Surrounded by the unbelievable wealth of Alek’s penthouse office suite, she felt invisible.

Ellie thought about all the women she’d seen leaving the building—clipping along in their high-heeled shoes with not a hair out of place. Those were the kind of women he dealt with on a daily basis, with their air of purpose and their slim, toned figures. Where did she fit into that world, with her cheap dress and a growing belly and a feeling that she had no real place of her own?

Because she didn’t have any real place of her own. This was his world and neither she nor her baby belonged in it. Didn’t she know better than anyone that unwanted children usually stayed that way? She knew what it was like to be rejected by your own father.

And that was her lightbulb moment. The moment when she knew exactly what she was going to ask for. Her ego didn’t matter, and neither did her pride, because this was more important than both those things. This was for her baby.

‘I want you to marry me.’

With an effort she kept her gaze steady, but inside her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain he must be able to hear it.

Dear Reader,

One hundred. Doesn’t matter how many times I say it, I still can’t believe that’s how many books I’ve written. It’s a fabulous feeling but more fabulous still is the news that Mills & Boon are issuing every single one of my backlist as digital titles. Wow. I can’t wait to share all my stories with you - which are as vivid to me now as when I wrote them.

There’s BOUGHT FOR HER HUSBAND, with its outrageously macho Greek hero and A SCANDAL, A SECRET AND A BABY featuring a very sexy Tuscan. THE SHEIKH’S HEIR proved so popular with readers that it spent two weeks on the USA Today charts and…well, I could go on, but I’ll leave you to discover them for yourselves.

I remember the first line of my very first book: “So you’ve come to Australia looking for a husband?” Actually, the heroine had gone to Australia to escape men, but guess what? She found a husband all the same! The man who inspired that book rang me up recently and when I told him I was beginning my 100th story and couldn’t decide what to write, he said, “Why don’t you go back to where it all started?”

So I did. And that’s how A ROYAL VOW OF CONVENIENCE was born. It opens in beautiful Queensland and moves to England and New York. It’s about a runaway princess and the enigmatic billionaire who is infuriated by her, yet who winds up rescuing her. But then, she goes and rescues him… Wouldn’t you know it?

I’ll end by saying how very grateful I am to have a career I love, and to thank each and every one of you who has supported me along the way. You really are very dear readers.

Love,

Sharon xxx

Mills & Boon are proud to present a thrilling digital collection of all Sharon Kendrick’s novels and novellas for us to celebrate the publication of her amazing and awesome 100th book! Sharon is known worldwide for her likeable, spirited heroines and her gorgeous, utterly masculine heroes.

SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life…

Carrying the Greek’s Heir

Sharon Kendrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With special thanks to Iona Grey (Letters to the Lost) who makes discussing characters such fun.

And to Peter Cottee for giving me a glimpse into a businessman’s mind.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

HE WANTED HER. He wanted her so badly he could almost taste it.

Alek Sarantos felt the heavy jerk of lust as he drummed his fingers against the linen tablecloth. Tall candles flickered in the breeze and the rich perfume of roses scented the air. He shifted his position slightly but still he couldn’t get comfortable.

He was...restless. More than restless.

Maybe it was the thought of returning to the crazy pace of his London life which had heightened his sexual hunger, so that it pulsed through his veins like thick, sweet honey. His throat tightened. Or maybe it was just her.

He watched as the woman walked through the long grass towards him, brushing past meadow flowers which gleamed like pale discs in the dying light of the summer evening. The rising moon illuminated a body showcased by a plain white shirt, tucked into a dark skirt which looked at least a size too small. A tightly tied apron emphasised her hips. Everything about her was soft, he thought. Soft skin. Soft body. The thick hair which was plaited in a heavy rope and fell down to the middle of her back was silky soft.

His lust was insistent—his groin the opposite of soft—yet she wasn’t his type. Definitely not. He didn’t usually get turned on by curvy waitresses who greeted you with an uncomplicated, friendly smile. He liked his women lean and independent, not gently rounded and wholesome. Hard-eyed women who dropped their panties with ease and without question. Who took him on his terms—which had no room for manoeuvre. Terms which had helped carve out his position as a man of influence and given him a lifestyle free of domestic tie or encumbrance. Because he didn’t want either. He avoided anyone he suspected might be soft, or needy or—heaven forbid—sweet. Sweet wasn’t a quality he required in a bed partner.

So why was he lusting after someone who’d been drifting around the periphery of his vision all week, like a ripe plum waiting to fall from the tree? Something to do with her apron, perhaps—some late-onset uniform fetish, which was playing some very erotic fantasies in his head?

‘Your coffee, sir.’

Even her voice was soft. He remembered hearing its low, musical cadence when she’d been comforting a child who had cut open his knee on one of the gravel paths. Alek had been returning from a game of tennis with the hotel pro when he’d seen her crouching down beside the boy, exuding a general air of unflappability. She’d stemmed the flow of blood with her handkerchief as an ashen-faced nanny had stood shaking nearby and, turning her head, had seen Alek. She’d told him to ‘Go inside and get a first-aid kit’ in the calmest voice he’d ever heard. And he had. A man more used to issuing orders than taking them, he’d returned with the kit and felt a savage twist of pain in his gut to see the boy looking up at her with such trust shining from his teary eyes.

She was leaning forward now as she placed the cup of coffee in front of him, drawing his attention to her breasts, which were straining tightly against her shirt. Oh, God. Her breasts. He found himself wondering what her nipples might look like if they were peaking towards his lips. As she straightened up he saw pewter-grey eyes framed by a pale and heavy fringe. She wore no adornment other than a thin gold chain around her neck and a name badge which said Ellie.

Ellie.

As well as being cool and unflappable towards small boys, she’d spent the week anticipating his every need—and while that was nothing new to someone like him, her presence had been surprisingly unobtrusive. She hadn’t tried to engage him in conversation, or wow him with wisecracks. She’d been pleasant and friendly but hadn’t hinted about her evenings off, or offered to show him around. In short, she hadn’t come onto him like any other woman would have done. She had treated him with the same quiet civility she’d exhibited towards every other guest in the discreet New Forest hotel—and maybe that’s what was bugging him. His mouth hardened—for it was almost unheard of for Alek Sarantos to be treated like other people.

But it wasn’t just that which had captured his interest. She had an air about her which he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Ambition maybe, or just some quiet professional pride. Was it that which made his gaze linger for a heartbeat too long—or the fact that she reminded him of himself, more years ago than he cared to remember? He’d once had that same raw ambition—back in the days when he’d started out with nothing and waited tables, just like her. When money had been tight and the future uncertain. He had worked hard to escape his past and to forge a new future and had learnt plenty of lessons along the way. He’d thought that success was the answer to every problem in life, but he had been wrong. Success made the pill sweeter, but you still had to swallow the pill all the same.

Wasn’t he realising that now—when he’d achieved every single thing he’d set out to achieve? When every hurdle had been leapt over and unimaginable riches were stuffed into his various bank accounts. Didn’t seem to matter how much he gave away to charity, he still kept making more. And sometimes that left him with a question which made him feel uncomfortable—a question he couldn’t seem to answer, but which he’d been asking himself more and more lately.

Was this all there was?

‘Will there be anything else, Mr Sarantos?’ she was asking him.

The waitress’s voice washed over him like balm. ‘I’m not sure,’ he drawled and lifted his eyes to the sky. Above him, stars were spattering the darkening sky—as if some celestial artist had sprayed the canvas silver. He thought of returning to London the following day and a sudden, inexplicable yearning made him lower his head and meet her gaze. ‘The night is still young,’ he observed.

She gave him a quick smile. ‘When you’ve been waiting tables all evening, eleven-thirty doesn’t really feel young.’

‘I guess not.’ He dropped a lump of sugar in his coffee. ‘What time do you finish?’

Her smile wavered, as if the question wasn’t one she’d been anticipating. ‘In about ten minutes’ time.’

Alek leant back in his chair and studied her some more. Her legs were faintly tanned and the smoothness of her skin made you almost forget how cheap her shoes were. ‘Perfect,’ he murmured. ‘The gods must be smiling on us. So why don’t you join me for a drink?’

‘I can’t.’ She shrugged as if in answer to his raised eyebrows. ‘I’m not really supposed to fraternise with customers.’

Alek gave a hard smile. Wasn’t fraternise an old-fashioned word, which had its roots in brotherly? An irrelevant word as far as he was concerned, because he’d never had brothers. Never had anyone. Well, nobody that mattered, that was for sure. He’d always been alone in the world and that was the way he liked it. The way he intended to keep it. Except maybe for this starlit night, which was crying out for a little female company. ‘I’m just asking you to join me for a drink, poulaki mou,’ he said softly. ‘Not to drag you off to some dark corner and have my wicked way with you.’

‘Better not,’ she said. ‘It’s against hotel policy. Sorry.’

Alek felt the stir of something unknown whispering down his spine. Was it the sensation of being refused something—no matter how small—which had started his heart racing? How long since he had been refused anything and felt this corresponding frisson of excitement? A heady feeling that you might actually have to make an effort—instead of the outcome being entirely predictable.

‘But I’m leaving tomorrow evening,’ he said.

Ellie nodded. She knew that. Everyone in the hotel did. They knew plenty about the Greek billionaire who had been creating a stir since he’d arrived at The Hog last week. As the most luxurious hotel in the south of England, they were used to rich and demanding guests—but Alek Sarantos was richer and more demanding than most. His personal assistant had actually sent a list of his likes and dislikes before he’d arrived and all the staff had been advised to study it. And even though she’d considered it slightly over the top, Ellie had got stuck right in, because if a job was worth doing—it was worth doing well.

She knew he liked his eggs ‘over easy’ because he’d lived in America for a while. That he drank red wine, or sometimes whisky. His clothes had arrived before he did—delivered by special courier and carefully wrapped in layers of filmy tissue paper. There had even been a special staff pep talk just before he’d arrived.

‘Mr Sarantos must be given space,’ they’d been told. ‘Under no circumstances must he be disturbed unless he shows signs of wanting to be disturbed. It’s a coup for someone like him to stay in this hotel, so we must make him feel as if it’s his own home.’

Ellie had taken the instructions literally because The Hog’s training scheme had given her stability and hope for the future. For someone who’d never been any good at exams, it had offered a career ladder she was determined to climb, because she wanted to make something of herself. To be strong and independent.

Which meant that, unlike every other female in the place, she had tried to regard the Greek tycoon with a certain impartiality. She hadn’t attempted to flirt with him, as everyone else had been doing. She was practical enough to know her limitations and Alek Sarantos would never be interested in someone like her. Too curvy and too ordinary—she was never going to be the preferred choice of an international playboy, so why pretend otherwise?

But of course she had looked at him. She suspected that even a nun might have given him a second glance because men like Alek Sarantos didn’t stray onto the average person’s radar more than a couple of times in a lifetime.

His rugged face was too hard to be described as handsome and his sensual lips were marred by a twist of ruthlessness. His hair was ebony, his skin like polished bronze, but it was his dark-fringed eyes which captured your attention and made it difficult to look away. Unexpectedly blue eyes, which made her think of those sunlit seas you always saw in travel brochures. Sardonic eyes which seemed to have the ability to make her feel...

What?

Ellie shook her head slightly. She wasn’t sure. As if she sensed something lost in him? As if, on some incomprehensible level, they were kindred spirits? Stupid crazy stuff she shouldn’t be feeling, that was for sure. Her fingers tightened around the tray. It was definitely time to excuse herself and go home.

But Alek Sarantos was still staring as if he was waiting for her to change her mind and as those blue eyes seared into her she felt a brief wobble of temptation. Because it wasn’t every day a Greek billionaire asked you to have a drink with him.

‘It’s getting on for twelve,’ she said doubtfully.

‘I’m perfectly capable of telling the time,’ he said with a touch of impatience. ‘What happens if you stay out past midnight—does your car turn into a pumpkin?’

Ellie jerked back her head in surprise. She was amazed he knew the story of Cinderella—did that mean they had the same fairy tales in Greece?—though rather less surprised that he’d associated her with the famous skivvy.

‘I don’t have a car,’ she said. ‘Just a bicycle.’

‘You live out in the middle of nowhere and you don’t have a car?’

‘No.’ She rested the tray against her hip and smiled, as if she were explaining elementary subtraction to a five-year-old. ‘A bike is much more practical round here.’

‘So what happens when you go to London—or the coast?’

‘I don’t go to London very often. And we do have such things as trains and buses, you know. It’s called public transport.’

He dropped another cube of sugar in his coffee. ‘I didn’t use any kind of public system until I was fifteen.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Absolutely.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Not a train or a bus—not even a scheduled airline.’

She stared at him. What kind of life had he led? For a moment she was tempted to offer him a glimpse of hers. Maybe she should suggest meeting tomorrow morning and taking the bus to nearby Milmouth-on-Sea. Or catching a train somewhere—anywhere. They could drink scalding tea from paper cups as the countryside sped by—she’d bet he’d never done that.

Until she realised that would be overstepping the mark, big time. He was a hotshot billionaire and she was a waitress and while guests sometimes pretended to staff that they were equals, everyone knew they weren’t. Rich people liked to play at being ordinary, but for them it was nothing but a game. He’d asked her to stay for a drink but, really, what possible interest could a tycoon like him have in someone like her? His unusually expansive mood might evaporate the moment she sat down. She knew he could be impatient and demanding. Didn’t the staff on Reception say he’d given them hell whenever he’d lost his internet connection—even though he was supposed to be on holiday and, in her opinion, people on holiday shouldn’t be working.

But then Ellie remembered something the general manager had told her when she’d first joined the hotel’s training scheme. That powerful guests sometimes wanted to talk—and if they did, you should let them.

So she looked into his blue eyes and tried to ignore the little shiver of awareness which had started whispering over her skin. ‘How come,’ she questioned, trying to make her voice sound cool and casual, ‘it took until the age of fifteen before you went on public transport?’

Alek leant back in his chair and considered her question and wondered whether now might be the right time to change the subject, no matter how easy he found it to talk to her. Because the reality of his past was something he usually kept off-limits. He had grown up in a pampered palace of a home—with every luxury known to man.

And he had hated every minute of it.

The place had been a fortress, surrounded by high walls and snarling dogs. A place which had kept people out as well as in. The most lowly of staff were vetted before being offered employment, and paid obscenely well to turn a blind eye to his father’s behaviour. Even family holidays were tainted by the old man’s paranoia about security. He was haunted by the threat of stories about his lifestyle getting into the papers—terrified that anything would be allowed to tarnish his outward veneer of respectability.

Crack teams of guards were employed to keep rubber-neckers, journalists and ex-lovers at bay. Frogmen would swim silently in reconnaissance missions around foreign jetties, before their luxury yacht was given the all-clear to sail into harbour. When he was growing up, Alek didn’t know what it was like not to be tailed by the shadowy presence of some burly bodyguard. And then one day he had escaped. At fifteen, he had walked away, leaving his home and his past behind and cutting his ties with them completely. He had gone from fabulous wealth to near penury but had embraced his new lifestyle with eagerness and hunger. No longer would he be tainted by his father’s fortune. Everything he owned, he would earn for himself and that was exactly what he’d done. It was the one thing in life he could be proud of. His mouth hardened. Maybe the only thing.

He realised that the waitress was still waiting for an answer to his question and that she no longer seemed to be in any hurry to get off duty. He smiled, expectation making his heart beat a little faster. ‘Because I grew up on a Greek island where there were no trains and few buses.’

‘Sounds idyllic,’ she said.

Alek’s smile faded. It was such a cliché. The moment you said Greek island, everyone thought you were talking about paradise, because that was the image they’d been fed. But serpents lurked in paradise, didn’t they? There were any number of tortured souls living in those blindingly white houses which overlooked the deep blue sea. There were all kinds of dark secrets which lay hidden at the heart of seemingly normal lives. Hadn’t he found that out, the hard way? ‘It looked very idyllic from the outside,’ he said. ‘But things are rarely what they seem when you dig a little deeper.’

‘I suppose not,’ she said. She transferred the tray to her other hand. ‘And does your family still live there?’

His smile was slow—like a knife sinking into wet concrete. His family? That wouldn’t be his word of choice to describe the people who had raised him. His father’s whores had done their best, with limited success—but surely even they were better than no mother at all. Than one who’d run out on you and never cared enough to lift the phone to find out how you were.

‘No,’ he said. ‘The island was sold after my father died.’

‘A whole island?’ Her lips parted. ‘You mean your father actually owned an island?’

Another stab of lust went kicking to his groin as her lips parted. If he’d announced that he had a home on Mars, she couldn’t have looked more shocked. But then, it was easy to forget how isolating wealth could be—especially to someone like her. If she didn’t even own a car, then she might have trouble getting her head around someone having their own island. He glanced at her hands and, for some reason, the sight of her unmanicured nails only intensified his desire and he realised that he hadn’t been entirely honest when he’d told her he wasn’t planning to drag her away to a dark corner. He thought he’d like that very much.

‘You’ve been standing there so long that you’ve probably come to the end of your shift,’ he said drily. ‘You could have had that drink with me after all.’

‘I suppose I could.’ Ellie hesitated. He was so persistent. Flatteringly so. She wondered why. Because he’d been almost friendly since he’d helped with the little boy who’d cut his knee? Or because she’d displayed a degree of reluctance to spend time with him and he wasn’t used to that? Probably. She wondered what it must be like, to be Alek Sarantos—so sure of yourself that nobody ever turned you down.

‘What are you so scared of?’ he taunted. ‘Don’t you think I’m capable of behaving like a gentleman?’

It was one of those life-defining moments. Sensible Ellie would have shaken her head and said no thanks. She would have carried the tray back to the kitchen, unlocked her bike and cycled home to her room in the nearby village. But the moonlight and the powerful scent of the roses were making her feel the opposite of sensible. The last time a man had asked her on a date—and you couldn’t really call this a date—was over a year ago. She’d been working such unsociable hours that there hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for down time.

She looked into his eyes. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’

‘Well, think about it now. You’ve been waiting on me all week, so why not let me wait on you for a change? I have a fridge stocked with liquor I haven’t touched. If you’re hungry, I can feed you chocolate or apricots.’ He rose to his feet and raised his eyebrows. ‘So why don’t I pour you a glass of champagne?’

‘Why? Are you celebrating something?’

He gave a low laugh. ‘Celebration isn’t mandatory. I thought all women liked champagne.’

‘Not me.’ She shook her head. ‘The bubbles make me sneeze. And I’m cycling home—I don’t want to run over some poor, unsuspecting pony who’s wandered out into the middle of the road. I think I’d prefer something soft.’

‘Of course you would.’ He slanted her an odd kind of smile. ‘Sit down and let me see what I can find.’

He went inside the self-contained villa which stood within the extensive hotel grounds and Ellie perched awkwardly on one of the cane chairs, praying nobody would see her, because she shouldn’t be sitting on a guest’s veranda as if she had every right to do so.

She glanced across the silent lawn, where a huge oak tree was casting an enormous shadow. The wild flowers which edged the grass swayed gently in the breeze and, in the background, lights blazed brightly from the hotel. The dining room was still lit with candles and she could see people lingering over coffee. In the kitchen, staff would be frantically washing up and longing to get home. Upstairs, couples would be removing complimentary chocolates from on top of the Egyptian linen pillows, before getting into bed. Or maybe they would be sampling the deep, twin baths for which The Hog was so famous.

She thought she saw something glinting from behind the oak tree and instinctively she shrank back into the shadows, but before she could work out exactly what it was—Alek had returned with a frosted glass of cola for her, and what looked like whisky, for him.

‘I guess I should have put them on a tray,’ he said.

She took a sip. ‘And worn an apron.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps I could borrow yours?’

The implication being that she remove her apron... Ellie put her glass down, glad that the darkness disguised her suddenly hot cheeks because the thought of removing anything was making her heart race. Suddenly, the moonlight and the roses and the glint in his eyes was making her feel way too vulnerable.

‘I can’t stay long,’ she said quickly.

‘Somehow I wasn’t expecting you to. How’s your cola?’

‘Delicious.’

He leant back in his chair. ‘So tell me why a young woman of twenty...?’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘I’m twenty-five,’ she supplied.

‘Twenty-five.’ He took a sip of whisky. ‘Ends up working in a place like this.’

‘It’s a great hotel.’

‘Quiet location.’

‘I like that. And it has a training scheme which is world famous.’

‘But what about...’ he paused ‘...nightlife? Clubs and boyfriends and parties? The kind of thing most twenty-five-year-olds enjoy.’

Ellie watched the bubbles fizzing around the ice cubes he’d put in her cola. Should she explain that she’d deliberately opted for a quiet life which contrasted with the chaos which had defined her childhood? Somewhere where she could concentrate on her work, because she didn’t want to end up like her mother, who thought a woman’s ambition should be to acquire a man who was a meal ticket. Ellie had quickly learnt how she didn’t want to live. She was never going to trawl the internet, or hang around nightclubs. She had never owned a thigh-skimming skirt or push-up bra. She was never going to date someone just because of what they had in their wallet.

‘Because I’m concentrating on my career,’ she said. ‘My ambition is to travel and I’m going to make that happen. One day I’m hoping to be a general manager—if not here, then in one of the group’s other hotels. Competition is pretty fierce, but there’s no harm in aiming high.’ She sipped her cola and looked at him. ‘So that’s me. What about you?’

Alek swirled the whisky around in his glass. Usually he would have changed the subject, because he didn’t like talking about himself. But she had a way of asking questions which made him want to answer and he still couldn’t work out why.

He shrugged. ‘I’m a self-made man.’

‘But you said—’

‘That my father owned an island? He did. But he didn’t leave his money to me.’ And if he had, Alek would have thrown it back in his face. He would sooner have embraced a deadly viper than taken a single drachma of the old man’s fortune. He felt his gut tighten. ‘Everything I own, I earned for myself.’

‘And was that...difficult?’

The softness of her voice was hypnotic. It felt like balm being smoothed over a wound which had never really healed. And wasn’t this what men had done since the beginning of time? Drunk a little too much whisky and then offloaded on some random woman they would never see again?

‘It was a liberation,’ he said truthfully. ‘To cut my ties with the past.’

She nodded, as if she understood. ‘And start over?’

‘Exactly that. To know that every decision I make is one I can live with.’

His cell phone chose precisely that moment to start ringing and automatically he reached into his pocket, glancing at the small screen.

Work, he mouthed as he took the call.

He launched into a long torrent of Greek, before breaking into English—so that Ellie couldn’t help but sit there and listen. Though if she was being honest, it was very interesting listening to a conversation, which seemed to involve some high-powered forthcoming deal with the Chinese. And then he said other stuff, too—which was even more interesting.

‘I am taking a holiday. You know I am. I just thought it wise to check with the New York office first.’ He tapped his finger impatiently against the arm of the chair. ‘Okay. I take your point. Okay.’

He cut the connection and saw her staring at him. ‘What is it?’ he demanded.

She shrugged. ‘It’s none of my business.’

‘No, I’m interested.’

She put her drink down. ‘Don’t you ever stop working?’

His irritated look gave way to a faint smile which seemed to tug reluctantly at the corners of his lips. ‘Ironically, that’s just what my assistant was saying. He said I couldn’t really nag other people to take holidays if I wasn’t prepared to do so myself. They’ve been pushing me towards this one for ages.’

‘So how come you’re taking business calls at this time of night?’

‘It was an important call.’

‘So important that it couldn’t have waited until the morning?’

‘Actually, yes,’ he said coolly, but Alek’s heart had begun beating very fast. He told himself he should be irritated with her for butting in where she wasn’t wanted, yet right then he saw it as nothing but a rather disarming honesty. Was this why people went on vacation—because it took you right out of your normal environment and shook you up? In his daily life, nobody like Ellie would have got near him for long enough to deliver a damning judgement on his inability to relax. He was always surrounded by people—people who kept the rest of the world at arm’s length.

But the protective nucleus of his business life suddenly seemed unimportant and it was as if everything was centred on the soft face in front of him. He wondered what her hair would look like if he shook it free from its ponytail and laid it over his pillow. How that soft flesh would feel beneath him as he parted her legs. He drained the last of his whisky and put the glass down, intending to walk across the veranda and take her into his arms.

But she chose that moment to push the heavy fringe away from her eyes and the jerky gesture suddenly brought him to his senses. He frowned, like someone wakening from a sleep. Had he really been planning to seduce her? He looked at the cheap shoes and unvarnished nails. At the heavy fringe, which looked as if she might trim it herself. Was he insane? She was much too sweet for someone like him.

‘It’s getting late,’ he said roughly, rising to his feet. ‘Where’s your bike?’

She blinked at him in surprise, as if the question wasn’t one she had been expecting. ‘In the bike shed.’

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk you there.’

He could see the faint tremble of her lips as she shook her head.

‘Honestly, there’s no need. I see myself home every night,’ she said. ‘And it’s probably best if I’m not seen with you.’

‘I am walking you back,’ he said stubbornly. ‘And I won’t take no for an answer.’

He could sense her disappointment as they walked over the moonlit grass and he told himself that he was doing the right thing. There were a million women who could be his for the taking—better steer clear of the sweet and sensible waitress.

They reached the hotel and she gave him an awkward smile. ‘I have to go and change and fetch my bag,’ she said. ‘So I’d better say goodnight. Thanks for the drink.’

Alek nodded. ‘Goodnight, Ellie,’ he said and leant towards her, intending to give her a quick kiss on either cheek, but somehow that didn’t happen.

Did she turn her head, or did he? Was that why their mouths met and melded, in a proper kiss? He saw her eyes widen. He felt the warmth of her breath. He could taste the sweetness of cola and it reminded him of a youth and an innocence which had never been his. It was purely reflex which made him pull her into his arms and deepen the kiss and her tiny gasp of pleasure was one he’d heard countless times before.

And that was all he needed. All his frustration and hunger broke free; his hands skimmed hungrily over her body as he moved her further into the shadows and pressed her up against a wall. He groaned as he felt the softness of her belly and it made him want to imprint his hardness against her. To show her just what he had and demonstrate how good it would feel if he were deep inside her. Circling his palm over one peaking nipple, he closed his eyes. Should he slip his hand beneath her uniform skirt and discover whether she was as wet as he suspected? Slide her panties down her legs and take her right here, where they stood?

The tiny moan she made in response to the increased pressure of his lips was almost enough for him to act out his erotic thoughts.

Almost, but not quite.

Reason seeped into his brain like the cold drip of a tap and he drew back, even though his body was screaming out its protest. Somehow he ignored the siren call of his senses, just as he ignored the silent plea in her eyes. Because didn’t he value his reputation too much to make out with some anonymous waitress?

It was several moments before he could trust himself to speak and he shook his head in faint disbelief. ‘That should never have happened.’

Ellie felt as if he’d thrown ice-cold water over her and she wondered why he had stopped. Surely he had felt it, too? That amazing chemistry. That sheer magic. Nobody had ever kissed her quite like that before and she wanted him to carry on doing it. And somehow her bold words tumbled out before she could stop them.

‘Why not?’

There was a pause. ‘Because you deserve more than I can ever offer. Because I’m the last kind of man you need. You’re much too sweet and I’m nothing but a big bad wolf.’

‘Surely I should be the judge of that?’

He gave a bitter smile. ‘Go home, Ellie. Get out of here before I change my mind.’

Something dark came over his face—something which shut her out completely. He said something abrupt, which sounded like ‘Goodbye,’ before turning his back on her and walking back over the starlit grass.

CHAPTER TWO

‘WAS THAT YOUR boyfriend I saw you with last night?’

The question came out of nowhere and Ellie had to force herself to concentrate on what the guest was saying, instead of the frustrated thoughts which were circling like crows in her mind. Because of the recent heat wave, the restaurant had been fully booked and she’d been rushed off her feet all day. The lobster salad and summer pudding had sold out, and there had been a run on the cocktail of the month—an innocuous-tasting strawberry punch with a definite kick to it.

But now there was only one person left, a wafer-thin blonde who was lingering over her third glass of wine. Not that Ellie was counting. Well, actually, she was. She just wanted the woman to hurry up so that she could finish her shift in peace. Her head was pounding and she was exhausted—probably because she hadn’t slept a wink last night. She’d just lain on her narrow bed, staring up at the ceiling—wide-eyed and restless and thinking about what had happened. Or rather, what hadn’t happened. Telling herself that it was insane to get herself worked up about one kiss with a man who shouldn’t really have been kissing her.

He was a billionaire Greek who was way off limits. She didn’t know him, he hadn’t even taken her on a date and yet... She licked her lips, which had suddenly grown very dry. Things had got pretty hot, pretty quickly, hadn’t they? She could still recall his hands cupping her breasts and making them ache. She remembered wriggling with frustration as he pushed her up against the wall—his rock-hard groin pressing flagrantly against her. For a few seconds she’d thought he was going to try and have sex with her right there, and hadn’t part of her wanted that? It might have been insanely wrong and completely out of character—but in the darkness of the summer night, she had wanted him more badly than she’d ever wanted anyone. She’d seen a side of herself she didn’t recognise and didn’t like very much. She bit her lip. A side like her mother?

The blonde was still looking at her with the expression of a hungry bird who had just noticed a worm wriggling up through the soil. ‘So he is your boyfriend?’ she prompted.

‘No,’ said Ellie quickly. ‘He’s not.’

‘But you were kissing him.’

Nervously, Ellie’s fingers slid along the frosted surface of the wine bottle before she recovered herself enough to shove it back in the ice bucket. She glanced around, terrified that another member of staff might have overheard, because although The Hog was famously laid-back and didn’t have rules just for the sake of it—there was one which had been drummed into her on her very first day... And that was: you didn’t get intimate with the guests.

Ever.

Awkwardly, she shrugged. ‘Was I?’ she questioned weakly.

The blonde’s glacial eyes were alight with curiosity. ‘You know you were,’ she said slyly. ‘I was having a cigarette behind that big tree and I spotted you. Then I saw him walk you back to the hotel—you weren’t exactly being discreet.’

Briefly, Ellie closed her eyes as suddenly it all made sense. So that was the brief flare of light she’d seen from behind the tree trunk and the sense that somebody was watching them. She should have done the sensible thing and left then. ‘Oh,’ she said.

‘Yes, oh. You do know who he is, don’t you?’

Ellie stiffened as a pair of lake-blue eyes swam into her memory and her heart missed a beat. Yes, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. A man who made me believe all the fairy-tale stuff I never believed before. ‘Of course I do. He’s...he’s...’

‘One of the world’s richest men man who usually hangs out with supermodels and heiresses,’ said the blonde impatiently. ‘Which makes me wonder, what was he doing with you?’

Ellie drew back her shoulders. The woman’s line of questioning was battering her at a time when she was already feeling emotionally vulnerable, but surely she didn’t have to stand here and take these snide insinuations—guest or no guest. ‘I don’t really see how that’s relevant.’

‘Don’t you? But you liked him, didn’t you?’ The blonde smiled. ‘You liked him a lot.’

‘I don’t kiss men I don’t like,’ said Ellie defensively, aware of the irony of her remark, considering it was over a year since she’d kissed anyone.

The blonde sipped her wine. ‘You do realise he has a reputation? He’s known as a man of steel, with a heart to match. Actually, he’s a bit of a bastard where women are concerned. So what have you got to say to that...’ there was a pause as she leant forward to peer at Ellie’s name badge ‘...Ellie?’

Ellie’s instinct was to tell the woman that her thoughts about Alek Sarantos were strictly confidential, but the memory of his hands moving with such sweet precision over her body was still so vivid that it was hard not to blush. Suddenly it was easy to forget that at times he’d been a demanding and difficult workaholic of a guest, with an impatience he hadn’t bothered to hide.

Because now all she could think about was the way she’d responded so helplessly to him and if he hadn’t pulled away and done the decent thing, there was no saying what might have happened. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She had a very good idea what might have happened.

She chewed on her lip, remembering the chivalrous way he’d told her to go home and the way she’d practically begged him not to leave her. Why shouldn’t she defend him?

‘I think people may have him all wrong,’ she said. ‘He’s a bit of a pussycat, actually.’

‘A pussycat?’ The blonde nearly choked on her wine. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Very,’ said Ellie. ‘He’s actually very sweet—and very good company.’

‘I bet he was. He’d obviously been flirting with you all week.’

‘Not really,’ said Ellie, her cheeks growing pink again. What was it with all this blushing? ‘We’d just chatted and stuff over the week. It wasn’t until...’ Her voice trailed away.

‘Until?’

Ellie stared into the woman’s glacial eyes. It all seemed slightly unreal now. As if she’d imagined the whole thing. Like a particularly vivid dream, which started to fade the moment you woke up. ‘He asked me to join him for a drink because it was his last night here.’

‘And so you did?’

Ellie shrugged. ‘I don’t think there’s a woman alive who would have turned him down,’ she said truthfully. ‘He’s...well, he’s gorgeous.’

‘I’ll concur with that. And a brilliant kisser, I bet?’ suggested the blonde softly.

Ellie remembered the way his tongue had slipped inside her mouth and how deliciously intimate that had felt. How, for a few brief moments, she’d felt as if someone had sprinkled her with stardust. It had only been a kiss, but still... ‘The best,’ she said, her voice growing husky.

The blonde didn’t answer for a moment and when eventually she did there was an ugly note in her voice. ‘And what would you say if I told you he had a girlfriend? That she was waiting for him back in London, while he was busy making out with you?’

Ellie’s initial disbelief was followed by a stab of disappointment and the dawning realisation that she’d behaved like a fool. What did she think—that someone like Alek Sarantos was free and looking to start a relationship with someone like her? Had she imagined that he was going to come sprinting across the hotel lawn to sweep her off her feet—still in her waitress uniform—just like in that old film which always used to make her blub? Hadn’t part of her hoped he hadn’t meant it when he’d said goodbye—and that he might come back and find her?

A wave of recrimination washed over her. Of course he wasn’t coming back and of course he had a girlfriend. Someone beautiful and thin and rich, probably. The sort of woman who could run for a bus without wearing a bra. Did she really imagine that she—the much too curvy Ellie Brooks—would be any kind of competition for someone like that?

And suddenly she felt not just stupid, but hurt. She tried to imagine his girlfriend’s reaction if she’d seen them together. Didn’t he care about loyalty or trampling over other people’s feelings?

‘He never said anything to me about a girlfriend.’

‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he?’ said the blonde. ‘Not in the circumstances. It’s never a good move if a man mentions his lover while making out with someone else.’

‘But nothing happened!’

‘But you would have liked it to, wouldn’t you, Ellie? From where I was standing, it looked pretty passionate.’

Ellie felt sick. She’d been a few minutes away from providing a live sex show! She wanted to walk away. To start clearing the other tables and pretend this conversation had never happened. But what if the blonde went storming into the general manager’s office to tell her what she’d seen? There would be only one route they could take and that would be to fire her for unprofessional behaviour. And she couldn’t afford to lose her job and the career opportunity of a lifetime, could she? Not for one stupid kiss.

‘If I’d had any idea that he was involved with someone else, then I would never—’

‘Do you often make out with the guests?’

‘Never,’ croaked Ellie.

‘Just him, huh?’ The blonde raised her brow. ‘Did he say why he was keeping such a low profile?’

Ellie hesitated. She remembered the way he’d smiled at her—almost wistfully—when the little boy with the cut knee had flung his arms around her neck. She remembered how ridiculously flattered she’d felt when he insisted on that drink. She’d thought they’d had a special bond—when all the time he was just using her, as if she were one of the hotel’s special offers. Angrily, her mind flitted back to what he had told her. ‘He’s been working day and night on some big new deal with the Chinese which is all top secret. And he said his staff had been nagging him for ages to take a vacation.’

‘Really?’ The blonde smiled, before dabbing at her lips with a napkin. ‘Well, well. So he’s human, after all. Stop looking so scared, Ellie—I’m not going to tell your boss, but I will give you a bit of advice. I’d stay away from men like Alek Sarantos in future, if I were you. Men like that could eat someone like you for breakfast.’

* * *

Alek sensed that something was amiss from the minute he walked into the boardroom but, try as he might, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The deal went well—his deals always went well—although the Chinese delegation haggled his asking price rather more than he had been anticipating. But he pronounced himself pleased when the final figure was agreed, even if he saw a couple of members of the delegation smirking behind their files. Not a bad day’s work, all told. He’d bought a company for peanuts, he’d turned it around—and had now sold it on for a more than healthy profit.

It wasn’t until they all were exiting the boardroom when the redhead who’d been interpreting for them sashayed in his direction and said, ‘Hello, pussycat,’ before giving a fake growl and miming a clawing action.

Alek looked at her. He’d had a thing with her last year and had even taken her to his friend Murat’s place in Umbria. But it seemed she hadn’t believed him when he’d told her that theirs was no more than a casual fling. When the relationship had fizzled out, she’d taken it badly, as sometimes happened. The recriminatory emails had stopped and so had the phone calls, but as he met the expression in her eyes he could tell that she was still angry.

‘And just what’s that supposed to mean?’ he questioned coolly.

She winked. ‘Read the papers, tiger,’ she murmured, before adding, ‘Scraping the barrel a bit, aren’t you?’

And that wasn’t all. As he left the building he noticed one of the receptionists biting her lip, as if she was trying to repress a smile, and when he got back to his office he rang straight through to his male assistant.

‘What’s going on, Vasos?’

‘With regard to...?’ his assistant enquired cautiously.

‘With regard to me!’

‘Plenty of stuff in the papers about the deal with the Chinese.’

‘Obviously,’ Alek said impatiently. ‘Anything else?’

His assistant’s hesitation was illuminating. Did he hear Vasos actually sigh?

‘I’ll bring it in,’ he said heavily.

Alek sat as motionless as a piece of rock as Vasos placed the article down on the desk in front of him so that he could scan the offending piece. It was an innocuous enough diary article, featuring a two-year-old library photo, which publications still delighted in using—probably because it made him look particularly forbidding.

Splashed above his unsmiling face were the words: Has Alek Sarantos Struck Gold?

His hands knuckled as he read it.

One of London’s most eligible bachelors may be off the market before too long. The Midas touch billionaire, known for his love of supermodels and heiresses, was spotted in a passionate embrace with a waitress last weekend, following candlelit drinks on the terrace of his luxury New Forest hotel.

Ellie Brooks isn’t Alek’s usual type but the shapely waitress declared herself smitten by the workaholic tycoon, who told her he needed a vacation before his latest eye-wateringly big deal. Seems the Greek tycoon takes relaxation quite seriously!

And, according to Ellie, Alek doesn’t always live up to his Man Of Steel nickname. ‘He’s a pussycat,’ she purred.

Perhaps business associates should keep a saucer of milk at the ready in future...

Alek glanced up to see Vasos looking ill at ease, nervously running his finger along the inside of his shirt collar as he gave Alek an apologetic shrug.

‘I’m sorry, boss,’ he said.

‘Unless you actually wrote the piece, I see no reason for you to apologise. Did they ring here first to check the facts before they went to press?’ snapped Alek.

‘No.’ Vasos cleared his throat. ‘I’m assuming they didn’t need to.’

Alek glared. ‘Meaning?’

Vasos looked him straight in the eye. ‘They would only have printed this without verification if it were true.’

Alek crumpled the newspaper angrily before hurling it towards the bin as if it were contaminated. He watched as it bounced uselessly off the window and the fact that he had missed made him angrier still.

Yes, it was true. He had been making out with some waitress in a public place. He’d thought with his groin instead of his brain. He’d done something completely out of character and now the readers of a downmarket rag knew all about it. His famously private life wasn’t so private any more, was it?

But worst of all was the realisation that he’d taken his eye off the ball. He’d completely misjudged her. Maybe he’d been suffering from a little temporary sunstroke. Why else would he have thought there was something special about her—or credited her with softness or honesty, when in reality she was simply on the make? The reputation he’d built up, brick by careful brick, had been compromised by some ambitious little blonde with dollar signs in her eyes.

A slow rage began to smoulder inside him. A lot of good his enforced rest had done him. All those spa treatments and massages had been for nothing if his blood pressure was now shooting through the ceiling. Those solemn therapists telling him he must relax had been wasting their time. He must be more burnt out than he’d thought if he’d seriously thought about having sex with some little nobody like her.

His mood stayed dark for the remainder of the day, though it didn’t stop him driving a particularly hard bargain on his latest acquisition. He would show the world that he was most definitely not a pussycat! He spent the day tied up with conference calls and had early evening drinks with a Greek politician who wanted his advice.

Back in his penthouse, he listened moodily to the messages which had been left on his phone and thought about how to spend the evening. Any number of beautiful women could have been his and all he had to do was call. He thought of the aristocratic faces and bony bodies which were always available to him and found himself comparing them with the curvaceous body of Ellie. The one whose face had inexplicably made him feel...

What?

As if he could trust her?

What a fool he was. A hormone-crazed, stupid fool. Hadn’t he learnt his lesson a long time ago? That women were the last species on the planet who could be trusted?

He’d spent years building up a fierce but fair persona in the business world. His reputation was of someone who was tough, assertive and professional. He was known for his vision and his dependability. He despised the ‘celebrity’ culture and valued his privacy. He chose his friends and lovers carefully. He didn’t let them get too close and nobody ever gave interviews about him. Ever. Even the redhead—supposedly broken-hearted at the time—had possessed enough sense to go away and lick her wounds in private.

But Ellie Brooks had betrayed him. A waitress he’d treated as an equal and then made the mistake of kissing had given some cheap little interview to a journalist. How much had she made? His heart pounded because he hadn’t even had the pleasure of losing himself in that soft body of hers. He’d mistakenly thought she was too sweet and then she’d gone and sold him down the river. He’d behaved decently and honourably by sending her chastely on her way and look at all the thanks he’d got.

His mouth hardened in conjunction with the exquisite aching in his groin.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to do something about that.

CHAPTER THREE

I’M SORRY, ELLIE—but we have no choice other than to let you go.

The words still resonating painfully round in her head, Ellie cycled through the thundery weather towards the staff hostel and thought about the excruciating interview she’d just had with the personnel manager of The Hog. Of course they’d had a choice—they’d just chosen not to take it, that was all. Surely they could have just let her lie low and all the fuss would have died down.

Negotiating her bike along the narrow road, she tried to take in what they’d just told her. She would be paid a month’s salary in lieu of notice, although she would be allowed to keep her room at the hostel for another four weeks.

‘We don’t want to be seen as completely heartless by kicking you out on the street,’ the HR woman had told her with a look of genuine regret on her face. ‘If you hadn’t chosen to be indiscreet with such a high-profile guest, then we might have been able to brush over the whole incident and keep you on. But as it is, I’m afraid we can’t. Not after Mr Sarantos made such a blistering complaint about the question of guest confidentiality. My hands are tied—and it’s a pity, Ellie, because you showed such promise.’

And Ellie had found herself nodding as she’d left the office, because, despite her shock, hadn’t she agreed with pretty much every word the manager had said? She’d even felt a bit sorry for the woman who had looked so uncomfortable while terminating her employment.

She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. She had behaved inappropriately with a guest and had then compounded her transgression by talking about it to a woman who had turned out to be a journalist for some low-end tabloid. A journalist! Clutching on to the handlebars with sticky palms, she stared fixedly at the road ahead.

And that had been at the root of her sacking, apparently. The fact that she had broken trust with a valued client. She had blabbed—and Alek Sarantos was seething. Apparently, the telephone wires had been practically smoking when he’d rung up to complain about the diary piece which had found its way into a national newspaper.

The day was heavy and overcast and she heard the distant rumble of thunder as she brought her bike to a halt outside the hostel which was home to The Hog’s junior staff. Ellie locked her bike to the railings and opened the front door. Next to one of the ten individual doorbells was her name—but not for very much longer. She had a month to find somewhere new to live. A month to find herself a new job. It was a daunting prospect in the current job market and it looked as if she’d gone straight back to square one. Who would employ her now?

A louder rumble of thunder sounded ominously as she made her way along the corridor to her small room. The day was so dark that she clicked on the light and the atmosphere was so muggy that strands of her ponytail were sticking to the back of her neck. The day yawned ahead as she filled the kettle and sat down heavily on the bed to wait for it to boil.

Now what did she do?

She stared at the posters she’d hung on the walls—giant photos of Paris and New York and Athens. All those places she’d planned to visit when she was a hotshot hotelier, which was probably never going to happen now. She should have asked about a reference. She wondered if the hotel would still give her one. One which emphasised her best qualities—or would they make her sound like some kind of desperado who spent her time trying it on with wealthy guests?

Her doorbell shrilled and she gave a start, but the sense that none of this was really happening gave her renewed hope. Was it inconceivable to think that the big boss of the hotel might have overridden his HR boss’s decision? Realised that it had been nothing but a foolish one-off and that she was too valuable a member of staff to lose?

Smoothing her hands over her hair, she ran along the corridor and opened the front door—her heart clenching with an emotion she was too dazed to analyse when she saw who was standing there. She blinked as if she’d somehow managed to conjure up the brooding figure from her fevered imagination. She must have done—because why else would Alek Sarantos be outside her home?

A few giant droplets of rain had splashed onto the blackness of his hair and his bronze skin gleamed as if someone had spent the morning polishing it. She’d forgotten how startlingly blue his eyes looked, but now she could see something faintly unsettling glinting from their sapphire depths.

And even in the midst of her confusion—why was he here?—she could feel her body’s instinctive response to him. Her skin prickled with a powerful recognition and her breasts began to ache, as if realising that here was the man who was capable of giving her so much pleasure when he touched them. She could feel colour rushing into her cheeks.

‘Mr Sarantos,’ she said, more out of habit than anything else—but the cynical twist of his lips told her that he found her words not only inappropriate, but somehow insulting.

‘Oh, please,’ he said softly. ‘I think we know each other well enough for you to call me Alek, don’t you?’

The suggestion of intimacy unnerved her even more than his presence and her fingers curled nervelessly around the door handle she was clutching for support. Now the rumble of thunder was closer and never had a sound seemed more fitting. ‘What...what are you doing here?’

‘No ideas?’ he questioned silkily.

‘To rub in the fact that you’ve lost me my job?’

‘Oh, but I haven’t,’ he contradicted softly. ‘You managed to do that all by yourself. Now, are you going to let me in?’

Ellie told herself she didn’t have to. She could slam the door in his face and that would be that. She doubted he would batter the door down—even though he looked perfectly capable of doing it. But she was curious about what had brought him here and the rest of the day stretched in front of her like an empty void. She was going to have to start looking for a new job—she knew that. But not today.

‘If you insist,’ she said, turning her back on him and retracing her steps down the corridor. She could hear him closing the front door and following her. But it wasn’t until he was standing in her room that she began to wonder why she had been daft enough to let him invade her space.

Because he looked all wrong here. With his towering physique and jewelled eyes, he dominated the small space like some living, breathing treasure. He seemed larger than life and twice as intimidating—like the most outrageously alpha man she had ever set eyes on. And that was making her feel uncomfortable in all kinds of ways. There was that honeyed ache deep down in her belly again and a crazy desire to kiss him. Her body’s reaction was making her thoughts go haywire and her lips felt like parchment instead of flesh. She licked them, but that only made the aching worse.

The kettle was reaching its usual ear-splitting crescendo just before reaching boiling point and the great belches of steam meant that the room now resembled a sauna. Ellie could feel a trickle of sweat running down her back. Her shirt was sticking to her skin and her jeans were clinging to her thighs and once again she became horribly aware of her own body.

She cleared her throat. ‘What do you want?’ she said.

Alek didn’t answer. Not immediately. His anger—a slow, simmering concoction of an emotion—had been momentarily eclipsed by finding himself in the kind of environment he hadn’t seen in a long time.

He looked around. The room was small and clean and she had the requisite plant growing on the windowsill, but there was a whiff of institutionalisation about the place which the cheap posters couldn’t quite disguise. The bed was narrower than any he’d seen in years and an unwilling flicker of desire was his reward for having allowed his concentration to focus on that. But he had once lived in a room like this, hadn’t he? When he’d started out—much younger than she was now—he’d been given all kinds of dark and inhospitable places to sleep. He’d worked long hours for very little money in order to earn money and get a roof over his head.

He lifted his eyes to her face, remembering the powerful way his body had reacted to her the other night and trying to tell himself that it had been a momentary aberration. Because she was plain. Ordinary. If he’d passed her in the street, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance. Her jeans weren’t particularly flattering and neither was her shirt. But her eyes looked like silver and wavy strands of pale hair were escaping from her ponytail and the ends were curling, so that in the harshness of the artificial light she looked as if she were surrounded by a faint blonde halo.

A halo. His mouth twisted. He couldn’t think of a less likely candidate for angelic status.

‘You sold your story,’ he accused.

‘I didn’t sell anything,’ she contradicted. ‘No money exchanged hands.’

‘So the journalist is clairvoyant, is that what you’re saying? She just guessed we were making out?’

She shook her head. ‘That’s not what I’m saying at all. She saw us. She was standing behind a tree having a cigarette and saw us kissing.’

‘You mean it was a set-up?’ he questioned, his tone flat.

‘Of course it wasn’t a set-up!’ She glared at him. ‘You think I deliberately arranged to get myself the sack? Rather a convoluted way to go about it, don’t you think? I think being caught dipping your fingers in the till is the more traditional way to go.’

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘So she just happened to be there—’

‘Yes!’ she interrupted angrily. ‘She did. She was a guest, staying at the hotel. And the next day she cornered me in the restaurant while I was serving her and there was no way I could have avoided talking to her.’

‘You still could have just said no comment when she started quizzing you,’ he accused. ‘You didn’t have to gush and call me a pussycat—to damage my business reputation and any credibility I’ve managed to build up. You didn’t have to disclose what you’d overheard when you’d clearly been listening in to my telephone conversation.’

‘How could I help but listen in, when you broke off to take a call in front of me?’

He glared at her. ‘What right did you have to repeat any of it?’

‘And what right do you have to come here, hurling all these accusations at me?’

‘You’re skirting round the issue. I asked you a question, Ellie. Are you going to answer it?’

There was an odd kind of silence before eventually she spoke.

‘She told me you had a girlfriend,’ she said.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘So you felt that gave you the right to gossip about me, knowing it might find its way into the press?’

‘How could I, when I didn’t know what her job was?’

‘You mean you’re just habitually indiscreet?’

‘Or that you’re just sexually incontinent?’

He sucked in an angry breath. ‘As it happens, I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment and if I did, then I certainly wouldn’t have been making out with you. You see, I place great store on loyalty, Ellie—in fact, I value it above everything else. While you, on the other hand, don’t seem to know the meaning of the word.’

Ellie was taken aback by the coldness in his eyes. She had made a mistake, yes—but it had been a genuine one. She hadn’t set out to deliberately tarnish his precious reputation.

‘Okay,’ she conceded. ‘I spoke about you when maybe I shouldn’t have done and, because of that, you’ve managed to get me the sack. I’d say we were quits now, wouldn’t you?’

He met her gaze.

‘Not quite,’ he said softly.

A shiver of something unknowable whispered over her skin as she stared at him. There was something unsettling in his eyes. Something distracting about the sudden tension in his hard body. She stared at him, knowing what he was planning to do and knowing it was wrong. So why didn’t she ask him to leave?

Because she couldn’t. She’d dreamed about just such a moment—playing it out in her mind, when it had been little more than a fantasy. She had wanted Alek Sarantos more than she had thought it possible to want anyone and that feeling hadn’t changed. If anything, it had grown even stronger. She could feel herself trembling as he reached out and hauled her against him. The angry expression on his face made it seem as if he was doing something he didn’t really want to do and she felt a brief flicker of rebellion. How dare he look that way? She told herself to pull away, but the need to have him kiss her again was dominating every other consideration. And maybe this was inevitable—like the thunder which had been rumbling all day through the heavy sky. Sooner or later you just knew the storm was going to break.

His mouth came down on hers—hard—and the hands which should have been pushing him away were gripping his shoulder, as she kissed him back—just as hard. It felt like heaven and it felt like hell. She wanted to hurt him for making her lose her job. She wanted him to take back all those horrible accusations he’d made. And she wanted him to take away this terrible aching deep inside her.

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