“Forget the pleasantries. You have nerve showing up at the Palace of Poseidon.” Angelo pressed his mouth into a tight, forbidding line. “I couldn’t believe it when I was told you are performing in the Electra Theatre.”
She shrugged. “It’s a free world. I can work where I want.”
“Anywhere except on Strathmos. This is my world, run by my rules.” The island was more than his world; it was his home. The resort had been created from his dreams. Today he’d returned after a hectic month away to find that Gemma had already been working here for over a week.
“Do you really want to be faced with an unfair-dismissal action?” Her wariness had been replaced with attitude.
Angelo froze. He was known to be a fair employer, hard but just. He didn’t need the headache of an industrial action—and there was a good chance she’d succeed. Frustrated, he stared at the face that had grown more beautiful in the years since they’d been apart. Her hair was longer…wilder, her eyes glowed brighter and as for her mouth…that lush red mouth taunted him with fighting words. He jerked his attention away from her provocative mouth and gave her slender body an insultingly slow once-over. “Singer is certainly a step up from exotic dancer.”
“It’s been three years. Things change,” she pointed out.
“I haven’t changed.” He widened his stance and put his hands on his hips.
“No, you haven’t changed one little bit,” she agreed.
He assessed her through slitted eyes, not liking the bite in her tone. “So what do you want, Gemma? A second chance?”
An emotion he couldn’t decipher flitted across her stunning features. Gemma gave a brittle laugh. “A second chance? With you? You must be mad!”
He frowned, not liking the fact that he couldn’t read her any longer. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to work…it’s a free world.” With a sweeping hand she gestured to the blue stretch of the Aegean Sea beyond the beach where the catamarans rested. “You—or rather your minions—gave me the job. The money was too good to pass up.”
“Aah. Money.”
“Don’t scorn the lack of it so easily.” Her eyes were flashing now. “Just because you inherited an empire of resorts that stretch across the Greek isles before you turned twenty-one doesn’t give you the right to look down your nose at me. I need the money.”
Angelo felt himself bristle. Her tongue had developed a razor-sharp edge since their last unforgettable encounter. “I worked damn hard to build a chain of family hotels into world-class resorts. And you never objected to the funds it gave you access to in the past.”
He felt her withdraw, even before her eyes went blank. Then she murmured, “If the recent tabloids are to be believed, you’re so far removed from us ordinary working mortals, you might as well inhabit Mount Olympus.”
“You should know better than to believe everything you read in the newspapers,” he snapped, shuddering at the memory of the latest batch of headlines about his breakup with Melina.
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not the playboy they portray you to be? You don’t wear a different rising starlet or supermodel on your arm every month?”
He glared at her, his frustration increasing to a rising inferno, fanned by her sharp words. “The media exposure is advantageous to both the women and myself.”
“So it’s all about glamour? About creating an illusion about the rich and famous, then? Nothing more?”
His brows jerked together. “Why are you so interested—unless you do want a chance to get back into my bed?”
She snorted. “I don’t want you back.”
His mouth slanted. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you should be nice to the boss? Three years ago you would’ve never dared speak to me as you just did.”
“Three years ago, I was a silly little goose.”
She shifted and her tank top rode up, revealing a strip of tanned midriff. Every male instinct went on alert. “But you don’t deny that you are interested?” Angelo moved closer.
Gemma glanced at her watch. “I can’t deny you’re a fascinating man.”
The bite was back. He gave a surprised laugh. “You don’t want me back…but you’re interested enough to admit you find me fascinating? What message are you trying to send me?”
For an instant she looked rattled. He noticed that goose bumps had risen on her arms. “Are you cold?”
“No.” She rubbed her arms briskly, not meeting his eyes.
He touched her arm where the fine hairs stood on end. Gently. With a fingertip. “If you are not cold, then what is this?”
She jerked away. Her gaze swung up to meet his. He read bewilderment…and something more. A stark, turbulent emotion. Fear?
Gemma stepped away. “Excuse me.” The smile she gave him didn’t reach the eyes that were stretched wide. “But I need to go. It’s nearly time for the show. I’ve got to get ready. Maybe you can come watch.” She flung the invitation over her shoulder. As she brushed past him, Angelo let the weight of his hand land on her arm, stilling her.
She turned. This time, he was certain of the emotion that darkened her eyes from tawny to a deep sherry-brown.
It was fear. Powerful and totally overwhelming. He inspected her. From close-up he took in her darkened eyes, the taut tension in her face, the tiny shivers that rippled across her skin. He could smell the saltiness of the sea in her hair and feel the cool edge of the wind on her skin.
Why was she here? She’d implied she needed money. Was that the only reason? Or, despite her denial, did she hope to rekindle the burnt-out embers of their affair?
“Let me go.” Her voice was toneless. Pointedly, she stared at his long, tanned fingers lying against her skin. He removed them, taking his time and watching intently as she hauled in a steadying breath.
The nagging wind tugged at her wayward hair as she gave a hurried glance at her watch and scooped up the sandals lying in the sand. “I suppose I should say it’s been nice seeing you—”
“But you’d be lying.”
“I didn’t say that.” She stilled. There was chagrin in her eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Her mouth. His gaze dropped to her rosy lips. Full and lush. The sudden surge of desire was unexpected. It left him reeling. He clenched his fists. How could he want Gemma Allen? After everything she’d done?
How the hell could he have forgotten how sexy she was? The lush bee-stung lips, the sinuous curves of her sleek body, the cloud of dark red hair…how could he have let those details slide from his consciousness?
Reluctant to examine the discovery that he still desired her, he said softly between his teeth. “From exotic dancer into singer…I want to see this transformation. I’ll be at your show.”
Half an hour later, wearing only lacy briefs and a silky black halter-neck slip, Gemma sat alone in front of the mirror in the dressing room she shared with Lucie LaVie, a likeable comedienne who did a very funny routine in the bar adjacent to the Electra Theatre.
Meeting Angelo on the beach so unexpectedly had been a shock. Dammit, she hadn’t even known he was back. She’d been on Strathmos for just over a week, waiting for him, half-dreading their first encounter. She’d planned to be prepared…to be dressed to the nines…to show him what he was missing when they met again. Instead she’d been wearing shorts, no makeup and her legs had been covered in sand. She certainly hadn’t expected the curious numbness that had enveloped her.
Staring