He moved away from the countertop. Beneath his open-necked shirt, golden skin peppered with dark hair was visible. He took a step closer to her. Her breath caught as she inhaled his scent—a sensual muskiness with hints of spice and lemon. She stared at the broadness of his shoulders beneath the slim-fitting white shirt, the narrowness of his hips in the dark tuxedo trousers, the long length of his legs.
He stepped even closer, towering over her, those light green eyes burnished with gold scorching into hers. He leaned down towards her ear and in a low growl asked, ‘Tell me...will your boyfriend be joining you for the wedding?’
His voice rumbled through her body. She didn’t know whether to run away from the dark danger that everything about this man screamed or just give in and lean into the heat and invisible pull of his powerful body.
She stepped back. Again he pinned her to the spot with his demanding stare.
‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Then who’s Matt?’
‘Matt? Matt’s my brother.’
For a moment he considered her suspiciously, as though searching for the truth. Then abruptly he turned away.
‘I understand from Christos that you wish to use the workshops down by the island jetty to prepare the flowers? Tomorrow my gardener Ioannis will show you the way. If you need to travel to any of the other islands Ioannis will take you. My housekeeper Eleni will take care of your meals. Your bedroom is upstairs—the third room to the right. I have left your luggage there.’
Rebelliousness surged through her at his dismissive tone. ‘And what about you, Andreas? Will you have a partner at the wedding this weekend?’
He turned and considered her. ‘No. I’ll be on my own. The way I like it. And, to answer your earlier question, I can see no reason why we cannot get on with one another. I will go along with Christos’s wishes...but please don’t expect me to embrace this wedding with the same enthusiasm as you. My days of believing in romance and love are long gone.’
He threw the uneaten orange into the bin, muttered, ‘Kalinichta...goodnight...’ and walked out of the room.
Grace collapsed against the wall, suddenly exhausted. She closed her eyes and prayed that tomorrow would go more smoothly. That the deliveries would arrive on time. That in the cold light of the day her senseless attraction to Andreas would diminish.
Because Andreas Petrakis was as far removed from her ideal man as Attila the Hun.
ANDREAS SLOWED THE pace of his morning swim for the last hundred metres into the shore and trailed his eye up the cliff-face and the numerous terraces built into it.
In only three days’ time the island would be overrun with the hundreds of guests who were to be ferried out to the island from Athens. There would be polite avoiding of his eye, curious studying of him to see if he gave any sign of remembering his own vows of commitment, and how his marriage had ended within twelve short months.
He hoped Christos knew what he was doing. That he knew Sofia as well as he said he did. Andreas did not want to see his brother hurt. Or his family humiliated and disappointed again.
He had spent the past month, since Christos had announced his engagement, avoiding any involvement in the wedding preparations. He would respect his brother’s decision and play the dutiful best man. Get along with the chief bridesmaid as best he could. But he’d keep his distance from her. To do otherwise, no matter how tempting, would be foolhardy.
There was undoubtedly a spark of attraction between them, but she was an out-and-out romantic and he had no business getting involved with a woman who believed in fairy-tale endings. Not when he knew that love was nothing but a fantasy. Anyway, the best man should never get involved with the chief bridesmaid. It was never a good idea in the long run.
On the warm sand at the base of the cliff he grabbed his towel and made his way back up the steep steps to the villa. He had rushed into marriage, like Christos. In the intense whirlwind of infatuation he had thought he had found love. But through her lies and betrayal his ex-wife had hardened his heart for ever. He would never trust again. He had always believed in marriage, in having children. But now those were the long forgotten dreams of an innocent.
Close to the top of his climb, he came to a stop on the final steps. Laden down with files and paperwork, her hair tied up into a high ponytail, bouncing from side to side, Grace rushed down the path towards him. She was dressed in a white lace blouse, pink shorts and trainers, and the sight of her bare legs had his abdominals tensing with frustration.
She spotted him and slowed, her eyes quickly flicking over him. Heat filled her cheeks before she looked away.
‘Kalimera—good morning, Grace.’
She ventured another quick gaze at him and nodded. This time her eyes held his.
The morning sun highlighted the honey and caramel tones in her hair, emphasising the mesmerising violet colour of her eyes. Eyes that could do funny things to a man’s resolve if he wasn’t careful.
Invisible strings of mutual attraction tugged tight. He wanted to step closer, to cradle the delicate exposed lines of her neck, draw her mouth up towards his...
The beads of seawater that had been slowly following a lazy path down his body now felt electrified on his unbearably sensitive skin. He felt alive to a world of sensual possibilities.
She made a few attempts to talk, all the while shuffling the files in her arms, her eyes darting to and from him.
Why was she so jumpy? ‘Is everything okay?’
Her head moved almost imperceptibly from side to side, as though she was trying to weigh up how she was going to reply. She bit down on her lip, exposing the not quite perfect alignment of her front teeth, with one tooth slightly overlapping the other. Why did he find that imperfection so appealing?
Eventually she said in a rush, ‘Ioannis just called. The flowers are already down at the jetty. Apparently they were delivered before dawn. The delivery company were supposed to call me. I was meant to inspect them before they left... And, worse still, they were supposed to carry them as far as the workshops for me.’
The workshops sat on a steep hill overlooking the cove—she would need some help. ‘Ask Ioannis to help you.’
‘He had to go to Naxos to collect the caterers and the wedding planner and her team. A florist from Naxos was supposed to be coming with them, to assist me today, but she just called to say that she’s sick.’
Thee mou! Did Grace know what she was doing? A missed flight, a missed delivery, and now a sick member of staff. ‘Get Ioannis and the wedding planner’s team to help you when they arrive.’
‘I can’t leave the flowers out in this heat. I have to get them into the cool of the workshops straight away.’
Why hadn’t he opted to stay in Athens for the duration of the wedding preparations? Because you love your brother. And as his work in London has prevented him from travelling until Thursday you promised to be here in case there were any issues.
But he had urgent business to deal with too. He didn’t have time for this. His instinct about Grace needing babysitting hadn’t been far off the mark after all.
‘Do you usually face so many problems?’
She considered him for a brief moment, her anxiety fading to be replaced by a sharp intelligence. ‘There are always unforeseen problems with the flowers for any wedding. It’s my job to deal with them as quickly as I can.’ She paused, and although her cheeks grew even more enflamed