He was tall and slim with wide shoulders and slim hips but it was definitely those eyes that held her attention. Light jade-green eyes, all the more startling in someone with the dark complexion of the southern Mediterranean. He was wearing dark trousers and a crisp, blinding white shirt unbuttoned down the front to reveal the hard muscles of his chest rippling beneath the smooth sun-darkened skin. An expensive gold Rolex watch gleamed dully on his wrist and his shoes were handmade Italian unless she was mistaken.
She felt her insides curling in embarrassment. If he was a potential customer she shuddered to think what kind of impression he was getting. An old converted fishing boat with peeling paint, sunbleached woodwork and a dodgy engine was bad enough but her own dishevelled appearance wasn’t likely to inspire confidence either. Her unkempt blonde hair was crammed beneath a grease-stained baseball cap. Jimmy’s overalls hung round her like a hobo’s tent and her face was streaked with oil.
The green eyes appraised her briefly, took in the state of the littered deck then returned to fasten on her once more. After a nerve-racking silence he spoke sharply. ‘I’m looking for Miss Stevens, the owner of this…this floating junkyard. Where is she?’
His derogatory tone and description of Miranda annoyed her but she swallowed her pride. When times were bad it was something you quickly grew used to.
‘I’m Carrie Stevens,’ she said with quiet dignity. She made an embarrassed gesture towards the engine compartment. ‘It’s nothing serious. My brother will be here any minute now. He’ll fix it.’
His eyes widened a fraction and he looked disappointed. ‘You’re the older sister of James Stevens?’
There always came a point where you couldn’t swallow any more pride and this was it. Just who did this character think he was, talking down to her like that? And what did he have to do with Jimmy? Jimmy had never ever mentioned meeting a tall, dark stranger with green eyes and a built-in sneer.
She drew herself erect and challenged him frostily. ‘Just what is it that you want to see me about, Mr—er—?’
‘You’ll find out all in good time,’ he informed her coldly. ‘May I suggest that you change into something more befitting a woman, and wash the grime off your face? Only then will I answer your question.’
Under the oil her face reddened and she said resentfully, ‘Look, I…I didn’t expect anyone. We’re due to sail now. Anyway, how I care to dress is my business and no one else’s.’
He ignored her outburst and went over to the engine compartment. Glancing in, he shook his head in wonder then turned to her. ‘Where did you find that? In a museum?’
She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists behind her back. ‘It isn’t that bad. I admit that it might be old but it’s perfectly good once it gets going. Jimmy can fix it. He’s done it often enough before without any trouble.’
A grim smile played across the stranger’s lips. ‘Ah, yes. James Stevens. Or Jimmy as you so fondly call him. Unfortunately he isn’t here when you need him, is he?’ He glanced at his Rolex. ‘That’s a pity. I was told that it was imperative that you delivered your latest cargo to Desvos by eight tonight. That’s a good six-hour trip for a vessel in this condition. It has already gone two.’
‘We’ll make it,’ she said with more defiant assurance than she felt. Damn Jimmy! If he had been here on time they’d be on their way to Desvos by now.
The stranger removed his shirt and hung it carefully on the rail. The action took her completely by surprise and she found herself staring in fascination at his tanned, lean and muscular body. Under the sunlight his skin seemed to glow like dark silk. At last she found her voice and she gulped. ‘Wh—what are you doing?’
‘I’m going to fix that engine,’ he said curtly. ‘And you, Miss Stevens, are going to go below and tidy yourself up so that I can see what you really look like.’
Her mouth opened in protest then she hurriedly closed it. There was a do-it-or-else look in those green eyes that sent a shiver of fear down her spine. This was not the kind of man you argued with, she told herself. You could tell he was used to having people jump at his command and though he had no legal right to be on board she wasn’t about to discuss the finer points of the law with him. He wouldn’t pay any attention in any case.
With an almighty effort she assumed an air of indifference and shrugged. ‘I was just about to have a wash when you came aboard. And if tinkering with engines makes you happy then go ahead. I don’t want to spoil your fun.’
Hurriedly she turned her back on him and went below, securing the hatch firmly behind her. Who the devil was he and what did he want? she wondered. People with handmade Italian shoes and Rolex watches didn’t hire boats like the Miranda. They were more likely to go along the coast to the place owned by the Spirakis family and hire one of their gleaming motor cruisers.
She frowned. Unless…unless he was up to something shady. Like smuggling, for example! Did he look like a shady character? Yes, she decided. Very shady indeed. And dangerous. Like someone from the Greek Mafia, if there was such a thing.
Well, as soon as Jimmy got back they’d tell him that they weren’t interested in anything like that and send him packing.
In her tiny cabin she stripped off, lit the Ascot in the tiny bathroom and scrubbed herself under a hot shower. Drying herself quickly, she donned a clean pair of jeans and a white cotton T-shirt then attacked her hair with a brush.
After a moment she laid down the brush and reached up for the faded picture of her father, which was pinned to the bulkhead. It had been taken shortly before he died and in the picture he was standing on the deck of the Miranda, grinning and looking indestructible. Any time she felt disheartened and ready to pack it all in she just had to look at this picture and it made her feel better, stronger and ready to fight for what was hers and Jimmy’s.
The Miranda had been her father’s pride and joy. An ex-navy man, he’d always dreamed of owning his own boat one day but marriage had put that dream on hold. When her mother had been alive he’d worked industriously in a nine-to-four office job, hating it but never complaining.
She’d been twelve and Jimmy had only been six when their mother had been killed. Just out shopping, for heaven’s sake! One minute strolling home from Tesco with a carrier of chicken breasts and cold ham and in an instant her life taken by some drunken fool of a company director driving home after a boozy lunch.
It had left them all shattered. But the agony hadn’t ended there. The driver had got off with a five-hundred-pound fine and two years’ suspension. There was justice for you! She’d often wondered since then if the driver and the judge had been members of the same old boys’ club. Probably. It was a lousy world and these things happened.
The compensation paid by the driver’s insurance company had been equally derisory and in disgust her father had suddenly whisked her and Jimmy off to Greece. Later he’d told her that there had been too many memories of her mother and he could never face the thought of spending the rest of his life in an office.
He’d found Miranda, drowsing and neglected at a quayside in a place called Kiparissia. She was a converted sixty-foot fishing boat and they’d all fallen in love with her at first sight. Her father had found the owner and completed the deal that very day and two days later they had headed south round Cape Matapán then east into the Aegean with its thousands of islands scattered like green emeralds across the vast blue shimmering sea.
For two months her father had been content to sail whenever the spirit moved him. Somewhere at the back of his mind he must have been wondering how they were going to live when the money ran out but he was content to leave that in the hands of fate, and it so happened that fate duly obliged.
One afternoon they had dropped anchor in a secluded bay on a tiny island when they were hailed frantically from the shore by a man waving a handkerchief. Her father had rowed ashore in the dinghy to see what was the matter and had