of him.
She averted her eyes from his gold hair and bright, piercing eyes and the taut body encased in the beautifully fitting dark suit. Warily, she entered the dressing room and closed the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you. Since this morning, you’ve been impossible to find. I don’t intend to let you run out on me tonight.”
Last night had been so special…earth shattering…she hadn’t been able to face him this morning. She’d needed time alone to come to terms with it.
“I wouldn’t have run out on you.” They needed to talk. He was going to be furious with her. Her heart clenched at the thought of the coming confrontation.
“Join me for dinner?”
Dark and deep, that voice did stuff to her that should be declared illegal. “Anywhere except your penthouse.” She didn’t want to make love, it would distract her from what she had to say.
The smile he gave her was irresistible. “Endaxi. Okay.”
He took her to the Golden Fleece. The decor was rich and warm with exquisitely painted murals on the walls of Jason and the Argonauts performing daring deeds. The high-backed chairs, white table linen and dim lighting, together with the hushed service gave it an outrageously exclusive ambience. As the meal progressed, and the conversation topics remained general, the tension that grasped Gemma started to unwind.
Gemma declined desert in favour of coffee and while they were waiting for it to arrive, she examined a mural depicting Jason with a woman who must be Medea. Angelo followed her gaze. “She was hard work, a sorceress and a witch.”
“Yes, but he didn’t do right by her. She helped him gain the fleece, he took her back to Corinth and married her. But then decided it was too tough to be married to a woman who was a witch-and a foreigner to boot. So he planned to dump her and marry another woman.”
“Except Medea spiked that plan rather dramatically.” Angelo’s lips curved in a wry smile.
“Poor Glauce,” Gemma agreed. “She certainly didn’t deserve what she got. Medea’s sending a robe steeped in poison as a wedding gift was downright evil.”
“You know your Greek mythology pretty well.”
“I should do. My father lectured classics. I grew up on the ancient myths. Greek and Roman.”
Angelo shot her a surprised stare. “You never told me that.”
Uh-oh. Gemma wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Mandy had never been much of a reader, she’d hated what she called “Dad’s boring tales.”
“So how did you end up a singer?”
“My mother could play the piano reasonably well, so I learned to play, too. I loved to sing, so it wasn’t long before I started going for specialist lessons.”
“And dancing…what did your mother say about your dance career?”
She drew a deep breath. Should she tell him now? He was smiling at her, his eyes warm. No. In a little while. She wanted just a little longer. “Actually Mum was responsible for that. She was a professional ballet dancer. After w-I…” she broke off at the near give away “…I was born, she opened a dance school and taught lots of little girls instead of performing live-she wanted to spend time with-” us “-me. What about you?” She shifted the focus of the conversation to him. “When did you know what you were going to do?”
“On my thirteenth birthday my grandfather took me out for lunch and told me that one day I would inherit the chain of hotels he owned, and to prepare myself to look after them. My cousin Zac bore the family name, so he would inherit the Kyriakos Shipping Corporation. Tariq was to inherit the oil refineries.
“My grandfather also promised me I’d inherit the three islands he owned-Strathmos, Kalos and Delinos. I’d spent the first years of my life on Strathmos, so I knew it well. After that day I absorbed everything I could about the hospitality industry, about business, that I could lay my hands on.”
There was a pause when the coffee arrived. Gemma reflected on the single-mindedness of the man sitting opposite. He’d known what he wanted and gone after it. He been responsible for a large part of his success. There was a lot more to him than the playboy image he projected to the media.
After they’d finished their coffees Angelo walked back to her unit. At the door he took the key from her and unlocked the door before following her in.
Gemma’s heart started to knock against her ribs.
“Another coffee?” she asked, desperate for something to do while he stood in her space. Her voice was several notches higher than usual.
“Why not?” Mercifully, he moved away, and Gemma was able to breathe again. He picked up the photo on the bench top and instantly the tension was back, turning her rigid with anxiety. Her breath ragged, she said, “No sugar, right?”
“Black. No sugar.”
It figured he wouldn’t share her lethally sweet tooth. She emptied sweetener into her coffee and hoped she’d be able to sleep tonight given all the caffeine she was consuming.
“You’re holding a cat.”
“What?” She stared at him trying to make sense of the comment, to reconcile it with the rising tension that incapacitated her, numbed her ability to think straight.
“In the photo, you’re holding a cat.” His voice was endlessly patient.
Her brow wrinkled. “Yes, Snuggles.”
“You told me you were allergic to cats.”
Uh-huh. Gemma stiffened, wary of a trap. “I am,” she said slowly. “Snuggles belongs to my parents.”
“So why are you holding him? In the churchyard you told me how cats affect you.”
Tell him.
She stared at him, her mind went blank. Her tongue felt thick, she scratched for words. “Because he always comes to me. He likes to see me red-eyed and sneezy.”
That, at least, was true. Snuggles, the darn cat, had a wicked sense of the misery he caused her. But of course, the real truth was that she wasn’t holding Snuggles in the photo. Mandy was. And Mandy had no allergy to felines of any description.
The tightrope of lies she was balancing upon became ever more precarious. And when Angelo put the photo down, she said a prayer of thanks and placed the two mugs on the coffee table in front of the loveseat.
Appearing satisfied with her explanation, he sank onto the plump seat. “When are you thinking of leaving?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll catch the midday ferry, spend a couple of days in Athens sightseeing and then I’ll fly back to Auckland.”
“It’s too soon.” His eyes turned to flame. “Come here.”
Tell him. “Angelo-” Gemma backed up at the intent in his brilliant eyes “-I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” There was an intimacy in his gaze that did dangerous things to her equilibrium. “I just want a kiss.”
A kiss…one final kiss…She went into his arms. It felt like she was coming home. And that created a maelstrom of emotions churning within her. Guilt. Confusion. Regret that she hadn’t met him long before Mandy.
But it didn’t stop her responding to him.
When he lifted his head they were both breathing fast.
“Some kiss,” she said.
He didn’t smile. Eyes intent, he said, “I have to leave for Kalos tomorrow. I have a series of meetings there. Come with me.”
She started to shake her head.
“Please, come. You can stay as long as you like. I don’t want you to leave again.”
He still thought she was Mandy. But Mandy was dead. And she was alive.
Disturbed by the direction her thoughts were taking, she rose. She needed to tell him the truth. And leave. She couldn’t allow herself to be tempted to stay. Even though she wanted to. More than anything.
He grasped her hand and pulled her back. She landed on his lap. With an embarrassed laugh she struggled to extricate herself. He wouldn’t let her.
Face close to hers, he said, “I want to spend time with you-more than I want you in my bed.” There was a hint
