the sea was visible.
As she completed her three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn Leandra felt her insides dissolve.
There was sea visible in every direction.
As she stilled, like a statue frozen in disbelief, the truth hit her.
She was on an island.
Theo closed the throttle and cut the rotors. He’d landed. Finally.
As he shut down the controls with routine expertise he glanced out of the helicopter, sliding off his headphones as he did so.
The girl was there waiting for him.
He’d seen her running towards the helipad as he’d made his descent, alerted by the racket the rotors made which was audible all over the island, he knew.
He glowered balefully in her direction. What an infernal mess this was! Cheaper than paying the girl to leave Demos? Theo snorted. It was going to cost an arm and a leg to sweeten her after her ordeal! And if she chose to press charges…
Sweat pricked beneath the collar of Theo’s business suit. He wanted a shower, and a long, cold beer.
He slid the door back and stepped out on to the ground. There was no way he was flying back to Athens tonight. The chopper would need refuelling, for a start, and night was coming on. Besides, he was tired.
Tired physically and mentally.
And his temper was on a knife-edge.
He just hoped the girl wasn’t the hysterical type. She must have been frightened by what had happened to her, he found himself thinking as he slid the door to and headed across to her. She was standing very still.
Theo hoped she wasn’t going to start weeping and wailing all over him.
He hated that in a woman.
As he drew closer, walking with his customary rapid stride, it dawned on him that if he hadn’t known it was Leandra Ross standing there he’d never have recognised her.
The clinging sex kitten was gone. Her lush, slender body, which had been so lavishly on show the other evening, was now almost completely concealed by a sweatshirt and jeans. Her glorious blond hair was pinned haphazardly on her head and her face was completely free of make-up. Yet she was still a stunner.
As he approached he felt his body responding. She had an unconscious grace, standing there, so very motionless—poised almost, he thought, like a nymph of mythical Greece, sighted by Apollo, or Dionysus, or any one of the Olympians in a mood for dalliance, deciding whether to flee from the approaching god or yield to his desire…
Again, just as it had at the gala, the vision that leapt in his mind was vivid. He saw her caught by his restraining arms, drawn close against him, so soft against his hardness, pressing her pliant body against him…
Brusquely he quelled the thought. It was an irrelevance. She was simply a complication—a deadly, dangerous complication now, thanks to Milo!—and she had to be neutralised as soon as possible. That was all.
He stopped in front of her.
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