by Anne Mather
‘And was Demetri upset, too?’
‘I think so.’ She paused and then added, ‘He still maintains the baby wasn’t his.’
Mrs Lang stared at her. ‘You don’t believe him, do you?’
Jane made a helpless gesture. ‘N…o.’
‘That’s something, anyway.’ Her mother’s face mirrored her relief. ‘So what do you plan to do? Bring up the child yourself?’
‘That’s one option, obviously.’
‘One option?’ Mrs Lang frowned. ‘What other options have you got? If you’re not going to involve Demetri…’ The words trailed away and, when she spoke again, there was real concern in her voice. ‘You wouldn’t consider not—not having the baby, would you? I mean,’ she rushed on, ‘there’s no need for any hasty decisions. I’d be happy to do what I can and I know Lucy would help out.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Jane felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘The last thing you need is a baby here.’
‘If it makes the difference between you having the baby and not, there’s no argument,’ retorted her mother firmly. She glanced about the cluttered room with impatient eyes. ‘It’s time I had a clear-out. Lucy’s always telling me that. And don’t forget, that baby’s my grandchild, just as much as Paul and Jessica.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ said Jane chokily, getting up and enfolding the older woman in her arms. ‘I do love you, you know.’
‘I should hope you do.’ Mrs Lang tried to sound indignant and didn’t quite make it. ‘Now drink your tea. Pregnant young women need to keep their strength up.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DEMETRI was standing at the bedroom window of his house in Kalithi, staring out at the darkening ocean, when there was a tentative knock at his door.
Cursing, because he hadn’t yet started to dress for dinner at the villa, he went to open it, hoping against hope that it wasn’t Ariadne. He could do without another argument with her, he thought heavily. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been to her bed since seeing his estranged wife again. And God knew, he didn’t have an answer for her.
But to his relief, it wasn’t Ariadne. A manservant stood outside with the news that his father was waiting to see him. His father? Demetri didn’t hesitate before following the man downstairs.
‘Papa,’ he said with some concern, entering the salon where the old man was reclining with evident relief on an ivory velvet sofa. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve driven here by yourself.’
‘No, no.’ Leo Souvakis regarded his eldest son with a mixture of affection and impatience. ‘Micah brought me.’ He paused. ‘Though I have to say, I’m still capable of handling a motor vehicle.’
‘If you say so.’ Demetri slipped his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. But, although he adopted a conciliatory tone, he was well aware that his father’s face showed the strain of walking unaided from the car into the house. ‘Can I offer you a drink? Some wine, perhaps?’
Leo grimaced. ‘Wine,’ he muttered irritably.
‘Ouzo, then.’ Demetri walked across to the wet bar and returned a few moments later with an ouzo and water, the ice clinking pleasantly in the glass. ‘Does that suit you better?’
‘Much.’ Leo took the glass and looked up at his son with a rueful expression on his face. ‘You know your mother forbids me to drink this.’ He took a taste, savouring the flavour of aniseed on his tongue. ‘But I say, if I’m dying, why prolong the exercise?’
‘You don’t mean that.’ Demetri dropped into the chair opposite his father, legs spread, clasped hands hanging between his knees. ‘But I doubt if one rather weak drink is going to do you any harm.’
‘Weak, eh?’ Leo raised the glass to look into it, and then, seeing his son’s face, he smiled. ‘OK, I know I should be grateful. And I am. But every now and then…’
Demetri nodded. And then, because he knew the old man wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t have something on his mind, he said, ‘So—what brings you here? Is something wrong?’
‘You tell me.’ Leo took another sip of the ouzo, regarding his son over the rim of the glass. ‘Hmm, this is delicious, weak or otherwise.’
Demetri frowned, not diverted by the compliment. ‘What is it you want me to tell you?’
‘Oh, come on.’ His father waited and, when his son didn’t speak, he went on, ‘Ariadne thinks you’ve changed your mind about getting married again. Or so she’s informed your mother.’
Demetri felt the hot colour invade his face. ‘Ariadne should keep her opinions to herself.’
‘So it’s not true?’
‘That I’ve changed my mind about marrying her?’ Demetri was defensive. ‘I haven’t said anything like that.’
‘Or done anything?’ suggested his father drily. ‘How shall I put it? Ariadne is feeling—neglected, no?’
Demetri pushed himself to his feet. ‘For pity’s sake, what has she been saying?’
‘I think I do not need to answer that, Demetri.’
His son groaned. ‘God!’
‘And if you’re about to say it’s got nothing to do with me, don’t!’ Leo looked up at him with shrewd eyes. ‘Just answer me this: have you seen Jane since she went back to England?’
Demetri’s jaw dropped. ‘You know I haven’t.’
‘Do I?’
‘You should. I’ve spent the last three weeks in Athens, dealing with the fallout from the explosion on the Artemis, if you’ll excuse the pun. When have I had time to go to England?’
‘And she hasn’t visited you in Athens?’
‘Who? Jane?’ Demetri snorted. ‘Of course not.’
‘Well, if you tell me you haven’t seen her, I have to believe you.’ Leo took another mouthful of the ouzo. ‘But tell me something else: have you wanted to?’
‘Wanted to what?’
‘See her, Demetri? See Jane? It’s a simple enough question.’
Demetri swore then, pushing the chair he’d been occupying aside and striding across to the bar. Snatching up a bottle of single malt, he poured himself a stiff whisky, swallowing half of it in a gulp before turning to look at his father again.
‘OK,’ he said at last, raking an impatient hand over his scalp. ‘Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What do you want me to say, Pa? Just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll say it. That way I think we’ll save a hell of a lot of time.’
Leo’s mouth tightened. ‘There’s no need for this, Demetri. I asked you a simple question.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘And I must assume from your reluctance to give me a simple answer that my concerns are justified.’
‘No. No, they’re not.’ Demetri spoke heatedly. ‘I admit, I haven’t given Ariadne the attention she deserves in recent weeks, but as soon as the divorce is finalised, I’ll be free to make up for it. You’ll see.’
His father didn’t look convinced. ‘So seeing Jane again didn’t make any difference to your feelings for Ariadne?’
‘No!’
Leo sighed. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’
‘Pa, how ever I feel—and I’m not saying I feel anything—Jane isn’t interested in me. You know that.’ He hesitated and, when his father’s expression didn’t change, he said doggedly, ‘OK. There’s a physical attraction between us. There always has been. But she’s never going to forgive me for what she thinks I did to Ianthe. And nothing’s going to alter that, so—’
‘You could tell her the truth.’
‘You think she’d believe me? She never has before.’
‘That’s because you’ve always kept something back.’
‘Yes, and if she’d loved me she’d have believed me, whatever I said.’
‘Oh, Demetri, don’t be such a prig! How would you have felt if you’d discovered Jane was expecting a child and another man maintained he was the father?’
Demetri looked down into his glass. ‘I hope I’d have given her the benefit of the doubt.’
‘How gallant!’ Leo was scornful. ‘Demetri, I know you. You’d have
kicked her out and then you’d have torn the other man apart.’
Demetri grunted. ‘That’s some opinion you have of me, Pa.’ He paused. ‘So what are you saying? That I shouldn’t divorce Jane, after all?’ He frowned. ‘I thought you were fond of Ariadne.’
‘I am fond of Ariadne.’ His father was impatient. ‘And when you were younger, I used to think she’d make you a good wife.’ He shrugged. ‘But it never happened. ‘You met Jane, and I knew from the moment I saw you two together that she was the one love of your life.’
Demetri’s jaw hardened. ‘That was pretty fanciful, wasn’t it? We didn’t even like one another when we first met.’
‘You may not have liked one another, but you certainly struck sparks off one another,’ remarked Leo reflectively. ‘You were so sure when you walked into the gallery that she was only stringing me a line.’
‘Mmm.’
Demetri didn’t want to remember how it had been, but he couldn’t help the memories from flooding back. Finding his father discussing art with a girl who didn’t look old enough to have left school, let alone be the possessor of an arts degree, had infuriated him.
Though he’d soon realised that his fury was directed towards his father as much as anyone else. Had he been jealous? He supposed he had. He’d certainly resented the fact that the old man had apparently found himself such a young and sexy companion. And when Leo had suggested that she deliver the delicate bronze he’d chosen to his hotel herself, Demetri had swiftly intervened.
He’d offered to collect the sculpture instead. There was no need for Ms Lang to put herself out, he’d said. He’d be passing the gallery again before he left England and he’d be happy to attend to the delivery personally.
Of course, she’d protested that it was no trouble, no trouble at all, and Demetri had been sure that that old harridan, Olga Ivanovitch, had been listening to their conversation and had had her own opinion of why he should want to cut his father out.
But, in the event, it was his father who’d made the decision. Smiling a little smugly, he’d agreed that that was probably the best solution, and consequently, a few days later, Demetri had called at the gallery to collect the purchase…
* * *
The gallery had appeared to be on the point of closing, he remembered. Long canvas shades had been drawn down and, when he’d opened the door, he’d half suspected the place was deserted. But then Jane had appeared from the office at the back of the showroom, and his pheromones had kicked into overdrive.
‘I’m afraid we’re closed—’ she was beginning, when she recognised him. ‘Oh, it’s you!’
‘Neh, me,’ he agreed a little tersely. ‘You were expecting me, I think. Did not my assistant warn you I was coming?’
‘Warn me?’ Green eyes sparkled and a look of amusement crossed her face. ‘Are you a dangerous man, Mr Souvakis?’
‘No, just an impatient one.’ Demetri scowled, annoyed that she’d already put him on the defensive. ‘The sculpture—it is ready?’
Her sigh was telling and he felt like an oaf for being so ill-mannered. ‘It’s ready,’ she conceded, gesturing towards the office behind her. ‘It’s through here. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll get your receipt.
‘Efkaristo.’
He was unnecessarily brusque and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she’d been particularly flippant. He knew she’d only been trying to be friendly, and he couldn’t understand what it was about her that was causing him to behave so badly.
The office was small, just a couple of filing cabinets against the far wall, a computer and a printer, and a desk that was presently covered with black plastic bags.
‘Sorry about this,’ she said, indicating the bags. ‘I’ve been having a clear-out and I haven’t had time to dump these out the back yet.’ She shoved some papers off a chair. ‘Why don’t you sit down? While I try and locate that receipt.’
Demetri paused in the doorway. She was obviously run off her feet and he wasn’t making life any easier for her by treating her like an inferior.
Coming to an impulsive decision, he came into the room and hefted half a dozen of the plastic bags. ‘Why don’t you show me where you want these putting and then you’ll have room to move around, neh?’
Her eyes widened in surprise and, when she smiled, he was struck by her sudden beauty. He’d already acknowledged that she was an attractive young woman, but, with faint colour giving her cheeks a dusky glow and her mouth with its fuller lower lip parted to reveal the pink tip of her tongue, she was stunning.
‘Oh—that’s very kind of you,’ she began. ‘But those bags are dusty. You might stain your suit.’
‘Don’t worry about it, thespinis,’ he said, oblivious to the fact that his suit was pale grey and an Armani. ‘Out the back, you said?’
‘Yes.’
She stared at him for a moment longer, and then, apparently deciding he meant what he said, she came round the desk again and brushed past him on her way to the door.
It was just the briefest of contacts, but he was aware of her in a way he’d never been aware of a woman before. The slenderness of her body enchanted him and, in the somewhat humid confines of the office, her womanly scent caused a sharp rush of heat to his groin.
But then she was past him and out in the narrow passage-way that led to the back of the building. She opened the door and he saw other bags already stacked outside.
‘Just leave them here,’ she said, stepping out of the way so he could drop his burden. ‘They’ll be collected later.’ She smiled again. ‘Thanks. I do appreciate it.’
‘Efkaristisi mou,’ he said. And when she looked blank, he translated, ‘My pleasure.’
Jane waited until he’d passed through the door again, before shutting and locking it. ‘Well, you must be very strong,’ she murmured, and for the first time she made him smile.
‘Ineh poli evyeniko,’ he told her drily. ‘You’re very kind. I don’t often get compliments like that.’
He could have added that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done any manual labour, but that would have sounded like boasting. Instead, he contented himself with brushing a hand down the front of his suit, pulling a wry face at the smear of dirt that resisted all his efforts to remove it.
‘I’m sure you get plenty of compliments,’ she retorted, apparently not convinced by his denial, going ahead of him along the hall, giving him an uninterrupted view of her back.
Firm shoulders, a narrow waist, a slim yet shapely rear. And long legs, shown to advantage in the short-skirted mini-dress she was wearing. Her hair, which she’d had secured in a ponytail the first time he’d seen her, now hung in honey-streaked waves to her shoulder blades, and he knew a sudden urge to grab a handful and bury his face in its silky mass.
Forcing such thoughts aside, he found himself wondering if she had a date with some man this evening. Was that why she was wearing a dress that was so obviously unsuitable for the job she was doing? The last time he’d seen her, she’d been severely attired in a white blouse and a tailored skirt, and, although he’d noticed her legs, he couldn’t remember seeing so much of them…
Dammit!
Dragging his thoughts out of the gutter, he saw they were back at the office and Jane was already opening drawers in the desk. ‘It has to be here somewhere,’ she was muttering to herself, and, pausing in the doorway, Demetri treated himself to the pleasure of just watching her. She was so lovely, so feminine, and it was many weeks since he’d had a woman in his bed.
Once again, he forced his eyes away from her. For heaven’s sake, he chided himself, what was wrong with him? His father wasn’t here now, so he couldn’t excuse his behaviour on the grounds of provoking the old man. And it wasn’t as if there was any shortage of women in his life. Being a wealthy man in his own right, and Leonides Souvakis’ heir, opened many bedroom doors.
Of course, Jane was totally unaware of what he was thinking. She had no idea that images of her, spread-eagled
beneath him, were occupying his thoughts. Thankfully, she couldn’t read his mind or she wouldn’t be bending over her desk like that, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her small, but very provocative, breasts.
‘Where on earth can it be?’ she was asking, but she was talking to herself, not to him. She pulled open the drawers again, one after the other, riffling through their contents with unflattering haste. It was obvious she wanted rid of him and that was a novelty in itself. ‘It’s got to be here somewhere. Olga gave it to me before she left. Just after—just after that person from your office phoned. I was sure I’d put it—ouch!’
Her cry of pain interrupted her and Demetri, who was still standing in the doorway, now came swiftly round the desk to her side. ‘What have you done?’
There was blood on her finger and, without even thinking about it, he brought her hand to his mouth. He’d licked the wound clean before he realised she was gazing up at him with startled eyes, and he knew it was far too late to pretend ignorance of how his action might be interpreted.
‘Signomi,’ he said at once. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘No, you shouldn’t.’ She was indignant and it was painfully apparent that she didn’t welcome the intimacy. ‘It was stupid of me to make a fuss. It’s only a paper cut.’ She drew her fingers away and examined the injury for herself. ‘I’ll put a plaster on it and it’ll be fine.’
Demetri inclined his head, stepping back to allow her to take what was apparently her handbag from a drawer of the filing cabinet and search it for plasters. A film of moisture appeared on her upper lip as she did so and he wondered if she was quite as indifferent to him as she’d have him believe.
Whatever, he chided himself, he hadn’t come here to start an affair with the woman. He’d only been trying to protect his father’s interests, that was all.
But that was such a lie! He had wanted to see her again. He might as well admit it. And that was when he’d thought she was a buttoned-up art student. Now, in feminine clothes and with an attitude he could cut with a knife, she was absolutely fascinating.