His Mistress for a Million Page 9

  She didn’t doubt it. But sharing the same bed as him, lying alongside his naked body when she already knew how his touch turned her flesh alight, she only wished she could be so sure she could resist him.

  He pushed himself up on one hand. ‘I’m losing patience, Cleo. Are you going to take your clothes off,’ he growled, with more than a hint of menace in his voice, ‘or am I going to have to come over there and do it for you?’

  She shook her head, fear congealing like a ball in her gut. God no, the last thing she wanted was Andreas undressing her. She’d claimed she was experienced. She could do this. But she wasn’t about to do it in front of him. She bolted for the bathroom, taking several minutes to calm herself, cooling her burning cheeks with water from the tap. Her luggage had not yet been delivered or if it had, Andreas wasn’t telling, so she stripped herself down to the camisole, bra and knickers and wrapped herself in a voluminous robe she found hanging on the back of the door. It would have to do. This wasn’t about sex, or so he’d claimed. So what she wore to bed shouldn’t matter.

  She emerged from the bathroom a good ten minutes or more after she’d entered to find the lights dimmed and Andreas facing away, his eyes closed as if asleep.

  Please God he was!

  She padded silently to the bed, stood there a second watching him breathe and decided this was it. She’d practically told him she was a woman of the world, claiming she’d had sex loads of times, so just sleeping with a man in the same bed should hardly throw her. She unlaced the tie at her waist and let the robe slip from her shoulders. Andreas didn’t stir and she gained confidence. He wouldn’t even know she was here. She turned off the light and slipped between the covers, hovering so close to the edge there could be no way he would feel her presence, and he gave no sign that he did, his breathing slow and regular, a pattern that calmed her own frantically beating heart.

  On tenterhooks she lay there listening to his breathing, feeling foolish and naïve, even as the curtains of sleep descended one by one, closing around her and pulling her into their embrace, until she was surrounded by them, warm and comforting and reassuring.

  And if those curtains felt as if they’d grown arms and legs and were fashioned of silken flesh rather than velvet, and breathed as if the mild night air moved through them, the brush of them on her shoulder like the warm brush of a lover’s lips, she could feel no less comforted.

  Cleo woke alone in the wide bed to the spill of sunshine through tall narrow windows and a feeling of disbelief suffusing her veins. She was here. She was really here, lying in bed in a centuries-old mansion on a Greek island and last night—last night she’d slept with a real Greek billionaire, a Greek billionaire who’d honoured her condition that sex was no part of this deal!

  A shiver ran down her spine. Four weeks, the contract had stipulated. Four weeks she could be here, sharing Andreas’ bed. After last night the prospect was suddenly more thrilling than threatening. Scattered remnants came to her then, of a warm hand and a silken touch, of the press of thigh and a puff of breath at her neck, and the press of lips…

  She must have been dreaming again.

  She pulled on the robe she’d left lying on the end of the bed just as the chimes of a clock on a mantelpiece rang out, drawing her eye. Ten in the morning! Even allowing for the two-hour time difference with London, she hadn’t slept in so late for months. No wonder Andreas wasn’t here. He’d probably gone to work hours ago. And no wonder she was so hungry, it was hours since they’d eaten on the plane. She was halfway to the bathroom when it caught her eye, a patch of blue through the whisper-thin gauzy curtains billowing in the soft breeze, so blue that she was compelled to draw the curtain and investigate.

  What she saw took her breath away. There was a terrace outside the window, whitewashed and dazzling in the morning sun, and then the earth must have fallen away beneath them, for a long way below shimmered a sea of the brightest blue she’d ever seen, a sea that stretched before another island that rose, tall and long and dusted with white buildings. And to the left sat another islet, low and wide and dark.

  So this was Santorini? No wonder Kurt had raved about it to her. Even if he had never visited, even if he’d never intended bringing her here, maybe for once he hadn’t been lying. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

  And now she had four weeks to enjoy it, to share it with Andreas…

  ‘You’re up, then.’

  She turned with a start to see him standing in the doorway. He looked as fresh as the morning, his hair damp at the ends where it curled over his collar, a white shirt and fitted trousers making the most of his lean shape.

  And suddenly she wasn’t sure what to be the more embarrassed about, finding herself staring hungrily at the delicious V of olive skin where his shirt was unbuttoned, or the knowledge that without intimacy they’d slept together and would do again, tonight. Damn it if her nipples hadn’t already tightened under the robe in anticipation, her pulse sending blood to all the places that shouldn’t even know he existed, but seemed to anyway. It was only sleep with him they had to look forward to, but that seemed to make no difference; she tingled all over.

  ‘I thought you’d gone to work.’

  ‘There were some things I had to attend to.’ He stopped in front of her and curled a hand under her hair, skimming her neck with his fingertips and drawing her closer, his eyes on her mouth. She sensed he was going to kiss her and she made no move to shift away, her eyelids fluttering closed on a sigh. Why should she when his touch felt so good, and when he’d agreed to her terms? Sex might be out but a kiss was definitely within the bounds of conditions she’d set. She could deal with that. Surely this was the best of all worlds?

  ‘Good. You didn’t jump,’ he said, abruptly letting her go before their lips had even connected.

  She blinked, swaying momentarily until she regained her bearings. ‘I what?’

  ‘We seem to be curing you of your habit of jumping every time I touch you. This is a good start. Perhaps now you will be more convincing.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ She studied her toes, while she pushed her hair back behind her ears, feeling a total fool for thinking he wanted to kiss her, a total fool for being so eager. ‘That is good.’

  He was already turning to go when he turned back. ‘Breakfast is being served on the terrace if you’re hungry.’

  She nodded, looking to his eyes for a hint, hoping to find a trace of the warmth and comfort she’d felt last night in her sleep, but there was nothing there and she knew what she’d felt had been a dream.

  ‘I’ll be along as soon as I’m dressed.’

  There was nothing to feel disappointed about, she told herself as she took a shower in the luxurious marble bathroom, the spray from the shower more like a downpour, raining down sense on an otherwise wayward brain. What was her problem? She had a job to do for four weeks and then she would return home, a millionaire. Tenderness didn’t come into it.

  She stepped out onto the sun-washed terrace and any remaining sense of disappointment evaporated in the wonder of the place he’d brought her to. What she’d glimpsed through the bedroom window had been magical. But outside on the terrace the view was simply breathtaking.

  She could see from one end of this island to the other, the sweeping curve of dark cliffs topped with whitewashed villages that clung to the very edge of the cliff like icing spilling over the sides of a cake.

  Andreas sat at the table already but, despite her growling stomach, she was too excited right now to sit and eat. How could she even think about eating when there was so much to devour with her eyes?

  A breeze toyed with the ends of her hair as she stood at the balustrade, the air pure and clean as she gazed out across the sapphire-blue waters. The light was wonderful, more like the bright sunlight of home rather than the grey misty blanket that so often shrouded London, defining everything with sharp detail, so that even islands far beyond this ring of cliffs could be clearly seen.

  Either side of her, t
he town of Fira spread across the clifftop, a jumble of closely packed buildings, some adorned with splashes of colourful bougainvillea and punctuated by stairways and narrow paths that somehow combined harmoniously to create a picture of charm, while far below two sleek cruise ships sat anchored. For a second memories of Kurt once more invaded her thoughts, but only for a moment. She was no day visitor here; she was living here for a month.

  ‘What do you think?’

  Andreas appeared at her side, his arm looping casually around her shoulders. Appearances, she told herself, willing away the jag in her heart rate, he’s merely keeping up appearances for the maid busy filling up coffee cups. But it didn’t matter so much any more, not when she was being treated to a place of such amazing beauty that the man-made seemed not to detract from but to complement the natural.

  ‘It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how you can bear to leave it.’

  He smiled as if pleased with her reaction. ‘It is always good to come home. Come.’ He drew her further around the terrace, pointing out the various islands. ‘This is the main island, known as Thera. The island across the water is called Therassia, and the tiny one between is known as Aspronisi.’

  ‘What about that one?’ She pointed to the low dark isle she’d noticed earlier.

  ‘That is Nea Kameni, the volcano.’

  Her head swung around. ‘Volcano!’

  He laughed, a rich deep sound that in normal circumstances would allay her fears. But these were hardly normal circumstances. He expected her to live on the edge of a volcano? ‘Like I was telling you last night, this ring of islands and these cliffs are the remains of the caldera after an eruption thousands of years ago. The empty chamber filled with sea water causing a massive explosion into which the volcano collapsed. This ring of islands is all that’s left.’

  Despite the warming rays of the sun, Cleo shivered. The island cliffs formed a crater that was enormous. That something so beautiful could be created from something so devastating beggared belief. ‘But it’s safe now, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, the volcano hasn’t erupted for some decades.’

  Cleo wrapped her arms around her midriff. ‘You mean it’s still active?’

  Andreas shrugged, a wry smile on his face. ‘The volcano is rebuilding itself. Sometimes the island rumbles with the reconstruction, and sometimes she makes herself known in more obvious ways and lets off a little steam, but for the most part the earth is quiet. You are no doubt much safer here than on the streets of London.’

  She breathed out. ‘Maybe you’re right, but Kangaroo Crossing is looking better by the minute. We lack the views of course, there’s nothing but red dust and Spinifex bushes as far as the eye can see, but at least it comes with no nasty surprises.’

  ‘You mean you don’t have poisonous spiders or snakes? What part of Australia is this?’ And she had the grace to blush.

  ‘Come,’ Andreas said, ‘let’s eat, and then I must return to work. There is a pool on the lower terrace where you can swim or you can explore the town on foot. Do you think you will be able to amuse yourself during the day?’

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ said Cleo, surprised by his apparent interest in her, but her attention snagged as she sat before the breakfast table laden with what looked more like a feast. There were bowls of creamy yoghurt drizzled with honey and platters of pastries and rolls along with a selection of cheeses and fruit from which to choose.

  ‘Good,’ he said, ‘and then tonight I will show you the sunset and you will see it’s not so bad to live on a cliff top overlooking a volcano.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for that,’ she said, ridiculously pleased with herself when she caught his answering smile.

  Refreshing was the word, he decided as he headed towards the suite of offices housed within the mansion. There was an innocence about her, a lack of sophistication that was charming.

  Did she really fear for her safety here on Santorini when she came from a country with a reputation for its dangerous wildlife? It was laughable.

  ‘Andreas, you’re back at last.’ Petra perched herself on the edge of his desk, crossed her legs and smiled, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth between blood-red lips. ‘Your mother called.’

  He didn’t miss the show of leg revealed by the split in the skirt, a skirt he’d never seen before. Was it his imagination or was Petra putting up a fight for his attention, first with her skin-tight clothes display last night, and now a skirt that was split to her thigh? ‘Did she leave a message?’

  ‘She said she’d like you to visit, said she hasn’t seen you for ages. I said you’d call her back later.’

  Andreas wondered what else she might have said. ‘Was there anything else?’

  Petra looked miffed, the coffee she’d brought them both forgotten. Coffee together in his office around this time of day had been almost a daily ritual, where they would discuss whatever business had arisen or opportunities that might be in the offing. To him, there’d been nothing more in it than one colleague talking to another. Clearly Petra had read things differently.

  ‘No, nothing.’ She eased herself off his desk, straightening her skirt with her hands, the motion accentuating her cleavage. So different from Cleo’s ingenuous innocence that he almost felt sorry for her. Cleo didn’t have to play games to draw attention to herself. He’d noticed her attributes even before the makeover experts had woven their magic. Hers was a natural beauty, fragile, buried under a lifetime of feeling not good enough.

  Cleo was more than good enough. Having her in his bed last night and trying not to touch her had been sheer torture. Only when he had been sure she’d drifted off, he’d allowed himself to gather her against him and breathe in the subtle scent of her skin and hair. Without even realising, she’d spooned her body next to his and it had taken every shred of self-control he owned to leave her sleeping when every part of him had been screamingly awake.

  ‘Although,’ Petra continued so abruptly that he looked up, surprised to see her still there, ‘I guess I should remind you about the Kalistos ball tonight. You’ll be taking Cleo, I imagine. Otherwise you and I could travel together…’

  ‘Of course, I’m taking Cleo,’ he barked as he sent her on her way. He suppressed a groan as he leaned back in his chair. What was wrong with him? It was clearly marked on his diary, but at breakfast he’d forgotten all about the ball and was thinking in terms of sunsets with Cleo instead. He knew what he’d rather do. But with Kalistos still to give his decision on Andreas’ latest proposal to tie their businesses together, a proposal that could benefit both companies to the tune of millions of Euros, there was no way he couldn’t show up. As for taking Cleo, she was starting to relax with him, but ideally he’d like another day or two before he could be sure she’d be completely convincing on his arm.

  Another day or two he didn’t have.

  Cleo had never been more nervous in her life. She’d wondered why Mme Bernadette had insisted on her taking the numerous gowns and had half suspected she’d been merely feathering her own nest—a Greek island sojourn surely wouldn’t require ball gowns?—and yet here she was, dressed in the pale gold halter-neck gown, her hair piled high on her head with coils trailing around her face courtesy of the hairdresser Andreas had sent to their suite, curtailing her sightseeing plans for today.

  Andreas hadn’t helped relax her when he’d taken one look at her and whistled low through his teeth, sending her pulse and her senses skittering. And he certainly wasn’t helping relax her now as they drove down the windy switchback road to the port.

  ‘Constantine Kalistos is not only one of the major business and political leaders on the island, but also owns the largest charter boat operation in Greece,’ he told her, in a tone that suggested she should be taking notes. ‘He’s considering a business proposal I put to him and he’s the main reason we’re here tonight. He’s the perfect host but, at the same time, he’s a man you don’t want to offend.’

 
Cleo battled to absorb the information, growing more nervous by the second as the car pulled closer to a wharf lit with coloured lanterns, music spilling from the massive yacht moored alongside, couples dripping with jewellery and designer fashions emerging from the limousines and sports cars lined up before them.

  Help. She’d never been on a boat bigger than a canoe and she’d never been to any function more glamorous than the Kangaroo Crossing Bachelor and Spinster Ball, where Akubras were just as likely sighted as bow ties. She swallowed. There were no Akubras here.

  Andreas followed her from the car, his hand collecting hers, and she’d never been more grateful to have him alongside. She was so nervous she was sure she was going to wobble straight off her gold kidskin spike-heeled sandals, especially as she stumbled with the gentle movement of the gangplank under her feet.

  ‘Relax,’ Andreas whispered, setting her coiling hair dancing around her ear. ‘And smile. You’ll be fine.’ And then he was tugging her forward, onto the brightly lit boat with the even more brightly lit people, and they were greeting Andreas and giving her openly curious glances and she wondered how a girl from Kangaroo Crossing got to be here, in a softly swaying yacht filled with Santorini’s who’s who with clearly the most handsome man on the island. One look around at the glittering attendees was enough to confirm that.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Andreas asked softly, breaking off a greeting to someone, and she looked up into his dark eyes, confused. ‘I thought you wanted something,’ he added. ‘You squeezed my arm.’ And she smiled and nodded, not even having realised she’d done it. ‘I’m fine,’ she told him, wishing for nothing more than for the butterflies in her stomach to settle down.

  Something passed between them then, some spark of approval or warmth, she didn’t know what to call it, but she felt it in his glance all the way down to her lacquered toenails, and she knew from his answering smile that he’d felt it too. So what if the only thing that bound them was a business contract? Would it be so wrong to like the man into the deal?