At The Greek Tycoon's Pleasure. Cathy Williams

between the need to dither and at least put on a show of being a thoughtful landlady and the desire to walk out as fast as her legs could take her, Sophie remained where she was until Theo walked to the fridge and, with his back to her, left her in no doubt that she could go. She did. Fuming and red-faced and consoling herself with the thought that his fat cheque would be worth the headache of knowing he was in her space.

      Chilled by the night air, she finally managed to gather her scattered thoughts and reach a decision—she would leave him to his own devices, get Annie and Catherine to report back to her about the state of the house and count the weeks till he disappeared back up to London.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ARE you sure you are following the doctor’s orders and resting? Does your foot feel any better? Yes, we’re managing just fine here. Of course I’ll sort out those conference calls, but are you quite sure you shouldn’t just be resting?

      At the end of four interminably long days and even longer nights, Theo could feel his head clanging with the repeated urges from the entire world, it seemed, that he relax. He had been assured by Gloria so many times that it was business as usual that he had been forced to cut her short on a couple of occasions rather than sit through the inevitable ramblings about his need to take it easy.

      Taking it easy had never been one of Theo’s greatest talents and he was finding it exceptionally difficult to adhere to now.

      It was mid-afternoon. The house had been cleaned so thoroughly that any lingering bacteria would have had a struggle to stage a comeback. He had eaten the pasta which the cook had prepared and his conference call had ended over an hour ago.

      Outside, a cold breeze was threatening to turn into a gale. Even through the small window panes, he could appreciate the wildness of the scenery. It occurred to him that, apart from a couple of visits to the garden, he hadn’t been outside the house for days. Not since that aggravating woman had left, in fact.

      For once, the image of a woman other than Elena crossed his mind. The slight frame that should have heralded a demure personality but didn’t. The stubborn mouth which looked as though it had been having a hard time trying not to rebel against the smile she had pasted on. The flashing brown eyes, narrowed to suspicious slits and ready to glare.

      He felt a reluctant smile curve his mouth.

      It disappeared as swiftly as it had surfaced. Uttering an oath under his breath, Theo slammed shut his computer, shoved his cellphone into his pocket and headed out of the cottage with his thick jacket slung over his shoulders.

      It was as cold outside as it had looked. And as scenic. Having been to places in the world most people had only ever dreamed of, Theo wondered how it was that he seemed to be seeing what was around him for the first time. The downside of zero distractions, he assumed, considering the majority of his visits to exotic places had taken place under the mantle of work.

      Out the cottage, the small lane towards the village was lined with a selection of shrubbery, stripped at this time of year of its greenery and jostling for space. And the clean, salty smell of the air was pungent enough to make him gasp.

      The routine of exercise he had been sticking to made use of the stick less necessary but he had brought it along with him anyway. Every so often, he swiped some of the shrubbery at the side and scowled impatiently at the sneaky feeling of boyishness it gave him.

      The first thing he glimpsed as he turned the corner was her office.

      There it was, fronted by lovingly cared for plants on the outside and resembling not so much an office as somewhere casual in which to relax.

      He thought it typical. Her behaviour towards him had not marked her out as a professional woman with her finger on the pulse. Any competent career woman would know that to expose her feelings was tantamount to waving the white flag.

      Feet that should have been walking to the café next to the office paused and, before he knew it, he was rapping his stick on the office door, pushing it open into a scene of seeming chaos. In the middle of this chaos, Sophie stood with one hand raked through her fair hair in frustration, peering and frowning at a piece of paper in her hand. Around her, three people appeared to be doing things, though what Theo couldn’t begin to fathom. Two women and a fair-haired man, who looked at him and smiled with good-natured curiosity.

      He was already regretting the insane impulse that had prompted his appearance.

      He must, he thought sourly, be in need of company even though he had never considered himself the sort of man who craved the presence of other people, especially in the last few months when memories had been the only things to share the space in his head.

      ‘Soph, you have a visitor.’

      From across the room, Sophie glanced up, plucked out of her little world of trying to figure out what the heck this latest scribbled piece of paper was supposed to signify. Another bill? Of sorts? Something that had been returned for a credit that would not be chanced upon any time soon?

      It was only when her eyes tangled with Theo’s that she realised how much she had been thinking about him—off and on for four days—and even though she felt nettled every single time he had crossed her mind, she still hadn’t been able to erase the image from her head.

      Her skin tingled in sudden awareness of his eyes on her and the impossibly sexy slant of his body as he lounged indolently against the doorframe, taking in the scene in front of him.

      ‘Oh. It’s you.’ She looked around and introduced him indifferently to Moira, Claire and, of course, Robert. ‘This is Mr Andreou, the man from the cottage. How can I help you?’ Her feet suddenly felt like lead and she translated the heat racing through her body as an angry reaction to the fact that, not content with living in her cottage, he was now invading the privacy of her working space.

      She reluctantly walked towards him, aware that all eyes were on her.

      ‘I was just out for a walk and I thought I’d drop in.’

      ‘How did you know where I worked?’

      ‘Saw you here when I arrived, as a matter of fact. You were locking up behind you.’

      ‘There was no need for you to come here, Mr Andreou…’

      ‘When do you intend to start calling me Theo?’ he asked, suddenly irritated.

      ‘Theo. I wrote down my telephone number and left it by the phone book on the table in the hall. I believe I told you that.’

      ‘So this is where you work…’ He pushed himself away from the doorframe and was confronted by Robert, who offered his hand by way of a more formal introduction.

      ‘The name’s Robert Bell. Your face looks familiar. Have I met you somewhere before?’

      ‘No,’ Theo said flatly, ignoring the outstretched hand and moving towards one of the desks on which he perched, while Sophie looked on, mouth agape at the sheer nerve of the man.

      ‘You probably recognise him from the cover of a book somewhere. Theo’s a writer.’

      ‘In the presence of fame,’ Robert remarked, grinning. ‘Aren’t you lucky, Soph? You can take his picture and build up a wall of fame over the years! Do wonders for the rental income, you know.’ He moved to sling one arm over Sophie’s shoulder and she eased herself away and towards Theo, now idly rifling through the reams of disorganised paperwork on her desk.

      ‘You never said what you wanted. Is everything all right with the cottage? Are Catherine and Annie working out okay?’ She snatched the papers from him and dumped them back on the desk.

      He had, she noticed abstractedly, great hands. Strong, with long fingers and sufficient dark hair curling at the strap of his watch to make her wonder whether he had hair on his chest or not. She caught herself midway through the treacherous uninvited thought and frowned at him.

      ‘Fine. The house is beyond clean and the food is beyond good.’

      ‘Then