Mediterranean Seduction. Кэрол Мортимер

was the safer option, she decided, the moment his hand locked with her own.

      ‘We’ve already met—on the beach,’ he reminded her in a voice that was low and steady, as if he wanted to remind her fully of her humiliation without alerting Marianna to trouble.

      Charlotte felt a tremor run through her as his strength closed around her. The possibility that he was intimately acquainted with every inch of her left her feeling at a distinct disadvantage.

      She refused to look at him, but his handshake was firm and confident, his hand warm and strong, and surprisingly smooth. He made her think of a powerful engine idling, and her imagination leapt to fill in the blanks. She couldn’t even begin to guess at the consequences of stirring such immense potential into action. He would need ten women to satisfy him, at least, she thought wildly, instinctively backing away when he released her hand—which he did disappointingly soon.

      There was something about Iannis Kiriakos that insanely made Charlotte want to rest against him for a moment. He made her feel so tiny and defenceless, made the air around her seem charged with an energy that hadn’t been there before. And, as hard as she tried to ignore him, a determined heat was busily invading every inch of her—filling her with hunger. And not for food.

      She detected a faint, spicy edge to the food-fragranced air. Sandalwood, Charlotte decided, inhaling appreciatively, one of her favourite scents, and a sophisticated choice for a fisherman.

      As curiosity got the better of her she glanced up, only to be met by a slanting ironic stare that made her stomach quiver in response. A day’s worth of stubble darkened his tanned face which, with the black waves curling over the collar of his shirt, made her fisherman look exactly like a pirate.

      His hair was thick and glossy, and she imagined running her fingers through it—if only she could have reached. When he shifted position in response to a question from one of the cooks he moved so close to her that Charlotte felt as if an electric current had just surged through her body.

      Now most of her view was taken up by the broad sweep of his shoulders, and the ease with which he moved suggested he was a lot more relaxed about their close proximity than she could ever be.

      Concentrate on gathering facts for your article, Charlotte told herself primly. But her thoughts centred on their encounter at the beach, and the deep, challenging voice suggesting she should come out of her hiding place stark naked to claim her clothes.

      Steadying her breathing, Charlotte tried again to revive her professional nose for a story. Iannis Kiriakos is completely at ease with himself and the world he inhabits, she logged mentally. Materially, he may have little, in comparison to many men, but he is infinitely more assured than most. He talks easily to everyone, and everyone appears to take pleasure in his company. Except me, Charlotte realised, swallowing nervously when he swung around to stare at her.

      ‘That’s enough time spent in the kitchen,’ Marianna said, startling Charlotte as she took hold of her arm. Nudging Iannis out of the way, Marianna positioned herself between them. ‘I have chosen our food, and now we will return to our table,’ she said firmly, and steered Charlotte towards the door.

      Charlotte was ready to believe she had never been more grateful to anyone in her life as they exited the kitchen. But on their way back to the table Marianna had no hesitation in throwing the blackest of glances at any man who presumed to show interest in her charge. It was as if she was already spoken for, Charlotte realised with amusement. And she was more than happy to go along with that—as long as Marianna’s plans for her had nothing to with Iannis Kiriakos.

      ‘Marianna, who is Iannis?’ Charlotte said, the moment they sat down again.

      But just as Marianna was on the point of answering some friends at a neighbouring table attracted her attention.

      Charlotte was beginning to feel vaguely threatened by the mysterious fisherman, and her lack of knowledge about him only added to the uncertainty.

      She had never been confronted by such an overload of testosterone in her life, Charlotte told herself, thinking that must be the reason for her worry. Forcing herself to relax, she leaned forward to put the question to Marianna again. But before Marianna had a chance to say anything everyone started to applaud. The evening’s entertainment had begun.

      ‘Ah, the musicians,’ Marianna said, clapping her hands with pleasure and pointing as the bouzouki band assembled on the low stage at the far end of the jetty. She beamed at Charlotte. ‘I do hope you will enjoy this evening,’ she said, leaning over the table to pat Charlotte’s hand.

      ‘I know I will,’ Charlotte said warmly, putting her doubts to one side. But the smile soon froze on her face when Iannis Kiriakos walked across the dance floor and chose a table directly facing her.

      As he settled down people called to him from other tables, and lifted their glasses to him in a toast. The whole of the taverna seemed to vibrate at a different frequency now he was here, Charlotte realised, wondering why that should be so. It was as if his presence was the signal for the music to strike up too.

      Maybe he had been away from the island for some time, she reasoned. The welcome he was getting suggested something of the sort. But where would a man like Iannis go? To another island close by, perhaps?

      Charlotte could see Marianna looking at her curiously, and was just about to launch into a whole series of questions when the volume of the music rose, making conversation impossible. And Marianna was soon engaged in a jovial shouting match with some friends at the nearby table. But it was Iannis Kiriakos who troubled Charlotte the most. He seemed to have only one person in his sight-line.

      Charlotte dropped her gaze quickly, but not fast enough. Their eyes had clashed briefly, but it had been enough for her face to flame red as she interpreted the question in her fisherman’s gaze: Available, or not available? And there had been a curve at one corner of his hard and extremely sensuous mouth that seemed to suggest he already knew the answer to his silent question.

      Before Charlotte could think what to do about it their food arrived, piled high on huge platters carried at shoulder height by a boisterous stream of waiters led by the fun-loving Mikos. She felt faint with relief at the distraction, and threw herself whole-heartedly into the rhythmical applause that greeted the parade.

      ‘This is just wonderful,’ she called across to Marianna.

      ‘I knew it was an evening you shouldn’t miss,’ Marianna agreed, inclining her head graciously.

      But beneath Marianna’s hooded lids Charlotte glimpsed a glint of something that aroused her suspicious. Surely Marianna wouldn’t have engineered the meeting with Iannis Kiriakos? Charlotte dismissed her suspicions on the grounds of Marianna’s traditional upbringing. She would never expose an unattached woman to a blatantly rampant male when that woman was leaving the island in just a few days’ time. And more than that, Charlotte realised, she trusted Marianna.

      Within minutes of her arrival on the island she had found herself confiding in the older woman in a way she would never have believed possible with someone who was practically a stranger. But Marianna had that quality. She drew people to her. She had drawn out the pain of Charlotte’s failed marriage like pus from a wound, and by the time she’d left that first evening Charlotte had felt the healing process had begun.

      Marianna’s thoughts on Charlotte’s failure as a trophy wife had been bluntly put. ‘You need someone who is content in themselves—a man who does not need possessions to find his level in life.’

      No, Charlotte told herself firmly, never in a million years would Marianna set her up with the steely-looking individual currently viewing her as if she was the next tasty dish on the menu.

      Soon Charlotte’s own platter was piled high with food. The fish was so fresh it melted in her mouth like butter, and the bowls of salads and dips were so delicious she hardly knew where to begin.

      ‘Use your fingers,’ Marianna advised, taking the lead.

      Breaking off a chunk of bread, Charlotte joined her in dunking it into the fragrant