Greek Mavericks: Winning The Enigmatic Greek. Tara Pammi

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      ‘New broom, new era,’ he said, with a hard smile. ‘When my father died I decided I needed to make a few changes. To put my own stamp on the place.’

      She was staring up at the wide glass structure. ‘Well, you’ve certainly done that.’

      Her cooing words sounded speculative—the instinctive reaction of an avaricious woman confronted by affluence—but that didn’t quite cancel out the pleasure Ariston got from her praise. Or stop him thinking how much he’d like to hear that soft English voice whispering some very different things in his ear. Was she one of those women who talked during sex? he wondered. Or did she keep quiet until she started to come, gasping out her joyful pleasure into the man’s ear? His lips curved into a speculative smile. He couldn’t wait to find out.

      He gestured for her to precede him though her wiggling bottom made it difficult for him to concentrate on the tour. He showed her the tennis court, the gym, his office and two of the smaller reception rooms—but decided against taking her upstairs to each of the seven en-suite bedrooms or, indeed, his own master suite. His throat tightened. Demetra could do that later.

      At last he led her into the main sitting room, which was the focal point of the house, carefully watching her reaction as she was confronted by the sea view which dominated three of the massive glass walls. For a moment she stood there motionless—not appearing to notice the priceless Fabergé eggs which lay on one of the low tables, nor the rare Lysippos statue which he’d bought from under the noses of international dealers in an auction house in New York and which had sealed his reputation as a connoisseur of fine art.

      ‘Wow,’ she said indistinctly. ‘Who came up with this?’

      ‘I asked the architect to design me something to maximise the views and for each room to flow into the next,’ he said. ‘I wanted light and space everywhere—so that when I’m working it doesn’t seem like being in the office.’

      ‘I can’t imagine any office looking like this. It looks...well, it’s the most stunning place I’ve ever seen.’ She turned to face him. ‘The family business must be doing well.’

      ‘Reassuringly well,’ he said blandly.

      ‘You’re still building ships?’

      He raised his eyebrows. ‘My brother didn’t tell you?’

      ‘No, Ariston. He didn’t tell me. We barely had time to reacquaint ourselves before you dragged him away.’

      ‘Yes, we’re still building ships,’ he affirmed. ‘But we’re also making wines and olive oil on the other side of the island, which have become a surprising hit in all kinds of places. These days people seem to value organic goods and Kavakos products are on the shopping list of most of the world’s big chefs.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Anything else you want to know?’

      She brushed the palms of her hands down over her shorts. ‘In England you said you were expecting guests this weekend.’

      ‘That’s right. Two of my lawyers are flying in from Athens for lunch tomorrow and there are five people arriving at the weekend for a house party.’

      ‘And are they Greek?’

      ‘International,’ he drawled. ‘You want to know who they are?’

      ‘Isn’t it always polite to know people’s names in advance?’

      ‘And handy when you’re trying to research how much each is worth?’ he offered drily. ‘There’s Santino Di Piero, the Italian property tycoon who is coming with his English girlfriend, Rachel. There’s also a friend of mine from way back—Xenon Diakos who for some reason has decided to bring his secretary. I think her name is Megan.’

      ‘That’s four,’ she said, determined not to rise to the nasty digs he was making.

      ‘So it is. And Bailey Saunders is the other guest,’ he said, as if he’d only just remembered.

      ‘Her name seems familiar.’ She hesitated. ‘She’s the woman you took to the opening night of the photographic exhibition, isn’t she?’

      ‘Is that relevant, Keeley?’ he questioned silkily. ‘Or, indeed, any of your business?’

      She shook her head, not knowing why she’d mentioned it, and now she felt stupid—and vulnerable. Embarrassed by her own curiosity and angry at the unwanted jealousy which was making her skin grow heated, Keeley walked over to the window and stared out unseeingly. Was she going to have to spend days witnessing Ariston making out with a beautiful woman? See them frolicking together in that amazing infinity pool or kissing on the beach in the moonlight? Would she have to change their bedsheets in the morning and see for herself the evidence of their shared passion? A shiver of revulsion shot through her and she prayed it didn’t show. Because even if she had to contend with those things—so what? Ariston was nothing to her and she was nothing to him and unless she remembered that, she was going to have a very difficult month ahead of her.

      ‘Of course it’s none of my business,’ she said stiffly. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

      ‘Didn’t mean to what?’ He had walked across the room to stand beside her at the window and she found herself inhaling his subtle citrusy scent. ‘Check out whether or not I had a girlfriend? Find out whether or not I was available? Don’t worry, Keeley—I’m used to women doing that.’

      She struggled to say something conventional. To make some witty remark which might dissolve the sudden tension which had suddenly sprung up between them. To act as if she didn’t care or take him to task for his spectacular arrogance. But he was standing so close that she couldn’t think of a single word, and even if she could she didn’t think she’d be capable of saying it with any degree of conviction. Just like she didn’t seem capable of preventing the way he was making her feel—as if her body were no longer her own. As if it was silently responding to things she’d only ever dreamed of.

      She looked up into his face to discover that his eyes had become smoky and it was as if he’d read her thoughts because suddenly he lifted his hand to frame her face with his fingers, and he smiled. It wasn’t a particularly nice smile and it didn’t even reach his eyes but the sensation of his touch sent Keeley’s already heightened senses into overdrive. His thumb stroked its way over her bottom lip so that it began to tremble uncontrollably. That was the only thing he was doing and yet it was making her want to melt. He was making her more aroused by the second and surely that must show. Her nipples had hardened into two painful little points and somewhere low in her belly she could feel a distracting and molten ache.

      Did he realise that? Was that why his hold on her changed so that instead of cupping her face with his fingers, he was pulling her towards him? Pulling her into his arms as if it were his right to do so. His eyes were blazing as they stared into hers and she could feel the softness of her body moulding perfectly into the hardness of his, as he brought his mouth down on hers.

      And Keeley shuddered because this was like no other kiss. It was like every fantasy she’d ever had—and wasn’t the truth of it that those fantasies had always involved him? He kissed her slow and then he kissed her hard. He kissed her until she was squirming, until she thought she would cry out with pleasure. She could feel the rush of heat and the clamour of frustration and all she wanted was to give into that feeling. To wrap her arms around his neck and let desire take over. Whisper in his СКАЧАТЬ