had asked the question to distract attention away from Stelios’s health—and her ploy worked. Andreas moved closer and there was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slid his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his.
‘You tell me, omorfia mou. Do you think I haven’t noticed the hungry looks you send me every time I pay my father a visit?’
‘I don’t...’ she began, her face flaming with embarrassment that Andreas had guessed her fascination with him. It was so unlike her. She was always guarded with men, determined to protect her heart against the pain of rejection that she’d felt so deeply in the past. Andreas’s sexy laugh sent a tremor through her and, fool that she was, Isla ignored her common sense which told her to step away from him.
‘Yes, you do,’ he drawled. ‘What’s more, you want me to kiss you.’
Her heart leapt into her throat. ‘I do not...’ she whispered, but her denial died away as he lowered his head until his lips were centimetres above hers and his warm breath grazed her skin.
‘Liar.’
He had kissed her then. Although kiss was not an apt description of the way he had claimed her mouth with an arrogant possession that should have appalled her. Instead she had capitulated to his mastery, unable to resist his fiery passion and the bold sweep of his tongue between her lips.
The kiss was unlike anything Isla had ever experienced before. She had been kissed by other men—a few, although she could count on one hand the number of dates she’d been on that had got as far as a fumbling kiss at the end of the evening, she thought ruefully. When Andreas kissed her, she discovered a deeply sensual side to her nature that shocked her. But, before she had a chance to explore how he made her feel, he snatched his mouth from hers and stepped away from her so abruptly that she grabbed hold of the kitchen counter to support her legs that had turned to jelly. Andreas’s hard-boned face gave no clue to his thoughts and he walked out of the kitchen without a word.
Isla felt humiliated by his rejection, which brought back painful memories of when she’d been a teenager and had introduced herself to her father. With hindsight, perhaps she had been naïve to hope that David Stanford would be delighted to meet the daughter he’d abandoned when she was a few months old. But his insistence that there was no place for her in his life had been a brutal end to her hopes of having a relationship with her father. Isla had vowed then never to allow herself to be hurt by any man ever again.
She was jolted back to the present when she felt the pressure of Andreas’s hard thigh against hers. She hadn’t been aware that he’d moved, but now she found herself trapped against the balustrade. Her breath hitched in her throat when he ran his finger lightly down her hot cheek. She realised that she had been staring at his sensual mouth while she’d relived the kiss they had shared in London. The gleam in his eyes told her he had read her thoughts.
‘Tell me about your romance with my father,’ he demanded in a cynical voice. ‘It seems very sudden. A few weeks ago you were employed as his housekeeper and you were quite happy to kiss me.’
‘The kiss was a mistake that I immediately regretted.’ She flushed at his look of arrogant disbelief. ‘It’s true. You’re a playboy who uses women for your pleasure and discards them like trash when you are bored of them. You asked why I accepted your father’s proposal and I’ll tell you. Stelios is a gentleman. He is kind and sweet...’
Isla’s voice thickened with emotion. Stelios was the only person, apart from her mother, who had ever cared about her, but soon he would be gone from this world, just as her mother had gone, and she would be alone again. The one tiny comfort was that Stelios and Marion would finally be together.
‘You expect me to believe that my father’s wealth has no bearing on your decision to accept his marriage proposal?’ Andreas gritted.
‘I don’t care what you believe. The truth is that I love your father.’
Andreas jerked as if she’d slapped him. His blue eyes burned into Isla like lasers, seeking out every last secret in her soul as his dark head came closer, blotting out the light from the room behind him so that there was just the darkness of the night and the harsh sound of his breaths echoing the erratic beat of her heart.
‘Love?’ he mocked. He captured her wrist between his strong fingers. ‘I could kiss you right now and you wouldn’t stop me, even though my father, who you profess to love, and the guests he invited to celebrate his engagement to you are only feet away from us.’
He dropped his gaze to the exposed upper slopes of her breasts that were rising and falling jerkily. Isla knew she should demand that he release her. But she couldn’t speak, could barely think. The spicy scent of his aftershave, mixed with something elusive and male, swamped her senses. His mouth, so close to hers but not close enough, was an unbearable torment. Heat swept through her and she felt an ache low in her pelvis. Her breasts felt heavy and she wanted... Oh, God, she wanted his mouth everywhere on her body.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Andreas swore. ‘This is crazy,’ he said hoarsely. He sounded as if he was waging an internal battle with himself and his voice jolted Isla to her senses.
She must be out of her mind to allow Andreas to undermine her defences. Even if she hadn’t agreed to the pretend engagement with Stelios, it would be foolish to succumb to her desire for Andreas, which made her feel hot and shivery at the same time.
No other man had ever excited her the way Andreas did, and she longed to press herself against his whipcord body and burn in his fire. But the kiss they had shared in London had clearly meant nothing to him, she reminded herself, still smarting from the memory of how he had walked away from her without a backward glance. She would not be Andreas’s plaything and she put her hand on his chest to push him away, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he dropped his arms to his sides and stepped away from her.
Light spilled across the terrace from the drawing room as the door swung open and Stelios’s slightly stooped figure was silhouetted in the doorframe. ‘Isla?’
‘I’m here,’ she called out. She was still looking at Andreas and flushed at the contemptuous expression in his eyes when he stared back at her. Thank goodness she had come to her senses and stopped him from kissing her.
‘What are you doing out here in the dark?’ Stelios asked.
‘I was pointing out the lights of some of the notable buildings on the mainland to Isla,’ Andreas told his father, falling into step beside her when she walked back across the terrace. ‘I explained that the villa stands on a hill, hence the excellent view.’
Stelios was silent as his eyes moved between Isla and his son. ‘Yes, I see,’ he said softly at last. Isla prayed he didn’t. It was ridiculous to feel guilty, she told herself. Stelios had promised that he would explain to his family the reason for their fake engagement after Nefeli’s birthday party. But the affection she felt for the elderly man was genuine and she smiled at him as she slipped her arm through his.
‘I’m sorry you were looking for me. I should have told you that I was stepping outside for some fresh air.’
‘Your advice is needed,’ Stelios told her. ‘My friend Georgios is planning to visit the British Museum in London and he is especially interested in seeing the collection of ancient Greek antiquities housed there. I explained that you will be able to advise him which galleries and exhibits he would enjoy.’
‘Do you spend a lot
