michelakis in Tahiti?’

  ‘Yes. Actually when he strode down the beach—like—like the king of the gods—to inform me I was trespassing I was actually relieved. He gave me something else to think about.’ With a vengeance.

  Once they were under way, Angie said, ‘And what happened then?’

  ‘We went around a bit together,’ Iona told her in a flat voice, ‘until I came home again.’

  ‘And you haven’t been in contact since?’ Angie asked.

  ‘There was no reason.’

  Her cousin took the hint. ‘I read somewhere that he grew up in a very wealthy family.’

  ‘It figures,’ Iona said evenly. ‘His kind of confidence is bred in the genes.’

  ‘The article was cagey, but heavy on innuendo—obviously making sure no lawyer could sue the writer or the newspaper. It implied something pretty disastrous happened when he was young—late teens, perhaps?—and he left home to strike out on his own.’

  ‘Probably with the family’s support not too far in the background.’ Iona didn’t try to hide the cynical note in her words.

  ‘I doubt if he needed it. It didn’t take him long to turn into an internet czar.’ Angie paused before asking casually, ‘If he needs to call on us, how would you feel about working with him?’

  ‘Me?’ Iona swallowed an unnecessary panic. ‘A bit self-conscious, that’s all. I was half-naked, mopping detergent off my breasts, when he strode in like a clap of doom just before you arrived, and I suspect he thought it was a set-up—that I’d deliberately stripped to attract his attention.’

  ‘I suppose it’s happened before,’ Angie said, and gave her a thoughtful sideways glance. ‘I bet he spends a fair part of his life swatting off importunate women.’

  During their brief affair he’d more than met Iona halfway.

  Repressing disturbing images of tropical folly, she said hastily, ‘I’ll be fine. He relaxed when you turned up.’

  Although relaxed wasn’t the word to describe Luke. Even on holiday she’d sensed a leashed, prowling awareness in him, an uncompromising authority that made him both formidable and intimidating.

  It was still there, intensified by an ironic detachment she’d not experienced before.

  Get over it, she told herself. She still resented the hard contempt of his gaze in the powder room, but that was good, because resentment was a much safer emotion than sighing lustfully after him.

  The barbecue Angie had been asked to organise only the day before went on until after midnight and they were both tired when at last they left the beach house an hour’s drive north of Auckland.

  Covering a yawn, Iona said, ‘I wish someone would persuade Mrs Parker not to throw any more impromptu parties. I suppose we should have guessed her few close friends would morph into about fifty.’

  ‘She’ll be paying heavily for springing it on us at such short notice. Besides, it’s work, and we need it,’ Angie said practically.

  After a tentative moment Iona asked, ‘How are things?’

  Her cousin paused before admitting, ‘You’ve probably guessed the recession’s making inroads into the client list, but we’re surviving.’ Her tone changed. ‘If there’s an emergency in the next two days, can I call on you? The boys are going to a birthday party tomorrow—well, actually it will be today—and tomorrow we’re going to the zoo.’

  ‘Of course. Give me the work phone,’ Iona said. ‘If I need you I’ll ring you on your personal phone. You need a break and the boys need time with you.’

  It took some persuading, but at last she managed to convince Angie to agree.

  Inside her tiny studio flat Iona showered and dropped into bed. Sleep came quickly, bringing with it images of a tall, dark man, images that led to dreams. Eventually she woke in a state of high excitement, blood racing through her veins, her body racked by a feverish desire.

  Grim-faced and desperate, she willed her heart to settle down and her body to relax. That was how it had started. Tahiti was everything the brochures had promised—wildly, sensuously exotic, filled with beautiful people of both sexes, scented by flowers and lapped by a brilliant turquoise sea, alive with the sound of music and drums and laughter, the hush of waves on the lagoon shores. The glorious islands throbbed with life.

  Iona had looked, but been unable to enjoy. Grief had dulled her senses so completely she’d felt totally disconnected from everything.

  And then she’d met Luke—Lukas. She’d had no idea who—or what—he was. The moment her gaze clashed with his lion eyes, sensations she’d believed had died for ever had suddenly flared into life, introducing her to hope. A flare of conscious response had set her nerves tingling and heated her body, sharpening her senses so that the world suddenly blazed into a glory of colour and sound and sensuous delight.

  Why had he pursued her? She’d asked him once, and he’d laughed.

  ‘Perhaps the thrill of the chase,’ he admitted without shame. ‘You looked at me with such cool disdain, as though I was less interesting to you than the shell in your hand. I wondered what it would be like to see desire in those intriguing blue-green mermaid’s eyes, as changeable and mysterious as the sea.’

  For some foolish reason his words hurt. She covered the momentary stab of pain with a smile, and slid her arms around him. ‘And has it lived up to your expectations?’

  His gaze kindled, golden flames dancing in the depths. ‘More than I ever expected; it’s infinitely fascinating to watch. And even more fascinating to experience,’ he said in a low growl, and kissed her.

  Lost in swift passion, she’d kissed him back, welcoming the hot tide of hunger that met and matched his.

  Their passionate, hedonistic affair had seemed so right in Tahiti, christened Aphrodite’s Isles by the first dazzled European sailors to visit those idyllic shores.

  Then one night, as the moon came up over the horizon in a splendour of silver and gold, he’d said, ‘I’m leaving in three days.’ He had smiled lazily at her startled face and kissed the curve of her breast, murmuring against her skin, ‘Come with me.’

  Each word had been a caress—a confident one. He’d had no doubt she’d do what he wanted. The fantasy world Iona had been living in crashed around her.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said, shocked by a swift, aching temptation to give him what he wanted.

  His eyes narrowed, focused on her face as intently as a hunter’s scrutiny. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because this has been—wonderful, but we both know it’s not real life.’ It was surprisingly hard to say, but his words had awakened the common sense she’d abandoned the moment her eyes had met his.

  He shrugged again and replied, ‘It could be.’ And when she remained silent, he said a little impatiently, ‘I will, of course, look after you—make sure you don’t lose anything by being with me.’

  Knowing what he was offering, she almost flinched. For a while she’d be his lover; while she was with him she’d exist in this sensual dream.

  And when it was over she’d go back to New Zealand with memories…

  And the possibility of more grief. She’d had enough of that in her life. ‘No,’ she said.

  He’d laughed deep in his throat and slid down her body, his mouth questing as he tasted her sleek skin.

  Later, when she
was quivering with passionate exhaustion in his arms, he murmured, ‘I’m going to enjoy making you change your mind.’

  But, back in her own bed at the hotel, she’d dreamed of Gavin and woke weeping. And when she slipped out early to walk along the white sands, she forced herself to face a few unpleasant facts.

  Without realising it, she’d selfishly used Luke. Oh, he’d made it obvious from the start that he intended nothing more than a sexual relationship, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

  Her swift, reckless surrender to overwhelming passion had betrayed and tarnished the love she’d shared with Gavin. She tried to conjure up the emotions she’d felt for her fiancé, but against the blazing intensity of her relationship with Luke he seemed faded and shadowy, a lovely memory but no longer the foundation of her life.

  Shocked at her shallowness, she’d managed to wangle a seat on a plane to New Zealand. Fortunately Angie had been run off her feet with work, and Iona had flung herself into it, grimly ordering her mind to forget. It hadn’t been easy, but she thought she’d coped quite well.

  What malevolent fate had brought Luke back into her life again?

  At least, she thought just before she dropped back into a restless slumber, unless he had an emergency in the next two days Angie would be dealing with him.

  Hours later the tinny, cheerful tattoo of the theme from Bonanza woke her. Groaning, she crawled up from beneath the sheets, blinked blearily at the morning and grabbed the work phone. ‘Sorted. How can I help you?’

  A deep voice said, ‘You are not Ms Makepeace.’

  Little chills ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on the phone and she had to swallow to ease a suddenly dry throat.

  Luke.

  No, not Luke. The different names somehow seemed significant. He was not the man she’d made love to in Tahiti. He was Lukas Michelakis, billionaire.

  Striving to sound brisk and businesslike, she said, ‘Iona Guthrie speaking. I’m afraid Ms Makepeace can’t come to the telephone right now. How can I help you?’