My Greek Island Fling. Nina Harrington

yes. In that case, aren’t you worried about what your wife or girlfriend will think about the arrangement? A single man living here alone suddenly has a young lady houseguest? There are bound to be questions.’ Lexi glanced at him. ‘Perhaps you have nieces?’

      ‘I’m afraid not. Two nephews. Both under five. Go by the names of Charles and Freddie.’

      ‘Shame.’ She nodded and screwed up her face. ‘How about cousins? Old schoolfriends? Casual acquaintances that just happen to pass by?’

      ‘No subterfuge will be necessary, Miss Sloane. You can call yourself a business colleague or personal assistant for as long as you stay here. Take your pick.’

      ‘Business colleague it is. Personal assistant smacks too much of a girl who organises your dry-cleaning, runs your office and buys presents for your lucky lady-friends—of which I’m sure there are many.’

      Lexi leaned forward slightly towards Mark.

      ‘I don’t actually perform those particular duties, by the way. In case you’re wondering. Ghostwriting. That’s it. Okay? Splendid. Now, seeing as I’ll be staying here, would you mind helping me with my suitcases? I do have quite a few.’

      ‘What do you mean a few?’

      Mark strolled over to the edge of the patio and stared at the tiny hire car. Lexi tottered past him and descended the two low steps that curved down to the driveway.

      ‘You men have it easy.’ She laughed, opening up the boot and heaving the two massive matching cases out onto the pebble driveway. ‘A couple of suits and that’s it. But I’ve just spent three weeks on the road with different events every evening.’

      A cabin bag and a leather Gladstone bag followed.

      ‘Clients expect a girl to wear different outfits for each film launch to keep the photographers happy,’ she added, walking around to the passenger door and flinging it open. The top garment bag had slipped a little down the back of the driver’s seat, so she tugged it free and folded it over one arm before grabbing hold of her travel bag with one hand and slinging the shoulder strap of her overnight case across the front of her jacket.

      Lexi pushed the car door closed with one foot and looked around for Mark. He was standing open-mouthed, still watching her from the terrace as though he could hardly believe what he was looking at.

      Lexi rolled her eyes, took a firmer hold of her bag and tottered across the pebbles of the car park onto the patio steps. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said, ‘I’ve left the heavy bags down by the car. Any time today will be good.’

      ‘No problem,’ Mark murmured under his breath. ‘The porter will be right with you.’

      He reached for his shoes, which he had stashed under the lounger. Unfortunately, as he bent over, Lexi tottered past his very fine rear end in her high-heeled sandals, and as he stood up his elbow jogged the overnight bag she was carrying.

      At exactly the same moment the slippery silk fabric of her garment bag slipped down her arm. She snatched at it with the hand holding the travel bag, twisting her body round to stop it from falling to the ground.

      And she took one step backwards.

      The stiletto heel of her right sandal hit the smooth marble edge of the swimming pool, her right leg shot forward, she completely lost her balance and instinctively flung both arms out to compensate.

      For one millisecond she was airborne. Arms twirling around in wide circles, both legs in the air, luggage thrown out to each side and the thin silk fabric of her overdress inflated up to her waist as a parachute.

      She squeezed her eyes tight shut and prepared herself for a dunking in the swimming pool. But instead her feet lifted even higher off the ground as a long, strong arm grabbed her around the waist and another arm swept under her legs, taking her weight effortlessly.

      Lexi flashed open her eyes, gave a high squeak of terror, and flung both her arms around Mark’s neck by sheer instinct, pressing herself tight onto his shirt. Unfortunately she forgot that she was still clutching her travel bag for dear life, and succeeded in hitting Mark on the back of the head with it.

      To his credit, he gave only a low, deep sigh instead of yelling like a schoolboy.

      She opened her mouth to apologise, then closed it again. Her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to work and her breathing had become a series of short panting noises—which would have been perfect for a spaniel but which, from her lips, managed to sound both pathetic and wheezy at the same time.

      She had never been picked up before.

      And the last time she’d been this close to a handsome man had been on Valentine’s night, when her ex-boyfriend had confessed he’d been sleeping with a girl she’d thought was her friend. So it would be fair to say that it hadn’t ended well.

      This, on the other hand, was turning out to be a much more positive experience.

      Below his loose blue shirt Mark was muscular, warm and solid against her body, and in the position he was holding her their faces were only inches apart. His eyes locked onto hers, and suddenly it made perfect sense just to lie there in his arms while he took her weight.

      Up close, she could see that his eyes were not a perfectly clear blue, as his mother’s had been, but were flecked with slivers of darker blue and grey, so that under the shade of the terrace they looked like a cloudy summer sky.