Andreas said, ‘let’s eat, and then I must return to work. There is a pool on the lower terrace where you can swim or you can explore the town on foot. Do you think you will be able to amuse yourself during the day?’
‘I’m sure I will,’ said Cleo, surprised by his apparent interest in her, but her attention snagged as she sat before the breakfast table laden with what looked more like a feast. There were bowls of creamy yoghurt drizzled with honey and platters of pastries and rolls along with a selection of cheeses and fruit from which to choose.
‘Good,’ he said, ‘and then tonight I will show you the sunset and you will see it’s not so bad to live on a cliff top overlooking a volcano.’
‘I’ll take your word for that,’ she said, ridiculously pleased with herself when she caught his answering smile.
Refreshing was the word, he decided as he headed towards the suite of offices housed within the mansion. There was an innocence about her, a lack of sophistication that was charming.
Did she really fear for her safety here on Santorini when she came from a country with a reputation for its dangerous wildlife? It was laughable.
‘Andreas, you’re back at last.’ Petra perched herself on the edge of his desk, crossed her legs and smiled, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth between blood-red lips. ‘Your mother called.’
He didn’t miss the show of leg revealed by the split in the skirt, a skirt he’d never seen before. Was it his imagination or was Petra putting up a fight for his attention, first with her skin-tight clothes display last night, and now a skirt that was split to her thigh? ‘Did she leave a message?’
‘She said she’d like you to visit, said she hasn’t seen you for ages. I said you’d call her back later.’
Andreas wondered what else she might have said. ‘Was there anything else?’
Petra looked miffed, the coffee she’d brought them both forgotten. Coffee together in his office around this time of day had been almost a daily ritual, where they would discuss whatever business had arisen or opportunities that might be in the offing. To him, there’d been nothing more in it than one colleague talking to another. Clearly Petra had read things differently.
‘No, nothing.’ She eased herself off his desk, straightening her skirt with her hands, the motion accentuating her cleavage. So different from Cleo’s ingenuous innocence that he almost felt sorry for her. Cleo didn’t have to play games to draw attention to herself. He’d noticed her attributes even before the makeover experts had woven their magic. Hers was a natural beauty, fragile, buried under a lifetime of feeling not good enough.
Cleo was more than good enough. Having her in his bed last night and trying not to touch her had been sheer torture. Only when he had been sure she’d drifted off, he’d allowed himself to gather her against him and breathe in the subtle scent of her skin and hair. Without even realising, she’d spooned her body next to his and it had taken every shred of self-control he owned to leave her sleeping when every part of him had been screamingly awake.
‘Although,’ Petra continued so abruptly that he looked up, surprised to see her still there, ‘I guess I should remind you about the Kalistos ball tonight. You’ll be taking Cleo, I imagine. Otherwise you and I could travel together…’
‘Of course, I’m taking Cleo,’ he barked as he sent her on her way. He suppressed a groan as he leaned back in his chair. What was wrong with him? It was clearly marked on his diary, but at breakfast he’d forgotten all about the ball and was thinking in terms of sunsets with Cleo instead. He knew what he’d rather do. But with Kalistos still to give his decision on Andreas’ latest proposal to tie their businesses together, a proposal that could benefit both companies to the tune of millions of Euros, there was no way he couldn’t show up. As for taking Cleo, she was starting to relax with him, but ideally he’d like another day or two before he could be sure she’d be completely convincing on his arm.
Another day or two he didn’t have.
Cleo had never been more nervous in her life. She’d wondered why Mme Bernadette had insisted on her taking the numerous gowns and had half suspected she’d been merely feathering her own nest—a Greek island sojourn surely wouldn’t require ball gowns?—and yet here she was, dressed in the pale gold halter-neck gown, her hair piled high on her head with coils trailing around her face courtesy of the hairdresser Andreas had sent to their suite, curtailing her sightseeing plans for today.
Andreas hadn’t helped relax her when he’d taken one look at her and whistled low through his teeth, sending her pulse and her senses skittering. And he certainly wasn’t helping relax her now as they drove down the windy switchback road to the port.
‘Constantine Kalistos is not only one of the major business and political leaders on the island, but also owns the largest charter boat operation in Greece,’ he told her, in a tone that suggested she should be taking notes. ‘He’s considering a business proposal I put to him and he’s the main reason we’re here tonight. He’s the perfect host but, at the same time, he’s a man you don’t want to offend.’
Cleo battled to absorb the information, growing more nervous by the second as the car pulled closer to a wharf lit with coloured lanterns, music spilling from the massive yacht moored alongside, couples dripping with jewellery and designer fashions emerging from the limousines and sports cars lined up before them.
Help. She’d never been on a boat bigger than a canoe and she’d never been to any function more glamorous than the Kangaroo Crossing Bachelor and Spinster Ball, where Akubras were just as likely sighted as bow ties. She swallowed. There were no Akubras here.
Andreas followed her from the car, his hand collecting hers, and she’d never been more grateful to have him alongside. She was so nervous she was sure she was going to wobble straight off her gold kidskin spike-heeled sandals, especially as she stumbled with the gentle movement of the gangplank under her feet.
‘Relax,’ Andreas whispered, setting her coiling hair dancing around her ear. ‘And smile. You’ll be fine.’ And then he was tugging her forward, onto the brightly lit boat with the even more brightly lit people, and they were greeting Andreas and giving her openly curious glances and she wondered how a girl from Kangaroo Crossing got to be here, in a softly swaying yacht filled with Santorini’s who’s who with clearly the most handsome man on the island. One look around at the glittering attendees was enough to confirm that.
‘Are you okay?’ Andreas asked softly, breaking off a greeting to someone, and she looked up into his dark eyes, confused. ‘I thought you wanted something,’ he added. ‘You squeezed my arm.’ And she smiled and nodded, not even having realised she’d done it. ‘I’m fine,’ she told him, wishing for nothing more than for the butterflies in her stomach to settle down.
Something passed between them then, some spark of approval or warmth, she didn’t know what to call it, but she felt it in his glance all the way down to her lacquered toenails, and she knew from his answering smile that he’d felt it too. So what if the only thing that bound them was a business contract? Would it be so wrong to like the man into the deal?
Someone slipped a glass of champagne into her hand as the boat slipped from port and Cleo felt the first uneasy twinge as the vessel rocked sideways before pulling away. Slowly it built up speed in preparation for its circuit of the islands and Cleo prayed that they’d soon find calm water as the butterflies turned to moths. Somersaulting moths. She forced a smile to her lips as Andreas introduced her to more and more people, all of whom seemed oblivious to the motion, and all the while shuffling
