Ethan's Temptress Bride. Michelle Reid

is thirty-nine,’ the old man corrected. ‘Very handsome. Very fit. The ladies worship him.’

      ‘And you ought to be ashamed of yourself for trying to foist me off with the most notorious rake in Greece,’ she rebuked. ‘I thought you loved me better than this.’

      ‘You are the unblemished golden apple of my eye!’ Theron Herakleides announced with formidable passion. ‘I merely want you to remain that way until I see you safely married before I die.’

      ‘Die?’ she repeated. He was bringing out the big guns with that remark. ‘Now listen to me, you scheming old devil,’ she scolded, ‘I love you to bits. You are the love of my life! But if you stick one—just one—eligible man in front of me I will never speak to you again—understand?’

      ‘Ne,’ the old man answered, gruff-voiced and tetchy. ‘Yes, I understand that you bully a sick and lonely old man.’

      Sick, she did not believe, but lonely she did. ‘See you soon, Grandpa,’ she softly ended the conversation.

      And she would do—sooner than she’d thought too—because her grandfather was making a flying visit here tomorrow just to spend her birthday with her. The prospect softened her whole face. She loved that stubborn, bad tempered old man almost to distraction. He had been both her mother and father for so many years now that she could barely recall the time when she hadn’t looked to him for every little thing she might need.

      But not a husband, she quickly reminded herself. That was one decision in her life out of which he was going to have to learn to keep his busy nose!

      Why a sudden image of Ethan Hayes had to flash across her eyes at that moment, Eve refused to analyse, but it put a dark frown upon her face.

      ‘Here, try this…’ Glancing up she found Raoul Delacroix standing beside her holding out a tall glass full of a pinkish liquid decorated with just about everything, from a selection of tropical fruit pieces to several fancy cocktail sticks and straws.

      ‘What’s in it?’ she asked warily.

      ‘Aidan called it tiger juice with a bite,’ Raoul replied.

      Tiger juice, how appropriate, Eve mused dryly, thinking of Ethan Hayes again.

      ‘I’m game, if you are,’ Raoul said, bringing her attention to the other glass of the same he was holding. ‘It might help take the scowl from your face that you seem to have been struggling with all evening.’

      Had her bad mood been that apparent? Eve accepted the glass without further comment, but as Raoul lowered himself onto the sunbed next to hers, she felt a fizz of anger begin to bubble inside because she knew whose fault it was that she was feeling like this!

      If she didn’t watch out, Ethan Hayes could be in danger of becoming an obsession.

      ‘Salute.’ Raoul’s glass touching the edge of hers brought her mind swinging back to where it should be.

      ‘Cheers,’ she replied, unearthed a curly straw from the rest of the pretty junk decorating the glass, put it to her lips and sucked defiantly.

      The drink tasted a little strange but not horribly so. She looked at Raoul, he looked at her. ‘What do you think?’ she asked him curiously.

      ‘Sexy,’ he murmured with a teasingly lecherous grin. ‘I can feel my toes tingling. I will now encourage the sensation to reach other parts.’ With that he took another pull on his straw.

      Laughing at his outrageousness, Eve did the same, and it became a challenge as to which of them could empty the glass of Aidan’s wicked brew first. After that she remembered little. Not the glass being rescued from her clumsy fingers nor the light-hearted banter that went on around her as the rest of the crowd discussed where the birthday girl should be placed to sleep it off. Aidan offered a bed, someone else suggested she was perfectly fine where she was. Raoul reminded them that her grandfather was due in on the dawn flight, so maybe the wisest place for him to find her tomorrow was in her own bed. This drew unilateral agreement because no one wanted to explain to Theron Herakleides why his precious granddaughter had been so rolling drunk she hadn’t even made it home. Raoul offered to deliver her there since it was on the way to his villa, and he’d only had one glass of alcohol. Everyone agreed because no one else felt sober enough to make the drive.

      It was all very relaxed, very light-hearted. No one thought of questioning Raoul’s motives as they watched him carry Eve to his car. They were all such long-standing friends after all. All for one, one for all.