Mediterranean Seduction. Кэрол Мортимер

told herself as they strolled back to the villa. Perhaps Iannis just liked nice things. Perhaps he had come into money. Perhaps the expensive accessories she had seen lying around were gifts from a grateful lover.

      The last thought made her so angry she had to stop thinking altogether for a few moments.

      She told herself that her suspicions were the product of an overactive imagination. Yes, he could be warm, and witty, and he had a breadth of knowledge she found stimulating—but there was a library on Iskos, as well as television and radio, and doubtless the village school was very good.

      The deserted villa was all in darkness, and rose like a milky-white spectre amidst a gathering circle of trees. Could he really leave her alone in such a place?

      Iannis was already answering his own question as his keen gaze raked the shadows.

      Had he lost his appetite for revenge? he mused, steadying Charlotte as she stumbled in the darkness. He wanted to believe she was misguided rather than bad. Surely the fallout from her invasion into his privacy could be dealt with? And, not only that, she would be out of his life for good in a couple of days.

      When she gave a soft cry and stumbled again, with a sound of impatience he swung her into his arms.

      ‘I’m perfectly capable of walking—’

      ‘I’m sure you are. But this is easier. I have to be at work early in the morning, so I need to get to bed. I’ve no time for detours to the hospital if you twist your ankle.’

      ‘You’re too kind,’ Charlotte commented wryly.

      ‘Aren’t I?’ Iannis countered, matching her provocative tone.

      When they reached the door he set her down and held out his hand for the key. Opening the door, he stood back to let her pass and then followed her inside.

      ‘Are you sure you don’t get nervous when you’re here on your own?’ he said, his voice echoing around the empty hall.

      ‘Not really,’ Charlotte admitted as she went ahead of him to switch on the lights. ‘Staying on my own at the villa has been good for me. Sometimes it’s important to have time on your own—thinking time. Do you know what I mean?’

      Iannis refrained from answering, just eased his shoulders in a shrug as he leaned back against the door.

      ‘Come in. Close the door,’ Charlotte said. ‘I just have to check something—do you mind?’

      And what if I do? Iannis thought, irritation rising inside him as he guessed what she was about to do.

      Charlotte glanced towards the kitchen door, knowing her responsibilities lay behind it. She was keen to log on, to see if there had been any reaction yet to the first draft of her article. She would offer him a drink—distract him…

      Iannis watched her head straight for the scrubbed pine table where she had left her laptop. His gaze mapped out everything—the Internet connection leading from the telephone box on the wall, her notepad, and the neat stack of printed sheets.

      ‘I won’t be long,’ Charlotte said as she flashed him a smile.

      ‘No problem—why don’t I wait for you outside on the veranda?’ Something held him back from staying close by. Let her have enough rope to hang herself, Iannis thought bitterly as he moved towards the outer doors.

      ‘I’ll bring a nightcap outside for us when I’ve finished,’ Charlotte called after him. ‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’

      ‘No hurry,’ Iannis murmured. How true. He was in no hurry to read her eyes and see what the reaction had been to the work she had completed.

      He could have predicted that it would be foremost in her mind when she got back, he realised, making himself comfortable on one of the outdoor chairs. And yet, he had delayed his departure in order to have one last night with her. Their relationship was beginning to show some unfortunate similarities to a tawdry series of farewell tours.

      A muscle flexed in his jaw and he looked back into the villa to watch Charlotte leaning over the computer as she read from the screen. He had become far too trusting, and now he must pay the penalty for allowing her to get too close. If she hadn’t left him alone that morning when he’d come to take her to the beach he might never have seen those sheets of paper, never read the notes she had written about him. But they were emblazoned on his mind, Iannis realised, feeling his anger mounting as Charlotte continued to tap on the keyboard, apparently oblivious to his existence.

      It seemed certain that her work was all she cared about. He was nothing but a vehicle through which she could boost her annual salary. It was a new angle, he allowed, struggling to contain his scorn, and it would be interesting to see just how far she was prepared to go with the deception.

      He studied her face keenly. The intense concentration, the slight smile tugging at her lips only served to fuel his resentment. She had clearly received good news from her editor.

      He made a harsh sound of contempt. How could anyone not appreciate her theme? The idyllic existence of a simple Greek fisherman compared to the stressful life of the reader. Even he could see it was a winner. But she would pay for the insult. No one abused a member of the Kiriakos clan and got away with it.

      Use her and lose her? Iannis ground his jaw in frustration. It should have been so easy, if only he hadn’t allowed feelings to get in the way. If he had been a headstrong youth this foolhardy affair might have been defensible, but he was a thirty-five year old man, with no excuse for falling deeply and passionately in love with the one woman on earth who had chosen to betray him.

      His eyes narrowed as he recalled the damning words she had used. According to Charlotte’s article he, Iannis Kiriakos, had found the meaning of life here on Iskos! Once pictures of him unguarded and relaxed were flashed around the world he would be a laughing stock. He winced as he remembered how she had mocked—what was it?—his ‘homely joys, and destiny obscure’? He only hoped he never had occasion to remind Charlotte of those words, for if he did—

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, coming towards him through the double doors onto the veranda. ‘I didn’t expect to take so long.’

      Iannis lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘Keeping in touch with things back home?’ he said mildly, pretending unconcern. But inside he was seething. He had delayed his departure from the island for her—and for what? So she could finesse the article that held him up for ridicule?

      As Iannis looked at Charlotte his passion flared. He had a stark choice to make: confront her now and end the relationship—or enjoy her one last time.

      ‘That’s right,’ Charlotte agreed, a smile hovering uncertainly on her lips as she tried to interpret the look on Iannis’s face. ‘Work,’ she explained with an apologetic shrug, ‘it just won’t go away—’ She gasped as he caught hold of her arms and dragged her to him, his eyes blazing with passion.

      He was going to miss her, Charlotte reasoned, feeling her heart soar. And then he started kissing her and she knew it would be all right.

      Reaching up when he drew back, she meshed her fingers through his hair and then cupped his face between her hands to bring him close and kiss his lips longingly, lovingly. Closing her eyes, she rested against his encircling arm, sighing with delicious anticipation as Iannis slipped her dress off. Swinging her onto his lap on the reclining chair, he suckled one extended nipple through the fine mesh of her bra.

      It all felt so right, as Charlotte turned her attention to Iannis’s clothing. He was an incredible lover—passionate and demanding, but tender and considerate too. He had restored her self-esteem; he had shown her how lovemaking could be…should be. She moaned softly, struggling to keep her brain waves in order as he turned his attention to the neglected nipple, taking that between his lips and suckling whilst he subjected the other to some delicious torture between his thumb and forefinger.

      And there was the article, Charlotte remembered, just before she sank beneath a wave of sensation. Nothing she had ever written