The Mediterranean Tycoon

by Margaret Mayo

  Peta tried to look away but couldn’t. Their eyes locked in a heart-stopping moment that sent the blood screaming through her veins. ‘We can’t get involved,’ she whispered.

  ‘You tell me why not, when we both know it’s what we want.’

  The tension between them increased. ‘You know why,’ she managed to say.

  ‘They’re not valid reasons.’

  ‘They are as far as I’m concerned,’ she insisted.

  ‘Then we need to do something about changing your mind. Let’s get out of here; let’s go for a walk.’

  ‘But the boys…’ It was a meek protest.

  ‘They won’t wake; you know that. You’re looking for excuses.’

  It was true. The next few minutes were going to be the turning point in their relationship. There would be no going back. Was she prepared for an affair that could lead nowhere? Would she be able to walk away at the end of it with her heart whole?

  Night had fallen and mood lights were on in the pool and grounds, giving the whole place a magical air. Andreas put his arm about her shoulders as they walked, keeping her close to him, saying nothing, but his very silence sent its own message.

  Peta knew deep down in her mind that she could fight him no longer, and when they were out of sight of the house, when he halted, when he turned her to face him, she gave a brief sigh of capitulation. The noise of cicadas filled the air, the heat of the day lingered, and the sky had become a canopy of shimmering stars.

  Andreas stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers and murmured something in Greek. He pulled down her lower lip and dropped a light kiss onto it; he urged her against him, and when she didn’t demur, when she didn’t back away, he gave a sigh of his own before claiming her lips.

  Gently, experimentally—testing, waiting—wanting, needing. Peta’s body grew hot, every nerve-end so sensitised that the briefest touch aroused her and evoked a need that shocked and thrilled at the same time. She returned his kiss with an amazed abandonment. It felt like release from a prison of her own making. A glorious release that had her soaring with the angels.

  Andreas’s groan of pleasure came from somewhere deep in his throat and his arms tightened, his kiss became deeper, his tongue touching hers now, exploring, inciting, taking everything that she offered. They suddenly couldn’t get enough of each other. The floodgates had opened and their pent-up emotions were in full flow.

  Only once did he hold back. ‘You are sure?’ he questioned, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it before.

  Her response was a whimper of pleasure, her mouth reaching for his again.

  Once more a flood of Greek. He was the most exciting man she had ever met. All the weeks she had known him she had been aware of his raw sensuality, but to feel it now, to taste him, to share the intimacy of mindless kisses when senses took over and the outer world was forgotten, was like nothing she had ever imagined or experienced.

  How long the kiss went on Peta wasn’t sure. Her mind had ceased to register anything except the thrill of kissing Andreas, the sheer headiness of having his body pressed close against hers. All barriers were down, they were existing on sensations alone, each drinking the sweet nectar of life from each other’s mouths.

  It was an extraordinary feeling. She had never, in her wildest imaginings, envisaged that she would kiss Andreas Papadakis, especially like this. He was the Tyrant. He was her boss. He was far beyond her reach.

  ‘If I don’t stop now—’ his mouth edged away from hers, and his hoarse voice reached into her consciousness ‘—I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

  Nor would she, Peta realised, even as he kissed her again. She didn’t want him to stop; she didn’t want him to be responsible. She wanted everything he had to offer.

  ‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me,’ he groaned.

  Oh, yes, she had. If the kiss was affecting him half as much as it was her then she knew exactly how he was feeling. His whole body would be on fire, his every instinct would be to make love to her, to drown in her body, to enjoy, to take everything that was willingly offered.

  ‘Oh, Peta,’ he muttered. ‘I never dreamt that…’

  He was robbed of the rest of his sentence by Peta’s hungry mouth taking his. ‘I know how you’re feeling,’ she whispered between passionate kisses, ‘because I feel the same way.’

  His answer was an even deeper groan, one hand moving to possessively capture an already swollen and tingling breast. A fresh surge of emotions coursed through her, an even greater need to be taken completely, and when Andreas let her go, when he stepped back a pace and looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and desire, she felt as though part of her had been snatched away.

  ‘We need to take things slowly,’ he said, shaking his head. He didn’t sound as though he meant it. He sounded as though the words were being forced out of him by a hidden source.

  That same hidden source had Peta agreeing with him. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ And as she thought about it a rich tide of colour stained her neck and face. To hide her embarrassment she turned from him and headed back towards the house.

  ‘Peta!’

  It was a command and she instinctively obeyed, halting but not turning, waiting but not wanting. This was all wrong. It could lead nowhere, could end only in disaster.

  ‘Don’t run away from me.’ His voice got nearer. ‘We both got carried away.’ He was standing right behind her. She could feel his breath warm on her nape even though he was very carefully not touching her.

  ‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ she whispered sadly.

  ‘Oh, yes, it should,’ he muttered thickly. ‘It was a very natural, a very right thing to do. We both wanted it, we both needed it, and you can’t walk away from me now.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing. You can’t ignore your feelings, Peta.’

  ‘I must,’ she declared, finally turning to face him, and then wishing she hadn’t when her eyes met his and she felt herself being drawn once more into their dark, disturbing depths. Why, oh, why had she agreed to come out here? she asked herself. For all these years she’d religiously kept men out of her life, and now, when she was least expecting it, she had fallen hook, line and sinker for a man who wanted nothing more from her than a brief affair.

  ‘Why must you?’ He put his hands on her shoulders and looked even more deeply into her eyes. ‘Why not enjoy yourself while you can? I promise I won’t hold you to anything. You’ll be free to walk away whenever you like.’

  The fact that he was saying what she already knew made Peta even more determined not to let herself get swept along on an unstoppable tide of passion. ‘And you think I’d be happy doing that?’ she tossed sharply. ‘I’m not the type of girl to indulge in a passionate affair and then walk away. I can’t even think why I let you kiss me.’

  ‘Because you couldn’t help yourself, the same as I couldn’t. So why deny ourselves what we both want?’

  ‘But I don’t want it,’ she flashed. ‘I couldn’t help kissing you, but I didn’t want to do it.’

  ‘You’re not making sense, Peta.’ His hands tightened on her shoulders, his eyes compelled her to look at him.

  ‘Maybe not,’ she agreed. ‘But I don’t want to start anything I can’t finish. We both know that we’re not into serious relationships. So for goodness’ sake, Andreas, let this thing drop.’

  His voice became a deep, throaty growl. ‘You’re driving me insane.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she said as another hot flush swept through her, ‘but the way I see it any woman would suit your purpose. You don’t strike me as the type to remain celibate for long. But don’t expect me to satisfy your carnal desires because I won’t do it.’

  His hands fell from her shoulders and his mouth tightened. ‘If that’s really what you think then there’s not much more I can say.’

  She noticed that he didn’t deny it. Besides, how could she get involved with a man whose attitude t
owards his son left a lot to be desired? Admittedly, he’d panicked when he had the kidnap threat, but prior to that he had put his work first, and probably would again. What sort of father was that?

  If she ever married again—and it was a very big if—she would want a man who adored children, who would become the father Ben had never had. Andreas Papadakis certainly didn’t fit the bill.

  Peta went to bed, but not to sleep. She tried not to think of Andreas but that kiss insisted on resurrecting itself. She could feel his mouth on hers, feel the heat that rushed through every vein in her body, she even wriggled with excitement as though he were still touching her.

  Damn the man! She had meant what she said. There would be no recurrences. She had to firmly fix it in her mind that he was her employer and she was to treat him as such—and that was the way she wanted him to treat her. But would he? Had she got through to him? Only time would tell.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ANDREAS threw himself into his work. His office in Athens was having staffing problems and he wanted to make some changes anyway. It was the perfect antidote. When finally he had thought he was getting his life back together Peta had declared she wanted nothing to do with him on a personal level.

  He was finding it hard to handle. The woman drove him crazy. It would have been all right if he’d never kissed her—perhaps. If he hadn’t felt the exciting heat of her body against his—maybe. If he hadn’t been intoxicated by the sensual smell of her—possibly. But he had experienced all three, and there was no way that he was going to give up.

  All he had to do was bide his time. She hadn’t meant what she said, not deep down. It had been a heat-of-the-moment thing. He would show her. He would prove to her that she needed him as much as he needed her.

  Neither of them wanted a permanent relationship. Peta didn’t, she’d made that very clear, and he wasn’t ready yet to put anyone into Maria’s place. But why deny the extremely strong physical attraction they both felt? It could be termed as lust, he supposed, on his part anyway, but it felt something more than that. He didn’t simply want to use her; she was too nice a person.

  Even nice wasn’t the right word to sum Peta up. It was a totally ineffective word. All he knew was that Peta entranced him.

  But he showed her none of this. He’d decided that he would play it her way, for the time being.

  Peta actually enjoyed giving lessons to the boys—except when Andreas’s mother interrupted them. She seemed to think it was her given duty to supervise proceedings, and each day she would enter the playroom and silently watch. And as soon as she thought that Peta wasn’t doing something correctly she would intervene.

  ‘I’m no teacher,’ flashed Peta on one occasion. ‘I’m doing this because Andreas asked me to.’

  ‘Andreas is a fool,’ declared his mother. ‘Quite easily I could employ a proper tutor.’

  ‘Maybe Andreas thinks we won’t be here that long.’ Peta’s blue eyes were hostile as she looked at the older woman. It was wishful thinking on her part, of course, she had no idea how long Andreas intended staying.

  ‘He has said as much to you?’ came the swift response.

  Peta shrugged. ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘Then I think it is you who does not want to stay. Believe me, my son is never happier than when he is with me here.’

  Whether that was true or not Peta had no way of knowing. The fact that he had instinctively come here must mean something, though.

  Most evenings when Andreas came home he was in a foul mood, and Peta kept well out of his way. Almost a week had passed since the kiss. A week in which she had relived it over and over again, had felt all the same sensations, but was still of the opinion that she had done the right thing.

  On this particular evening, however, Andreas came home before she retired to her room. She’d just cleared away the toys the boys had used in the pool and was taking a moment to relax on the terrace when he rounded the corner of the house.

  Her heart instantly stammered. He was wearing a lightweight business suit, the collar of his shirt undone, tie hanging loose. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘Why have you been avoiding me?’ he enquired sharply.

  ‘What makes you think I have?’ Peta’s chin automatically rose in defence, and as she met the disturbing dark depths of his eyes she felt a slither of something suspiciously like desire. She had tried very hard to bury such feelings, had even thought she was succeeding, now she realised that they were still very much alive and in danger of giving her away.

  ‘I haven’t seen you for days.’

  ‘That’s your problem, not mine. I haven’t left the house. If you’re too busy to spend time with your son, don’t take it out on me.’ Now, why had she said that? It wasn’t Nikos who was in question here. Although it was true he hardly ever saw the boy. He seemed content to leave him in her care.

  ‘Let’s leave Nikos out of this,’ he rasped. ‘It’s you we’re talking about. You hide away in your room as though you’re afraid.’

  Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue. ‘I have no reason to be afraid, not of you.’

  ‘That’s right, no reason at all. So as soon as I’ve changed we’re going out to dinner.’

  Peta lifted her shoulders in a vague shrug. ‘If that is your wish.’

  ‘Be ready in half an hour.’ And with a swift click of his heels he was gone.

  Peta didn’t move for a few seconds. She didn’t want to go out with him. She ought to have told him so, except that his tone had brooked no refusal. There had been a hardness in his eyes that she hadn’t seen for a long time, so it definitely wasn’t going to be a pleasurable evening.

  Perhaps he wasn’t happy with the way she was tutoring his son. His mother undoubtedly gave him running reports. Perhaps he was sending her back to England but softening the blow with an expensive meal. He didn’t need her here, not when the child had a doting grandmother who gave him anything that he asked for.

  She went up to her room and looked through her wardrobe. The fact that she owned only three summer dresses didn’t make the decision hard. Mainly at home she wore tops and either skirts or trousers. Two of the dresses she’d originally bought for weddings; the third was a cornflower-blue sun-dress with shoelace-thin straps.

  After showering she pulled on the blue dress and brushed her hair, twisting it up into a knot on the top of her head before applying the merest touch of mascara and lipstick. In less than half an hour she was back down.

  ‘Good, you’re ready. I hate a woman who keeps me waiting,’ he announced crisply as she joined him on the terrace. ‘Let’s go.’

  Andreas had changed into a pair of charcoal-grey trousers and a white linen shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower and he looked totally gorgeous. Peta hated to admit it but he did, and every sensitive point in her body absolutely refused to behave itself. It didn’t augur well for the rest of the evening.

  Sitting beside him in his car, even with the air-conditioning going full blast, she felt on fire. It had been a huge mistake agreeing to go out with him, except that he’d not given her much choice. Somehow she needed to control her errant emotions.

  Their journey was made in silence. Stealing a glance at Andreas, Peta observed the grim set of his mouth and jaw, the way his long-fingered hands gripped the wheel so tightly that his knuckles shone white. Why he was so uptight she had no idea, and could only presume that she would soon find out.

  The restaurant was a square white building almost in the middle of nowhere. Olive trees shaded it, a few distant houses offered some company, but there were no other cars parked outside. It didn’t even look open.

  She accompanied him inside and it took several long seconds for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. The windows were tiny and on every sill stood potted red geraniums, shutting out what little light there was. The tables had red gingham cloths and yet more geraniums in their centre.

  Peta had been expecting something grander, and it must have reflected on he
r face because Andreas said, ‘Don’t judge by appearances. Mine host is a personal friend, the food is superb. In another hour or so there won’t be an empty table in the place. There are tables out at the back or we can eat in here. Which would you prefer?’

  ‘Indoors,’ she said decisively. ‘It’s cooler.’

  A short, stout, olive-skinned man emerged from a back room, and upon seeing Andreas he gave a shout of sheer pleasure. There was much back-slapping and handshaking and a volume of Greek. Finally the man turned to her, flashing a set of brilliant white teeth. ‘And this is…?’ he asked in broken English.

  ‘Peta James,’ introduced Andreas. ‘Peta, this is Stellios, an old school-friend.’

  Stellios made a great show of kissing her hand. ‘You take her for your wife?’

  Andreas shook his head. ‘Peta looks after Nikos for me.’

  ‘Ah, shame; she is very beautiful.’ He clapped a hand to his heart. ‘I marry you myself, except I already have wife.’

  Peta dutifully laughed, though she felt somewhat embarrassed to be talked about like this.

  ‘And Nikos?’ went on the restaurant owner. ‘You bring him to see me?’

  ‘Soon,’ promised Andreas. ‘Soon.’

  When the jovial man had gone they sat down and Peta picked up the menu. It was handwritten in Greek! She looked at it for perhaps half a minute, knowing she hadn’t a cat in hell’s chance of understanding it. ‘I’ll have what you have,’ she said.

  She looked up as she spoke and discovered to her dismay that Andreas was watching her. There was no expression on his face, nothing to tell her what he was thinking. His eyes were narrowed and calculating, and when they met hers it felt as though he had stabbed into her soul.

  It was a swift, sharp pain and she almost winced because it felt so physical. And then it was gone. He dropped his gaze to the menu and she was left wondering what that look had meant.

  ‘I think we’ll let Stellios decide,’ he said. ‘What would you like to drink?’