The Thirty-Day Seduction. Kay Thorpe

anyway? This was Dimitris’s day.

      Their destination lay barely a couple of miles away around the other side of the headland. Reached through olive groves, the house drew a breath of delight. Creeper-covered white walls nestled beneath a faded red roof, each tall and graceful window flanked by dark blue shutters. Big enough to house several families, Chelsea judged, but still looking like a home rather than a showplace.

      They were not the first arrivals. Several cars were already parked around the gravelled area fronting the house. Dion slid an arm around Chelsea’s waist as they entered a spacious hall which appeared to go all the way through to the rear of the building, where tall double doors were folded back to reveal a magnificent, uninterrupted view of the sea.

      “I thought we didn’t have to pretend anything,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

      “No more we do,” he confirmed, but he made no attempt to remove the arm, steering her in the direction of the rear exit with his mother and sister following on behind.

      The doorway gave on to an iron-railed terrace, from which a flight of stone steps led down to a wide, paved courtyard brilliant with spilling plant life. There were several umbrella-shaded tables, but the majority of people gathered down there were standing around in small groups. The shouts and screams associated with young people enjoying themselves could clearly be heard, although they were nowhere to be seen.

      “They’ll be down on the lower level,” Dion supplied, anticipating the question. He indicated the stone archway at the far end of the courtyard. “Through there. The gardens are built on several levels down to the shore. Nikos will have organised entertainment on one of the lawns so that they don’t injure themselves.”

      He scrutinised the groups below, his grasp tensing a little as he found what he sought. “There’s Elini. The one in red.”

      Chelsea followed his gaze, coming to rest on a curvaceous young figure in a bright red dress that showed off the cloud of black hair to its best advantage. No more than eighteen, she judged, studying the captivating face; something of a flirt too, if the way she was smiling up at the young man next to her was anything to go by.

      Kiria Pandrossos and Florina had already descended to greet friends and neighbours. Chelsea allowed herself to be drawn down the steps, fixing a smile on her face as Dion proceeded to introduce her to people. The response appeared genial enough on the surface, though she sensed a certain reticence in some. It was only to be expected, she supposed, that not everyone would welcome a foreigner in their midst on a purely Greek occasion.

      The group Elini was with Dion left till the last. Chelsea attempted to weigh up the girl’s reaction when they were introduced, but saw little sign that her presence was arousing any jealousy-assuming that was what Dion was after.

      She stiffened involuntarily as someone came up behind her, knowing who it was even before he spoke.

      “Come and meet my son,” said Nikos, making it sound as much like a command as an invitation. “He’ll be delighted to practise his English on you.” His smile encompassed the rest of the group, Dion included. “Signomi, parakalo.”

      They were halfway across the patio before Chelsea drew breath. Nikos wasn’t touching her in any waywasn’t even all that close-yet she could feel the sunstoked heat of his body radiating through the white slacks and shirt he was wearing. Only the women had bothered to dress up, she had already noted, the men opting for comfort rather than style.

      “It’s a lovely day for it,” she remarked, driven once more to say something-anything.

      “For what?” Nikos queried without particular inflexion.

      “A child’s birthday party. So much better if it can be held outdoors, where they can let off steam without creating havoc. I mean, no matter how good they are normally, kids tend to get over-excited on occasions like this. I can remember my mother going spare over the mess my guests used to create!” She was babbling and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Of course, you don’t have to cater for weather variations to quite the same extent we do back home. People even take out insurance against having an event rained off.”

      “With very short odds, I imagine,” Nikos commented drily. He glanced her way, eyebrow lifting. “Do you have anything more to say on the subject?”

      Chelsea pulled a rueful face. “I’m not always so garrulous.”

      “But with me you have to talk in an effort to conceal what I make you feel.”

      They had reached the archway. Down another flight of steps lay a walled and grassed area where what appeared at first glance to be several dozen children were whooping it up with a whole troupe of clowns. Nikos made no immediate move to descend, studying her face with unconcealed amusement.

      “So assured on the surface, so timorous beneath,” he taunted. “Would you deny your response to me?”

      Several suitably flippant replies raced through Chelsea’s mind, all of them discarded. The only way to deal with this situation was to answer in like vein.

      “Not for a moment,” she said. “I’m sure there’s no woman alive whose heart fails to palpitate when you’re around.”

      “Ah, but not all women stir me the way you do.” His voice had lowered, infinitely seductive in its caressing intonation.

      “Tough!” she shot back at him, determined to keep her end up. “As I told you last night, I’m not on the market.”

      “Last night was last night.” Eyes glinting in the sunlight, he indicated the steps. “Shall we go down?”

      Conscious that several pairs of eyes were on them, Chelsea took the line of least resistance. At least there would be no more such talk with children in the vicinity. Time to unravel her stomach muscles and get a hold of herself.

      A small, wiry figure emerged from the general throng as the two of them reached the bottom of the steps, tearing across to issue a breathless greeting. Dressed in shorts and T-shirt, as were most of the children, black hair cut short to control a riotous curl, he had a positively angelic little face, every feature exquisitely defined.

      Not bothering to wait for Nikos to perform formal introductions, Chelsea gave the boy a broad smile. “Hallo, Dimitris, my name is Chelsea.” She held out the small package she had been toting around. “Happy birthday!”

      Looking a little nonplussed, the boy waited for his father’s nod before accepting the present, not forgetting to say, “Efcharisto.” He showed the usual childish impatience in tearing off the wrappings, viewing the handsized LCD pinball game enclosed with puzzled eyes.

      Forgetting Nikos for the moment, Chelsea squatted at the boy’s side to show him how to use the game, sparking an eager desire to try it for himself. Next moment he was racing off to show the machine to his friends, gathering a little crowd about him, all clamouring for a go.

      “Thank you,” said Nikos as Chelsea straightened. “You appear to have a very good idea of what appeals to small boys.”

      Big boys too, she thought with irony. The difference being that she wasn’t out to gratify the latter.

      “Just a token,” she said. “Makes me feel a bit less of a gatecrasher.”

      Nikos gave her a quizzical look. “You were invited.”

      “Only because common courtesy made it impossible for you to do anything else.”

      “True,” he agreed. “But it was no great hardship. Your presence would enhance any occasion.”

      “Such a gentleman!” she muttered, and saw his mouth stretch into a slow smile.

      “Not always, ylikia.”

      What “ylikia” meant, Chelsea had no idea. Nor did she care to ask. She turned her attention a little desperately to the group of young women seated together around a table in a far corner. “Are they the