The Power of the Legendary Greek. Catherine George

She eyed him curiously. ‘You dislike journalists and guard your privacy very fiercely, Mr Andreadis, so are you some kind of celebrity here in Greece?’

      He shook his head. ‘No, just a successful businessman, Miss James. I am in shipping, but also much in the news lately, due to a successful takeover of a private airline.’ His mouth turned down. ‘And I have no wife. This also attracts interest from the press.’

      ‘About whether you’re gay?’ she said, secretly delighted by the look of outrage on his face.

      ‘Ochee! I may lack a wife, but it is common knowledge that I enjoy the company of women. Did you think I was gay?’ he demanded.

      ‘Not easy to tell on such brief acquaintance.’

      His eyes narrowed to a glitter, which put her on the alert. ‘Even though we have been in enforced physical contact from the first moment of our meeting?’

      Isobel’s face heated. ‘I wasn’t conscious for most of it. And, now that I am, no further contact is necessary. Not,’ she added hastily, ‘that I’m ungrateful for your help.’

      He shrugged. ‘I had no choice but to give it, Miss James.’

      She eyed him in disdain. ‘You made that very clear—but I’m grateful just the same.’

      His eyes softened. ‘It has been a bad start to your holiday.’

      ‘It has indeed.’ She pushed her hair away from her throbbing forehead. ‘So, if you can spare the time to drive me to my cottage tomorrow to get on with it, I’d be very grateful, Mr Andreadis.’

      ‘You cannot manage alone there yet,’ he said dismissively.

      ‘I most certainly can. There is absolutely no difference between getting myself around this room and doing the same at the cottage.’

      ‘And how will you feed yourself?’

      She’d been prepared for that. ‘If Eleni will buy food for me before I go, I’ll manage very well until I can walk properly again. My ankle feels better already,’ she lied. ‘In a day or so I’ll be back to normal.’

      He eyed her in silence for a moment. ‘Before you make your escape from the Villa Medusa, please indulge my curiosity. Tell me something about yourself. From your drawings, your interest obviously lies in art, Miss James.’

      ‘Yes. I have a Fine Art Degree.’

      ‘You teach?’

      ‘No. I manage an art gallery and live in the flat over it as part of a deal which includes putting my work on sale at the gallery, as well as the paintings I sell privately.’

      ‘You live near your family?’

      Isobel looked down at the hands she’d folded in her lap. ‘No. My wonderful grandparents brought me up, but they’re dead now.’

      Luke leaned forward slightly. ‘And your parents?’

      ‘I never knew them. They were killed in a motorway pileup in fog when I was a baby.’

      ‘That is a sad story,’ he said sombrely. ‘But you were fortunate to have grandparents who cared for you.’

      ‘True. They were the only parents I ever knew, and I couldn’t have wished for better. But, though I’m short on family, I’m blessed with very good friends,’ said Isobel, trying to ignore her headache. ‘In the past my holidays were spent with one of them but, since her marriage a couple of years ago, I travel alone.’

      Luke got up. ‘Have you informed this friend of your accident?’

      ‘I saw no point in worrying her. I’ll be fine in a day or two.’

      ‘But you are not fine now. Your headache is bad again, yes?’ ‘Afraid so,’ she admitted.

      He looked down at her, frowning. ‘I shall send Eleni to help you to bed.’ He held up a peremptory hand. ‘Yes, I know you can manage without her, but she insisted. Is there anything you would like her to bring you?’

      Isobel smiled hopefully. ‘I would really love some tea.’

      ‘Of course. You shall have it immediately. Kalmychta—goodnight, Miss James.’

      ‘Goodnight, Mr Andreadis.’

      Isobel was very thoughtful after he’d gone, wondering why he’d asked so many questions. It made her doubly wary of Lukas Andreadis, mainly because her current opinion of his sex was at an all-time low. But, looked at objectively, from an artistic point of view he was a formidable specimen, with the physique and sculpted features of the Greek statues she’d studied in college. Though more like the Renaissance muscular versions than the androgynous Apollo Belvedere of Ancient Greece. Similar curls, maybe, but Luke Andreadis was very obviously all male, his impressive build a definite plus when it came to carrying her about. His one concession to vanity seemed to be the hair he grew long enough to brush his collar. But she would have expected those curls of his to be black, like his eyes. Instead, they were bronze with lighter streaks, courtesy of the sun. Her mouth tightened. Goodlooking he might be, but when she’d first seen him, down on his precious private beach, he’d been so menacing he’d frightened her to death.

      Isobel took more painkillers with the tea Eleni brought her, then submitted to her yoghurt beauty treatment and let the kind little woman help her to bed. Isobel thanked Eleni warmly, wished her goodnight, and then settled down against banked pillows and, though fully expecting to lie awake for hours with her aches and pains for company, eventually drifted off into healing, dreamless sleep.