He didn’t even understand what he was doing here, he thought irritably. He was interested in buying the island, but in truth he was intrigued by Louise. Seeing her again had awoken memories of the brief time they had spent together, and he had come to Paris and spent the past hour looking at paintings of fat cherubs when he should be working on the Russian deal.
He hadn’t been able to get her out of his thoughts since she had turned up at his office. He had never forgotten what had happened between them on Eirenne. But seven years was a long time. During those years he had been focused on establishing his own company and then proving that he was a worthy successor to his father at Kalakos Shipping, and his memories of the pretty nineteen-year-old girl he had known as Loulou had faded.
The grown-up Louise was an attractive woman no red-blooded male would forget in a hurry, Dimitri mused. But since he was a young man he’d had more beautiful mistresses than he cared to remember. He couldn’t explain what it was about Louise. All he knew was that his trousers felt uncomfortably tight, and he did not dare to meet her cool gaze in case she guessed he was fantasising about making love to her right here in the most famous art gallery in the world.
He cleared his throat. ‘I come to Paris frequently for business, but I’ve never had time to visit the Louvre.’ He glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘Regrettably, my free time rarely lasts for long. I’m due to hold a conference call in half an hour, and I must to go back to my hotel.’
There was a hint of weariness in his voice, and the fine lines fanning around his eyes told of someone who worked long hours and no doubt spent too much time in front of a computer screen. Louise felt an unwanted tug of sympathy for him. But perhaps he was tired for a different reason, she reminded herself sharply. He had a reputation as a playboy, and his numerous affairs were discussed with frenzied interest in the gossip columns. She was ashamed of the little stab of jealousy she felt when she pictured him making love to one of the gorgeous, glossy-haired American supermodels he seemed to favour. How Dimitri lived his life was of no interest to her, she reminded herself. Yet something intrigued her …
‘I heard that your father named you as his successor to run Kalakos Shipping, despite his threat to disinherit you,’ she murmured.
She wanted to ask him if he and his father had resolved their differences, but she did not dare mention the bitter argument between the two men about Kostas’s affair with her mother.
Dimitri nodded. ‘It was a shock, frankly. I hadn’t expected it. You know of the rift between me and my father. I was determined to make it in business without his help and I set up my own company, which became extremely successful. But I sold Fine Living a year ago so that I could concentrate on Kalakos Shipping. Running it is a huge responsibility—especially at the moment, when my country is experiencing financial problems. The company employs thousands of staff and I have a duty to protect their jobs. Hence the importance of the business deal I am currently negotiating.’
‘As you’re so busy, why don’t we forget dinner?’ Louise seized the opportunity to avoid seeing him again. ‘You have my phone number, and you can call me once you’ve reached a decision. There’s no need for us to meet tonight.’
Dimitri’s sudden smile transformed his hard-boned face from serious to seriously sexy, and Louise felt a tingling sensation run through her right down to her toes.
‘I disagree,’ he drawled, the gleam of amusement in his eyes warning her that he had seen through her ploy to avoid meeting him. ‘We haven’t seen each other for seven years, and I’m looking forward to catching up. Au revoir, Louise—until tonight,’ he murmured, before he strode out of the gallery, leaving her staring after him thinking that his words had sounded more like a threat than a promise.
It took Louise ten minutes to walk back to her flat after she had finished work. Often in the summer she liked to stroll along by the Seine and browse among the booksellers’ stalls, but this evening she was in a hurry.
As soon as she arrived home she fed Madeleine and called the hospital to check on her mother, explaining to the nurse that she would visit tomorrow. Then she showered, blow-dried her hair and applied make-up in record time, aware that she was due to meet Dimitri in twenty minutes.
At least choosing something to wear was not a problem. Her friend and neighbour Benoit was a fashion designer, who regularly gave her his stunning creations, and there were several dresses in her wardrobe that she’d never had an opportunity to wear before.
One cocktail dress in particular seemed suitable for dinner at an exclusive restaurant. The simple sheath of black silk skimmed her breasts and hips and flared slightly at the hemline, which was decorated with layers of tulle ruffles. It was a striking design, and as with all Benoit’s clothes very feminine and very sexy. Louise almost lost her nerve as she studied her reflection and noted how the sheer material seemed to caress her curves. The black silk felt cool and sensual against her skin, and for the first time in years she felt intensely aware of her body.
She briefly debated whether to change into something less eye-catching, but time was racing—at least that was the excuse she made to herself. The truth was that ever since she had met Dimitri in Athens she’d felt quite unlike her usual sensible self. Every time she thought of him—and he seemed to dominate her thoughts—molten heat pooled low in her pelvis and she felt an ache of sexual longing that she hadn’t experienced since she was nineteen. Perhaps it was because he had been her first lover—her only lover, she amended ruefully. She had dated a few other men since, but none of them had caused her heart to race like Dimitri did.
What was she trying to tell him tonight by wearing this dress? That she was fiercely aware of him, and that she had glimpsed the hungry gleam in his eyes when he had met her at the Louvre? She could not answer herself, or explain the hectic flush on her cheeks. It was easier to turn away from the mirror and slide her feet into the strappy black stiletto sandals that matched the dress. A silver purse and a dove-grey pashmina completed her outfit, and she hurried out of her flat, her heart thudding.
As she stepped out of the lift on the ground floor she cannoned into a man who had just entered the apartment block.
‘Fais attention!’ His frown cleared when he recognised Louise, and he caught hold of her shoulder and studied her intently. ‘Chérie, you look divine in that dress.’
Louise smiled at Benoit Besson. ‘I’m glad you approve—seeing as it’s one of your creations.’
A grin flashed on Benoit’s thin face and he pushed his long black hair out of his eyes. ‘I can see why I am called a genius,’ he drawled, only half-jokingly. ‘Where are you going? Don’t tell me you have a date?’ He looked surprised. ‘It’s about time. You are too beautiful to live your life alone. You need a lover, chérie.’
‘I’ll never need a man,’ Louise said firmly. She had vowed years ago that she would never copy her mother. Tina had always needed a man in her life, and she had lurched from one disastrous affair to the next without ever pausing to consider whether she would be happier without the jerks she hooked up with.
Kostas Kalakos had been better than most, Louise remembered. He had seemed genuinely to care for Tina. And he had been kind to her when she had stayed on Eirenne in the school holidays. But she could not forget that he had left his wife to pursue his affair with her mother—a fact that Dimitri had certainly never forgotten either, she thought heavily.
Benoit gave her a speculative look. ‘So—not a date, but in that dress you can only be meeting a man. I can’t deny I am curious, mon amie’
‘I’m having dinner with a friend I used to know years ago … an acquaintance, really.’ Louise felt herself blush. ‘I must go or I’ll be late.’
‘Have fun.’ Benoit’s smile was decidedly smug. ‘I’m flying to Sydney in the morning, but you can tell me all about this non-date when I come back.’
Her friendship with Benoit went back many years. Benoit’s grandmother had been a close friend of her grand-mère, Célin
e, and Louise had known him when he was a student—before he had taken the fashion world by storm. He was the closest she had to a brother, and she treated his teasing with affection.
‘There’ll be nothing to tell,’ she promised him, and hurried out before he could ask any more questions.
Dimitri had chosen a seat at the bar at La Marianne, which afforded him a clear view of the door. During the past ten minutes half a dozen blondes, wearing the ubiquitous little black dresses, had entered the restaurant, and all of them had sought to make eye-contact with him—even the ones who were hanging on to the arm of a husband or boyfriend, he noted sardonically. He considered it a matter of luck that he had been blessed with facial features that women found attractive, but cynically he suspected that his huge wealth meant he could have resembled the Hunchback of Notre Dame and still have had females flocking to his bed.
He ordered a drink and glanced towards the door again. This time his attention was riveted by the blonde in a black dress who had just walked in.
Hair the colour of honey was swept into a loose knot on top of her head, and a few stray curls framed a heart-shaped face dominated by eyes that even from a few feet away he could see were sapphire-blue. She looked as though she had been poured into the black silk dress which moulded her hourglass figure as faithfully as a lover’s touch, and her long legs, sheathed in barely-there black silk hose, looked even sexier with the addition of four-inch stiletto heels.
Despite his intention not to allow Louise to affect him, Dimitri felt a sharp tug of desire jack-knife through him. He lifted his glass and drained his whisky sour, but his eyes seemed determined to stray towards her.
Most women would have teamed the striking diamond fleur-de-lis with matching earrings, and perhaps a diamond ring or bracelet, but Louise’s decision to wear only the pendant and no other jewellery gave her an understated elegance. Her dress was almost starkly plain compared to some of the exotic outfits on display in the restaurant, but clearly she understood that the beauty of haute couture was the fact that it allowed a woman to wear the dress rather than the dress wear the woman.
Dimitri recognised the designer motif of two entwined letter Bs on Louise’s purse. Benoit Besson had taken the fashion world by storm after revealing his first collection at Paris Fashion Week two years ago, and had quickly become the darling of Europe’s social elite. But the price of Besson’s clothes reflected his undoubted skill as a designer. Louise’s dress might easily have cost upwards of five or six thousand pounds, yet he knew her job as a museum guide would not pay a high salary.
Dimitri ran his mind over the facts the private investigator had dug up about her. There wasn’t much, and so far no evidence of a rich lover in Louise’s life. She lived alone, worked, as he knew, at the Louvre, and socialised occasionally with colleagues from the museum. But if she was not the mistress of some rich guy how could she afford to wear Benoit Besson designs? And why did she suddenly need money so quickly that she was prepared to sell Eirenne for considerably less than the island was worth? The idea that she was in debt seemed a logical possibility. Her mother’s track record with money was appalling, and it was conceivable that Louise had inherited Tina’s inability to live within her means.
She had hesitated when she had entered the restaurant, but now she looked towards the bar and saw him. Even though Dimitri was a few feet away from her he noticed the sudden flush of colour that highlighted her high cheekbones, and he felt a fierce sense of male satisfaction that she could not hide her awareness of him. The evening promised to be interesting, he mused, feeling suddenly more alive than he had done in months as anticipation made his nerve-endings tingle.
He stood up from the bar stool and walked over to meet her.
‘Louise, you look stunning.’ He bit back the question—How the hell can you afford to wear a dress that probably cost a chunk of your annual salary?
The bar was crowded. Someone knocked into her and Dimitri caught hold of her arm to steady her as she swayed slightly on her high heels.
Her skin felt like satin beneath his fingertips and her perfume, a delicate floral fragrance, teased his senses. Without stopping to question what he was doing, he lifted her hand to his mouth and grazed his lips over her knuckles. He heard her faint gasp and smiled when she blushed. For a moment he was reminded of the innocent girl he had known seven years ago.
But she was no longer a gauche teenager. She was a beautiful woman, and undoubtedly sexually experienced. He pictured her naked in his bed, pictured himself sinking between her thighs …
Their eyes met, held, and he watched her pupils dilate so that they were deep, dark pools. He could almost taste the intense sexual awareness between them.
It was a relief when the maître d’ appeared and informed him that their table was ready.
Get a grip, Dimitri ordered himself impatiently, irritated that he seemed to have no control over his hormones. Louise was stunning, but no more so than countless other women he had dated in the past. And he should not forget that he was here for one reason only. He had invited her to dinner to discuss a business deal—namely the possibility of him buying back his family’s Greek island, which should never have been hers to sell.
He remembered how shocked he’d felt when he had learned that his father had left Eirenne to his mistress. Dimitri hated Tina Hobbs to the depths of his soul. But he had never had cause to hate Tina’s daughter, he acknowledged. In fact, far from disliking her, he had found himself captivated by her seven years ago. They had been lovers, but they had shared more than just sex. There had been something between them—a degree of emotional involvement he had not wanted to define.
Those memories had always lingered in the back of his mind, and sometimes when he heard a song that had been popular at the time he felt a curious pang inside as he remembered Eirenne in springtime and a golden-haired girl whose gentle smile had briefly touched his soul.
Startled by thoughts that he had never cared to dwell on too deeply before now, he threw Louise a sideways glance as they followed the waiter to their table—and discovered that she was looking at him with an unguarded expression that made him want to forget dinner, forget everything but his burning desire to sweep her into his arms and carry her out of the restaurant and into the nearest hotel, where he would hire a room for as many nights as it took to sate himself on her gorgeous body.
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE was champagne chilling in an ice-bucket. The white damask cloth was pristine, and the silver cutlery gleamed in the flickering light of candles set amid a centrepiece of white roses and fragrant mauve freesias. Louise tried to focus on the beautiful table setting, but in her mind all she could see was the look of scorching desire in Dimitri’s eyes as he had drawn out a chair for her to sit down.
She was shaken by the sexual hunger he had made no effort to disguise. It was all the more shocking because they hadn’t seen each other for seven years and were little more than strangers. She tried to block out her memories of the one night they had spent together. It had been so long ago, and he must have slept with so many other women since then that it did not seem likely he would remember. But somehow she knew that he did remember, and heat surged through her veins, making her breasts ache and evoking a dragging sensation low in her pelvis.
‘Champagne, mademoiselle?’
‘Oh … oui. Merci.’ She nodded distractedly to the waiter, who was hovering at her elbow, and watched him fill a tall flute with champagne. The waiter walked around the table to fill Dimitri’s glass and then presented them both with a menu before he finally left them alone.
‘I think a toast to old friends is appropriate,’ Dimitri murmured, raising his glass.
Friends. Louise felt a sharp pang as she remembered laughter and lazy days on a paradise island. She had thought they were friends—until her mother had shattered her illusions about Dimitri’s motives. None of it had been real. Not the companionship or the friendship—or the passion. Dimitri had deliberately set ou
t to seduce her, knowing that his actions would anger her mother, and his aim had been to cause trouble between Tina and his father. How could he have the nerve to suggest a toast to their friendship when it had been a lie? Louise wondered bleakly.
But there was no point in dragging up the past when she would probably never see him again after tonight. Somehow she managed a cool smile and touched her glass to his. ‘To friends.’
Her throat felt parched and the words emerged as a husky whisper. She sounded like a femme fatale from an old movie, she thought disgustedly, and took a long sip of champagne to ease the dryness. The bubbles fizzed on her tongue and it belatedly occurred to her that it was hours since she’d had lunch, and alcohol on an empty stomach was not a good idea.
Focus on the reason why you’re here, she told herself as she forced herself to meet his brooding gaze across the table.
‘You said you might be interested in buying Eirenne. Is there any information I can give you that might help with your decision?’
Dimitri took a sip of champagne before answering. ‘I haven’t been back to the island for seven years, but I have many memories of it. Has it changed much?’ His jaw hardened. ‘Surely even your mother can’t have done too much damage to the place?’
‘Of course she hasn’t.’ Louise instantly leapt to her mother’s defence. ‘What do you imagine she might have done?’
‘When my father was alive she tried to persuade him to build a nightclub and casino, so that she could hold private parties rather than have to travel to one of the bigger islands for entertainment,’ he told her dryly.
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