into a mindless assault on her senses. She’d sensed he’d wanted to kiss her, and the awful thing was she’d wanted it, too. Wanted more, if she was honest.
Dear God, she must be crazy!
Lunch itself wasn’t quite the ordeal Helen had anticipated. Her father joined them and Melissa seemed to be easier to manage when he was there. Not that he’d persuaded her to abandon her jeans in favour of a pair of her mother’s shorts, but Helen had noticed that her daughter no longer smeared black lipstick all over her mouth whenever they left their rooms.
She was relieved, too, to find that Maya had made sure that Milos was seated between her and Sam, which negated any private conversation between her guests. Which suited Helen just fine.
Nevertheless, she was intensely conscious of Milos’s dark eyes resting on her frequently throughout the meal, and, although she wasn’t particularly hungry, she was grateful for the wineglass at her fingertips, which provided at least a fragile barrier between them.
Melissa, however, was another matter, and just when Helen was beginning to think she was out of danger the girl addressed Milos directly.
‘Did you come in your car?’ she asked eagerly. She pushed aside the plate of beef and lamb kebabs that Maya had served with rice and salad in favour of the loukouma-des , or deep-fried doughnuts dipped in a honey syrup, which were much more to her liking. ‘How fast can it go?’
‘On this island?’ Milos spoke tolerantly. ‘Not very.’ His eyes flickered to Helen’s anxious face and away again. ‘Why don’t you ask your mother if she’ll let you come for a drive with me and I’ll show you?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Helen disliked him putting her on the spot again. ‘I—we couldn’t put you out like that.’
‘It’s no problem,’ he assured her smoothly, and Helen wanted to scream in frustration when Melissa said, ‘There you are, Mum. At least someone cares if I have some fun.’
‘Oh, Melissa.’ It was her grandfather who spoke now, and Helen saw the way the girl visibly wilted beneath his wounded gaze. ‘And I thought you were happy here. Was I wrong?’
Melissa’s pale skin turned a little pink. ‘Oh—no,’ she protested, and Helen realised in amazement that she genuinely wanted to please him. ‘I mean, going out in the Jeep’s okay, but it’s not a Mercedes!’
Her grandfather pulled a wry face. ‘Well, that’s put me in my place, hasn’t it?’
‘No.’ Melissa didn’t realise he was teasing her. ‘But Milos has offered.’
‘Mr Stephanides,’ corrected Helen shortly, but her nemesis merely shook his head.
‘Milos will do,’ he said, with annoying complacency. ‘So—what do you think, Sam? Um—Helen?’
Maya gave an impatient exclamation. ‘You surely can’t seriously be considering entertaining a child, Milos,’ she exclaimed. ‘Sam?’ She turned to her husband. ‘Am I not right?’
‘I suppose it’s up to Milos,’ declared her husband mildly. ‘Helen?’
How could she object? She could hardly say she didn’t want Milos anywhere near her daughter when she couldn’t offer an explanation why. They all thought her reservations were ones of politeness, when in fact she lived in fear of Milos discovering exactly who Melissa was.
‘I—well—’
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Melissa triumphantly. She looked at Milos. ‘Can we do it today?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Milos frowned. Then he said, ‘I wonder if you’d like to come to Vassilios. That’s my house. There’s a pool there. And horses. And you’ll probably meet my sister, Rhea. She’s staying at my parents’ villa at the moment, but she spends more time at Vassilios because of the pool. She’s actually not that much older than you are.’
‘How old is she?’ asked Melissa at once, and Helen’s heart faltered in her chest.
‘Oh—eighteen, I think,’ said Milos carelessly, apparently unaware of Helen’s tension. Then, before Melissa could comment on her own age, he added, ‘Your mother’s welcome to join us.’
Helen’s relief at this reprieve was short-lived however. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m hoping Helen will spend the afternoon with me,’ said her father warmly. ‘We haven’t spent much time together since her arrival, and I’d like to show her our operation.’
In an ideal world, Helen would have been delighted to spend some time with Sam. As it was, her agreement was more obligatory than enthusiastic and Melissa went off with Milos, clearly excited at the prospect of his undiluted attention.
‘She’ll be all right,’ her father said, after the Mercedes had driven away, and even Maya added her endorsement of that statement.
‘She doesn’t know how lucky she is,’ she said, with the usual edge to her voice. ‘Milos is a busy man. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s my cousin, I doubt if he’d have put himself out.’
‘I think he likes Melissa,’ remarked her husband mildly, sharing a rueful smile with his daughter. ‘Why not? Despite the way she dresses, she is quite a character. And he must regret not having any children of his own.’
‘Did he and his wife not have any children?’ asked Helen, unable to resist the question, and Maya gave a scornful snort.
‘Eleni?’ she said contemptuously. ‘That woman wouldn’t risk her figure by having children.’ She shook her head. ‘Milos would never have married her if it hadn’t been for his father.’
‘It—it wasn’t a love match, then?’ ventured Helen, aware that she was chancing Maya’s suspicions by showing so much interest in Milos’s personal affairs.
But Maya didn’t seem to notice. She was enjoying herself too much. ‘A love match,’ she echoed. ‘How naïve you are, Helen. Aristotle—that’s Milos’s father—wanted a business alliance with Andreas Costas. Having his son marry Eleni Costas was just the lever he needed.’
Helen absorbed this in silence, and Sam, seeing his chance, took her arm. ‘Come along, my dear,’ he said. ‘Unless you think it will be too hot for you. I’m afraid the Jeep doesn’t have air conditioning,’ he added, pulling a wry face. ‘But I’m willing to leave all the windows open.’
They drove first to the winery and Sam introduced her to some of the people who worked there. He also showed her how he’d used a couple of caves, one of the natural features of the island, for storing the bottled vintage. It was deliciously cool walking along the aisles of racks filled with the vineyards’ product, and Helen appreciated it.
‘Right now this is a comparatively small operation,’ Sam said. ‘Most of the wineries on the islands only bottle their wines for local consumption. We do that, of course, but at present we’re involved in talks with a supermarket chain. As yet it’s not all cut and dried, but it should give us a foothold on the mainland. If it comes off, it should make a great difference to our business.’
Helen looked at him. ‘You love it, don’t you?’
‘Being
