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Tempted By Her Greek Tycoon
Katrina Cudmore


Gorgeous Greek tycoon Loukas Christou needs a wife! Temporary PA Georgie Jones, offers to be his matchmaker.She should be focused on finding him a bride, but for independent and kind-hearted Georgie, resisting the temptation of her boss is easier said than done…







Resisting her boss’s charms...

Loukas Christou needs a wife. For the luxury hotel tycoon, honoring his parents’ memory by acquiring their dream hotel should be simple. But to complete the deal he must be married. Enter temporary PA Georgie Jones, who offers to be his matchmaker!

Georgie never stays anywhere long-term—her mother’s abandonment proved that even the strongest relationships never last. She should be focused on finding Loukas a bride, but resisting the temptation of her Greek tycoon’s kiss is easier said than done!


Georgie smiled. And then they just looked at one another.

Drops of seawater trickled down over the hard, tanned lines of his face, over his powerful neck and into the crevices of his collarbones.

Her heart thumped, thumped, thumped in her chest. His hand moved against her hair, pushing it back off her face. And it stayed just above her ear, cradling her head. And then he was easing her toward him, the gentle teasing in his eyes quickly giving way to a darkness that melted every last vestige of sense and reason that she was holding on to.

Her chest bumped into his. And then her hips landed against his thigh. Hard, wet skin, cool to the touch.

Her eyes locked on to the light swirls of dark hair on his chest. Unsteady, her hand reached out and landed just below his ribs. Her breath hitched. What are you doing, Georgie?

Go away...I don’t know and, frankly, right now I don’t care.

Loukas shifted, his body angling in even closer to her. “Georgie?”

She lifted her head to his voice, her lips parting. Passionate, searching, intense brown eyes held hers, and then with a low curse his mouth was on hers.


Tempted by Her Greek Tycoon

Katrina Cudmore






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


A city-loving book addict, peony obsessive KATRINA CUDMORE lives in Cork, Ireland, with her husband, four active children and a very daft dog. A psychology graduate with a MSc in human resources, Katrina spent many years working in multinational companies and can’t believe she is lucky enough now to have a job that involves daydreaming about love and handsome men! You can visit Katrina at www.katrinacudmore.com (http://www.katrinacudmore.com).


For Ross, in this year that you start a new adventure, may life be full of happiness and love.

Mum


Contents

Cover (#uc2c15014-4c38-591b-ab81-d1870cedd1dd)

Back Cover Text (#u5b620740-bb2d-58ba-beb7-2318ea292891)

Introduction (#u3a6c690b-74b5-56bd-94c4-05ecb1e2f066)

Title Page (#ub06904da-32c9-54ff-94c0-102ec072dd55)

About the Author (#ubd3683c6-94a6-534f-998b-4344c7c658c3)

Dedication (#u88176a5b-7e35-55a6-8749-b9929ef5b396)

Chapter One (#u39c642ed-1ee1-5540-aaa2-5f9611ad958c)

Chapter Two (#u6757835b-0be4-501d-af02-eb89e242fba5)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#uf8563532-bef1-5e7f-be73-5a4263030674)

THE LOCAL FISHERMEN were unloading the day’s catch from their caïques when Loukas Christou motored his boat into the old harbour of Talos Town. Once moored, he’d nodded distractedly to the calls of, ‘Kalispera, Loukas!’ from the restaurant and boutique owners whose businesses lined the sun-soaked seafront promenade before hurrying up the narrow whitewashed laneway that was a pedestrian shortcut to the entrance gates of The Korinna Hotel.

Earlier that day, while away on business he had called his brother Nikos on their home island of Talos for an update on The Korinna renovations, expecting to be told of yet another hiccup. Instead Nikos had announced—with a large dollop of unwarranted self-congratulation—that the renovations were officially complete and the hotel was ready to reopen.

Nikos had gone on to assure Loukas that he wasn’t joking and then had shouted down the phone that he wasn’t exaggerating and that as Head of Project Management for the Christou Group he should ‘damn well know’.

Loukas had growled back that it was about time. And not for the first time had pointed out to Nikos that the reopening of The Korinna was a fortnight behind schedule.

It was at that point that Nikos had hung up on him. No surprise there.

At least The Korinna would open in time for Pascha—the Easter celebrations. Their guests were to arrive on Megali Pempti—Holy Thursday—and would be a mixture of loyal customers and specially invited travel journalists and bloggers. All would have sky-high expectations of their stay at the five-star hotel.

With less than a week to test all the facilities, and iron out the inevitable issues that would crop up following the extensive renovations, Loukas had decided to cut short his trip to some of the other hotels in the group to come home to Talos early.

Beyond the laneway, in the shade of the resort’s avenue that led to the hotel which was carved through a pine forest, he yanked off his tie and opened his shirt collar. The successful reopening of The Korinna was about more than just his ambitious plan to renovate all their existing hotels and acquire other iconic premises throughout Europe to add to their stable of five-star hotels. It was also about the Christou siblings working in co-operation for once...and mending the fractures that Loukas, both in his role as head of the family and CEO of the group, had failed to heal since their parents had died eight years ago.

It was a co-operation that would be vital if they were going to survive in the demanding luxury hotel market. To date, that reconciliation hadn’t exactly been going to plan—as witnessed by his call with Nikos earlier.

Towards the end of the avenue he paused and glanced down to his left. Beyond the hotel’s candyfloss orchard of flowering orange, lemon and peach trees was the family villa. A rocky outcrop separated the villa from the rest of Talos Town. Originally a sea captain’s mansion, it had sat on twenty acres of land when first built. But Loukas’s father had seen its potential and, after purchasing the villa, had built The Korinna on the land.

He really should go down to the villa and drop off his weekend bag, have a shower, and something to eat. But, keen to see the completed hotel, he rushed on down a sharp incline in the avenue until the pine forest gave way to the vista of The Korinna itself.

A new two-storey extension had been constructed on one side of the hotel—a reception area on the ground floor, the headquarters for the Christou Group on the first. The sea-facing hotel restaurant and the bars at the front of the original building had uninterrupted views of the Saronic Gulf, as had the seven levels of bedrooms above them.

For a brief moment, taking in just how well the architects had married the old hotel with not only the new reception but also the new spa that stood on the crest of the hill above the hotel, he felt the constant heavy weight in his chest lift. Maybe the endless building problems, the significant hit to his profit line, the tense calls with his banks, the disruption of his business and the arguments with Nikos and his other siblings would be worth it.

But that moment proved to be very brief. Nanosecond-brief, in fact.

He narrowed his eyes and moved closer to the reception area. The sliding entrance doors didn’t budge. No wonder, as they were firmly locked shut.

And that, no doubt, was because the floor beyond them was only half tiled, the walls still unpainted and none of the bespoke Italian furniture was in place.

He sucked in some air.

Nikos had obviously been banking on him not returning to the island until the weekend, as he had originally planned, so he would not to have to admit that once again they had missed their deadline.

He was going to throttle Nikos. No. In fact he was going to banish him to a monastery on some remote island where he’d have no access to women or drink.

He peered through the reception area doors again.

Was he even more stressed than he’d thought he was? Was he losing his mind?

He would have sworn he’d just seen a pirate saunter through the lounge area beyond Reception, waving a cutlass in the air.

Sudden ear-splitting music startled him and he whacked his head on the reception door’s glass pane.

Ready to murder someone, he twisted around, holding a hand to his throbbing forehead, and instantly knew where to find his party-loving brother.

But then, having taken no more than two steps in the direction of the music, he had come to a complete stop.

In the name of all the saints!

Hurtling down the steep incline of the avenue on a bicycle, her long blonde hair flowing behind her like a jet stream, wearing nothing but a silver bikini top and a scrap of blue material that revealed every tantalising inch of her long golden legs, a woman appeared to be about to crash into the door. Into a glass pane that had cost a fortune and had added to the renovation delays by being delivered weeks behind schedule.

Inches from the precious window, she came to a screeching halt. Then, without a care, she hopped off and placed her bicycle in the bike rack to one side of the doors. With an air of ease and happiness she unravelled the scrap of material from around her hips, the deceptively long length of fine blue silk gauze catching in the light sea breeze and floating out behind her like the train of a sea goddess. Beneath she was wearing nothing but silver bikini bottoms.

He should look away. Be a gentleman. But his eyes remained glued to the way her hips twirled seductively as she began to wrap the material around her narrow waist and then down over her beautifully curved hips. She continued smoothing the material over her thighs, and didn’t stop until she had bound her ankles together. Thus wrapped, from the waist down, she straightened up and adjusted the material whilst staring at her reflection in the window and giving an excited smile.

Why was she dressed as a mermaid?

Again, what on earth was going on? This was a five-star resort, not some theme park.

Only able to take tiny steps, the mermaid inched her way towards where he was still concealed by a canopy pillar. He was about to step forward and make her aware that he was there, but before he could do so she turned, her mouth dropping open when she spied him.

Then, in the quickest recovery he’d ever seen, she gave him a smile and a wave, her eyes shining with delight. ‘Oh, hi! I’m so glad you were able to make it back in time for the party. Did Nikos call you?’

Baffled by her question, he asked, ‘What party? Why would Nikos call me?’

Her dark brows pulled together. ‘Nikos had to leave unexpectedly this afternoon, but he had organised a staff party for this evening, to celebrate the reopening of the hotel... He asked me to host it in his absence.’

He pointed behind him to the unfinished reception area, his index finger stabbing the air, his frustration with Nikos and his frustration over the fact that despite his best efforts he could never manage to control any of his siblings leaking out in growled response.

‘A party? The hotel isn’t even finished. Now is not the time for a party!’

The mermaid’s smile dimmed. ‘He thought that the staff deserved a thank-you.’ She pointed vaguely in the direction of the terrace. ‘I’d better go and check that everything’s going okay. I’m running late and by the sounds of it the party has already started.’

He stepped closer to her, trying to keep his eyes from drifting down to her softly curved body. Her smile wavered even more as his eyes duelled with hers.

He yanked his gaze away. Cracked his jaw. And then he asked bluntly, ‘Who are you?’

She hesitated for a moment, as though confused by his question, and then with a laugh stepped towards him.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve seen so many photos of you and heard so much about you from your siblings that I forgot we have never met.’ She held out her hand to him. ‘I’m Georgie Jones. Your new PA.’

* * *

Given Loukas’s dismayed expression, it took a Herculean effort for Georgie to keep her smile in place. Heartbroken or not, Nikos Christou was going to get a piece of her mind when he got back to Talos.

‘My what?’

She dropped her hand at his aghast tone.

Crikey, Loukas was very different from his brothers. Even more so than the family photos suggested. Sombre, intense, dark... And he was enormous—at least six foot four. With the build to match.

Light golden-brown eyes, a classically handsome face, thick dark brown hair... The only flaw in his perfection was the seriously hacked off tension emanating from his every pore—that and the murderous glint in his eye.

Her move to Talos wasn’t supposed to be ending up like this, with her broke and at the mercy of a Greek god who looked as if he had reached the end of his patience.

Moving to Talos had been her dad’s dream. After living in endless countries with her restless father, Georgie had been sceptical about his declaration that this was where he wanted to settle. Last summer, when she had finally agreed to visit this small island off the coast of Athens in the Argo-Saronic Gulf with him, she had been sure that this would be yet another failed quest by him to find happiness.

But from the moment she’d seen Talos she had understood why he had fallen in love with this island of emerald waters, golden beaches and dense pine forests. Fallen in love with the whitewashed, blue-shuttered, terracotta-roofed houses that tumbled down the island’s craggy coastline. Fallen in love with its tranquillity, with the way time slowed down here.

And as her dad had drawn up his plans to renovate the run-down farmhouse he’d been in the process of buying she had seen first-hand how the island had transformed him. The light, the heat, the stunning sea view from the farmhouse...

The friendliness of their new neighbours and the slow pace of the island had eased her dad’s perpetual nervous energy. At the end of their week-long visit, she too had believed that he had finally found a place he could be happy in.

But her poor dad had never got to fulfil his dream. A fatal ruptured aortic aneurysm a month after he had bought the property had ended it all.

Georgie needed to fulfil his dream for him. It was going to be her last goodbye to her soft-hearted dad, who had never got over her mum walking out on them. She intended to keep the house, run it as a guest house. She would run a sea-swimming business during the summer months and leave the island during the winter months for work elsewhere.

Three months ago—just four weeks after her dad had died—she had left her job in Spain and moved here, convinced that her savings would enable her to renovate the property and establish her business.

But unforeseen building delays had eaten up the emergency fund she had factored into her budget and she was rapidly running out of money. The building work was coming to an end, and she had the funds to pay for that, but not for the final payment on the furniture she had ordered for the guest rooms.

She needed to work for a few weeks to earn enough for the final instalment, otherwise she would be forced to cancel her summer bookings and move elsewhere to rebuild her funds.

She flexed her hands, feeling her broken nails from weeks of endless gardening and DIY pinching the callused skin of her palms, and faced her new boss. Well, she hoped he was her new boss.

Keep smiling, Georgie. You need this job. There’s no other work on the island at the moment.

‘Didn’t Nikos tell you? He recruited me while you were away. It’s only a temporary role, to tide you over until a permanent replacement can be found.’

She gave him a friendly smile, keen to build bridges with her new boss and neighbour, but that only made his scowl deepen further.

For a brief second his gaze moved down over her body. And then he looked away, as though irritated with himself. He shuffled the beaten-up-looking soft tan leather weekend case he was carrying into his opposite hand.

‘Where are my other siblings?’

‘Marios had a scuba-diving appointment and Angeliki has gone to Athens. I think she has a date tonight.’

His long fingers rubbed against his temple, as though he were defeated by her answer. She gave him another small smile, wishing she could think of something to say that would help. That would ease the lines of tension pulling at the corners of his eyes.

‘Nikos owes you an apology. He had no authority to recruit you. Let’s talk in my office.’

Though her heart plummeted to the floor at Loukas’s job-terminating-sounding tone, she had to think of the party, and the staff members who had been so excited for days about the celebration.

‘I’m supposed to be hosting the party. Can we talk tomorrow?’ She paused and then, unable to stop herself, she added, ‘Nikos’s costume is in his office. You could wear it for the party... It’s a Captain Hook costume. I think it would suit you.’

He looked at her incredulously, and then his eyes narrowed as he realised that she was teasing him. His scowl told her that, unlike Nikos, he wasn’t one for playful banter. He really was different...unfortunately.

‘I’ve work to do. I need to wrap this party up. There’s too much that still has to be completed before we open. I will speak to the staff and then we will talk in my office,’ he said, before heading in the direction of the hotel terrace along a path lined with thickly blossoming lavender.

She chased after him but her mermaid tail slowed her progress. Unable to catch him, she shouted out in desperation. ‘Loukas! No!’

He turned around and stared at her, clearly peeved. Under his unimpressed gaze she waddled towards him, feeling less like an elegant mermaid and more like a hung-over duck.

‘The party has only just started. The staff will be so disappointed. They’ve put huge effort into designing their costumes.’

His gaze travelled down over her costume and then he looked back up with a raised eyebrow. As if to ask, And precisely why should I be worried about any of this?

But then his gaze moved back down over her body again, this time lingering at her breasts, at her waist. His eyes darkened.

Pinpricks of awareness flooded her body. This was her boss. Her neighbour. Her friends’ brother. She had no business being so aware of him physically.

She stepped back, overwhelmed by his size, by the heat licking her insides.

At her movement, the dark appreciation in his eyes turned to annoyance. His mouth twisted unhappily.

For long seconds he studied her coolly. ‘I won’t stop the party but you and I still need to talk.’

And then, much to her consternation he held out his arm.

‘Let me help you.’ Those brown eyes stared at her intently. ‘You seem to be floundering out of your natural habitat.’

He was messing with her...wasn’t he?

His expression remained stern as he waited for her to respond. She wanted to say no, that she’d manage, but to do so would somehow feel as if she was giving in to him. That she would be admitting to feeling like a mermaid out of water around him.

She flashed her best sassy smile at him, clasped her hand with intent on his tanned forearm, and gritted her teeth as the nerve-endings on her fingers tingled at the warmth of his skin, the strength of his flexed forearm.

‘Mermaids belong in the sea, Miss Jones. I hope you manage to survive the evening.’

Her eyes shot over to study him. He had to be joking this time... Maybe he was as capable of teasing as his siblings were, but yet again his expression gave nothing away.

At an excruciatingly slow pace and in silence they made their way around the corner to the hotel’s sun terrace.

The terrace—so elegant with its borders of lush shrubs interspersed with olive and citrus trees, the bright pinks and purples of bougainvillea and pelargonium trained along the external walls, and its plush outdoor seating areas—was crowded with all the hotel staff, dressed for the nautical themed party.

They separated and she detoured to speak to The Korinna’s head chef, Jean-Louis, who was dressed as Poseidon, complete with curly wig, beard and golden trident.

As she laughed with Jean-Louis over their respective costumes, and then checked with him that all was okay with the catering for the event, she found herself tracing Loukas’s progress through the crowd as pirates, sharks and surf babes eagerly stopped him to chat. It was clear that he was respected and liked by his staff. Why was his relationship with his three siblings so different, then? All three had variously grumbled about him in the past, describing him as everything from a control freak to a nightmare with zero sense of fun.

Loukas was the consummate host, giving his complete if rather serious attention to those he spoke to. But as she was dragged into having her photograph taken with some of the hotel’s personal trainers Georgie sensed a growing tension, a greater unease in him as he made his way towards the terrace steps where the party DJ was stationed.

Once there, he spoke to the DJ, who immediately ended the song blasting out of the speakers. He waited until the crowd grew silent before he started to speak.

‘The Korinna reopens its doors next week. Thank you for all your hard work and co-operation so far in completing the renovations. We now need to give one final push over the coming days to complete the work so we can deliver the five-star service we always promise our valued guests.’

He moved out to the edge of the steps to get closer to the crowd. His deep voice—which was in keeping with his hulking size and delivered little punches to her stomach every time he spoke—dropped to an even lower grave timbre.

‘As you already know, we have specially invited influencers, journalists and bloggers coming for the first time, but we also have some of our regular clients and their entire families staying with us over the Pascha weekend. We need to balance the needs of both groups, and our focus has to be on guest satisfaction at all times. No request is too big, and I want each of you to be proactive and anticipate the guests’ needs. At no other time has the Christou business motto been more apt: We deliver perfection.’

His shoulders stiffened and his gaze slowly ran across the crowd.

‘The future of The Korinna is reliant on us excelling in everything we do from the moment we open our doors again. And everyone else on Talos needs us to succeed too—we need to lead the way in making Talos a year-round destination, especially during the winter months when so many businesses on the island struggle.’

Loukas stepped back and for a moment stared down at the pale sandstone of the patio. When he looked back up there was a vulnerability in the way his mouth worked, the way he blinked hard.

‘The past few years have been difficult for us all, but it’s now time for The Korinna to shine again.’ He paused, his voice catching. ‘As many of you know, it was my father’s dream that in addition to our hotels here in Greece we would also own some of Europe’s leading five-star hotels. Soon I hope to announce the acquisition of some of those premises. But for now let’s make The Korinna dazzle—make it the gold standard for what we in the Christou Group promise to deliver to our guests, both current and future. Let’s do my parents proud.’

Around her people shuffled and cleared their throats. She rapidly blinked her eyes, sideswiped by Loukas’s emotion. This was the man who had looked as if he wanted to commit murder less than fifteen minutes ago.

She remembered Angeliki’s poorly disguised attempt at bravado when she had described losing both her parents at only ten years of age. The same bravado Georgie had used to adopt herself when having to explain her mum’s absence as a child.

Loukas’s gaze swept across the crowd and settled on her. Her heart dipped and soared at his grave expression.

‘None of us can allow anything to get in the way of The Korinna’s success.’

* * *

Loukas entered his office and threw his weekend bag on the office sofa.

He rolled his neck against the steel rod that seemed to have inserted itself down the centre of his spine.

Why had he felt so damn emotional during his speech to the staff?

He sat down at his desk and scrubbed his face with a hand. Inhaling a weary breath, he fired up his computer. Flicking through his emails, he clicked on one from his legal team. He read it and sighed.

His instinct had been right—there really was no way out of the clause that had been inserted into the lease by the religious order who had sold the Convento San Francesco over a hundred years ago.

The convent, in the heart of Florence, had since become an exclusive five-star boutique hotel—a hotel his father had coveted since he and Loukas’s mother had visited on their honeymoon and just about been able to afford a drink in the bar. They had both fallen in love with its walled garden and cloisters, and his father—perhaps foolishly—had pledged to his mother that one day he would buy it in memory of their wedding and their honeymoon.

Loukas wanted it. For his parents. This was the first time that it had come up for sale in over a century. He might never get this opportunity again. He had to buy this hotel for his father. He couldn’t fail him yet again.

There was only one problem—to buy it, he had to be married. The religious order, for reasons that had been lost in time, had specified that the convent could only be sold to a married person.

His legal team had spent the past month attempting to have the clause removed. But it was watertight. As he had expected. In anticipation of this outcome he had employed a dating agency who specialised in executive clients.

He was not interested in finding love. He’d never had any intention of getting married. He had spent his childhood constantly fighting for his parents’ love—his father’s in particular—and constantly being rejected when he had not lived up to his expectations. He had learnt that loving others made him vulnerable and open to the constant fear and pain of rejection. Love was an exhausting emotional rollercoaster he had no interest in or intention of riding.

What he needed was a wife in name only, and in the past few weeks he had come to realise that he could turn this need for a wife of convenience into an opportunity to recruit extra talent into the business—someone who would help drive the business forward but would also have the toughness to tackle the ongoing problems with his family: namely Nikos’s irresponsibility, Marios’s stubbornness and Angeliki’s lack of independence.

It was a point that had been driven home when he’d recently returned from a business trip abroad to his apartment in Athens to find Angeliki drunk and almost incoherent... She’d been coherent enough though to tell him that she hated her two-timing boyfriend, Dimitris, but that she couldn’t break it off because he had the best body she’d ever seen. And all kinds of other stuff no brother should ever hear from his baby sister.

Angeliki needed a strong female role model—for far too long she had been indulged by her older brothers. She needed someone who would push her to want to achieve more in life than the approval of some lowlife guy.

The dating agency had put forward some promising candidates—successful and ambitious women. He had even dated some. But so far they had all come up short.

Tonight’s email from his legal team confirming that there was no way out of the clause, together with all the other debacles—an unfinished hotel, VIP guests set to arrive in less than a week, his siblings nowhere to be seen—had brought home the fact that he needed a wife with greater than ever urgency.

He picked up his office phone and called his dating agency account manager, Zeta.

‘Loukas... Hi...’ Zeta sounded more and more nervous every time he called.

‘I have called the three profiles you sent through today. The first had nothing to offer the business.’ Zeta tried to interrupt him but he continued on, ‘The second candidate laughed when I explained that Talos was a two-hour journey by land and sea from Athens...’

He swung around in his chair to face his office window and stared out towards the Saronic Gulf as he continued.

‘And the third couldn’t answer me when I asked her how she would deal with the scenario of an eighteen-year-old girl calling at four in the morning from a payphone in Athens asking if she knew where her phone and purse was.’

Zeta let out a weary sigh at the other end of the phone. ‘We’re running out of suitable candidates.’

‘Spread your net wider. I need a wife within the next month. A wife who will accept the nature of our marriage—that it will be in effect a business contract for a two-year period, with generous terms and conditions. The Christou Group is about to expand rapidly. We have already acquired five new hotels in the past year and plan on many more. This will be an ideal time for an ambitious person to be at the centre of that growth. I need someone who is driven, astute, already successful in her career, willing to live on Talos and support me in managing my family. That isn’t a lot to ask, is it?’

Zeta started to make some strangled-sounding noises at the end of the line. In no mood to hear her usual argument that he needed to be more flexible, he ended the call—but not before telling Zeta that he would quadruple her fee if she found him a suitable wife within the next month.

‘Is now a good time to talk?’

He twisted around to find the mermaid standing at his door, waiting for his answer.

Thrown by the sight of her hand, distractedly playing with the thin silver strap of her bikini top, and seeing the other resting on the smooth taut skin of her midriff, he looked away, silently cursing Nikos. Again.

Georgie Jones—all blonde hair, shiny eyes and sunshine personality—was exactly Nikos’s type. He didn’t need to go to Detective School to figure out that she was either Nikos’s newest love interest or soon would be. No wonder Nikos had given her the position as PA. How convenient to have her so nearby.

The idea of moving Nikos away to a monastery on a faraway island was rapidly becoming the best plan he’d had in a long time. But first he had to deal with returning this mermaid to wherever she belonged.

‘Please come in.’

She shuffled into the office, her full and rather enticing lips, painted a coral-pink, pulling into an open smile that slowly faded as she stopped in front of his desk.

She squared her shoulders and her hazel eyes held his steadily. ‘It would be a huge honour to work for you, and in a hotel as prestigious as The Korinna. I won’t lie or beat around the bush—I need this job.’

She gave him a quick smile that at first seemed open, but on closer inspection he saw that her eyes held a steely determination.

‘However, I respect the fact that you weren’t aware of my appointment and that it has put us both in a difficult position. I think I have a potential compromise, if you agree. And that is that I initially work for you for a trial period of a few days.’

* * *

Time slowed down to excruciatingly long seconds as Loukas studied her with obvious exasperation. Would he accept her proposal?

Life had taught her to be diplomatic, to negotiate and gently persuade rather than fight her way to acceptance by others. After years of being a newcomer she knew only too well that she had to give people space in order to come to realise that she posed no threat. And that included her new boss.

His office faced out towards the azure beauty of the Saronic Gulf, but when he stood up his huge Greek warrior size seemed to devour all the evening light that had been pouring in through the folding glass doors that led to a private balcony.

He moved to rest against a bookcase and asked, ‘Exactly what experience have you of being a PA?’

‘I’ve worked as a PA in an architectural firm in Spain for the past eighteen months. Before that I was a theatre hand, a trainee pastry chef, a dog walker...’ She paused, seeing that Loukas wasn’t overly impressed, and quickly added, ‘I’m flexible and I use my initiative, and I also speak Portuguese, Spanish, Italian...and passable Greek.’

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, he approached her as though he didn’t buy a word about her linguistic skills. ‘You speak all those languages?’

While her brain objected to his cynical tone, her heart was conducting a most peculiar dance in her chest. Goosebumps were popping up on her skin as her eyes were drawn to the smooth skin of his chest visible beneath the open neck of his shirt. She blinked as heat blasted inside her stomach.

She dragged her eyes away from the dark toffee skin tone and then, intending to let them travel up to meet his eyes, found herself waylaid by his mouth—was his lower lip slightly fuller than the upper one?—and then his nose, its straightness and perfection suiting his serious personality.

Eventually she managed to answer, ‘I moved around a lot as a child because of my dad’s work.’

‘Why are you here on Talos?’

Light golden-brown eyes marred by tension lines at the corners held hers. She needed to get Loukas to relax in her company.

She stepped back and gave her best excited smile. ‘I’m renovating a property.’

The tension lines tightened even more. ‘The old Alavanos property?’

His question came out in a rumble, his voice even lower than usual.

The nod of her head elicited a deep sigh of disbelief from him.

‘So, let me get this right... Nikos has employed as my PA someone who is soon going to be a business rival of ours?’

If only. The Talos Escape Guesthouse, as she had decided to call it, wouldn’t be opening anytime soon if she didn’t pull together enough money to actually furnish the guest rooms. But she wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. Sunny side up. That was her motto.

‘I’m going to open up a small guesthouse in the summer months, catering for the swimming holiday business. It’s hardly going to be a rival to The Korinna.’

Loukas shifted away from her and went and stood behind his desk. ‘Miss Jones, you can’t work here. I apologise that Nikos had you believing otherwise.’

He sat down at his desk, briefly gestured to the door and began to riffle through the paperwork on his desk.

Georgie opted not to take up his invitation to leave. She couldn’t let go of this financial lifeline.

Engrossed in his paperwork, he was either oblivious to her presence or choosing to ignore her, so she said to the rather beautiful wavy dark brown hair on the top of his head, ‘Why?’

He lifted that noble head of his slowly and eyed her unhappily. Throwing the pen in his hand to the desk, he said impatiently, ‘Thanks to Nikos, my PA Eleni ran away last week. I have now made it company policy that there is to be no relationships between employees. A policy that is to be implemented at all twenty-six hotels within the Christou Group. I can hardly go against that policy within days of its implementation.’

‘I’m not following... How does that impact me in my role as your PA?’

He crossed his arms and threw her a sceptical stare.

Confused, she said, ‘I would never date my boss... And anyway, I... I overheard your telephone conversation just now. Aren’t you looking for a wife? I’m not wife material.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘I was talking about you and Nikos.’

‘Oh.’ Despite the inferno igniting her cheeks she heard herself laugh. ‘Nikos and me! Are you serious? He’s like a little brother. We’re friends—nothing more. Just as I’m friends with Marios and Angeliki.’

‘You’re friends with them too?’

‘I’ve got to know them over the past few months through Nikos. Marios and I share an interest in sea-swimming and Angeliki is teaching me Greek—she’s stayed over with me some nights.’

‘Really?’

Why did he sound so appalled...so surprised?

She rested a hand on the flimsy material of her mermaid tail, itching to whip it off, to go and put on some proper clothes. But perhaps she should fess up to everything in order to clear the air completely between them. Although she got the feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

‘There’s something else we need to talk about, as I’m presuming that you aren’t aware of it... I’ve moved into your family villa.’

* * *

She had what?

The mermaid wove a finger through the ends of her golden hair and gave him an uncertain smile before adding, ‘Nikos said I should stay at the villa as I will need to work late most days and the four-mile cycle back to my house in the dark is pretty terrifying, with all those open drops down to the sea.’

Had Nikos lost his mind? Yes, those who lived in the furthest reaches of the island often had to endure less than favourable road conditions on this car-less island. But he was the only person who still lived in the family villa.

Earlier this year, when he had made it clear how unhappy he was with their work, one by one the others had moved out. Nikos and Angeliki had originally shared an apartment overlooking the harbour in town, but had reluctantly agreed to move in to the new management apartment adjacent to The Korinna, that Loukas had commissioned as part of the renovations.

Nikos needed to be on hand when Loukas—who, along with his role as CEO of the Christou Group was also general manager of The Korinna—was away on business. Marios lived on his boat, moored at the town’s old harbour.

Was having Georgie move in to the villa another of Nikos’s ways of getting him back for pushing him so hard? Or was Georgie lying to him? Were she and Nikos an item and this was their way of living close to one another whilst pretending that they weren’t breaking the company’s newest human resources policy?

‘Why didn’t Nikos have you move in with him and Angeliki?’

She gave him a quizzical look. ‘I don’t think Nikos is in the mood for company at the moment...he’s pretty heartbroken.’

Nikos? Heartbroken? When had that happened? Why the hell didn’t he know anything about it?

‘Because of Eleni?’

Georgie considered him for a moment, as though wondering why he should even have to ask that question. ‘Yes, of course because of Eleni.’

His guilt and frustration at his fractured relationship with his siblings coiled in his stomach. He didn’t need this stranger reminding him of how much he was messing up in his role as head of the family.

But she obviously wasn’t a stranger to his siblings...and she knew more about their lives than he did. That fact stuck in his gut like a piece of indigestible news.

‘How did you meet Nikos?’

‘Through Eleni. She and I met one day on the beach. We became friends and she and Nikos used to visit me.’

They had? ‘I thought their relationship was a short affair.’

‘They’ve been together since the start of this year.’ For a moment she looked at him and worried at her lip with her teeth. Then, in a rush, she added, ‘I guess you weren’t aware as you travel so much with work. That’s why Nikos left today—he’s followed Eleni to Thessaloníki to try to speak to her.’

Had it come to this? A stranger having to find excuses for him as to why he had no idea what was going on in his brother’s life?

Along with his reconnaissance visits to some of the most exclusive hotels in Europe, he had deliberately spent most of the winter and the spring on week-long stays in their different hotels dotted throughout Greece—principally to carry out organisational and management reviews and to get direct customer feedback from their guests.

But he had also hoped that his siblings would become more responsible and resourceful in his absence.

The steel rod in his spine tightened. ‘It’s not appropriate that a member of staff lives in my villa. Nikos should never have told you that you could move in.’

‘I know it’s not ideal, but all the staff accommodation is full. I promise that I won’t get in your way, and it will only be until the rush of the reopening is over.’

Why was she so keen to stay? ‘The reopening isn’t for another week—why have you moved in now?’

Her bright expression faded. ‘My builder removed my old windows last week, believing that the new ones were to arrive that day, but they didn’t. Now I’ve no windows. I didn’t really mind, but the guesthouse is single-storey and one morning I woke to find a herd of goats staring at me in bed. It was pretty terrifying. I couldn’t sleep after that.’

Thrown by the laughter that danced at the back of his throat at a vision of Georgie Jones awaking to a herd of the local inquisitive goats, Loukas picked up the bronze paperweight he had inherited from his father. His fingers traced the raised profile of a turtle while he tried to clear his head of that image and consider what he should do.

He would need a PA—especially in the coming week. But the last thing he needed was an employee who might be a distraction for Nikos. He should get rid of Georgie. But to do so would only give his siblings more ammunition for them to rally against him and complain about his lack of heart. Anyway, he couldn’t bring himself to pack her off home to a house with no windows. His lips twitched as he pictured her waking to see the staring goats.

‘Like I said, I couldn’t help but overhear about your need for a wife... I might be able to help you.’

His head snapped up. ‘Are you offering?’

Her mouth dropped open. It was hard not to be offended by the horror in her eyes.

‘Heavens, no—I’m not the marrying kind, and anyway I heard your requirements. I’m not sure I fulfil any of them.’

She tilted her head and he saw a glimpse of astute calculation in her eyes before she gave him a bright smile.

‘But I do have an extensive network of friends throughout Europe as well as here on Talos... Suitable women who might be interested in meeting with you. Employ me and you not only get a PA but also your own in-house matchmaker.’

This mermaid was full of surprises. Intrigued, he asked, ‘Have you any actual experience in matching people?’

‘I’ve set up a lot of successful blind dates in the past... And last summer I attended the wedding of a colleague from Malaga and my car mechanic, who I got together.’

Was he so desperate that he was seriously considering employing a woman dressed as a mermaid to be his PA and matchmaker? In a word: yes. The current owners were giving him a month to complete his purchase of the convent. After that they would sell to the next bidder.

Never slow to make a decision, he said, ‘Okay, here’s the deal: I’ll employ you until I can recruit a replacement PA. If by some miracle you manage to find me a woman who will happily live here on Talos, who understands that our marriage will be one of convenience, is successful in her career and prepared to play a senior role in the Christou Group, and who is tough, especially when dealing with people, then I’ll pay you two months’ wages as a bonus.’

He gestured to the paperwork on his desk.

‘I have work to do. I’ll see you here tomorrow morning at seven.’

She made a face. ‘What about love?’

‘It’s not part of the equation.’

By the puzzlement in her expression he could see that he needed to explain further.

‘I’m marrying for two reasons, Ms Jones. To fulfil a clause that is present in the lease of an Italian hotel I wish to purchase, and to have someone who will assist me in the day-to-day operation of the business, with a specific focus on people management and supporting me in managing my family.’

Georgie eyed him dubiously for a moment. ‘Am I right in assuming that a marriage contract would be drawn up?’

‘My legal director is working on it at the moment. It will be a two-year contract with a generous salary and bonus package.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s not conventional...but who knows? It might work for the right woman. Someone who would like the opportunity to be part of the Christou Group.’

She moved forward and shook his hand firmly.

‘I’m looking forward to working here,’ she said. Then she turned to leave and slowly, oh, so slowly, took tiny steps towards the door.

He tried to go back to his paperwork. But his eyes refused to obey.

She flicked her head and for a moment he caught a glimpse of the knot holding her bikini top beneath the heavy weight of her long hair. His fingers itched with the impulse to pull at that string. To undress this mermaid.

At the door she wobbled as she turned to him. And then, with that oh, so sweet and cheery smile, warm hazel eyes twinkling, she said, ‘See you bright and early.’

When she had disappeared from view he stood and stared out towards the Saronic Gulf.

He needed to focus on what mattered. Successfully relaunching The Korinna. Getting his family functioning again. Finding himself a wife.

Why, then, did he get the feeling he was going to struggle to ignore his new PA?


Chapter Two (#uf8563532-bef1-5e7f-be73-5a4263030674)

LOUKAS THREW OFF his bedclothes, his heart pumping.

What was that noise?

In the pitch-dark he fumbled for his phone.

Four forty-one.

There it was again. A soft banging.

He eased out of the bed and grabbed the gym shorts he had left out the night before.

He slowly opened his bedroom door.

The sound was coming from downstairs.

He bunched his fists and crept along the corridor, his bare feet moving silently across the tiled floor.

His nostrils twitched.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, bewildered for a moment, his mind a dizzying blend of childhood memories, his heart kicking against his chest.

He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all, trying to shake off the disorientation of waking from a deep sleep to the reminder of his mother’s baking.

Slowly the penny dropped.

His house guest.

Thee mou! He was going to kill Nikos...and probably her too.

Downstairs, he followed the corridor to the kitchen-dining room at the far end of the villa.

The dining area was in darkness, but the recessed kitchen lights reflected like satellites at night off the angled bank of patio doors out onto the terrace.

He followed the sweet, seductive scent of baking, heard the soft thud of an oven door closing, cursing Nikos every step of the way.

He had back-to-back meetings later today. There were management problems at their hotel on Hydra, and yet more planning problems with their hotel on Santorini. He needed his sleep disturbed like he needed a hole in the head.

He pulled up short of the kitchen.

Who the hell...?

Thrown, he stared at the woman who was busy transferring items from a baking tray to a wire cooling rack. Barefoot, and dressed in lilac pyjama shorts and a cropped white T-shirt, she was humming to herself.

Who was she?

And then she turned ever so slightly, and those full lips, high cheekbones and glittering eyes were unmistakable.

‘Georgie?’

* * *

Georgie screamed and dropped the baking tray. The tray ricocheted off the edge of the kitchen counter with a clang, flipped onto its side and plummeted straight down, the corner catching the middle of her foot.

She yelped at the sharp pain and jumped back, hopping on her uninjured foot. But then she stood on one of the just-out-of-the-oven croissants scattered on the floor. The croissant crunched under her weight before becoming firmly attached to her sole. She yelped again and shot up to sit on the kitchen counter, frantically shaking her foot in a bid to remove the scorching hot pastry.

The pastry dropped to the floor with a disgruntled plop.

She stared down at her throbbing feet in disbelief before daring to turn towards Loukas.

‘Georgie?’ he said again.

Why did he sound so confused?

And then she remembered. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers over her shoulder-length light ash-brown hair. ‘I was wearing a wig last night.’

His gaze immediately moved to her feet, and as he moved towards her, her already hysterical heart switched into frenzied mode when it sank in that he was wearing nothing other than a pair of black gym shorts.

Her eyes skimmed over him briefly before she stared again at her throbbing feet, her mind flashing with images of what she had just witnessed. Broad shoulders, muscle tightly wrapped against bone... A powerful muscular chest... Taut stomach... Long athletic legs... Hard thighs... Sharply defined calves.

He was beautiful. It made her itch—no mere mortal deserved such perfection. No wonder he didn’t have to try too hard with his social skills. People would bow down at his flawless feet regardless.

She watched in disbelief as he crouched before her, his huge frame curling effortlessly and fluidly to balance on one knee. His thumb moved against her foot, gently testing the area where there was an angry-looking cut, and a bruise starting to blossom around it. Then he tenderly lifted her other foot to examine its sole.

Unable to breathe, she dug her fingers into the countertop, fighting against the tide of emotions welling in her. Loukas was the first person to touch her in what felt like a lifetime. She wanted to pull away, overwhelmed. And yet she wanted this moment to last for ever.

Her foot still cradled in his hand, he looked up and grimaced, his expression worried. ‘I’ll get the first aid kit.’

‘There’s no need...’ Her words trailed away as he disappeared into the utility room.

He was back within seconds.

Quickly and efficiently, he applied a burn spray to her sole and swabbed a disinfectant wipe across the broken skin of the other foot. She gasped as it stung.

He paused and gazed up at her. ‘Are you okay?’

She nodded, her voice stolen by her surprise at the gentleness of his tone, the tenderness of his touch.

‘The cut isn’t deep, but I’m worried that you might have broken something.’

She wriggled her toes. ‘It’s fine—honestly. The pain is already practically gone. I got a shock, that’s all. I thought you were asleep.’

Balancing her foot on top of his bended knee, he reached into the first aid kit and took out a sticking plaster.

‘Why were you baking in the middle of the night?’

With delicate care he placed the plaster on her foot, his thumbs softly running over each end, gently applying pressure to ensure it was firmly in place.

‘I couldn’t sleep. I take pastries into work most days... Marios especially loves my croissants. I prepared some dough yesterday, before work, and decided to bake the croissants now as it helps me to relax.’ She inhaled a deep breath and gave a guilty grimace. ‘I’m guessing that I woke you?’

He didn’t answer her question, but instead said, ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes...don’t move.’

Georgie threw her head back and stared at the kitchen ceiling when he left the room. She was mortified at being so clumsy. And thrown by Loukas’s patience and care.

What a great start to her employment. All night she had tossed and turned, her mind reeling with thoughts. Her escalating bills. The endless chasing of her builder. The fact that her new boss, who for some reason made her feel as if she was plugged into the electricity mains, was less than happy to employ her. The fact that she had volunteered to be a matchmaker to said boss in order to retain her job.

Was she out of her mind? Undoubtedly a neat queue would form if she advertised the fact that Loukas Christou was looking for a wife—who wouldn’t want to marry a hotel tycoon with dark movie-star looks and the body of a professional athlete? But what would happen when the women learnt it was a practical business marriage, love not included?

Would that work for some women? Perhaps. Look at how successful arranged marriages where in some cultures. But where was she going to find such a woman within the next few weeks? She had needed a distraction. She’d tried reading and then counting sheep, but they had disturbingly morphed into belligerent goats. After that she had known that her usual fail-safe of baking was the only answer.

Why was the prospect of getting Loukas onside so daunting? After all, she had done this a hundred times before. For as long as she could remember in every new country, new city, new school, new job, she had had no option but to smile her way into acceptance. Despite the fear of being rejected, which had been alive and mocking in the pit of her stomach every time she’d approached a wary new face.

And even when she had become accepted by those new schoolmates, and later work colleagues, despite her exuberant front and her deep, sincere desire to connect with people, she had never truly managed to. After her mum had left, and then all the friends she’d lost time and time again when her dad had uprooted them, she had realised that it was easier to keep people at arm’s length. To be a social butterfly. To keep those friendships on the surface. For their sakes and hers.

That was until she’d met Alain. At first, as the owner and head chef of the restaurant where she’d begun her training to be a pastry chef, he had been her boss. She had fallen in love with his enthusiasm and passion and they had quickly become a couple.

But she had hurt him terribly when she’d left him. Feeling as if she were unable to breathe. Panicked at how serious their relationship had become. Questioning everything about their relationship and convincing herself that she was only with him because he made her feel safe. That she wouldn’t feel so freaked out if she’d met ‘Mr Right’.

A few relationships later it had slowly dawned on her that maybe ‘Mr Right’ didn’t exist for her... Not through any fault of the men she’d met. No, the problem lay squarely at her door—she’d been moving about for so long her need for change was bone-deep, her restlessness, her love for travel and exploring new places—all were too strong within her for any relationship to survive.

Loukas was wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt when he returned to the kitchen. In silence he approached her and then, again crouching before her, he began to place a pair of snow-white sports socks on her feet.

‘These will be too big, but they are padded and will be more comfortable when you walk.’ Standing, he asked, ‘Do you want to give it a try?’

She nodded, but before she could react further his hands were on her waist. Gently he eased her forward on the counter, and her hands reflexively reached out to hold his upper arms before he lifted her slowly down onto the marble floor of the kitchen. Her hands refused to drop away from his arms—in fact her fingers insisting on remaining wrapped around the powerful strength of his biceps.

Drop your hands, Georgie. What are you doing?

But his hands aren’t dropping from my waist either, and it’s so nice here, being held, inches away from him, inhaling his scent...citrus, but with a hint of basil and cedar.

He’s your boss—you’re his matchmaker, for crying out loud. Let go!

But instead of letting go she dared to look up into his eyes.

He looked as perplexed as she was feeling.

She gave him a wobbly smile. ‘Hi.’

He jerked his head back, as though suddenly waking up to his surroundings.

In unison they moved apart.

Her heart a churning mess, her legs wobbly, she took a few tentative steps. It stung, but seeing his concerned expression at her measured movements she upped her pace and gave him a bright smile.

‘I think I’ll live.’

‘Good.’ He gestured to the stools by the breakfast counter. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll clean up.’

He refused to allow her to help, so Georgie sat at the counter feeling sheepish. But as he cleared away the baking equipment, wiped the counter surfaces and swept the floor, the silence between them and the darkness outside, the fact that they were all alone in his villa, had an intoxicating feeling of intimacy.

When he’d finished tidying up he turned and considered her.

She smiled and said, ‘Thank you.’

He nodded, and for the longest time they stared at one another, something shifting between them.

He’s your boss, Georgie. Stop it!

She yanked her gaze away and for want of something to do reached across the kitchen island and pulled the cooling rack towards her.

She had managed to place seven croissants on the rack before she’d dropped the baking tray on her foot. She held out a croissant to him, wanting to thank him but also to reach out to him for reasons she didn’t fully understand.

He eyed the croissant dubiously, so she explained. ‘A peace offering—to apologise for waking you.’

He reached for the croissant with a hint of a smile and broke it into two. ‘It’d better be good to make up for having me believe I had a burglar.’

She held her breath as he took a bite. He nodded his head and took another bite.

He raised the remaining small piece of pastry in his hand. ‘You’re safe...this is really good.’

She tried to hide just how pleased she was that he liked her baking and said, ‘I worked for a while as a trainee pastry chef in a restaurant in Lyon.’

He took a bite from the other half. ‘Why did you stop when you’re obviously so talented?’

She shrugged and said, ‘I wanted to move on to something else...to a new city.’

He folded his arms and considered her for a moment. ‘Like dog-walking?’

Annoyed by his judgemental tone, she answered instantly. ‘I was a dog walker when I was eighteen. After Lyon I moved to Lisbon and worked in a theatre there as a stagehand.’ Unable to stop a defensive edge entering her voice, she added, ‘I hate being confined. I like change.’

He popped the last remaining piece of croissant in his mouth and chewed, eyes narrowed as he considered her words. Eventually he said, ‘Having no responsibilities?’

The croissants she had baked were plump and a dark golden colour. She eyed them for a few seconds before darting her gaze back to him. This time she did not bother with a smile. ‘You sound critical.’

He looked at her in silence for the longest while before saying, ‘We’ve a long day ahead of us. We’d better go and get some sleep.’

She stood, her feet stinging a little. She bit back a grimace. Not wanting them to part with the tension that was between them right now, she said, ‘I really am sorry that I woke you. And thanks for looking after me tonight, for allowing me to stay. You have a wonderful home...the tall ceilings, the décor, the courtyard garden...it’s all so beautiful.’

His expression relaxed and his gaze moved from her to the kitchen and dining area beyond. ‘My father and mother loved this house but they didn’t have time to invest in it. It was comfortable, but pretty ramshackle when I was growing up—nobody had seriously invested in it for over a hundred years. I renovated it a few years back.’

She swallowed and tried to find the right words, knowing just how painful it was to lose a parent. ‘Angeliki told me about your parents dying. I’m sorry...it must have been a difficult time.’

His gaze briefly met hers, and there it was again, that something between them—a connection, a recognition despite the tension between them. Was it the silence of the house, the darkness outside, that was causing them to talk like this?

‘We got through it.’ He looked away and said with the hint of a sigh, ‘My siblings didn’t want the villa renovated. Maybe they were right.’

The tension lines around his eyes were back in force, as though he was burdened by that admission.

Puzzled, she asked, ‘Why do you think that?’

‘I thought that if I renovated the villa Marios and Nikos would realise that life had changed...that we all needed to move on and that they needed to start living differently and assume more responsibility. For Angeliki I wanted to create new memories. But they resented it that I’d changed so much about the family home. There were a lot of arguments over it.’

She went and stood next to him, where he was standing by the dishwasher. He clearly blamed himself for the arguments.

‘It sounds like you were doing it for the right reasons...because you care for them.’

He shook his head. ‘They don’t see it that way. Anyway, it’s time we called it a night. Can I help you upstairs?’

Had she gone too far? Why was she risking her job by talking on such a personal level with her boss? Would he regret everything that had passed between them tonight?

‘I’ll manage by myself.’ She gave him a smile. ‘I think my tap-dancing career is still in the bag.’ Her smile faded at his bewildered look. ‘I’ll... I’ll just get myself a glass of water. See you tomorrow.’

At the door, he turned and watched her for a long moment, as though unhappy to leave her there by herself. She deliberately strode to the glasses cupboard, forcing herself not to wince.

She grabbed a glass and waved it towards him. Reassuring him that all was well.

Eventually he said, ‘Come into the office whenever you’re ready in the morning.’

She appreciated the gesture, but there was no way she was going to give him any excuse to find fault with her performance. ‘I’ll be there at seven. I’m looking forward to it.’

* * *

The following morning the rising sun daubed thick smears of burnt orange fading to red on the sky as Loukas left for work. Across the harbour the island’s lighthouse beam flickered and dimmed in the growing daylight.

He had been born and raised on Talos. Had stood at his father’s side as a six-year-old when he had laid the first foundation stone for The Korinna. Had listened to his father’s plans and ambitions to open a hotel on Talos that would become world-renowned for its beauty and hospitality. A hotel that would bring employment and prosperity to the island. The first of many planned hotels.

His father had dug a trench in the hard and resisting earth of Talos, sweat on his brow, his back bent as his shovel sent shock waves through the parched soil, and his words had been the passionate dream of a man who had come from nothing.

‘Loukas, we must work hard, you and me. We need to look after the family. We are Christous, and we will never fail.’

His father’s dream had come true. For almost two decades he had never ceased working, never taken even a single day off. He had pushed himself relentlessly. And pushed his family just as hard.

Within ten years the Christou Group hotel chain had had twelve other properties in the Argo-Saronic Gulf and five years later twenty-one hotels spread throughout Greece, with plans in place to purchase more in Italy and Croatia.

But then Loukas’s mother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. And for once his father hadn’t been able to change the future by sheer will and determination alone. It had broken him. And two months after the diagnosis he had died from a heart attack.

Loukas closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his mother’s shouts for help. Remembering how he had run to his father’s office and found him unconscious on the floor. He hadn’t known what to do. Blind panic had immobilised him for crucial seconds. He remembered his feeble attempts to perform CPR, his screams at Nikos to call the emergency services, Nikos pressing the wrong numbers...having to try again.

He had failed his father that day. He should have saved him. He had failed his brothers and his sister. Because a year later when his mother had died they’d been left parentless.

At the age of twenty-three he had inherited not only the majority ownership of the family business but also responsibility for all three of his underage siblings.

From the moment his father had died in his arms he had sworn that he would do everything in his power never to fail him again, that his focus would only be on protecting the business and the family.

And now, eight years on, the business had survived the worst recession in Greek history. But the family had grown more and more fractured as the years had passed, and Loukas knew he was failing as the family’s head.

The family and the business were firmly interlocked. Each needed to function well for the other to survive. His siblings all owned a percentage share in the business, and were able to veto any of his decisions—which they did on occasion. Not on the basis of any business rationale but just to remind him of their power, that they had a voice.

The garden’s cobbled mosaic pathway came to an end at the pale blue garden door, where the track running through the orchard took its place. This was where, when they weren’t working in the hotel he had hung out with his siblings as children. Their parents would try to send them home for a siesta, but instead the four of them would climb the trees, and when the fruit was ripe sit in the shade, sometimes drowsily falling asleep, sugar-drunk on the sweet juices of the peaches.

But now that closeness had disappeared, and the most frustrating thing about this broken family was that he could see that all three of his siblings were brimming with potential. They just refused to co-operate with him and remained too relaxed in their roles. Why couldn’t they assume their responsibilities without fighting him on everything? Why couldn’t they worry like he did? Even break a sweat on occasion?

And now he had this new PA Georgie Jones to contend with too. Last night, being with her in the kitchen, had been bewildering. Taking care of her, touching her, had felt so right. When in truth it had been all wrong.

He inhaled a deep breath. He was overthinking this. Georgie was a temporary PA. The next week would pass in a whirl of work and deadlines and then she would be gone. Georgie Jones was inconsequential. Opening The Korinna and finding himself a wife. Those were his priorities.

He grimaced at the idea of marrying. But he had no choice. His father might no longer be here to fulfil the promise to his mother to buy the Convento San Francesco, but he was and he would do everything in his power to acquire it.

‘Loukas—wait up!’

He turned to Georgie’s call. She waved to him and jogged up the hill towards him with small measured steps. In the daylight she was even more beautiful without the wig, her natural hair colour more in keeping with her lightly tanned skin, the smattering of freckles on her cheeks and her hazel eyes.

She came to a stop beside him and smiled. ‘Morning.’ Then, with an embarrassed grimace, she added, ‘I hope you managed to get back to sleep.’

He wanted to say, Well, what do you think? When all I could picture when I closed my eyes were your long legs in those ridiculously cute shorts, the lift of your breasts beneath your top... With the memory of your vanilla scent when I knelt before you, lifted you down from the counter. The narrowness of your waist. How tempted I was to pull you closer—

Instead he pointed to the white trainers she was wearing beneath slim-fitting black trousers. ‘How are your feet?’

‘Fine. But I thought it would be more sensible to wear something comfortable walking along this path.’ She lifted her hands to reveal a towering pair of black stilettos dangling from her fingers. ‘I’ll wear these in the office.’

He swallowed hard. ‘There’s no need. Allow your feet to heal.’

Liar! You just don’t want the temptation of watching her wear those shoes.

Her dusky pink blouse, tucked into the waistband of her trousers moved as the breeze caught it. The silk pushed against her skin, outlining her lace bra beneath.

He looked away. His jaw locked tight. ‘Let’s go. I’ll brief you on what I need you to do today before my conference call at seven-thirty.’

They walked together along the path, with the voice in his head mocking him all the way.

Oh, yeah—she’s inconsequential, all right.

* * *

That evening, exhausted and dazed, Georgie sent out her final emails of the day. She had worked non-stop for thirteen hours, coordinating Loukas’s next board meeting, planning his promotional trip to Asia and getting updates from the US PR company who, earlier in the week, had launched a direct-to-consumer and social media campaign to publicise the reopening of The Korinna.

Her stomach rolled angrily, demanding some food. After a quick swim in the sea she would cook some dinner.

Her gaze moved to Loukas’s open door. He had spent most of the day on teleconferences. She had taken coffee in to him a number of times throughout the day, each time attempting to make small talk, but he had clearly not been interested in engaging with her.

His mood had first gone downhill when she had heard him argue with Marios over the planning of a ceremony that was to be held in their Athenian hotel soon, and then nosedived even further when Nikos had arrived back from Thessaloníki.

She had given Nikos a piece of her mind for not having informed Loukas of her appointment, but her annoyance had faded when she’d realised just how down he was over his meeting with Eleni.

He had just started to explain to her what had happened when Loukas had arrived back from a meeting with the builders in an irritable mood. He had dragged Nikos into his office, and even with the door closed she had heard them arguing about her appointment.

She had sat there, with that old knot of shame that had been her constant companion as a child forming with such a punch in her stomach that it had felt as if it had never gone away.

It was a knot of shame that had appeared soon after her mum had walked out on her—out of their family home in England—when she was seven years old. A knot of shame that had told her there had to be something wrong with her for her mum to have walked away from her so easily; not to have wanted to take her with her. A knot that was a constant reminder that if her mum could walk out on her, then so could anyone else. She wasn’t wanted... She wasn’t good enough.

She knew her only focus should be on delivering a professional service to Loukas. But he was also her neighbour. She wanted to be able to get along with him. To be accepted by him. And part of her longed to see the Loukas of last night again. The Loukas who had been caring and kind.

Hauling in a steadying breath, she stood and approached his door.

His concentration was fixed on his computer screen, his right hand click-click-clicking away on the mouse, and Loukas did not notice her presence until she cleared her throat.

‘I’m finished for the evening.’ Unease fluttered in her stomach at his terse nod but she kept on smiling. ‘I was going to cook some pasta for dinner—would you like me to make you some too?’

Loukas glanced at his computer screen and then stood. Pulling on his grey suit jacket over his pale blue shirt, he met her gaze. ‘Thanks, but I’m meeting someone for dinner.’

She backed out, towards her office. ‘Oh. A date? Well, I hope it goes well. It’s a lovely evening for it.’

Oh, God, she knew she was blabbering, but the idea of Loukas on a date left her all jittery. She turned and fled before her mouth really got carried away.

Out in her office, after giving herself a quick mental telling-off for not behaving professionally, she swung round to wish him a goodnight, her heart leaping into her throat at finding him standing directly behind her, fixing the collar of his jacket, his movements releasing the scent of his aftershave from the material.




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