The Mediterranean Tycoon. Margaret Mayo

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His casual pose emphasised his dynamic sexuality and Peta felt a tightening of her muscles. Her smile in response was little more than a grimace.

      It was the first time she’d seen him in anything other than a collar and tie. In a blue thin-knit half-sleeved shirt, grey chinos and loafers he looked far less formidable. But infinitely more dangerous! She was scared of the sensations he managed to arouse in her these days.

      Ben broke the awkward silence. ‘You’re my mummy’s boss, aren’t you? Thank you for my Scalextric; I love it. Me and Mummy put it together. Would you like to come and play?’

      Andreas Papadakis smiled briefly. ‘Some other time, perhaps. I need to talk to your mother.’

      Somehow Peta couldn’t see this indomitable man getting down on his knees and playing racing cars with an eight-year-old boy. ‘Mr Papadakis is here on business, Ben. He hasn’t time to play,’ she consoled him, at the same time wondering exactly why he had come calling.

      She unlocked the door and Ben ran straight up to his room, and as her boss was standing right behind her she had no alternative but to invite him in, even though she would have preferred to talk outside.

      It wasn’t really a cottage, although it went under that name. It was a small, old town house on the outskirts of Southampton. She would have liked something grander but it was all she could afford, and it was home. It was clean and tidy and the furniture she’d renovated suited the house. She was happy here.

      In her sitting room she turned to face him. ‘This is quite a surprise, Mr Papadakis. Is the conference off tomorrow? Is that what you’ve come to tell me?’

      ‘No, indeed,’ he stated emphatically. ‘I simply wanted to make sure that you’d come prepared. You looked somewhat shocked when I suggested a cocktail dress.’

      ‘I was,’ she claimed. ‘I still am. You make it sound as though we’re going to a party. And I—’

      ‘It’s no party, I assure you,’ he interjected swiftly.

      ‘Then why the cocktail dress?’ She wondered whether she ought to suggest he sit down. But no, he might stay too long, and that was the last thing she wanted.

      ‘Because after the conference we’re having dinner,’ he explained with exaggerated patience. ‘Naturally we’ll go on talking business, but it’s not the sort of place where you can underdress.’

      Peta narrowed her eyes speculatively, her head tilted to one side. ‘And in what exact capacity would I be going?’ It was something she needed to get very clear in her mind right from the beginning.

      Eyebrows rose. ‘Why, as my very able assistant. I thought you understood that. I shall rely on you to take notes, make sure I didn’t miss anything. You can familiarise yourself with the agenda in the morning. As I said, the conference begins at two. We’ll have a sandwich lunch in the office.’ He paused and studied her face intently. ‘You still don’t look as though you’re sure about coming.’

      ‘I somehow don’t think I have a choice.’

      ‘Correct. It’s all part of the job. Is it your son you’re worried about? Have you no one to look after him?’

      ‘I have, yes, but he’s my whole life, I hate leaving him. I feel I’m letting him down.’

      He nodded as if he understood, but she couldn’t see how, and when he turned towards the door she gave a sigh of relief. ‘I’ll see you at nine sharp in the morning,’ he said. ‘Say goodbye to your son for me.’

      ‘His name’s Ben.’

      ‘Say goodbye to Ben for me, then.’

      ‘Why don’t you do it yourself? He’s dying for you to see his Scalextric in action.’ Now, why had she said that when she was anxious to be rid of him? Peta gave a mental shake of her head. She was out of her mind.

      Andreas shot a look at his watch. ‘I really should be getting back, but—maybe a couple of minutes.’

      Back to whom? wondered Peta as she led him up the stairs. His current girlfriend? His mistress? Or back to the office? Did he work on a Sunday?

      She felt his eyes boring into her back, maybe assessing her figure, her bottom in her tight denim jeans, checking her out to see whether she could be added to his list of conquests. Some chance!

      But Ben had spotted them. ‘Hello, have you come to play?’ he asked brightly.

      ‘Only to look,’ explained Andreas. ‘It’s a very fine layout you have there, but maybe if you…’ In no time at all he was on his knees making adjustments, much to Peta’s amazement, and it was another half-hour before he finally left.

      Ben couldn’t stop talking about him. ‘Is that man going to come again?’ he kept asking. ‘Look what he did, Mummy. It’s so much better. Come and play with me.’

      But Peta had other more important things on her mind. ‘Not now, darling, we have to go and see Auntie Susan.’ Sue wasn’t really Ben’s aunt; she was a friend from her schooldays, divorced and happy, leading a full social life.

      ‘Peta, how lovely to see you. And hello, Ben. How are you, little man? Come in, come in. I’ll put the kettle on. Unless you’d like wine, Peta? You look worried. Is everything OK?’

      ‘I’ve come to ask a favour. I need a cocktail dress for tomorrow night.’

      Sue’s brown eyes widened and her mouth broke into a smile. ‘You’ve got a new boyfriend? Wonderful! Tell me about him. What’s his name? How did you meet? Where—?’

      ‘Shut up, Sue,’ laughed Peta. ‘It’s nothing like that. It’s a business do. I’m going with my boss.’

      ‘The one you told me about? The Tyrant? Goodness, I bet you’re not looking forward to that!’

      Peta grimaced. ‘It’s either go or lose my job.’

      Sue’s eyes flashed. ‘The man’s a pig. Come on; let’s have a look. We need to knock that man dead. Make him realise how irresistible you are. Hey, Ben, do you want the telly on while we go upstairs?’

      ‘I don’t want to be irresistible,’ retorted Peta.

      ‘Indispensable, then; you know what I mean,’ said Sue airily. ‘What sort of a do is it?’

      ‘I don’t altogether know,’ said Peta, following her friend. ‘A conference, followed by a black-tie dinner, but the meeting goes on while we eat, apparently.’

      ‘Sounds fishy to me,’ snorted Susan. ‘Are you sure he hasn’t got his eye on you?’

      Peta laughed. Andreas Papadakis certainly had no designs on her, of that she was very sure.

      At work the next morning her employer gave her no time to think about what lay ahead. It was head down and get on with it. They hardly had time to eat the smoked-salmon sandwiches he had sent in.

      ‘You can use my private bathroom to freshen up,’ he said when it was almost time for them to go. ‘You’ve brought something along for tonight?’

      Peta

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