The Greek's Virgin Temptation

by Susan Stephens

  ‘We’ll stop by the fiesta,’ he announced to the room at large, with a brief glance at Kimmie. ‘Then Kimmie and I will go on to my house, where I promised to show her the artist’s studio.’

  ‘Will we?’ Kimmie challenged.

  Everyone fell silent until one of her friends piped up, ‘Is that the same as showing her your etchings?’

  Kris took this surprisingly well. ‘Who knows?’ he said enigmatically.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS ONLY thanks to Kyria Demetriou, once again stepping between Kris and Kimmie, that their latest stand-off was finally broken. It was like something out of a comic black-and-white movie. One moment everyone in the room was motionless, staring avidly at Kimmie and Kris, and the next they were stampeding for the door.

  ‘Allow me,’ Kris insisted, assuming sentry duty. ‘I hope you will allow me to escort you to the village, Kyria Demetriou?’

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ Kimmie’s elderly host replied with the warmest of smiles.

  Kimmie didn’t miss Kris’s raised brow as she trooped past him with her friends, or the curve of his lips when he noticed her fixed facial expression. Game on, she thought, swivelling around to flash him one last challenging glance.

  Game on? Seriously? So soon after you were jilted, almost at the altar? Are you suddenly a seasoned campaigner? Admit it, Kimmie, you don’t know anything about the game of love.

  This wasn’t a game; it was survival, Kimmie argued with her inner critic. What was she supposed to do? Give up? Retire from life? Let Mike win?

  Kimmie’s friends swallowed her up in their group as they set out on foot for the short walk to the town square and, as they clustered around her like a guard of honour, she could feel their support and love, and their curiosity too at the surprising chemistry that had obviously flared between Kimmie and a man who was literally a legend in his own lifetime. She had to be the only one amongst them who didn’t expect anything to come of their surprise encounter.

  There was no need to worry about bagging a good table. One of the best at the front of the restaurant had been reserved for them. The manager rushed to greet their group and make them all feel welcome, though Kimmie noticed that he offered an especially warm greeting to Kris.

  ‘These are yours, I believe,’ Kyria Demetriou told Kimmie as she put a sketch pad and pencils into her hand. ‘I think you were so shocked back at the guesthouse when you saw Kristof that you left them behind, but I know you’ll need them tonight because here is where life and art will be combined.’

  What did that mean? Kimmie wondered as she stared at the familiar tools in her hand.

  ‘Sketch everything you see,’ Kyria Demetriou advised, ‘and then you will have that exhibition I know you long for. Life goes on,’ she whispered.

  There was a special type of kindness and understanding in Kyria Demetriou’s eyes that told Kimmie she would never look back on her time in Kaimos with bitterness, and would only ever remember the island and its people in the warmest and most optimistic terms. It was a feeling she hoped to convey in her next exhibition.

  ‘Don’t allow anyone to hold back your dreams,’ Kyria Demetriou went on as they prepared to take their seats at the table. ‘Everything you want to take with you from Kaimos can be yours, because you can sketch it, record it and hold it tightly in your heart.’

  ‘I will,’ Kimmie promised as her elderly friend left her side to take her place at the head of the table. It was wonderful to have friends, and this was an amazing opportunity, Kimmie thought as she gazed around. The square was so vibrant with life and music, and with colour, light, good food and camaraderie, and everyone was so upbeat and friendly. If only she could capture the mood... She started sketching and was soon completely lost in her interpretation of the scene.

  ‘Hard at work already?’

  She didn’t need to look up to know Kris was standing behind her when she could feel him in every fibre of her being.

  ‘Hi...’ She kept her head bent low over her work in case her feelings for him started flashing in her eyes like big neon signs.

  ‘You’re good...very good,’ he murmured as he moved and came to sit across from her at the table.

  She laughed, and finally lifted her head. ‘You can’t see my sketches properly upside down.’ Predictably, her heart began to thunder a tattoo the moment she stared into his eyes.

  ‘I’ve been standing behind you for the past ten minutes, so I’ve got a pretty good idea what they look like the right way up,’ he argued with that faint sexy smile that made her inexperienced body melt. ‘You must have completed half a dozen line drawings in that time, but you were so absorbed in your work you didn’t notice me. Should I be offended?’ Kris asked.

  ‘I’m not ignoring you,’ she said, staring into eyes that were glinting with amusement. ‘I’m sure I’ll find a small space somewhere in the sketch pad to record a quick line drawing of you, but you’ll have to wait your turn,’ she teased. ‘This is such a wonderful scene. I don’t want to miss anything.’

  ‘What makes you think I can wait?’

  His mouth had tugged up at one corner in a way she found irresistible. She would definitely have to remember that look when she sketched him.

  The square was a distraction with its blaze of fairy lights and the brightly dressed crowd, but Kris in profile as he turned to speak to a friend was quick to capture her attention. But how to translate that incredible bone structure, and those amazingly expressive eyes and mouth, on paper with just a few sparse lines? As a warm-up she sketched a proud mother pushing a pram with another little girl clutching her hand.

  ‘Okay?’

  She refocused on Kris as he asked the question. He sounded concerned, and only then did she realise that her face had set in a wistful mask. True, she couldn’t remember anyone wanting to hold her hand when she was a little girl, but she couldn’t let those feelings show. What was the point when she couldn’t change the past? And when the future was hers to grasp.

  ‘I just need to record this so I don’t forget,’ she said.

  Leaning over the table to take a look, he said, ‘I can almost imagine what that woman’s thinking.’

  ‘Go on,’ Kimmie prompted. She was intrigued to find that Kris didn’t just see a snapshot but looked beyond the image, as she did, and she was keen to hear what he had to say, to see if they thought the same.

  ‘She wishes she could stay out late with her husband to have a romantic evening,’ he began, which was enough in itself to send shivers spinning down Kimmie’s spine as their thoughts were so similar. ‘But she also wants her children to have a good time and that’s why she’s frowning, because she can’t work out how to combine the two.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I thought when I started sketching her,’ Kimmie admitted.

  ‘And you convey those thoughts extremely well,’ Kris confirmed with a long look into her eyes.

  ‘Thank you.’ She wanted to say more, but her entire body had heated up under Kris’s penetrating stare and a reckless word might betray her longing for him. Sometimes, saying thank you is enough, she remembered wryly.

  ‘And that man over there,’ Kris said, pointing across the square. ‘He’s in a desperate hurry to sell his sticky cakes, so he can ditch the stall and have some fun.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, smiling. ‘You read people too.’

  ‘I have to in my line of work.’

  Another steady look made her wonder what Kris was thinking. Was she an open book to him? There was no relief from his scrutiny. They were only inches apart. The noise of people enjoying themselves simply faded away, until there was nothing but the two of them staring deep into each other’s eyes.

  ‘And where do I stand in your analysis of potential subjects for my sketch book?’

  ‘You’re at a crossroads,’ Kris observed thoughtfully. When she didn’t answ
er this, he pressed, ‘Well? How did I do?’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand what you mean,’ she lied.

  ‘I think you do,’ Kris argued. ‘I can read you, and you’re standing at those crossroads right now, with life pulling you in different directions.

  ‘You should stick to shipping,’ she scoffed. ‘Unless you want a crystal ball for Christmas.’

  Kris was about to answer when someone attracted his attention and he turned away. Kimmie felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t want to be under the microscope. She wasn’t ready for that. At the same time, while Kris was distracted she missed him. She missed his brooding interest. There was no hope for her, Kimmie concluded as the food arrived, and now no chance for anyone to speak as everyone helped to pass the food around.

  Eating presented her with more problems. Eating was sexy. And Kris was a big man, so their knees brushed beneath the table. The table was rammed. They were bound to touch, Kimmie told herself firmly.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Kris said eventually, when the last person waiting to speak to him had finally retreated to their table to eat.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For ignoring you. I’ve been away quite some time, so there’s a lot of catching up to do.’

  ‘No problem. I didn’t realise how hungry I was, so if you ignored me, I didn’t notice.’

  ‘You noticed,’ he assured her in a way that made her body yearn for more than sweet honey cakes.

  With a shrug, she wiped her hands and picked up her sketchbook. The chemistry between her and Kris was extraordinary and compelling. And it would continue to do its dangerous work with or without her cooperation, she accepted, pencil poised.

  ‘You’ve stopped sketching,’ Kris remarked.

  ‘Excuse me while I study my subject.’

  Who was she trying to kid? She didn’t need to study Kris when every detail of his face—and at least 90 per cent of his body—was firmly etched on her mind.

  ‘What do you see when you look at me? Apart from the shadows behind my eyes, I mean,’ he added with a slight quirk at one corner of his firm, sexy mouth.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Kimmie smiled as she dipped her head over her work. ‘One thing is certain. My drawing will uncover the real you.’

  ‘Should I be worried?’

  ‘Almost certainly,’ she murmured.

  ‘I’m eager to see your interpretation,’ Kris said dryly.

  She pulled a wry grimace. ‘As is the rest of the world, I hope.’

  This at least was her strength. As soon as her fingers had closed around the familiar pencil, she knew what she was doing, and was confident that the seemingly stark lines on paper would eventually amount to so much more. Relationships were much the same, she reflected as she became lost in her work and her breathing steadied. Built on tiny bricks of action and consequence, they could founder or flourish, depending on whose hand was guiding the pencil. There’d be no more free drawing in her life, Kimmie determined as she sat back to examine her work so far. She would remain in control. Turning the shocks and disappointment of the past thirty-six hours on their head, this new set of paintings would mark a fresh beginning.

  ‘Don’t get the wrong idea,’ she added as she paused to check she’d got the angle of Kris’s jaw exactly right. Yes. It was every bit as strong, firm and resolute as the lines she had laid down on paper. ‘My promise not to sell images of you without your permission stands firm. If you do give the go-ahead, any funds they make will go straight into that scholarship fund I told you about.’

  ‘To help young artists,’ he confirmed.

  ‘That’s right.’ She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask Kris to be a sponsor of the scheme. It was just another way of asking him for money, and he must be sick of that. This was a better way. She did the work and with his permission the project would hopefully prosper from the sale.

  ‘Would you like to see how far I’ve got?’ she asked when she was nearly finished.

  ‘Of course.’ Kris whistled softly beneath his breath when she turned the sketchpad around for him to see. ‘You certainly didn’t flatter me.’

  ‘I told you I wouldn’t. I’m drawing you as I see you today.’

  ‘Hard and driven,’ he murmured. ‘With an almost frightening sense of purpose in my eyes...’ He frowned. ‘And no humour at all?’

  She huffed a rueful smile. ‘If the cap fits.’

  ‘You don’t hold back, do you, Kimmie Lancaster?’

  ‘Caution is boring, in art as in life. And how do I know the occasional flashes of humour I see in your eyes aren’t just a front you use to lure your victims in?’

  ‘My victims?’ Kris queried, pulling his head back to look at her.

  ‘Okay, so maybe that’s a bit harsh,’ Kimmie conceded, ‘but I did warn you that I look beneath the surface to see what’s there. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to flatter you?’

  Kris threw up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Do what you like,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll almost certainly be turning these sketches into full-sized paintings,’ she thought it only fair to explain.

  ‘Good,’ Kris said. ‘I look forward to seeing them.’

  Would he ever see them? she wondered. ‘They’re for a good cause.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better for you to put the proceeds from the sale into a property for yourself?’

  ‘No,’ she said, laughing. ‘You’re such a businessman.’

  ‘I should hope so.’

  ‘And that’s the essential difference between us,’ she mused. ‘You’re practical, I’m impractical.’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt anyone to have a business head on their shoulders,’ Kris countered, ‘and it would be essential now you’re becoming a success, I would have thought.’

  Yes, she should get a handle on that, Kimmie thought uneasily, remembering how she’d agreed to leave all of that side of things to Mike. ‘What else has Kyria Demetriou told you about me?’ Because she was the only person here who would have told him about her desire to buy her own house.

  ‘I’m quite capable of conducting my own investigations.’

  ‘I won’t even ask,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

  Kris shrugged. ‘I stand by my advice.’

  ‘Even if my paintings of you sold for thousands, it would only buy me the door of a shed in London.’ Did that sound as if she was asking him for money? It was complicated, knowing a billionaire. Things she’d joke about with her friends suddenly took on a very different significance. She laughed to change the subject and her mood and, to her relief, Kris laughed with her.

  ‘I’d hoped to be worth more than a shed door,’ he admitted.

  ‘Well, there you are. You’re not worth much after all. And I’m not much of a businesswoman,’ Kimmie admitted. ‘I don’t even know if I’m still the latest “hot young artist”, or if my first exhibition was a fluke and my fifteen minutes of fame are already up. The next show should prove it one way or another... That’s if I can find someone to exhibit my work,’ she added, frowning.

  ‘Can’t you pay someone to exhibit your work?’

  ‘It’s usually done by the gallery owner taking a commission on every work sold, but I just don’t know if anyone will be interested. Believe it or not, Kris Kaimos, not every problem can be solved with money.’

  ‘But how are you supposed to get by until you have your next show? You told me when we met on the beach that you spent a lot of your available cash on the wedding.’

  ‘The non-wedding,’ she reminded him. ‘I agree, it does sound a bit silly now, reckless even, but when life has thrown me lemons I like to make a good cocktail with them rather than pull an “I sucked a lemon” face.’

  ‘So you always bounce back,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘I try to. Sometimes it’s hard
er than others,’ she admitted. But she’d keep on trying, again and again, until one day she found that home port and an anchor. ‘And don’t worry—I still have just enough money left to see me through until my next exhibition.’

  ‘I think you’ve got a pretty clear idea of where you’re heading and how to get there,’ Kris observed as she closed the sketch pad and put it to one side. ‘Everyone has setbacks. It’s how you recover from them that counts and I believe in you. I don’t mean that to sound patronising.’

  ‘Accepted,’ she said.

  ‘Everyone has to start somewhere, even me,’ he teased with a wicked grin that warmed her through.

  ‘Don’t get too confident,’ she warned, ‘or the imp inside me will force me to knock you off that pedestal.’

  ‘I’d like to see you try,’ he murmured in a way that had everything to do with extremely agreeable physical tussles and nothing whatsoever to do with knocking him down a peg or two. ‘In the meantime,’ he added in the same husky tone, ‘I suggest we dance.’

  There were too many decisions to be made where Kris was concerned, and none of them easy. Once bitten, twice shy had gone out of the window some time ago, although the dreaded rebound threat continued to niggle at her, but that didn’t stop her standing up as he walked around the table and moving wordlessly into his arms.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IF HE WANTED TO, he could close the deal tonight. His uncle would be pleased. If Theo Kaimos was here now, he would ask—what was Kris waiting for? Here was the bride in need of a groom, the artist in need of a sponsor. Kris needed a wife to provide an heir for Kaimos Shipping and could fund endless scholarships. If Kimmie made that her price for marrying him, he’d pay it gladly. But he didn’t want to take her that way. He didn’t want to take her at all. He wanted Kimmie to come to him of her own free will.