Greek Mavericks: Winning The Enigmatic Greek. Tara Pammi

      That brief kiss had been the most erotic thing to happen to him in a long time but it had led precisely nowhere and although he wasn’t a man used to being denied what he really wanted—he was now being forced to experience exactly that. So he’d been a little distant with her, intending to indicate his disapproval of women who teased, thinking his impatience would make her realise his patience was wearing thin. He’d anticipated her finding him alone in some quiet moment. He’d imagined her sliding down the zipper of his trousers and touching him where he ached to be touched. He swallowed. Any other woman would have done—and Keeley certainly had history on that score. If things had gone according to plan, by now he should have bedded her and enjoyed several sessions of mind-blowing sex. In fact, by now he probably would have been growing bored with her inevitable adoration and his only dilemma would be working out the best way to tell her it was over.

      But it hadn’t turned out like that.

      She had thrown herself into her work with an enthusiasm which had taken him by surprise. Had she stacked supermarket shelves with such passion? he wondered wryly. Demetra had informed him that the Englishwoman was a joy to have around the kitchen and around the house. A joy? he wondered grimly. He had seen little evidence of it so far.

      Was her frosty attitude intended to stoke up his sexual appetite? Because if that was the case then it was working. His blood pressure soared every time she walked onto the terrace in her crisp white uniform. The white cotton dress gave her a look of purity and her blonde hair was scraped neatly back into a no-nonsense chignon, which made her appear the perfect servant. Yet the glitter of fire in her green eyes whenever she was forced to meet his gaze was unmistakable—as if she was daring him to come near her again.

      He resurfaced into the bright, golden morning, shaking droplets of water from his head before beginning to swim powerfully towards the shore. It was time to face the day ahead and to play at being host. Four of his guests had arrived but Bailey Saunders was no longer on the guest list. He’d phoned her a couple of days ago and asked for a rain check, and she had agreed. Of course she had. Women always did. He felt a beat of anticipation as he walked across the sand.

      Maybe it was time for Keeley Turner to realise that it was pointless resisting the inevitable.

      * * *

      ‘Will you take the coffee out, Keeley?’ Demetra pointed to the loaded tray.

      ‘Of course.’ Keeley smoothed down her white uniform dress. ‘Shall I put some of those little lemon biscuits on a plate?’

      ‘Efharisto.’

      ‘Parakalo.’ Automatically checking that she had everything she needed, Keeley carried it out onto the terrace with a heavy heart. Another trip to the table which had been set up next to the infinity pool, where Ariston was finishing a long lunch with his glamorous guests, and she was dreading it. Dreading seeing his rugged face watching her, his expression hidden behind his dark glasses as she tried to walk along the edge of the pool without appearing too self-conscious, but it was difficult. Just as it was difficult to forget that kiss they’d shared, when he’d made her usually non-responsive body spring to life—and left her in a state of frustrated arousal ever since. It was as if he’d lit the touchpaper of her repressed sexuality and set it on fire.

      And she had only herself to blame.

      Why hadn’t she stopped him from pulling her into his arms like that? Because she’d been powerless to stop him. She had wanted him to do it. She still wanted him to do it.

      She bit her lip. She’d done her best to push him to the back of her mind—avoiding him whenever possible and concentrating on her work, determined to do a job she could be proud of. She wanted to wipe out his negative impressions of her and show him she could be honest and hard-working and decent. Just like she was determined not to raise the suspicions of the people she worked with. She liked Demetra and Stelios, just as she liked the extra staff who’d been drafted in from the nearby village to help with the house party. She didn’t want them to think she had some kind of thing with the boss. All she wanted was to be seen as the helpful Englishwoman who was eager to take on her fair share.

      The sun was warm on her head as she took the coffee outside to where the five of them were sitting around the remains of the meal she’d served them—Xenon, Megan, Santino, Rachel and Ariston. She’d been introduced to them yesterday and they all seemed the jet-setting type of people she no longer associated with. She’d forgotten that life where women changed their outfits four times a day and spent more on a straw hat than Keeley spent on her entire summer wardrobe. She’d been as polite and as friendly as her position required but she was also aware that as a member of staff she was mostly invisible. Only the friendly Rachel had treated her as if she was a real person—and always made a point of chatting whenever she saw her.

      Rachel’s long, bronzed legs were stretched out in front of her and she brightened when she saw Keeley approaching with the silver coffee pot glinting in the sunshine.

      ‘Oh, yum. I love this Greek coffee!’ she said. ‘It’s so thick and sweet.’

      ‘I won’t make the obvious comparison,’ commented Santino drily, easily catching the hastily balled napkin which his girlfriend hurled at him in mock rage.

      Rachel took a small cup from the tray. ‘Thanks, Keeley. Is it possible to have some more sparkling water? It’s so hot today. You must be baking in that uniform,’ she observed, with a frown. ‘Does Ariston allow you to cool off in the pool or does he constantly keep your nose to the grindstone?’

      ‘Oh, Keeley knows she has the run of the place when she isn’t working,’ murmured Ariston. ‘She just chooses not to take advantage of it, don’t you, Keeley?’

      They were all looking at her and Keeley was acutely aware of the fact that Rachel and Megan were both wearing gauzy kaftans over tiny bikinis, while she was wearing a uniform which made her feel completely overdressed as well as overheated. All Ariston’s staff wore uniforms—but somehow on her it looked all wrong. It was the right size and everything but it did unwanted things to her figure. It was the one thing she’d inherited from her mother which she could do nothing about. Because no matter how much she tried to disguise her shape with loose-fitting clothes, her bust always seemed too big and the curve of her hips that fraction too wide, so everything clung precisely where she didn’t want it to cling.

      ‘I have a great big ocean on my doorstep if ever I feel the need to swim, but when I’m not working I mostly spend time doing stuff on my computer,’ she said and then, because they were still looking at her questioningly, she felt obliged to offer some kind of explanation. ‘I’m studying for a diploma in business studies,’ she added.

      ‘Well, that’s all very admirable but you need to take time off occasionally. What’s it they say about all work and no play?’ questioned Rachel, raking her fingers back through her dark hair and shooting Ariston a quizzical glance. ‘Didn’t you say that Bailey has bailed this weekend, if you’ll excuse the pun?’

      ‘Bailey is no longer coming, no,’ Ariston said smoothly.

      ‘So we’ll be a woman short at dinner?’ persisted Rachel.

      ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to cope with that,’ said Santino. ‘Since when did you ever worry about odd numbers, cara? You always seem to have enough conversation to compensate for any absent guests.’

      ‘That much is true.’ Rachel smiled. ‘But why doesn’t Keeley join us instead, to make the numbers up?’

      Ariston removed his dark glasses and glimmered Keeley an unfathomable look. ‘Yes,’ he said, his velvety accent seeming to whisper like velvet across her skin. ‘Why don’t you join us for dinner later?’

      She shook her head. ‘No, honestly. I can’t.’

      ‘Why not? I’m giving you permission to take the evening off. In fact, look on it as an order.’ His smile was hard and determined. ‘I’m sure we have enough staff for you not to be missed waiting at table.’

      ‘It’s