Taken By Her Greek Boss. Cathy Williams

of permanence and commitment to blur the edges of a relationship. He was speechless now at her sweeping assumptions, but absolutely through with defending himself and he stood up and began walking out of the kitchen while Rose gathered herself and followed him.

      She had exhausted her argument and now there was nothing left to be said. Nick obviously thought the same thing because he stuck on his coat in silence, only looking at her when he was about to leave, with his hand on the door knob, in fact.

      Rose pulled her dressing gown even tighter around her. In the half light, the man was frighteningly sexy and she felt an unwelcome shiver race down her spine, like the light, trailing touch of a finger. No, he certainly wouldn’t need an empty casting couch to attract women, she thought. He just had to look at them. She harnessed her thoughts back to her sister and primly congratulated herself on spotting a heartbreaker and trying to do something about it.

      ‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said coldly, ‘and the warning. Take a tip from me—get a life, spend your Saturdays doing something and then maybe you wouldn’t work yourself up into a lather over your sister and what she’s getting up to. I’ll wait outside for the cab.’

      With that he opened the door and, with perfect timing, the taxi pulled up.

      Infuriated and insulted he might be, but Nick was hardly aware of the drive back to his house. There was a message on his answering machine. He played it back to discover that it was from Susanna, apologising in a trembling voice. He erased it without bothering to hear it fully out.

      Damned Rose! Lurching out of nowhere like a furious little avenging angel, and now he couldn’t erase her from his mind. Experienced as Nick was in compartmentalising his personal life, he was sourly aware that the abrasive woman had rubbed him the wrong way to such an extent that he spent the better part of what remained of the night brooding and not even thoughts of work were sufficiently tantalising a distraction.

      The furious avenging angel, less furious now as she lay in bed some twenty minutes after she had slammed the front door behind him, stared up at the ceiling and glumly admitted to herself that the man had got under her skin. Get a life. The taunt rankled because it had hit its target with the unswerving accuracy of a guided missile. Twenty-nine years old, as good as, and here she was, wearing ridiculous pyjamas and still playing caretaker to a sister who no longer needed caretaking.

      Where had all the party times gone? Had there been any? Tony and Flora, as her aunt and uncle had insisted they be called, had done everything to encourage a wild and carefree lifestyle. Life, she had been told so often that she knew the script off by heart, was a wonderful and exciting place to be approached with curiosity and zest. Education was fine within reason, but the greater education was the Education of Life, which could loosely be translated into The Lifestyle of a Nomad. It had suited Tony and Flora but to Rose it spelt sickening upheavals and she had fought a rearguard action through her quiet rebellions. She had developed an aversion to pulses and soya and had insisted on burgers and fries, had immersed herself in her books, studying until her aunt and uncle had finally stopped telling her to go out and have some fun, had refused to wear the gypsy skirts and patchwork coats garnered from Oxfam shops, more through a healthy sense of self-preservation than personal dislike, and had made sure that Lily was as grounded as it was possible for her to be considering their weird lifestyle.

      And in between all that, the parties had never happened and by the time Tony and Flora had zoomed off in their camper van, headed for the Cornish coast, where they still now lived, the ability to abandon herself to the freedom of youth had slipped past her. She had gone to university, worked hard and set her sights on achieving everything that she felt she had lacked in her formative years. Security.

      Very important. For her. And for Lily. Even if Lily gave no thought to it. With the sort of lifestyle that she led, doing jobs off and on, trying out for parts in plays or commercials, most of which she never got, she needed at least one area in her life upon which she could rely and, having seen her sister on her roller-coaster rides with unsuitable men, Rose was determined to make sure that she at least provided Lily with a core of emotional stability in her chaotic world.

      Of course, rushing in with dire words of warning the day after wasn’t going to work, so Rose prudently decided to leave the matter alone for a while and then, on one of the rare nights when they were both in and sharing a bowl of pasta without Lily having to rush off or Rose having to work late, she said, tentatively, ‘Seen anything more of that guy…can’t quite remember his name…the one who brought you back after that party a couple of weeks ago…?’

      Lily, twirling some spaghetti round her fork, looked at Rose and grinned. ‘You mean Nick, Nick Papaeliou…how on earth could you have forgotten his name, Rosie? I don’t think anyone’s ever forgotten his name before. I’ve seen him twice, actually.’

      Rose spluttered on a mouthful of pasta and cleared her throat with some water. ‘Twice! That’s twice more than I thought you had, considering you never mentioned a word to me.’

      ‘I meant to tell you, Rosie, but…’

      ‘But what?’ she asked casually, thinking of that dark, cynical face and stabbing an errant mushroom with her fork. She was reading guilt in the way her sister’s eyes shifted away from her.

      ‘I just thought you might give me a hard time. Nick got the impression that you didn’t much care for him.’

      ‘Me?’ Rose laughed carelessly. ‘Rubbish—the man’s obviously paranoid.’

      ‘Oh, Nick wouldn’t be paranoid about anything, Rosie. I mean…he’s got everything anyone could ever want or need. Apparently you thought that he was a two-bit actor.’ Lily giggled. ‘Wish I could have been a fly on the wall to have seen his expression when you said that. He looked outraged even when he repeated it to me.’

      ‘I admit I may have mistaken him for someone in the acting profession,’ Rose said carefully. ‘I don’t mean to sound the alarm bells unnecessarily, Lily, but he didn’t strike me as the most reliable man in town.’

      ‘What do you mean—“reliable”?’

      ‘Oh, the steady-as-a-rock kind. I just think that it’s so easy to be impressed by someone for all the wrong reasons. They may be good looking or rich…and in fact they could just be bad news.’

      ‘And I do have a history of going with the wrong guys,’ Lily admitted ruefully, which was Rose’s cue to breathe a sigh of relief and nod her head in vigorous agreement. ‘But you’re quite mistaken about Nick, Rosie. Honestly, I’m not impressed by how he looks or what he has…he’s just a very nice guy.’

      Nice? Nice? Were they talking about the same human being?

      Then it occurred to her that he probably was a very nice man to Lily. A stunning face and a sexy body probably turned him into a very nice man indeed. On the other hand, he had had no reason to be nice to her and so had shown his true colours. He could give lessons on arrogance if her sister only but knew.

      ‘If you got to know him a little bit better, then you would agree with me, you really would. In fact…’

      ‘Um?’

      ‘Well, I was going to actually mention this to you later…but…and this is the sort of guy he is, really cool…he’s invited both of us to a bit of a bash next Saturday. Even though you called him a two bit actor…’ another mini fit of giggles giving Rose a breather in which to digest this bolt from the blue ‘…he still stressed that he wanted us both to go along. Isn’t that sweet? We’ll have to go shopping. Apparently he’s having something small at a very exclusive club he owns…anybody who’s anybody’s going to be there. And us! How exciting is that?’

      ‘Not very,’ Rose said, panicked. ‘I mean…I’m not sure at all…I don’t think…’ Just the thought of something small at a very exclusive club owned by Nick Papaeliou was enough to bring her out in a cold sweat.

      ‘I won’t let you just write him off without a second chance, Rosie.’ Then Lily pulled out the most ancient emotional trump card in