Janine didn’t blame them for looking. The man sitting opposite her in his hand-tailored suit, would turn female heads wherever he went! Sexual magnetism radiated from him like a forcefield, pulling at everything in sight with a double X chromosome!
The barman was hovering, ready to take their orders.
‘A frappe, please, no sugar,’ requested Janine abstractedly. She had already discovered that iced frappes were the ideal way to take coffee in the heat of the day, and were delicious and cooling. Her companion ordered coffee—Greek, she assumed.
The barman nodded acquiescently and hurried off.
Nikos turned his attention back to the girl. She was still wary, he could see—but still radiating sexual awareness. Not that she was flaunting her reaction to him. If anything, judging by the way she was sitting—pulled back in her chair, legs slanted neatly out of the way, her hand resting on the knot of her sarong, shielding her breasts—she was trying to conceal it.
Her lack of immediate sexual forwardness—despite his blatant appreciation of her charms—confirmed that he had been right to acknowledge Stephanos’s presence in her life. The girl had landed herself a very soft number indeed—and she clearly realised it would be folly for her to risk her position as Stephanos’s mistress, with all the guaranteed cashflow that it promised, for the sake of a brief interlude with a passing stranger. However much sexual pleasure she might gain from the encounter.
Hence her wariness.
Time to dispel it.
He slid his dark glasses off and slipped them into his jacket pocket. He relaxed back in his chair.
‘Perhaps I should explain that I am here at Stephanos’s suggestion,’ he told her smilingly. ‘Stephanos is a close friend and business associate, and when he heard I was coming to Skarios he suggested I stay at his hotel and asked me to seek you out,’ he went on, the lie coming smoothly and fluently. He felt no guilt about lying to her. He only had to remember Demetria’s tears and pleadings to absolve himself of all such guilt.
Janine made no answer. She was simply staring.
She felt her stomach clench. Dark, gold-flecked eyes flickered over her, long lashes sweeping down over his cheeks. Her lips parted in a silent exhalation.
If she had thought his mouth hard to tear her gaze from, those eyes made such an act totally impossible. They were eyes she could drown in…making her feel weak…
For one long, endless moment she let herself gaze into those gold-flecked orbs, and felt her stomach churning like a cement mixer.
What was happening to her?
She’d never reacted this strongly to a man! Never! But this man—this complete stranger, whose name she didn’t even know—was making the blood race in her veins, her face flush with heat…
Just by looking at her…
Their drinks arrived and she was grateful for the distraction. As the barman walked away she resisted the temptation to go back to gazing at the man opposite her, and instead forced herself to focus on what he had just said, not what he looked like.
‘Stephanos asked you to seek me out?’ she echoed dimly.
She sank back into gazing, riveted, into those magnetic, night-dark eyes.
They seemed to be looking into the heart of her. She felt herself go weak all over. All over again.
Nikos flashed another smile at her—and watched the girl’s pupils flare.
‘I hope you do not mind,’ he said softly, ‘that I have sought you out.’
His eyes rested on her and Janine felt her heart quicken. Oh, good grief, her bones were dissolving…. She just wanted to stare and stare.
Forcibly she dragged her mind back, fighting for composure. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.
‘Oh—no. Of course not,’ she managed to say. ‘It’s very good of you, Mr—er—?’
There was the slightest hesitation before Nikos spoke, but Janine did not notice it. Was quite incapable of noticing it.
‘Kiriakis,’ said Nikos smoothly. ‘Nikos Kiriakis.’
Through veiled eyes he studied her for a reaction but saw none. The name meant nothing to her. He’d gambled that it wouldn’t. Why should Stephanos talk about his brother-in-law to his mistress?
Nikos Kiriakis. Janine rolled the fluid syllables around in her head.
He was speaking again, and she brought her dazed attention back to what he was saying.
‘Stephanos also had another suggestion,’ Nikos went on, ‘which for my part I would be very happy to comply with.’ The lie rolled as smoothly as the first.
Janine stared. ‘What suggestion?’ Her voice still sounded totally abstracted.
Nikos was not offended. Usually he expected—and got—a hundred per cent attention from those he spoke to. But that Janine Fareham was incapable of bringing such focus to their conversation was only a good sign. A very good sign. He wanted her dazzled by him—lured by him.
‘As you know, Stephanos is currently en route to the States,’ began Nikos. He studied her reaction to this information—he calculated. Stephanos would have told her he was going to be abroad, although he doubted he would have told her that the reason for his sudden trip to New York was to take his wife to a fertility expert there.
‘He is concerned that you may not have anything to do while he is away,’ he continued. ‘So he asked me if I would look after you while I am here—stop you getting bored.’
Janine’s wandering thoughts snapped back. Suddenly the stomach-churning impact of Nikos Kiriakis’s physical presence vanished. There was something far more important to focus on.
What had he just said to her? What was all that about Stephanos telling him she might be bored? Telling him to look after her? Surely, considering Stephanos’s determination to keep her role in his life quiet, it was madness to send this Nikos Kiriakis to look her up?
Nikos saw the consternation in her face. It would not help his strategy.
‘Perhaps I should tell you,’ he said, his eyes resting on her, ‘that, as a close friend of Stephanos Ephandrou, I am aware of the relationship between you, Ms Fareham—’
Her eyes widened, her consternation deepening.
‘You are?’
CHAPTER TWO
OH, YES, thought Nikos savagely—that was good, Ms Fareham, that was very good! That little touch of surprise, and widening those big, beautiful eyes of yours. What the hell did you suppose everyone would think about your relationship with a fifty-two-year-old man? His mouth tightened.
She was sitting there, gazing at him, her eyes wide in her beautiful face. As if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. As if neglected wives, heartbroken and despairing, had nothing
