Exotic Nights: The Virgin's Secret / The Devil's Heart / Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse. Natalie Anderson

was dressed in pants and a vest. She scrabbled back as far as she could go, away from him. She felt exposed at having been caught sleeping. How long had he been there?

      Leo stood up from the bed and Angel asked huskily, ‘What time is it?’

      He consulted his watch. ‘It’s 8:00 p.m.’

      Angel sat up in shock, still holding the sheet. ‘I’ve been asleep all day?’

      Leo nodded and went over to pull the curtains back, so Angel could see the sun starting to set in the sky. She felt completely disorientated—jet-lagged, almost. Leo started to walk out of the room, barely glancing at Angel now. ‘Dinner will be served in twenty minutes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’

      While he waited for Angel, Leo stood at the huge French windows of the less formal dining room. The doors were opened out onto the terrace—the same terrace he’d brought Angel out to on the night of the party. He could scarcely fathom that he’d been in Athens for barely twenty-four hours and already had Angel in his home. Yet bizarrely it felt right.

      Just now, when he’d woken her, he’d seen something that had reminded him of that first evening they’d met. For a moment before she’d woken she’d almost turned to him, with a soft smile around her mouth, and that enticing beauty spot at the corner of her lip had made him want to bend down and kiss it. Made him want to do so much more. When she’d opened her eyes, though, he’d noticed slight shadows still lingering.

      Her hair had been sleep-mussed, tangled over one bare shoulder, where the strap of her vest had fallen down. She’d looked incredibly sexy, yet unbelievably vulnerable, and he had felt a niggle of unease at how quickly things had progressed from him finding her creeping through the villa. He’d pushed the unease aside. Even those three hours waiting for her to return had been torturous. He’d actually been nervous that she wouldn’t return. That, despite everything he had on her, she would defy him. Leo noticed his hands had gone into fists now, just thinking about it. He forced them to uncurl.

      He thought of how she’d looked when she’d returned, with shadows like bruises under her eyes …

       She’d come into his family home to steal from them.

      With more effort than he liked to admit, Leo pushed down the concern. A tight coil of desire held him in its grip. Tonight he’d have her, and he’d no doubt that within a very short space of time she’d prove to be as dismayingly predictable as every other woman he’d ever met, ultimately using emotion arising from intimacy, thinking that she could manipulate him.

      He heard a noise at the door and turned around slowly. It was time for Angel to face the consequences of her actions.

      Angel’s skin prickled when she was shown into a dining room by a smiling housekeeper and saw Leo standing with his back to her. The windows were open and the curtains fluttered on the breeze. She had no idea how to act in this situation. No idea what was expected of her. She felt acutely lonely all of a sudden.

      Leo turned around slowly, and the impact on her senses was nothing short of cataclysmic. She’d not really noticed what he was wearing in her room; she’d been too shocked and groggy. But now she saw that he was dressed in a pair of lovingly worn and faded jeans, which clung to him like a second skin. The material stretched over powerful thighs and long, long legs.

      A black polo shirt made the brown of his eyes seem even darker, his skin seem even more olive. His shoulders were almost too broad for the material, and huge biceps bulged from beneath the short sleeves.

      ‘Come and see the view, Angel.’

      I’m already looking at it, she felt like blurting out slightly hysterically.

      Knowing she was in a situation she couldn’t get out of, her fate sealed by her own stupidly impetuous actions and her wanting to make everything all right for Delphi, Angel walked over to Leo, very self-conscious in her plain black shift dress. Hair pulled back. She coloured when she saw his gaze drop. She’d viewed him on Google him in a moment of weakness and seen exactly the kind of woman he went for: invariably tall, blonde, soignée. Experienced. A million miles from herself.

      ‘Very demure,’ he murmured when she came close.

      ‘If I’d known casual was okay I would have worn jeans too,’ she said stiffly, her gaze resolutely fixed on the view of Athens spread out below them. Not even that spectacular vista could distract her from the man beside her.

      ‘I like to be casual at home, Angel, so here you can wear what you want … even go naked if you wish,’ he finished softly.

      Angel coloured even more at his mocking tone, wondering what on earth he saw in her. ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Pity.’

      She heard him pour some wine into a glass, and then he was offering it to her. She took it—anything to try and give her some courage.

      ‘What do you think of the view—it’s amazing, no?’

      Angel snuck a quick look up; Leo was staring out, his profile to her, showing that he had a slight bump in his nose, and she could see the faint raised line of the scar over his lip. Hurriedly she looked back, afraid to be caught staring.

      ‘Yes, it’s truly beautiful.’ Amidst everything, she thought of something else, and looked at her watch to check the time. ‘Actually, any minute now … yes, there. Look—’ Angel lifted her hand to point to where the evening lights were coming on to illuminate the Acropolis, far below in the distance.

      She heard Leo’s intake of breath and couldn’t look at him, for some reason afraid of what she might see. It was always a magical sight, and one that took her breath away too. Was it having the same effect on him? She felt a lurch to think that she’d grown up seeing it as an everyday occurrence but he hadn’t.

      ‘I’ve seen the lights before, but never the moment when they come on like that.’

      Angel murmured something inarticulate feeling unaccountably guilty. She turned with more than a little relief when the housekeeper bustled in with their food, and Leo turned too, indicating for her to precede him to the table.

      Leo watched Angel walk in front of him, took in the glossy hair tied back in a low, careless bun, the long, elegant neck. And looked down to where her bare legs were slender, yet shapely enough to make his heart kick and his pulse throb.

      Her palpable air of nervousness had caught him unawares as she’d stood beside him. He had to question why she was feigning it now, when they both knew where they stood. She’d been nervous before, in the study, but that had no doubt been because she’d no idea how he’d react to catching her red-handed.

      He’d certainly not been prepared to have her point out a sight she must have seen a thousand times before, which must be wholly unremarkable to her but had taken his breath away, seeing it for the first time. In any other instance he would have considered it a sweetly considerate gesture.

      She wasn’t acting the way he’d imagined she’d act in this situation. He’d expected a certain initial belligerence, or even defiance at having been caught and manipulated so spectacularly. Or he’d imagined that she’d want to make the most of the situation and take advantage of becoming his mistress. Leo had yet to meet a woman who didn’t see the advantage in becoming his mistress, so for her to be feigning this nervous skittishness was going to get her nowhere fast.

      They sat down. Leo looked at Angel darkly, but she was avoiding his eyes. Straightening her cutlery, her napkin. She was up to something. She had to be. Trying to disarm him for some reason. He reminded himself that she’d been home earlier, and of course she must have taken advice from her father. Leo cursed himself. The fact that he didn’t trust Angel was not in question, so why was he trying to decipher her behaviour? The only behaviour that concerned him was her good behaviour as his mistress, on his arm and in his bed. Anything above and beyond that was of no interest to him.

      Angel was doing her best to eat the deliciously prepared dinner, but it tasted like sawdust