Alex had thought the tea might sweeten him up. Normally he was very even-tempered for a man who shouldered so much responsibility.
But she’d worked closely with him over the last six months and had started to notice a pattern to his change in mood. It only came on when he was getting ready to fly home to Greece.
If her mother was right about his past, he probably had hidden demons still to be conquered.
It happened to a lot of people. Alex’s only unmarried sister chose to feel like a victim. Except for the occasional visit, she preferred to remain in California rather than come home and deal with family on a more frequent basis.
Deciding it would be best to humor her boss, Alex began reading the countdown of the first page out loud. Halfway through, she detected a change in his breathing. He was asleep.
Zeus at rest.
That’s how she thought of him.
This was only the second time she’d flown in the Pandakis jet with its eagle emblem. As on her first flight with him to San Francisco, she had the feeling she was being spirited away by the legendary Olympian god to his private kingdom in the sky.
Through her lashes, she studied his long, powerfully built body stretched out in his seat opposite her, his piercing black eyes closed for the time being.
She wished she were a painter so she could capture him on canvas. He had the bold facial structure of his Macedonian ancestors, and that beautiful olive skin born from the kiss of a hot Mediterranean sun. Yet there was something childlike in the quiet way he slept.
More handsome than the young god Adonis. The paparazzi claimed he was the lover of many women, yet faithful to none. Alex could vouch for a goodly number of females who called the office anxious to talk to him.
However, she really had no idea what he did after she left for her apartment at the end of the day. Presumably there was a certain amount of truth to the gossip in the tabloids.
But Alex regarded him in a different light. To her, raven-haired Dimitrios Pandakis could well be the supreme ruler of the gods who shaped the corporate world below. One word of displeasure from his sensuous lips was like the proverbial thunderbolt hurled at those who lied or broke oaths.
The experience nine years ago had already provided her with firsthand knowledge that he was the god of justice and mercy and a protector of the weak.
After saving her from the unwanted attentions of his cousin, he’d shown her kindness before removing the other man from her sight. But he’d taken away a lot more than that. He’d gone off with her young girl’s heart.
Quite simply, his intervention changed the course of her life.
As her eyes took their fill of him, the ache to touch him intensified. More than ever she realized it would never be enough to be just his private secretary. Reason declared that the end of the fair would have to be the end of the road for her. The cessation of all fantasy.
Exhausted from too little sleep and her emotional struggle, she put her things away and lay back, willing oblivion to come if only for a little while.
It was a shock to finally wake up to her surroundings and discover that the interior lights had come on. Outside the plane they were cloaked in darkness.
She checked her watch. Heavens. How could she have been asleep seven hours?
Though alone for the moment, she was conscious of the sound of male voices coming from the cockpit area. Judging by their chuckles, someone was telling an amusing tale.
Probably she’d snored, or her stomach had growled so loudly they’d all heard it. Either possibility was so humiliating, Alex shot out of her seat and used the time to freshen up in the bathroom.
While she was repinning her hair to secure it better after her long sleep, she noted that the plane had started to encounter some turbulence. She didn’t pay much attention to it until the Fasten Seat Belts sign flashed overhead.
Alex put in the last pin, then left the bathroom and hurried to her seat. As she strapped herself in, she saw Dimitrios emerge from the cockpit, his expression sober.
“I was about to do that for—”
But she wasn’t destined to hear him say anything else because the plane hit an air pocket, sending him flying. He crashed against the wall. By the position of his body, he’d been knocked unconscious. She saw blood.
“Dimitrios!”
They were dropping out of the sky as if being pulled toward a giant lodestone.
Please, God. Don’t let anything happen to him.
“HE’S coming around.”
“Don’t let him move his head.”
“No. I’ve got him.”
“An AirMed helicopter will meet us when we land.”
“The bleeding’s stopped.”
“That’s good. Keep that compress over the wound.”
“Do you think his arm is broken?”
“No. Nothing’s broken that I see, but he’s going to have an ugly bruise on his shoulder for a while.”
Dimitrios had been hearing voices for the last few minutes. Now he was aware of stinging at the crown of his head. Slowly his body was coming back to life.
Mingled with the smell of alcohol was a delicious scent, like pears, that permeated his nostrils. It came from a smooth, cool hand cupping his jaw along the side of his face. He seemed to be resting on something soft and warm. His eyelids fluttered open.
Waves of dizziness assailed him. He blinked several times until his gaze focused on a pair of soulful green eyes staring down at him. They seemed to take up her whole face.
Good Lord. What were they both doing on the floor of the plane with his head in her lap?
“Ms. Hamilton?”
“Thank heaven you know me,” she whispered emotionally.
“Welcome back,” came the voice of his copilot. Both he and the steward had to be standing somewhere near his feet.
Dimitrios blinked again. Maybe it was the angle of the recessed lighting that made him think moisture clung to his secretary’s long, silky lashes. He’d never seen her without her steel-rimmed glasses. She had flawless skin and a beautifully shaped mouth.
“What happened?”
“We hit an air pocket before you could make it to your seat,” she explained.
“I remember now,” he muttered on a groan. “How soon before we land?”
His copilot hunkered at his side. “We’re approaching Macedonia International now.”
Dimitrios started to get up, but all three of them held him down. “Don’t move,” his steward ordered. “You have a lump on the top of your head and must be seen by a doctor.”
“I heard you say nothing was broken. Let me up,” he ordered.
Still they restrained him. Damnation.
He felt the tightening of his secretary’s diaphragm before she asked, “How many stones are there in my ring?”
What?
She held the top of her hand in front of his eyes so he couldn’t possibly miss it.
“Five.”
“Good. There’s nothing wrong with his vision, gentlemen. I think Kyrie Pandakis is recovered enough to get to his seat.”
His