Greek Affairs: In His Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger / Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon's Bed / Bedded by the Greek Billionaire. Carol Marinelli

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      Melissa looked sulky now and Helen’s heart sank at the prospect of what she was sure was to come. But in the event all Melissa said was, ‘But Mum does like Milos; I know she does. And he couldn’t take his eyes off her when we were having supper.’

      Sam sighed, but it was Maya who chose to answer the girl. ‘You’re imagining things. It’s like your grandfather says, Milos has always been popular with the opposite sex. But you shouldn’t run away with the idea that he might be interested in an Englishwoman. Greeks marry Greeks. It’s the way it should be.’

      ‘You didn’t—’ began Melissa, but before she could dig a bigger hole for herself Sam spoke again.

      ‘Be that as it may, I do agree that Maya might have a point. I think Milos has had enough of marriage. I don’t think he’s likely to burn his hands again.’

      An hour later, Helen found herself in the front seat of her father’s Jeep. He’d offered to drive them to the Stephanides’s villa at San Rocco himself after Melissa had taken her mother’s breath away by apologising for upsetting them all.

      ‘We’re almost there,’ Sam said suddenly, pointing to the white walls of a villa just visible above some trees. ‘That’s Aristotle’s place up there. It doesn’t have a pool,’ he added for Melissa’s benefit, ‘but the views are magnificent.’

      ‘You’ve been here, then?’

      Melissa loosened her seat belt and leaned forward to rest her arms along the backs of their seats, and her grandfather nodded. ‘Many times,’ he agreed. ‘As you know, the Stephanideses are distantly related to Maya.’

      ‘And she doesn’t let us forget it,’ remarked Melissa unthinkingly, before adding, ‘Sorry. It looks great.’

      ‘It is.’ Her grandfather wasn’t offended. ‘It’s not as modern as Milos’s place, of course, but I think you’ll like it.’

      Rhea came out to meet them as the Jeep reached the gravelled forecourt. She was wearing an ankle-length wraparound skirt and a sleeveless shirt, tied at her midriff, and Helen saw the way Melissa checked out her appearance as she got out of the vehicle.

      The two girls greeted one another warmly, but although Rhea invited Sam in he said he’d be on his way. Rhea also offered to see that Helen and Melissa arrived home safely and Helen guessed her father would be glad not to have to make the journey a second time.

      She was also relieved to see that Rhea looked more her age this morning. Last evening, the resemblance between the two girls had seemed obvious. But today Rhea looked older, more mature. Which was reassuring.

      ‘You both look nice,’ she remarked now, surveying her guests as they entered the deliciously cool entrance hall of the villa. She gestured towards Melissa’s low-rise cotton trousers. ‘Are they new?’

      ‘Yes.’ Melissa preened at the unaccustomed praise. ‘And Mum’s dress is new, too. Do you like it?’

      ‘Very much,’ said Rhea politely, but Helen guessed the cheap sundress, in shades of blue and green, was not something Rhea herself would ever dream of wearing.

      ‘It was kind of you to invite us,’ she said, hoping to change the subject. ‘Melissa enjoyed herself so much at Vassilios the other day.’

      ‘Y-e-s.’ Rhea drew out the word as if she wasn’t exactly sure she meant it. ‘But I’m afraid I’m not the person you should thank for the invitation.’

      ‘I’m sorry …’

      Helen was struggling to comprehend what she meant when a dark shadow emerged through the archway to their right. ‘No,’ said Milos pleasantly, smiling at Melissa who had turned to give her mother a triumphant grin. And, as Helen’s eyes adjusted to the light he added, ‘I fear I’m to blame. Will you forgive me?’

      For a moment, Helen couldn’t say anything. But then, her eyes turning from Milos’s dark face to Rhea’s and back again, she said, ‘I thought—that is—Maya said you were leaving for Athens today.’

      ‘I am.’ Milos was clearly visible now, a tall, disturbing figure in a black shirt and matching jeans. He glanced at his sister. ‘Why don’t you ask Marisa to bring us some refreshments, Rhea? We’ll be on the terrace.’

      ‘I’ll go with you, Rhea,’ said Melissa at once, and, although Helen wanted to stop her, she knew she could speak more freely without her daughter’s watching gaze.

      ‘Is that all right with you, Milos?’

      Rhea looked to her brother for his approval and Helen’s nails dug into her palms. They were all in thrall to this arrogant man, she thought helplessly. Oh, God, why had she ever agreed to come?

      ‘The terrace is this way,’ declared Milos politely when they were alone, and, although Helen wanted to tell him to go to hell, she obediently followed him along a cool tiled hallway whose thick walls guarded against the heat. ‘My grandfather built this place more than sixty years ago,’ he volunteered as they walked. ‘There was no road in those days and it was a convenient hide-out for members of the resistance forces during the last war.’

      ‘How interesting.’

      Helen made no attempt to hide her sarcasm, but even she couldn’t deny a gasp of surprise when they emerged onto the terrace. She hadn’t realised the Jeep had climbed so high, but the hillside tumbling away to whitewashed villages, with the spires of hidden churches peeping through the mass of greenery, was breathtaking.

      ‘Impressive, ne?’ murmured Milos, resting his back against the stone wall that ringed the terrace at waist height. ‘It was originally built as a—what would you say?—a holiday home. Athens, in the heat of summer, is not to be recommended.’

      ‘How lucky to have the choice,’ remarked Helen drily, resting her hands on the top of the wall some distance from him. ‘So where are your parents now?’

      ‘They’re cruising in the Pacific,’ said Milos, with some reluctance. ‘And before you make some other scathing comment, I should tell you that my father had a heart attack at the beginning of the year and has been forced to retire. Otherwise, he would be attending the Athens conference himself.’

      Helen knew a momentary feeling of guilt but she refused to let him see it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said tersely, and she was. She wouldn’t wish ill health on anyone.

      There was silence between them for a few seconds. Then Milos turned and put his hand on the wall only inches from hers. She tensed automatically, but all he did was abrade the stone with his thumb. So why did she feel as if it were her skin he was stroking?

      ‘Would you like to see where I live when I’m staying on the island?’ he asked suddenly, his voice huskier than before, and Helen had to steel herself not to move away from him.

      ‘Why would I want to see your house?’ she asked shortly. ‘Melissa’s told me all about it.’

      ‘Word of mouth is not the same as actually seeing it for yourself,’ he insisted softly. His eyes lingered on her mouth before moving down to the low vee of her cleavage. ‘Come with me, Helen. I want to prove to you I’m not the selfish bastard you think I am.’

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