and then she wondered what she had said to make him so tense.
Easing out of her, Iannis had pushed away from the banquette and straightened up. He swiped his clothes off the floor and moved towards the door.
‘Time for a shower,’ he called back, without a second glance in her direction.
Charlotte pressed her lips together, subduing the shock of his sudden departure along with the doubt invading her mind.
The room seemed very bare and empty without Iannis in it, Charlotte realised as she gathered her clothes together self-consciously. Hearing the water running in the bathroom, she slipped the dress over her head. She had no inclination to intrude. She couldn’t even be sure that she would be welcome. She would shower later, in her own bathroom at the villa…
‘Still here?’
Charlotte’s heart lurched as Iannis walked back into the room. Was he joking? She couldn’t see his face—it was buried in a towel as he rubbed his hair dry. Now that he had finished with her was she supposed to have left? Gone without a trace by the time he emerged from the bathroom?
Wearing nothing but his jeans, he looked amazing, but a different sort of hunger had overtaken Charlotte. She felt a desperate longing to know the man beneath the incredible physique; for all their intimacy she knew barely anything about him.
‘I thought you would join me in the shower,’ he said now, lifting his shoulders in an expressive shrug. ‘Shall I bathe you?’ he offered with a slanting smile.
How she wanted that, Charlotte realised, meeting his amused gaze with a degree of relief she took care to conceal.
But then other thoughts intruded, and she frowned. Article; feedback from editor; time running out. There was just so much thinking to do on the personal front—and work to catch up with on the professional front. She needed space from Iannis to do any of it.
‘I’d better get back,’ she said reluctantly.
Iannis was surprised to feel a pang of regret as Charlotte walked towards him. She looked so young, and so vulnerable again as she lifted one arm out towards him, as if inviting a final embrace. But she had her own agenda, he remembered, and he found himself straddling an impossible divide between the desire for revenge and the need to protect her. She had no idea what she was up against—how could she?
But when he felt her touch him lightly on the arm as she moved past him Iannis caught hold of her again.
‘I’ll walk you back to the villa,’ he said.
How could he not be there to protect her? he wondered, gazing down into Charlotte’s face. Tracing the freckles across the bridge of her nose very lightly with one finger, he smiled, but when she lifted her chin trustingly to meet his gaze he found he had to turn his head away and let her go.
MAYBE she was just being ridiculous, Charlotte told herself as they strolled back to the villa. Perhaps Iannis just liked nice things. Perhaps he had come into money. Perhaps the expensive accessories she had seen lying around were gifts from a grateful lover.
The last thought made her so angry she had to stop thinking altogether for a few moments.
She told herself that her suspicions were the product of an overactive imagination. Yes, he could be warm, and witty, and he had a breadth of knowledge she found stimulating—but there was a library on Iskos, as well as television and radio, and doubtless the village school was very good.
The deserted villa was all in darkness, and rose like a milky-white spectre amidst a gathering circle of trees. Could he really leave her alone in such a place?
Iannis was already answering his own question as his keen gaze raked the shadows.
Had he lost his appetite for revenge? he mused, steadying Charlotte as she stumbled in the darkness. He wanted to believe she was misguided rather than bad. Surely the fallout from her invasion into his privacy could be dealt with? And, not only that, she would be out of his life for good in a couple of days.
When she gave a soft cry and stumbled again, with a sound of impatience he swung her into his arms.
‘I’m perfectly capable of walking—’
‘I’m sure you are. But this is easier. I have to be at work early in the morning, so I need to get to bed. I’ve no time for detours to the hospital if you twist your ankle.’
‘You’re too kind,’ Charlotte commented wryly.
‘Aren’t I?’ Iannis countered, matching her provocative tone.
When they reached the door he set her down and held out his hand for the key. Opening the door, he stood back to let her pass and then followed her inside.
‘Are you sure you don’t get nervous when you’re here on your own?’ he said, his voice echoing around the empty hall.
‘Not really,’ Charlotte admitted as she went ahead of him to switch on the lights. ‘Staying on my own at the villa has been good for me. Sometimes it’s important to have time on your own—thinking time. Do you know what I mean?’
Iannis refrained from answering, just eased his shoulders in a shrug as he leaned back against the door.
‘Come in. Close the door,’ Charlotte said. ‘I just have to check something—do you mind?’
And what if I do? Iannis thought, irritation rising inside him as he guessed what she was about to do.
Charlotte glanced towards the kitchen door, knowing her responsibilities lay behind it. She was keen to log on, to see if there had been any reaction yet to the first draft of her article. She would offer him a drink—distract him…
Iannis watched her head straight for the scrubbed pine table where she had left her laptop. His gaze mapped out everything—the Internet connection leading from the telephone box on the wall, her notepad, and the neat stack of printed sheets.
‘I won’t be long,’ Charlotte said as she flashed him a smile.
‘No problem—why don’t I wait for you outside on the veranda?’ Something held him back from staying close by. Let her have enough rope to hang herself, Iannis thought bitterly as he moved towards the outer doors.
‘I’ll bring a nightcap outside for us when I’ve finished,’ Charlotte called after him. ‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’
‘No hurry,’ Iannis murmured. How true. He was in no hurry to read her eyes and see what the reaction had been to the work she had completed.
He could have predicted that it would be foremost in her mind when she got back, he realised, making himself comfortable on one of the outdoor chairs. And yet, he had delayed his departure in order to have one last night with her. Their relationship was beginning to show some unfortunate similarities to a tawdry series of farewell tours.
A muscle flexed in his jaw and he looked back into the villa to watch Charlotte leaning over the computer as she read from
