She nodded. “Yes, but—”
“OK, so you just take over her role, and we’ll get someone to play the keyboard in your place.”
“Who?” Derek asked, waving a hand around to indicate the surroundings. “This place is great and all, but I kind of think musicians are scarce here. At least the ones who know our music.”
“Well . . . we could find someone in Athens. . . .” Harry bit her lower lip, wondering how she’d find a musician to take Amy’s place on such short notice, and in a foreign country to boot.
“You could do it,” Amy suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m no musician,” Harry said, wondering if there was such a thing as an Athens craigs-list.
“Tim said you used to be in his band.”
She glanced over at the three of them. “Twenty years ago, yes. Maybe one of the guests . . . No, that wouldn’t be right.”
“Harry.”
“No!” she told their expectant faces. “Honestly, guys, it’s been forever and a day since I was in Tim’s band.”
“You were a singer, weren’t you?”
“If you could call it that. I did some vocals, but mostly I just played—” She clamped her lips shut.
“Keyboard?” Terry asked with a grin.
“Shut up. I’m not doing this.”
“Well, if you want us to get sued for breach of contract, OK,” he said with a negligent shrug of his shoulders.
“Now you’re exaggerating. Iakovos wouldn’t sue you.”
They all looked at her, making a blush rise on her cheeks. She knew what they were thinking—that she could smooth the path with Iakovos so that he wouldn’t punish them for breaking their contract. She’d be damned if she would use him like that.
“If you explain what’s happened, I’m sure you can work something out with him. Pay back the advance, that sort of thing.”
“And the money for coming to Greece for four of us? And for staying here?” Derek shook his head. “We’re broke, Harry. We all pitched in to buy the recording equipment for the studio. We can’t pay him back.”
“Well . . . maybe I could . . .”
“We don’t mind breaking the contract for you,” Terry assured her. “It’ll ruin our careers, and probably scar us for life, but if that doesn’t bother you, then we’ll try not to hold it against you.”
Harry knew the inevitable when she faced it, but it didn’t make the bitter pill any easier to swallow. Her shoulders slumped with defeat. “I don’t even know your music.”
“You’ve got ten hours to learn it,” Derek said cheerfully, holding out his wrist so she could see the time.
“I suppose if Amy sings the songs, I could play simplified versions of the music, but really—”
“I can’t sing Cyndi’s songs!” Amy wailed.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have her range! Besides, there’s the dance-with-the-moon song. I can’t dance at all. You know that.”
“I can’t, either, but that didn’t stop me from taking a belly-dancing class,” Harry said with a smile at the memory of her attempt to please her then-boyfriend. “Man, was that a disaster.”
“You dance?” Amy’s eyes widened as she glanced at the two men.
“NO!” Harry yelled at them. “Don’t even think what I know you’re thinking!”
“You can sing; you just said you sang for Tim. And you can belly-dance, and that’s what Cyndi does on the moon song,” Amy said, her hand on Harry’s arm. “If you could do that song, and maybe a couple of others, then I could do mine, and . . . and . . . it would be OK.”
“If you expect me to put on a belly-dancing costume and prance around—”
“Please, Harry.”
“I said I’d do keyboards for you, but as for singing and dancing, absolutely not. It’s completely out of the question. There is no way on God’s green earth I am going to perform again. You guys got that? Good.”
An hour later she was back in the kitchen, apologizing to Rosalia.
“I do not know this dress. It is what?”
“A belly dancer’s outfit. Or anything like it, really. A long, flowing skirt, and a short little top that covers just the boobs. Do you think I could buy something like that in town?”
The older woman raked her with a disbelieving look. “You need this for the party?”
“Yes. It’s a long story, and frankly, one that if I think about too much, will send me screaming into the night.”
“Is there a problem?”
Harry spun around at the question. A man stood in the doorway, as tall as her, but wiry, with short curly black hair.
“I’m Dmitri,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I’m Iakovos’ assistant, as well as his cousin. You’re Eglantine, aren’t you?”
“Call me Harry, please.”
“Is something the matter with the setup for tonight? I checked with the builders and the sound engineers, and they assured me everything is ready and working.”
“Oh god, I haven’t even had time to think of the sound equipment,” Harry said, running a hand through her hair.
“Can I help with something?”
She eyed the man. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with warm, friendly eyes. He didn’t look anything like Iakovos or even Theo, but she had the feeling she could trust him.
“I’m pretty good at problem solving,” he said when she hesitated. “Iakovos doesn’t keep me around just for my fabulous personality, you know.”
“I’m sure you’re very efficient,” she said with a smile, deciding she’d risk it. “And I’ll buy you a great big bottle of Scotch for next Secretary’s Day if you can find me a belly dancer’s outfit in the next five hours.”
He didn’t even blink, just pulled out his cell phone. “What’s your size?”
She told him her measurements, and gave him a description of what she needed.
“You’re good,” she told him when, without so much as batting an eyelash, he reassured her that he would have an outfit of some sort for her. “If you can pull this off, I’ll tell Iakovos he needs to give you a raise.”
“If the outfit you want me to get looks anything like what I think it will, you won’t have to tell him. He’ll take one look at you and give me the raise himself.”
She laughed and gave his arm a squeeze before hurrying off to rehearse the songs she had a horrible feeling would never be the same once she got done with them.
CHAPTER 8
I akovos was impatient, and didn’t like that feeling one little bit. If there was one thing he prized above all else, it was his ability to control the situations that demanded his attention and time. He had faced and triumphed over the financial ruin of his family. He’d used his wits not only to survive school as a lonely foreigner, but to emerge from university well on his way to becoming a very rich man.
He worked hard, he did what he had to do, and in the end he got lucky, very lucky, by being in the right place at the right time, having snatched up a stretch of land that turned out to be worth its weight in gold. After that, it was all a matter of applying himself to the situation at hand, mastering it, and moving on to the next task.
“Life,” he said to no one in particular as he stood next to a table laden with food, staring with unseeing eyes at the people in colorful beachwear as they mingled around the largest of the three pools his house boasted, “is being particularly annoying right now.”
“What’s that?”
He looked up to see his sister’s laughing eyes watching him. Elena was always laughing, especially now that she was eighteen and an adult, surrounded by her friends, her life lying before her like a glittering road.
“Nothing. Are you enjoying your birthday?”
“Very much so.” She held up her wrist. “A very handsome man gave me this gorgeous diamond bracelet this morning.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, wondering how Harry would look wearing diamonds, and nothing else.
�
��I love it, and I love you for giving me such a wonderful birthday,” she answered, kissing his cheek.
He murmured something noncommittal. Diamonds were too insipid for his storm goddess. She needed a gem with some depth to it, something that would match her fiery spirit. Rubies?
“So, Iakovos, Rosalia says that you had dinner in your room last night with the American lady.”
No, rubies were too harsh for Harry. Her nature demanded something that would hint at the storm that could whip around her at any moment, while also reflecting the calm that followed. Ah, he had it. Emeralds.
“Iakovos?”
He looked down at his sister when she tugged on his arm.
Her grin was beyond cheeky. “Is she nice, this American lady?”
The image danced in his mind of Harry naked, spread across his bed, emeralds glittering in her hair and draped across her belly. His lips thinned even as blood that had been happily flowing through his veins stopped short and headed straight for his penis.
“I didn’t see her, but Theo says she’s huge, as tall as him, and built like—” Elena held out her hands.
“She’s not huge at all. She’s perfectly in proportion, every last inch of her, and Theo needs to keep his damned mouth shut or I’ll shut it for him.”
Elena looked startled for a moment, then laughed outright, the sound a light ripple, like sunlight on a brook. Harry’s laugh was much earthier, a deep, throaty chuckle that went straight to his head.
“I won’t tease you anymore, but I do want to meet her.”
Iakovos pulled his attention back from where it had been wandering. “You’ll see her and the others tonight at the concert.”
“I can’t wait to see them,” she said, almost dancing with excitement. “And you’re the best brother ever. I hope this perfect woman of yours knows just how wonderful you are.”
A smug, wholly masculine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He certainly had left her sated by the time they managed to drag themselves out of bed.
“Where’s Theo?” he asked, one thought leading to another.
Elena, sensing she’d lost his attention, shrugged. “He was in the game room when I last saw him.”
“I have a few things I want to discuss with him before the day gets any older,” Iakovos said with grim satisfaction, and took himself off to give his brother a piece of his mind.
By the time he had done that, been briefed by Rosalia about the dinner that would take place before the concert, and gone for a quick swim, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He wanted to see Harry.
What was she doing at that moment? Probably she was with the band, making sure they didn’t get into any trouble. Why couldn’t they watch themselves? He knew from the security checks run on the group that none of them were over the age of twenty, but surely they were old enough that they didn’t need to run her ragged keeping an eye on them.
“Where are you off to?” he called to Dmitri as he caught sight of his cousin heading for the east dock.
Dmitri turned back and said with the hint of a grin, “I’m going to meet a courier who just flew in from Athens.”
“What courier?” he asked, not aware of anything important being brought to the island.
“The one bringing you a present.”
“I’ve just come from a hell of a fight with Theo,” Iakovos said with a long look at Dmitri. “I’m really in no mood to play verbal games. What present?”
“I’d tell you, but I don’t think Harry would appreciate me ruining the surprise.”
Harry bought him a present? Why was he surprised? It was so like her to turn the tables on him when he’d just made arrangements with the most prestigious jeweler in Athens to have a variety of emeralds sent out for his perusal. “Is it something I’m going to like?” he asked.
Dmitri’s grin widened. “If it’s as good as I think it is, you, my friend, are going to be on your knees in gratitude that I have consented to work for you.”
“If nothing else, you never fail to amuse me,” Iakovos said dryly. “I just hope it’s worth the cost of flying it out here.”
“It’s not costing you anything. Harry insisted on paying for it, so you can stop worrying that she’s spending your money.”
“I never thought she was, and wouldn’t care if she did.”
Dmitri checked himself as he was about to leave, giving Iakovos a long look. “No, I don’t think you do care. She’s really gotten to you, hasn’t she?”
“Yes. Where is she?”
Dmitri jerked his head toward the south.
“With that group?”
“Yes.”
He made a face. “They should let her have some time to herself.” And, more important, time for him.
“I think I’ll let her tell you what’s going on,” Dmitri said cryptically, then left him to take a boat to the mainland.
Iakovos watched him leave, wondering how Harry had managed to win both Rosalia and Dmitri over so quickly. He couldn’t recall the last time either of them approved of one of his lovers.
The noise that greeted him when he strolled across the lawn that marked the boundary of the servants’ area made him smile. Far from being exhausted by their late-night and early-morning activities, Harry sounded as if she could easily call down a hurricane.
“What is going on? Why are you yelling?” he asked as he approached them, trying to school his expression into one of stern immovability, but suspecting he failed. He waited, anticipation building as to what Harry would do upon seeing him. Of all her charms, it was the sense of the unexpected that appealed to him the most. Quite simply, he never knew what to expect from her.
“I’m yelling because this whole idea is ridiculous,” Harry said with a disgusted wave at her torso. “I crushed Terry.”
Iakovos looked at one of the two slim young men. The one with long hair held a guitar in his hands, while the pale, nervous girl next to him clutched a small bodhran. The other man was on the ground, a pained look on his face as he rubbed his lower back. “On purpose, or just for a whim?”
“I thought about doing it on a whim, but decided that was too random a reason. Turn around, you lot,” she ordered the three others.
They blinked at her with identical expressions of surprise. “What?” Terry asked.
She twirled her finger in the air. “You heard me. Turn around. Count to sixty. When you’re done, you can turn back.”
To Iakovos’ surprise and wholehearted approval, Harry flung herself on him, kissing him with a passion that instantly made him hard.
“I missed you,” she whispered into his mouth.
“We’ve only been parted for three hours,” he said, both hands on her delicious ass as he gave serious consideration to the idea of carrying her into the nearest vacant room and diving into the storm again.
“Yes, but they’ve been long, long hours,” she said, sighing sadly before releasing him just as the three others turned back to face them. The one named Terry looked like he was going to make an untoward comment until Iakovos pinned him back with a look that let him know that to do so would be the sheerest folly. “You’re not going to believe what has happened. I know you won’t because I certainly don’t. And before you get annoyed about it, we’ve worked everything out, so it’s all OK, at least most of it is. Crushing Terry isn’t going to work, though.”
His anger, always quick to spark, rose when she told the tale of the insipid little twit’s latest drama.
“It is unfortunate, but not the disaster you seem to imply it is,” he told Harry. “Surely the other girl, Annie—”
“Amy,” Harry corrected.
“—can do all of the singing?”
“They don’t work like that. Normally Derek is on guitar, Cyndi sings, Amy is keyboards, and Terry takes either the bodhran, fiddle, or another guitar, as needed. On Amy’s songs, Cyndi played the keyboard. But now with Cyndi gone, they’re either limited to Amy’s songs, or . . . or . . . oh god, I can’t believe I agr
eed to do this.”
“Harry’s going to take Cyn’s part,” Derek said with a big smile.
“You’re a singer?” Iakovos asked her.
“No. Not at all. Just a little. Once, a very long time ago, but I hung up my singing hat many, many years back.”
“That’s how she and Tim met,” Derek informed him. “They were in a band together.”
“Twenty years ago, yes, but I haven’t sung in front of a crowd since then. But it’s not the singing that worries me,” she said, her shoulders slumping.
Out of the blue, Iakovos was struck with a desire to protect her from the weight of responsibility that hung so heavily over her. He wanted her saying the outrageous things she said, looking at him as if he were the most wonderful being in existence, and licking that absurd spot on his neck that she had said drove her wild. He didn’t want her looking like she was about to cry. “This is of no matter. We will simply cancel your contract.”
Hope flared in her eyes for a moment before she asked, “Would your sister mind? I was under the impression that Illuminati was her favorite band, and that’s why you had them flown out here.”
“She won’t mind,” he lied, looking her dead in the eye. He had no idea what he would tell Elena, but he’d come up with something to turn the situation around. He always did.
Harry smiled, her heart beating faster, as it always seemed to do when she looked at him. He was so gorgeous, so unexpectedly warm and witty and completely wonderful, and there he was, lying just to save her a little grief. It was too much, just too much for her. She was madly, completely, utterly head over heels in love with him. “If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”
She took him by surprise—his eyebrows shooting up to the top of his forehead told her that. “I would say that it’s the man’s prerogative to ask that question.”
“Oh.” She squinted against the sun at him, reveling in the warmth in his eyes. “By any chance, are you intending on asking me that question?”
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