out loud. ‘A few weeks with your legs in plaster and being convalescent for another two months watching television does not a dancer make,’ she quipped.
‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ he mocked, and led her onto the dance floor.
Surprisingly, he was an excellent dancer, and Phoebe knew he had not really learnt from the television—though it was a fact that his enforced sojourn at the family manor in Dorset was the longest period he had stayed there in his adult life, after smashing both his legs in a motorcycle accident.
Julian, six-feet-two, twenty-nine years old, unmarried and undeniably handsome, with blond hair, grey eyes and a wicked smile, enjoyed playing the typical man about town. But after being a long-time family friend over the last few months he had developed his relationship with Phoebe into something a bit more. At first she had thought it was because, devoid of much female company in rural Dorset, he considered her his best bet. But his kisses were persuasive, and he had almost convinced her otherwise. Tonight they were staying at his London apartment after the ball, and though he had never said she got the impression he was hoping for a lot more than kisses. But, having been burnt before, she was still a bit wary.
In fact she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have changed her mind if she had known the ball was at the Greek Embassy before they had arrived. But it was too late. Besides, no doubt her fears were groundless, she decided, and she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’
Phoebe grinned up at him. ‘Oh, they are worth a lot more than that. If you are good, I will tell you later,’ she teased, and he stopped for a second and held her closer.
‘Trust me, I can be very good when the occasion arises.’ The look in his eyes was sexually explicit.
‘Behave yourself and dance,’ she said, smiling, pleased by the sudden slight tingle of awareness she felt. Maybe tonight would be the right time to move on. She had certainly been celibate far too long…
Then the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, and she had the oddest feeling it had nothing to do with Julian. Someone was watching her.
Ten minutes later, standing at the bar in an adjoining room, Julian ordered a whisky and soda. He wasn’t a champagne man. He ordered a fruit juice for Phoebe. One glass of champagne was enough for Phoebe, and she was thirsty. The barman served them and, picking up her glass, she took a refreshing drink before placing the glass back on the bar.
‘This is an embassy, right?’ she said, grinning up at Julian. ‘So where is the Ferrero Rocher?’ she teased. She was laughing with him when the ambassador appeared beside them and cut in.
‘That advert is a very old joke,’ he chuckled. ‘But I am glad to see you two are enjoying yourselves. Now, allow me to introduce my daughter, Sophia.’
Phoebe turned slightly, her eyes still lit with humour, and shook hands with a smiling, raven-haired and very attractive woman.
‘And this is her boyfriend, Jed Sabbides—chairman of the Sabbides Corporation.’ The ambassador moved to one side. ‘Our families have been friends for years,’ he inserted, his voice filled with pride as he made the introduction.
At the mention of a name she’d hoped never to hear again Phoebe froze, and then he was standing in front of her, and she knew exactly who had been watching her. Her worst fear was stupefying reality.
Speechless and rigid with shock, she stared at him, and for a moment all she could see was the powerfully drawn face of Jed Sabbides, the man who had been her first lover. Her heart hammered in her chest and she drew in a deep, unsteady breath, willing the shock to recede.
He was wearing an elegantly tailored black dinner suit, as were all the men present, with a brilliant white shirt and black bow tie, and his eyes were equally black as they briefly met hers. He looked older, and there were a few threads of grey in the thick curly hair. The planes of his arrogant masculine face were a little sharper, and the lines around his eyes and bracketing his nose a shade deeper. He was in his mid-thirties now, and the extra years had only served to give him an even more impregnable self-assurance, but she would have recognised that harshly handsome face anywhere.
Only by a stupendous effort of will did she force her smile to stay in place as the introductions were made.
Would Jed admit he knew her? That was the question screaming in her mind. No, of course not—he was with his girlfriend, for heaven’s sake.
‘Phoebe.’ A strong, long-fingered hand reached out for hers.
She steeled herself to take the hand he offered, ‘Pleased to see you, Jed,’ she said noncommittally, still not sure if he was going to admit they knew each other.
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ he offered, and the dark eyes that met hers were sardonically mocking. The brilliant charm of his smile that had so captivated her the first time they’d met had gone, lost in the hard tight line of his mouth.
She withdrew her fingers before he could clasp them, but even so she was horrified to feel a familiar electric spark at his brief touch, and glanced away, instinctively moving closer to Julian for protection.
Not that she needed any. Jed obviously did not think it necessary to acknowledge their former relationship, and as far as Phoebe was concerned that was a relief. Apart from Aunt Jemma no one in her life today—not even Julian—knew of her past connection with the man, and that was the way she wanted it to stay…
The conversation became general, and Phoebe threw in the occasional comment when Julian drew her into the conversation, but she studiously avoided looking at Jed Sabbides.
Her glance rested instead on Sophia, his girlfriend. She was petite and beautiful, and the gown she wore screamed haute couture—a red strapless number that had been designed to cling to her every curve. Sophia was just the type a Greek tycoon like Jed would finally settle for and probably marry, Phoebe thought cynically. Wealthy, with family connections, and of course Greek.
‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before, Phoebe?’ The deep accented voice slipped the question casually into the conversation, and she had no choice but to look at him again.
This time Phoebe didn’t mind. Jed had never considered her good enough for him years ago—unlike Sophia, who apparently knew all his family and friends, Phoebe had been strictly mistress material. Now she realised she had had a lucky escape, because he certainly was not good for her now…
If he thought he could bait her with his sly questions he was wrong. Two could play at that game. She was no longer the naive girl he had seduced, but a mature women. Three years of teaching teenage girls more interested in boys than in learning had taught her to be assertive and resilient.
‘No, you must be mistaking me for someone else. This is the nearest to Greece I have ever been.’ He had certainly never taken her…
She saw the flicker of dark amusement in his eyes. The swine was enjoying this.
‘Then maybe you are a model and I have seen your picture in a magazine?’ he suggested, and she knew he was mocking her.
‘No, I am afraid not.’ Luckily for Phoebe his girlfriend took his arm, and stopped her from blurting out sarcastically that he had probably known so many women in his time the faces must blur together after a while…
‘You
