raised her eyes to meet his then wished she hadn’t. They blazed like a dark inferno, scorching her face, her throat, her breasts, in an encompassing survey that told her he remembered this afternoon in vivid detail.
‘You’re obviously a very versatile woman. What role are you playing tonight?’ Disapproval frosted his gaze and his words, making her shiver.
Callie faltered at the unexpected attack. ‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged but the intensity of his stare belied the casual gesture. He watched her like a hawk sighting a fieldmouse. ‘From wanton to well-bred society girl in an afternoon.’ His lips pulled back in what might be a grimace of distaste. ‘You look like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. But just a few hours ago you were seducing a total stranger. Are you always this adaptable?’
Callie’s vocal cords jammed at his calculated insult. It was true what he said, and yet…after what they’d shared, how could he be so disapproving? Why?
She hadn’t been the only one hot and eager down on that beach. How dared he judge her?
‘As adaptable as you, Kyrie Savakis.’ The words nearly choked her.
For an endless moment their eyes meshed. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she jerked her gaze away, only to find her attention snagging on his hand as he held the wine goblet out to her. He had a workman’s hands. Long-fingered but capable, powerful. His grip on the delicate glass should have seemed incongruous. Yet nothing could be further from the truth.
He slid his index finger up the fragile stem then down again. Her mouth dried as she remembered the way he’d touched her nipples with that same finger. The way darts of sensation had rayed out from his touch, making her squirm with delight. The way she’d moaned into his mouth as he’d caressed her and discovered her intimate secrets.
Watching the slow, deliberate movement, feeling the heat of his scrutiny on her flesh made her feel vulnerable. Naked.
Impossible that her body should betray her so. Disgust filled her.
Hurriedly she took the glass from his hand, careful not to brush his fingers. She pushed a tumbler of whisky along the bar towards him.
He was too quick, his hand closing around the glass and her fingers in a grip that made her still.
‘What are you doing over there?’ her uncle grumbled. ‘Callista, you mustn’t monopolise our guest.’
‘Coming, Uncle,’ she called, trying to slide her hand from Damon Savakis’ hold.
‘What’s the matter, Callista? Aren’t you glad to see me?’ His voice was as seductive as she remembered. As if she’d imagined his disapproval moments ago.
‘As a friend of my uncle’s you’re welcome here,’ she said through numb lips, desperately clamping down on the accusations and questions clamouring for release. What did this man want of her? It seemed impossible he was the same warm, exciting lover who’d given her the precious gift of intimacy and tenderness. A wholeness she’d never known.
Damon’s eyebrows tilted down in the hint of a frown. His lips thinned a fraction.
‘Not a very convincing welcome, glikia mou,’ he whispered. ‘I would have expected something a little warmer.’
A ribbon of searing heat curled through her at his endearment in that deep, rich voice. Her weakness horrified her. How could she respond so to a man who had no shame about seducing her while he was here to court Angela? Who chided her for her promiscuity yet played games of innuendo?
Today had stripped her emotionally bare. The experience had overwhelmed her. Physical pleasure had been a vehicle for much deeper feelings, even for a tentative, unexpected sense of healing.
Her stomach cramped so savagely she could barely stand. What had meant so much to her was a sick amusement to him.
At last she managed to slide her fingers from under his and reached for her uncle’s brandy. She looked pointedly over Damon’s shoulder, hanging on to control by a thread. She would not make a scene.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take this to my uncle. It’s time we joined the others.’
He didn’t move. His eyes and his body held her trapped. He blocked her exit. She looked away, at the precise bow-tie on his perfect white shirt.
‘Are you planning to visit me again tonight, Callista? To ensure I feel truly welcome?’ His voice dropped to a low note that resonated through her very bones. There was no mistaking his blatant sexual invitation. The innuendo and exultation.
Panic welled. And distaste. She felt raw and vulnerable.
He’d deliberately tricked her, luring her into betraying her innermost needs and desires. Desires she’d never known before. Now he wanted to gloat. To turn her one bright, glowing slice of heaven into something sordid.
‘Callista?’
She looked up into his shadow-dark eyes, catching the gleam of hunger there and a hint of amusement.
He thought this situation funny?
Instantly her spine straightened. Her chin tilted as indignation and hurt heated her blood. She’d had her fill of the malicious games men played. Of being a pawn, subject to a man’s whim.
‘You want the truth?’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘You don’t belong here, Kyrie Savakis. The last thing I want is to be forced to share a meal with a man like you.’
She stepped forward, calling his bluff.
He had no option but to make way.
Yet the flash of surprised anger in his glittering eyes told her he didn’t like it.
Tough! He’d had his little game at her expense. No doubt he’d got a kick out of seducing the woman the gossip mags had dubbed ‘untouchable’.
Nausea churned in her stomach and an icy chill crawled through her. She’d believed today was precious. An oasis of warmth and comfort in a cold world.
Fool. Hadn’t she learned better than to trust a man?
‘That is the way you want to play, Callista?’
There was a warning edge to his tone. She ignored it.
‘I don’t play, Kyrie Savakis.’
She had a swift glimpse of narrowed, calculating eyes, of a chin jutting with masculine displeasure.
He was like the rest, expecting her to bow to his whims. But she was her own mistress now, free and independent.
Nevertheless her heart pounded as she walked past him. The sensation of his eyes on her bare back was like a lick of flame down her spine.
How was she going to survive a whole evening with him?
She had a sinking feeling that instead of her defiance dampening his conceit, he thought she’d thrown down the gauntlet.
He
