Captivated by the Greek. Julia James

      Definitely time to make it clear that she was not hanging about in London for long. This evening was nothing more than an unexpected and most important a one-off treat—one she would enjoy, make the most of, and then consign to memory. And Nikos Parakis with it.

      His dark eyebrows had come together when she’d mentioned going abroad.

      ‘Where are you thinking of travelling to?’ he asked.

      ‘No idea,’ she replied insouciantly, taking a sip of her water. ‘Spain, probably—wherever I can get a cheap flight to.’

      He looked slightly startled. ‘You have no destination in mind?’

      ‘Not really. I just want to travel—that’s all. So any place is as good as another.’ Her voice changed. ‘Wherever I go it will be an adventure.’

      Nikos took another sip of his martini. ‘Where have you travelled so far in your life?’ he asked.

      ‘Nowhere. That’s the whole point,’ Mel replied.

      There was emotion in her voice—Nikos could hear it. He could also see the enthusiasm in her face...the excitement. Could see, too, how it made her eyes sparkle, lighting up her face. Enhancing her stunning beauty.

      It was a beauty, he knew, from all his long-honed masculine experience, that would cause total havoc amongst the entire male population of the world once she was out in it. Probably too much havoc...

      ‘Are you going with friends?’ he asked.

      Behind his innocuous question he knew another one lurked. Are you going with a boyfriend...?

      But of course she wasn’t. If she were, she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation tonight, would she?

      The knowledge that she was unattached gave him satisfaction. More satisfaction than her answer to his question.

      Mel shook her head. ‘No, just solo. I’m sure I’ll make friends as I go.’

      ‘Well, be careful,’ he found himself warning her. ‘There are parts of the world where solo travellers—let alone female ones—are not advised to go.’

      Her mouth tightened. ‘I can look after myself.’

      Nikos’s expression was wry. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said, his voice dry. ‘You can go twelve rounds verbally—no problem. But...’ He held up a hand. ‘All the same, stick to tourist areas—that’s my advice.’

      For a moment it looked as if she was going to argue the point, for he could see the warlike sparkle in her eyes. Then it subsided.

      ‘OK, OK...’ Mel temporised. ‘I’ll hire a bodyguard and lug him around with me—I get the picture,’ she said, in a deliberately resigned voice.

      ‘An excellent idea,’ Nikos murmured, humour in his eyes. ‘I can recommend a first-class firm offering the kind of close personal protection which I have, on occasion, engaged myself.’

      Mel’s expression changed. ‘Good grief—are you serious?’

      Nikos nodded. ‘There are some...let us say restless places in the world, where it is advisable to have someone riding shotgun beside you.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘Why do you go to such places?’

      ‘I do business there,’ he answered drily. Then, at the questioning and indeed wary look in her eyes, he went on swiftly. ‘And, no, before your fervid imagination carries you away, I am not an arms dealer. I am a very boring and tediously respectable banker,’ he informed her.

      ‘Yes, I know,’ she admitted. ‘I looked you up. Just in case,’ she said dulcetly. ‘Though of course,’ she went on, allowing herself a provocative glance at him, ‘I didn’t think bankers were