Ethan? she wondered, and felt her heart leap. He had only been gone a couple of hours yet he was missing her so much he had to give her a call? Hurrying out of the bedroom, she began to follow the sound down the wide arched hallway. The villa suddenly felt big and empty, and she wasn’t sure she liked Ethan’s taste in décor. It surprised her to think that because she liked just about every other thing about Ethan, she mused with a smile as she walked between pale sand walls on the same pale blue tiling that seemed to cover the floors throughout. It was all very cool, very Lawrence-of-Arabia, nothing shouted, nothing scarred the eyes. Yet…
She found the telephone in one of the reception rooms. As she moved towards it, it suddenly stopped ringing and the answering machine kicked in. As she waited to hear if it was indeed Ethan trying to contact her before she decided to pick up the receiver, she began to look around the room.
A stranger’s voice suddenly filled the air space. Deep and smooth, it possessed the same rich English tones as Ethan’s voice, only it lacked his toe-curling attraction.
‘Ethan,’ the voice said. ‘It’s Victor. When you get a spare minute, give me a call. I’m at the London office and that cantankerous devil, Theron Herakleides, has decided to go silent about the Greek project.’
Grandpa. Eve smiled at the cantankerous description, frowned at the part about the Greek project because she’d forgotten about her grandfather’s threats. She remained standing there waiting for Victor Frayne to finish his message so that she could call up her grandfather and try and convince him he would be cutting off his nose to spite his own face if he pulled Hayes-Frayne’s submission.
Maybe she shouldn’t have come here. For the first time she began to have doubts about her own motives. Selfish, she was being selfish, and maybe she should let Ethan off the hook and tell her grandfather the truth about what had happened. It wasn’t right; it wasn’t fair that Ethan should be forced to make sacrifices just because she’d managed to wriggle her way beneath his tough façade and basically run rings around him.
Is that what she’d done? Yes, it was exactly what she’d done, she admitted. She’d wept, she’d fought, she’d begged and had seduced and had turned him upside down and inside out—and all in twenty-four wild and dizzying hours, too!
‘Oh, by the way…’ Victor Frayne’s voice cut through her train of thinking at about the same moment Eve’s eyes settled on a row of framed photographs sitting on a long low cedarwood sideboard. ‘…the door to Leona’s bedroom is sticking. Can you get someone up there to take a look at it?’
The call to her grandfather was forgotten. A cold chill of dismay was settling on her skin. Ethan couldn’t—surely—have brought her to stay at the home of Victor Frayne and Leona Al-Qadim?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE meeting had taken longer than Ethan had expected but by the end of it Ethan was satisfied that the new yacht club building was no longer under threat. As he shook hands with the local planning officials, he was aware that his site managers were standing to one side waiting to do the usual post-mortem on the meeting, but he was eager to get away.
He kept thinking of Eve and how she’d looked when he’d left her, wearing nothing but his cast-off shirt and a becoming flush to her lovely face.
As soon as the officials departed, one of his managers stepped up. ‘Victor has been trying to contact you,’ the man informed him. ‘Something to do with Theron Herakleides and the Greek project?’
Theron, Ethan began to frown. He had forgotten all about Eve’s grandfather and his threats. ‘I’ll deal with it.’ He nodded. He glanced at his watch, realised he’d been away from Eve for over two hours, and wished he knew at what point it had been that he had become so obsessed with her that she was virtually wrapped around his every thought. ‘If everything is back on track here, can we rain check the post-mortem? I need to be somewhere else.’
He was talking to all three of his site managers, and they instantly developed distinct masculine gleams in their eyes. ‘We heard all about the souvenir you brought back with you from the Caribbean,’ one of them teased him lazily, telling him also that the company grapevine was still working efficiently.
This kind of man-to-man camaraderie was to be expected on building sites. One either sank or swam with it. Ethan usually swam.
‘The souvenir goes by the name of Eve Herakleides,’ he informed them dryly. ‘And if you value your jobs here I would suggest you curb the joky comments, because she also happens to be my future wife.’
A stunned silence fell. Ethan looked at the three men and saw their slack-jawed trance. But their shock came nowhere near the shock that he found himself experiencing. He felt as if he had just stepped off a very high cliff.
Had he really said that? Yes, he had said that, he was forced to grimly face the fact.
They were looking at him as if they expected him to laugh now and withdraw what he’d said. After all, this had to be a classic example of building-site camaraderie where the jokes flew back and forth with quick-flitting wit that did not always need to tell the truth if the punch-line served got the right results?
So—okay, this was supposed to be part of an elaborate deception, he tried to reason. But it didn’t feel like a lie. Was that why he was suddenly feeling as if he’d jumped into a free fall from a fatal height?
‘Nothing to say?’ he mocked, working like
