She paused once, bending forward as if the effort had defeated her. She was coughing, her hands braced on her knees, trying to suck air into her burning lungs. Then she turned to give him a tortured look.
‘You—crazy—fool,’ she got out with difficulty, her voice made husky by her distress. ‘What in God’s name did you think you were doing?’
Milos took a deep breath and swam smoothly to the side. ‘Well, not trying to drown you,’ he said wearily as she retreated up the steps. ‘Stop panicking. No harm has been done.’
‘Just—stay away from me,’ she told him unsteadily, but he could tell from the way her eyes flicked to the row of cabanas that she was undecided what to do next. Safety might lie in the villa, but her clothes were in the cabana.
Spreading his arms wide, to indicate she had nothing to fear from him, Milos climbed out of the pool. Unlike her, apparently, he was still suffering the after-effects of that kiss, and like her he took a few moments to steady his breathing.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last, though it pained him to say it. ‘I suppose you think that shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Damn right!’ Her voice quivered, but he could see she was determined not to back down.
Milos lifted his shoulders. ‘Then you shouldn’t have provoked me.’
Helen gave an indignant snort. ‘Because I asked if you were wearing—swimming gear?’ she exclaimed hotly.
‘No. Because you wouldn’t believe me,’ he retorted smoothly. ‘And as you can see, I am adequately covered.’
It wasn’t the most sensible thing to say in his present position. When her eyes dropped automatically to his boxer shorts, his treacherous body couldn’t help but respond.
And she noticed.
‘You—you’re shameless,’ she said, winding protective arms about her midriff. ‘Do—do you ever think of anything but sex?’
Milos stared at her in disbelief. Theos, he knew he hadn’t imagined the instinctive response he’d felt in those moments before he’d been forced to push up to the surface of the pool. She’d been just as involved as he’d been, and it infuriated him that she could stand there and pretend that what had happened had been all his doing.
But what was new?
‘You—amuse me, do you know that?’ he demanded between his teeth, although what she really did to him didn’t bear description. ‘You deluded yourself that you had no part in our lovemaking fourteen years ago, and you’re doing the same again now.’
‘No, it’s you who is deluding himself,’ she told him swiftly. ‘I didn’t want to come here, Milos. You made me. And now I’d like to go back.’
‘I’ll just bet you would,’ he muttered, barely audibly, as he bounded up the remainder of the steps and wrapped his arm about her waist. Then, for the third time that day, he damned his soul by covering her trembling mouth with his.
There was a moment when he thought she was going to resist. Her hands came up and dug painfully into his shoulders, but her anger didn’t last. When his tongue invaded her mouth, filling that hot, wet cavern with a greedy hunger, she uttered a helpless little moan of submission. Then, her fingers spread and lingered, gripping his arms now as if to save herself from falling.
He didn’t attempt to hide his response to her eagerness. A hot lust was pounding through his veins and the memory of what they had once shared was like a fever in his blood. He was blind to everything but the knowledge that he wanted her again. He wanted to taste her, to tempt her, to show her that what had been between them was by no means over.
With a groan vibrating in his chest, he hooked his thumbs into the vest top, pulling it down far enough so that he could lick the moist hollow between her breasts. She tasted so good, her heat surging to meet his tongue despite the pool-induced chill of her skin. She melted under his hands, swaying helplessly against him. She was making sensuous little sounds, too, her fingers moving restlessly into his hair.
He knew she was no longer in control of her emotions. Milos felt a surge of satisfaction at the thought of how easily she’d succumbed to his demands. She might hate him later, but right now she was breathing heavily, her limbs soft and trembling against his.
His eyes dropped to her breasts and, bending his head, he pushed the stretchy fabric low enough for him to take one engorged nipple into his mouth. He rolled it against his tongue, hearing the whimpers of pleasure she was making, and contemplated how she would react if he slipped his hands inside the bikini briefs.
But before he could act on it, before he could do anything more than press her even closer to his throbbing erection, the sound of spinning rotor blades rent the air. They were accompanied by the roar of powerful engines, and Milos needed no crystal ball to know what they presaged.
He swore then, in his own language, but the words he used were scarcely adequate to describe his frustration. There was no longer any opportunity to expose more of Helen’s delectable body, and, while common sense might applaud that reality, his emotional needs were fairly screaming their regrets.
Reluctantly, he pulled her top up over her breasts and placed his hands on her shoulders. Somehow, he had to rescue this situation before the pilot of his helicopter stepped out of the aircraft. It wasn’t going to be easy with Helen gazing up at him in wide, uncomprehending inquiry. There was so much he wanted to do with her, so much he still had to say. And now, skata, it was too late. Too late, especially, to tell her how she made him feel.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and he knew at once that he’d said the wrong thing.
‘You’re sorry,’ she echoed, and as the words took root he saw the dreamy expression draining out of her eyes and something else, something much less attractive, taking its place. ‘Oh, yes. You’re very good at being sorry after the event.’
‘You don’t understand—’
‘Oh, I think I do.’
‘My helicopter is here,’ he said, through clenched teeth. ‘It’s just arrived. Didn’t you hear it? It’s come to fly me to Athens for the conference.’
‘Where’s Milos?’
Helen’s lips tightened. How ironic that that should be the first question Melissa asked when she and Rhea got back to the villa at San Rocco. Not Where have you been? Or Did you have a good time? Just Where’s Milos? As if he was the person her daughter most wanted to see.
‘He’s getting ready to leave for Athens,’ Helen replied, amazed that she could answer the question so coolly. ‘He was—we were at Vassilios when his helicopter arrived.’
‘His helicopter! Wow!’ Melissa was impressed. She turned to Rhea, who was just behind her. ‘Is it really his helicopter?’
‘It belongs to the company,’ said Rhea evenly, but Helen was aware that the girl’s eyes were on her, not on Melissa. ‘It’s more convenient than a plane.’
‘Cool!’ Melissa’s eyes sparkled. ‘Imagine that: having a helicopter you can use any time you feel like it.’
‘Anyway, he said you knew all about it,’ Helen put in, addressing herself to Rhea. ‘He sends his apologies for not saying goodbye.’
Rhea nodded, her eyes still thoughtful. ‘He’s attending a conference about reducing oil pollution,’ she said absently. Then, ‘Did he have time to bring you back?’
‘No. Stelios did that.’
But Helen didn’t want to think about that now. It was enough to know that she could still smell the pool water on her body, could still feel the possessive touch of Milos’s hands, Milos’s