by Julia James
Nikos was for the wonderful, wonderful now, and that was how she was going to enjoy him—how she was going to enjoy their time together, night after night, day after day.
Speaking of days...
‘We still haven’t done the Crystal Caves,’ she said. ‘Could we visit them today?’
‘Why not?’ Nikos answered with lazy complaisance. ‘We can take the hotel launch around to Hamilton, do a spot of shopping, have lunch and take a taxi on to the caves.’
His eyes rested on her warmly. How right he’d been not to let her fly off to Spain and disappear on her travels without him. Instead he’d brought her here, romanced her and made love to her, and he was with her day in, day out.
Satisfaction filled him—more than satisfaction.
Contentment.
He wondered at it. It just seemed to be so easy to be with Mel—so natural, so absolutely effortless. Conversation was easy with her. They still sparked off each other, just as they had right from the first, but now it was always humorous, easygoing, mutually teasing each other, but with a smile. And it was as easy not to talk as it was to talk. They could wander or lie on sun loungers or watch the sunset in happy silence.
Yes, being with Mel just seemed to...work. That was the only way he could explain it.
Not that he wanted to analyse it, or find words to describe being with her. No, all he wanted to do was enjoy this time with her. Enjoy it to the full. In bed and out.
And that gave him an idea—a very good one, now he came to think of it.
He glanced at his watch. ‘I think the hotel launch leaves every hour to make the crossing to Hamilton. Do you want to make the next one? Or would you prefer to skip it and we could take an early siesta, maybe?’
He threw her an encouraging look.
Mel gave a splutter of laughter. She knew perfectly well what he meant. And sleep would not be involved!
‘Early siesta? It’s barely gone ten in the morning!’ She got to her feet, stooping to whisper to him, ‘You’re insatiable—you know that? Honestly. Come on.’ Her voice was bracing now. ‘If we get going we can get the next launch.’
‘So keen to go shopping in Hamilton?’ It was Nikos’s turn to sound teasing.
She gave another splutter of laughter. ‘No. I don’t need a thing—my bathroom’s chock-full of complimentary toiletries.’
Nikos smiled indulgently. ‘So easily pleased...’ he said fondly.
‘Well, I am!’ Mel riposted. ‘Everything...’ she waved her arms expansively, taking in the whole resort and the island it was on ‘...is brilliant.’ She turned a warm gaze on Nikos. ‘And you’re the most brilliant of all.’
He reached to stroke her sun-warmed bare arm. ‘That’s the right answer,’ he laughed. ‘I am definitely more brilliant than complimentary hotel toiletries,’ he finished feelingly. ‘And if you really, really insist...’ he gave an exaggerated sigh ‘...I shall deprive myself of our...er...siesta...until after we get back from these Crystal Caves you’re determined to drag me to.’
‘Oh, you’ll love them,’ she assured him with a playful thump. ‘They’re a marvel of nature, the guidebook says. Limestone caves with pools and walkways all illuminated like something out of a fairy tale. What’s more...’ she glanced at him with a determined look in her eyes ‘...we won’t need a taxi—you can get there by bus from Hamilton. I think we should do that—I’d love to see Nikos Parakis on a humble bus.’
He laughed, and they finished off their breakfast companionably, in harmony with each other and with the day ahead.
Gratitude for all that she had been given ran through Mel like circling water. So much. This fabulous place, this fabulous time—and this fabulous man who had given it to her and was sharing it with her.
* * *
The Crystal Caves were as breathtaking as she’d hoped from their description in the guidebook, and after their visit they headed back to their hotel and some time on the beach.
As the sun lowered, though, Nikos got to his feet.
‘You stay on down here for a while,’ he told her. ‘I need to head back to my room—check over my speech for tomorrow.’
‘Oh, my goodness—is it the conference already?’ Mel asked, surprised.
‘I’m afraid so. But, like I’ve said, I’m only putting in a single day there. Then we can get on with the remainder of our holiday.’ He smiled.
Her eyes followed him as he made his way along the beach. A little frown furrowed her brow. Halfway—they were halfway through their holiday already. Nikos had said ‘the remainder’—that was a word that had a tolling bell in it, pointing towards the end. The end of their time together. The end of their romance.
She felt a little clenching of her stomach.
The end.
Her gaze slipped away, over the sea beyond. Her frown deepened, shadowing her eyes. Theirs was a holiday romance—a brief, gorgeous fling—and holidays always came to an end. But it would also mean a start to her independent travels—her footloose, fancy-free wandering—going where she wanted, when she wanted, tied to no one and bound to nobody...
Not even Nikos.
It’s what I want—what I’ve planned. What I’ve always intended.
The reminder sounded in her head—resolutely. Determinedly. Silencing anything else that might be trying to be heard.
* * *
The conference hall was packed with delegates in business suits, and Mel had to squeeze into a space at the rear. But from there she still had a good view of Nikos on the podium. But it wasn’t his discourse on sovereign debt or optimal fiscal policy that held her gaze. Oh, no.
It was the way his bespoke tailored business suit moulded every long, lean line of his fit, hard body. The way his long-fingered hands gestured at the complex graphs displayed on the screen behind him. The way his expression—focussed, incisive, authoritative, as befitted a man who had responsibilities she could not dream of—would suddenly give a hint...just a hint...of the humour that could flash out so beguilingly.
So she sat and gazed, spellbound and riveted, until his Q&A session had ended and the audience was dispersing for lunch.
She didn’t join him—this was his world, not hers—instead making her way to the poolside bistro. The area was busy, but after her lunch she found an empty sun lounger in the shade and settled down to leaf through a magazine, content to while away the afternoon until Nikos was finished with the conference.
A voice nearby interrupted her. ‘Hi—didn’t I see you in the conference hall before lunch?’
The American-accented voice was female, and friendly, and it came from the next lounger along. Mel looked towards the woman, taking in an attractive bikini-clad brunette, a few years older than her, with an extremely chic hairstyle and full eye make-up.
The woman smiled. ‘Wasn’t that last speaker something? The foreign guy with his own bank—total dish!’ Her dark eyes sparkled appreciatively.
There was an air of shared conspiracy, an invitation to agree with her, and Mel found herself smiling in wry agreement.
Taking it as consent to keep chatting, the woman continued. ‘Are you here as a delegate yourself? Or a spouse?’
‘Well, not a spouse—just...um...a “plus one.” I guess you’d call it,’ she answered, not sure whether she should mention that she was the ‘plus one’ of the ‘dish’... ‘What about you?’ she asked politely.
‘Oh, my husband’s a banker,’ the woman said. ‘John Friedman of Friedman Hoffhaus,’ she added, looking expectantly at Mel.
Mel gave an apologetic shake of her head. ‘I’m afraid I’m very ignorant of the banking world,’ she answered.
‘Oh—so who are you the “plus one” of?’ the woman asked curiously.
Mel’s expression changed again. ‘Well, actually...um...it’s the “dish”,�
�� she said apologetically.
Immediately the woman’s eyes sparkled. ‘No way! My, oh, my—you are one lucky, lucky lady! Mind you...’ she nodded in tribute to Mel’s blonde beauty ‘...I can see how you pulled him. The thing is, though,’ she went on airily, ‘how are you gonna keep him? Men that rich and young and good-looking are hard to hog-tie. You’re going to have to have a watertight “get him to the altar” strategy to be his permanent “plus one”!’
Mel looked uncomfortable, not wanting to elaborate to a stranger on the fact that she and Nikos were simply here together on holiday and weren’t an established couple—and that she was in no need of a strategy to ‘hog-tie’ him.
Not that Nikos was the kind of man to get hog-tied anyway.
For an instant so brief it wasn’t measurable in time a flicker of emotion went through her—but what that emotion was she could not tell. Did not want to...
The other woman was talking again. ‘Maybe you’ll find yourself pregnant,’ she said, and now there was an openly conspiratorial look in her eye. ‘That’s what happened to me—worked like a dream.’
She glanced towards the shallow end of the pool, where Mel could see a preschooler splashing about, with a young woman—presumably his nanny— playing with him.
Mel was thankfully spared the necessity of responding to such an untoward comment by a server gliding by, offering coffee. She took one, and so did the woman, who now introduced herself as Nyree, eliciting a reciprocal if somewhat reluctant response from Mel.
She was relieved when Nyree Friedman changed the subject to that of shopping opportunities, for which she considered Bermuda inadequate, which led to her regaling Mel with the delights of New York for that purpose, and giving a little cry of disbelief when she discovered that Mel had never been there.
‘Oh, but you must! Tell the dish you absolutely have to go from here,’ she urged.
Not waiting for an answer, she chattered on, and Mel was happy enough to leave her to it. Nyree Friedman was chatty and convivial, but Mel had to conclude she was something of an airhead.
She didn’t seem to be much of a devoted mother, either, for she was perfectly happy to leave her little boy’s nanny to do all the entertaining of her son. Cynically, Mel presumed that the child had served his purpose in ‘hog-tying’ his wealthy banker father for Nyree. It was a depressing thought.
Their mostly one-sided chat about Nyree Friedman’s fashionable, affluent Manhattan lifestyle was finally brought to an end by the emergence of Nikos from the conference. He strolled up to Mel.
‘There you are...’ He smiled. Then his glance swept sideways to take in her partner in conversation, who had stopped mid-sentence, her eyes wide with open appreciation at the arrival of ‘the dish.’
Her dark eyes sparkled. ‘Hi...’ she said warmly, holding out a languid, perfectly manicured hand. ‘I’m Nyree Friedman. I heard your presentation this morning—it was fascinating!’ she breathed. Her expression was blatantly admiring.
There was a tug at the side of Nikos’s mouth as he shook the extended hand—but briefly, Mel was glad to notice. No lingering contact with the attractive brunette...
‘Well, I can only hope your husband was just as taken by it,’ he replied drily.
Clearly, Mel realised, he knew perfectly well who Nyree Friedman’s husband was—even if he’d never met his wife before.
Nyree’s gaze was visibly eating Nikos up. Out of the blue Mel felt a dagger’s blade of possessiveness go through her. Sharp and piercing. For an instant she wanted to grab Nikos and drag him away—and slap Nyree down at the same time, for daring to make eyes at him.
The intensity of the emotion shocked her. No way did she want to feel possessive about Nikos. Hadn’t he told her right from the start that possessiveness was exactly what put him off a woman? The reason he’d asked her out that very first evening had been to ward off Fiona Pellingham’s possessive intentions. No, possessiveness—from either of them—wasn’t what their deliberately brief time together was about, she reminded herself sharply. Possessiveness had no place at all in a fun but fleeting holiday romance such as theirs was.
To her relief, Nikos’s attention was back on her, and his eyes were sending a silent question that echoed his verbal one.
‘I’m all done here now, Mel,’ he told her. ‘So if you’re ready to go we can head off? Unless,’ he went on politely, his glance taking in Nyree again, ‘you want to stay longer?’
His tone was polite, but Mel knew he didn’t want to stay on longer here at this huge, crowded hotel. He’d already told her he wasn’t going to be attending the conference dinner that evening, and she’d been glad. She wasn’t going to have him for much longer, and she didn’t want to share him for any of that time if she didn’t have to.
‘No, I’m good to go,’ she said. She looked across at Nyree, who was looking rueful. ‘It was lovely to meet you,’ she said brightly, getting to her feet.
‘Well, we must meet up in New York!’ Nyree said promptly. Her flirtatious gaze went back to Nikos, then changed as it moved past him. ‘John,’ she said imperiously, ‘persuade this gorgeous man to bring his girlfriend to New York. She’s never been—can you believe it?’
The man approaching was clad in a business suit, like Nikos, but he was a good twenty years older, thought Mel, and unlike Nikos very overweight.
He nodded at Nikos, then addressed Mel. ‘Has my wife let you get a word in edgeways?’ he asked with heavy humour. ‘She does like to dominate the airwaves.’
It was said humorously, but Mel could detect underlying irritation at his wife’s garrulity.
‘It’s been very...interesting,’ Mel said politely.
John Friedman laughed again, a little too heavily, and then his attention was drawn to the small figure hurtling towards him.
‘Dad! Dad!’ he was calling out excitedly. ‘Come in the pool!’
Mel watched him hug the pool-wet boy and ruffle his damp hair.
‘I can’t wait!’ his father assured him. ‘But I need to get changed first, OK?’ His eyes went to his wife, who was still lounging back on the recliner. ‘Will you spend any time with our son in the pool?’
There was a clear jibe in the question, and it drew an acid response from his wife.
‘And wreck my hair? Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, it’s time for cocktails.’
‘It’s too early for cocktails—especially for you,’ John Friedman said immediately. And pointedly.
Nyree’s mouth thinned mutinously and it looked as if she was going to make an angry retort. To Mel’s relief—for witnessing this marital acrimony was uncomfortable—Nyree’s husband had turned to Nikos.
‘You made a persuasive case in there,’ he said, very much banker-to-banker now. ‘Maybe we should discuss some potential mutual opportunities?’
‘I’d be glad to,’ Nikos said promptly.
‘Good.’ John Friedman nodded. ‘Get in touch next time you’re in New York.’
‘Make it soon!’ Nyree enthused, her gaze fastening greedily on Nikos again.
Nikos gave a non-committal smile and took Mel’s hand, squeezing it meaningfully. He wanted out, she knew. And so did she. For all their superficial politeness, the atmosphere was uncomfortable, and the tension between Nyree and her husband was palpable. But they said goodbye politely, even though Mel could hear regret in Nyree’s voice, and saw her eyes linger on Nikos.
As she and Nikos moved away Mel could hear Nyree start up. ‘Oh, my God, John—your suit is soaking wet! Why do you let the boy maul you like that? It’s ridiculous. You make far too much fuss of him.’
Her husband’s voice cut across her. ‘One of us needs to. You won’t—so I do. I’m his father. And do you have to try and flirt with every man you see—even when they’re obviously not interested in you?’
Mel grim
aced as they got out of earshot, heading through the hotel grounds to pick up a taxi at the front. ‘Eek—not a happy marriage, I think. Nor a great start for that little lad of theirs, I fear.’
There was an edge to Nikos’s voice as he replied. ‘No, indeed.’ His expression was set. That barbed exchange they’d been witness to had been all too familiar. The sniping, the acid tones, the mutual accusations and complaints... He’d grown up with them. They weren’t any easier to witness in other couples any more than between his own parents.
Mel cast him a curious, slightly guarded look. There’d been a lot in the suppressed way he’d said that.
He caught her glance and made a rueful face. ‘Sorry, but they just remind me of my own parents. All smiles and bonhomie to others, but with each other constant tension and backbiting. Absolutely everything becomes a verbal skirmish.’
She gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘It sounds very...wearing,’ she said, trying to find a word that wasn’t too intrusive into what was, she could tell, a sensitive issue for him.
He gave an unamused snort. ‘That’s one word for it,’ he said. ‘Two people locked together, hammering away at each other and making themselves and everyone else miserable.’
Mel looked concerned. ‘Why on earth did they ever marry each other, your parents?’ she asked.
‘Would you believe it? They were infatuated with each other,’ he said sardonically. ‘My mother was the catch of the season—the belle of every ball—and every man was after her. She kept them all guessing, playing them off against each other, but my father ended up winning her because she was bowled over by him.’
His voice twisted.
‘Then I came along and everything went pear-shaped.’ He gave a hollow laugh that had no humour in it. ‘My mother hated being pregnant—as she constantly tells me still—I ruined her figure, apparently. And my father stopped paying her the attention she craved. And then—worse—he felt jealous of the attention she gave me when I was little, so he started straying. That incensed my mother even more than his neglecting her, and the whole damn thing just spiralled downwards until they reached a point where they couldn’t even be civil to each other.’