Lie with Me

Cara Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARA SUMMERS’S Lie with Me is her thirtieth story. Cara’s books have won several awards, including two Golden Leaf Awards, the Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill. Cara loves writing for the Blaze® line because it allows her to tell such a variety of stories – from Extremes and Gothic romances to an exciting adventure on the magical Greek island of Corfu. When Cara isn’t involved with her characters, she teaches in the Writing Programme at Syracuse University. For more information about her, visit her website – www. carasummers.com.

To Janet Ridgeway, my fellow instructor in

the Writing Programme at Syracuse University and a

true pet psychic. Thanks, Janet, for patiently putting up

with and answering all my questions. you’re the best!

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Copyright

Prologue

SECOND THOUGHTS ambushed me, stopping me short just as I reached the door to Roman Oliver’s hospital room.

It was a hell of a time to be having them, but the momentum that had fueled me to race to Saint Jude’s Trauma Center at the crack of dawn was threatening to drain away with the speed of air leaving a pricked balloon.

I needed that momentum if I was going to convince Roman to make love with me.

Get a grip, Philly. You’ve made your decision, and once you do that, you never backslide.

That was certainly true when it came to business. Since I’d graduated from college last year I’d already implemented steps in my plan to open my pet psychic business. In addition to working part-time as a hostess in my family’s restaurant, I also assisted a vet at a local animal hospital, and I’d created my own Web site. But my plan with regard to Roman Oliver was not only more immediate, it was dependent on whether or not he agreed to it.

Stop dithering. Angelis women know what they want and how to get it. And you want Roman Oliver.

Through the narrow pane of glass in the door, I could see him sitting in the chair next to his bed gazing out the window. Just looking at Roman was enough to make every molecule in my body yearn.

Why did I want him? Let me count the ways. The man was incredibly attractive—if you went for a lean, rawboned face, tousled dark hair, a full, firm mouth and the kind of hard-muscled body that ancient sculptors had captured over and over again in bronze and marble.

And it wasn’t just his looks that attracted me. There was a quiet sense of determination and purpose about him that pulled at me, too.

Something fluttered right beneath my heart. Roman Oliver, current CEO of Oliver Enterprises and my brother Kit’s best friend since their freshman year in college, had been causing that “heart flutter” response in me ever since I was sixteen and he’d saved my life while we were sailing. That’s when I’d developed my first big crush on him. It had been a classic case of fantasy love, existing totally in my mind and completely one-sided. After all, I was sixteen and he was an older man of twenty-two.

But in the past year, my response to Roman had changed—drastically. The dryness in my throat, the thickness in the air and the heat that flooded my senses whenever I was in his vicinity signaled clearly to me that I was way beyond the crush stage and well into lust territory where Roman was concerned. Still, I might have been able to ignore my body’s responses if I hadn’t become convinced the attraction I felt was reciprocated. I hadn’t been imagining the heated looks Roman had sent my way when he thought I wasn’t looking. And I certainly hadn’t imagined what had happened in his hospital room two days ago.

Nearly a week had passed since he’d taken the nearly fatal fall that had put him in Saint Jude’s Trauma Center. He’d been injured at Saint Peter’s Church while saving his sister Juliana’s life, and it had been three more days before he’d fully regained consciousness and three days before the doctors had been able to say with certainty that there’d been no permanent injury to his spine.

I’d come to visit him every chance I got. Before that, I’d been shy in Roman’s presence. But having almost lost him had motivated me to change my ways. Then two days ago, I’d been alone in the room with him. He’d been sleeping and because I couldn’t help myself—I’d slipped my hand into his just as I had when he’d been unconscious. I hadn’t even known that he was awake until his fingers had suddenly tightened on mine.

Startled, I’d met his eyes, and the heat I’d seen there had more than matched what I was feeling. The sharp flood of desire was something I’d never experienced before. My whole body went into a meltdown, and my mind had emptied and filled with Roman.

“Come here.” His voice had been raw, hungry, and there was a question in his tone that I’d answered by sitting down on the bed next to him. He’d moved quickly then, levering himself up and moving his free hand to the back of my neck to draw me even closer until his mouth was only a breath away from mine.

Time had seemed to slow as everything about him flooded my senses. His eyes had been so beautifully dark. Had I noticed that before? And he’d smelled of soap, simple, basic. Wonderful. I could feel the press of each one of his fingers against the skin at the back of my neck.

I’m not sure who moved first, but our mouths made contact. It wasn’t a kiss really—just the gentlest brush of lips against lips. But the pleasure was so intense, the need to have more so huge that when he’d suddenly dropped his hand and drew back, I’d wanted to cry out in protest. But before I could make a sound, someone had spoken from behind me.

“Good morning, Philly. I’m beginning to believe that Roman’s recovery depends on your visits.”

Roman’s father. I’d taken a moment to gather my thoughts before I turned to him and managed a smile.

I hadn’t slept for two nights as I’d relived those torrid moments and fantasized about what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted…

Though I’d visited him each day, we hadn’t been alone again. Finally, this morning, I’d reached a decision. It was high time I took action. I wasn’t a sixteen-year-old with a schoolgirl crush. I was a woman, and I knew what I wanted.

Even now, I wanted to go into the room and touch him, to strip him out of that thin hospital gown and run my hands over that smooth skin, those taut muscles—

Roman rose suddenly from the chair. Through the slightly opened back of the hospital gown, I caught a glimpse of bare buttocks before I whirled away from the door and pressed my back against the wall. Ruthlessly, I tried to gather my thoughts, and rev up my momentum. I dragged up all the arguments I’d made to myself in the past two days, mentally ticking them off on my fingers. He’d very nearly died. I might have missed my chance of making love with Roman Oliver forever. But the Fates had spared him. The Angelis family has always put a lot of store in the Fates. Surely the fact that Roman was alive was a sign that I should do something.

Not for the first time I wished that I’d inherited my aunt Cass’s power to see into the future. Psychic powers run strong in the Angelis family—especially in the women. Aunt Cass believed that the power could be traced back all the way to the Oracle at Delphi. Even my three brothers possessed some kind of clairvoyance. But my psychic ability seemed limited to the work I did with animals. I’d always had a special knack for communicating with them mentally. Some people were skeptical about my special connection with animals, but because of the pets I was able to help at the vet hospital where I worked, my reputation was growing more and more.

Animals I understood. It was people I didn’t always get. So I didn’t have a clue about what would happen when I propositioned Roman Oliver.

Nerves knotted in my stomach. A part of me wanted to race right back home. But I was twenty-three; Roman was twenty-nine. What were we waiting for? Drawing in a deep breath, I turned, opened the door of Roman’s room and walked in.

He was back in bed with most of his body discreetly covered by the sheet, and he was reading what looked to be some business papers.

“Philly.” Glancing up, he sent me a smile. The kind of brotherly smile he’d been giving me for so many years. My stomach sank, but I moved toward the bed.

“Am I interrupting?”

He glanced down at the stack of papers. “A lot of things have been piling up on my desk, and I bribed my personal assistant to smuggle some work in to me.” He met my eyes again. “But I have some time for my most frequent visitor.”

For a moment, our eyes merely held, and I thought for an instant I saw a flicker of something. My heart leaped.

It’s now or never, Philly. Go for it.

“I came here to say…I have something that I want you to know.” I’d prepared a little speech. But every time I was with Roman, I had difficulty organizing my thoughts. I couldn’t help remembering what had almost happened the last time we were alone in this room. What if I stopped talking? What if I just walked to the bed and pressed my mouth to his?

“Yes?”

I caught myself twisting my fingers, something I’d stopped doing when I was in junior high. I felt a sudden surge of anger at myself. Why was I still hesitating? “I came here to talk about us and about what happened two days ago just before your father walked in.”

Roman opened his mouth, but I held up a hand. “Please. Let me finish. I know that we’ve known each other a long time. And for a lot of that time, I’ve had a kind of schoolgirl crush on you.” Get to the point, Philly. “But my feelings for you have changed. I’m very attracted to you and I want to make love with you.”

For a moment, Roman said nothing, and I couldn’t read anything in his expression. Finally, he responded, “Philly, I want you to know that I care a great deal about you, in much the same way that I care for my sisters, Juliana and Sadie.”

Pain struck—a hard sucker punch to my gut. I might not have been able to say another word if a surge of temper hadn’t followed. Hands fisted on my hips, I strode toward the bed. “It wasn’t brotherly affection I saw in your eyes two days ago, and I didn’t imagine your mouth brushing against mine. If your father hadn’t walked into the room, we would have kissed and a whole lot more.”

I saw another flicker in his eyes. Of desire? Or pity?

“I’m sorry. I was afraid you might have misinterpreted that, and I should have said something sooner. I was just waking up, and I thought for a moment you were someone else. Someone I’ve been dating.”

For a moment, I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The second slap of pain was too consuming. It pounded into my heart like a fist.

But I didn’t have to say anything—Roman was talking. I saw his lips moving, but only caught bits and pieces—something about how he thought of me as family, loved me like a sister. And that he couldn’t lead me on but it was a good thing I’d brought it up so that we could clear the air. And then he apologized.

I nearly saw red. I’d spent most of my twenty-three years learning to control my temper. But this time, I was grateful for it because it helped me deal with the pain. Roman was dead-on right about the fact that it was a good thing I’d brought the subject up. Because now I had my answer—even though it wasn’t the one I’d wanted.

Pride ran deep in the Angelis family, and I didn’t think I’d ever needed it more. Squaring my shoulders, I said, “I won’t bother you again.”

Then, somehow I made it out of the room.

ROMAN STARED at the door after it swung shut. Philly Angelis had thrown him for a loop, and he still couldn’t gather his thoughts. For two days, he hadn’t been able to rid his mind of the memory of what had nearly happened right in this room. He’d almost kissed her, and if he had, he wouldn’t have stopped there.

He never went into a business meeting unprepared, but he hadn’t been prepared for her today. If he had been, he would have handled the situation better. He wasn’t even clear on what he’d said to her. The words he’d spoken had been nothing but babble in his ears because he’d had to focus all his energy on staying still when, with every fiber of his being, he’d wanted to go to her, take her into his arms and act on the proposition she’d just made him. How many times had he imagined having her beneath him, plunging into her again and again?

Now, he’d hurt her—the last thing he’d wanted. But it was for her own good, and for his. Roman raised his hands, intending to run them through his hair. When he saw they were shaking, he dropped them back down on the blanket. Something akin to fear moved through him.

No other woman had ever affected him this way. For years, he’d been guiltily lusting after Philly Angelis—ever since she was sixteen. He’d taught himself to live with the steady thrum of desire he’d felt whenever he was near her. And for years, he’d been able to control it by reminding himself that she was too young for him. But since she’d returned from college a year ago, all of his discipline and control had been slipping away. Whenever she was near, desire escalated into a raging need that bordered on pain. There’d been an incident at the Angelises’ family restaurant, the Poseidon, when he was sure Kit had caught him watching Philly. Roman had seen something in Kit’s eyes. A question? A warning? But then Theo and Nik had joined them, and Kit had said nothing.

But Roman didn’t need a warning from Kit. Even without the age difference, he could never act on his attraction to her. The Angelises were family to him. Kit and Nik and Theo were the brothers he’d never had. Becoming sexually involved with their little sister was out of the question. Her father, Spiro, a man Roman looked on as a second father, was an old-fashioned Greek. He’d expect commitment. Marriage.

Hell, Philly would expect it. And deserve it. And Roman had long ago decided that marriage was not on his agenda. Oliver Enterprises would always be his first priority. Ever since he was a boy, he’d dreamed of running the company his father had created. But there was a price to pay. A wife and family would always suffer from neglect. He’d experienced that personally and so had his sisters. His father had buried himself in the business while they’d been growing up, and even more so after their mother’s death. Roman had spent more time with his younger sisters than Mario Oliver ever had. He was now on wife number three, and she was already constantly complaining that she saw nothing of him.

I’m very attracted to you and I want to make love with you.

God. This time Roman managed to run his still-trembling hands through his hair. Words always made things more real. When she’d looked into his eyes and spoken them, he’d very nearly lost it. He could have had her right here in his hospital bed. Or on the floor. Or in the chair where he’d been sitting and fantasizing about her. It would have been wild and crazy and perhaps once would have been enough. But Roman didn’t think so.

He’d done the right thing, the only thing he could do. Whatever hurt Philly had experienced today would pale in comparison to the way he’d hurt her if he acted on his feelings. She’d keep her distance now. He’d stay away from her family’s restaurant and gradually the feelings would fade.

They had to.

He glanced down at the business papers he’d been reading, but it was a long time before he could actually see them.

1

One month later…

“YES, CALL ME BACK just as soon as you have some information on flights.” I hung up the phone on my travel agent and turned to face my two curious cats.

Well, Pretzels was curious. And a bit apprehensive. He could always sense it when I was thinking of leaving him for any length of time. Not that I did it very often. Peanuts, his sister, had a more complacent nature. Though they looked very much alike, a pure silvery-gray with white paws, they had very different personalities.

Right now, both cats were seated on the wide window seat of the small apartment I kept in the mansion my aunt Cass had inherited from her father. The house was huge, and it took a lot of money to keep the place going, so about four years ago the family had decided to renovate it into apartments. My brothers and I each paid rent on our own places, and my dad and new stepmother, Helena lived in the gardener’s cottage. When we eventually moved out, Aunt Cass could continue to make a good income by renting the apartments out.

“I’m going to go to Greece,” I informed my two pets. Saying the words aloud helped make my plan more of a reality, and a little thrill moved through me. I hadn’t told anyone yet, so Pretzels and Peanuts were functioning as my test audience. It was a role they often played. My family tended to be a bit protective of me, and I wasn’t sure how they’d react to my trip. Of course, now that I’d made my decision, I was going to go to Greece no matter what, but I’d have a better time if they weren’t worrying too much.

Pretzels immediately leaped off the window seat and joined me on the couch. His apprehension had escalated into high anxiety. I lifted him onto my lap and began to stroke him. “You’ll be with Aunt Cass and Kit.” I pictured first one apartment and then the other in my mind. Then I pictured Aunt Cass and Kit. Almost immediately he began to calm. “They’ll take good care of you.”

With a sigh, Pretzels settled himself firmly on my lap as if to keep me there. He was a bit possessive of me. Peanuts remained on the window seat cleaning her paws. I sensed she was already anticipating the extra treats she would receive from Aunt Cass and Kit.

Of all my brothers, Kit was the one who most loved animals. He had a huge dog named Ari who often stayed with me when Kit was working on one of his P.I. jobs. Luckily my cats loved Ari, and vice versa. Kit would be the primary caretaker of my animals while I was away, and Aunt Cass would serve as backup.

As soon as I told them of my plans.

Pretzels was already snoring, so I eased him off of my lap and, after stopping to scratch Peanuts behind the ears, let myself out of my apartment. The cats had taken it pretty well. I hoped the news would go as well with the rest of the family.

As I climbed the stairs to the third-floor tower room where my aunt Cass spent much of her time, I tried to gather my thoughts—something that I was finding increasingly difficult to do since I’d walked out of Roman’s hospital room a month ago. I’d vowed that day that I was going to get him out of my system once and for all. My utter failure to accomplish that was what had triggered my decision to go to Greece.

In the past month, Roman and I had only run into one another once, at the wedding reception my father, Spiro, and his new wife, Helena, had given at the Poseidon. That had been two weeks after I’d left his hospital room for the last time. I couldn’t avoid attending my father and Helena’s party; neither could Roman. But we’d managed to steer clear of each other.

What I couldn’t shake were the feelings he stirred up in me. All he’d had to do was walk down the steps to the main dining room of the Poseidon, and I’d realized that I wanted him even more desperately than I had before. Nothing had changed. Frustrated and angry with myself, I’d thrown myself into my work, but that hadn’t helped, either.

Dr. Wilson at the vet hospital had begun to depend on me to help him diagnose what was troubling the animals he saw, and recently he’d commented on the fact that I’d seemed distracted. That’s when I’d decided that drastic action was required. I was going to Greece.

When I reached the door to the tower room, I hesitated, once more gathering my thoughts. Aunt Cass had raised my brothers and me ever since I was four and her husband and my mother had been taken from us in a tragic boating accident. In many ways, she was the only mother I’d ever known.

The door swung open and Aunt Cass smiled. “I’ve been expecting you.”

I glanced over to a sitting area and spotted a teapot and cups on the coffee table. Of course she’d been expecting me. Aunt Cass had been one of the most well-known and successful psychics in the San Francisco area even before my older brother Nik got himself engaged to J. C. Reilly, the mayor’s daughter, and her business had increased by almost fifty percent.

Next to the tea tray, I saw the crystals that Aunt Cass frequently used to help her see into the future. Over a month ago she’d foreseen the dangerous adventure that my brothers were going to have on one fateful weekend and she’d known that they would each meet the woman they were destined for.

Oddly enough, my brothers’ good fortune in finding their true loves had had a ripple effect on other members of the Angelis family. My dad had finally gotten engaged to Helena, and my aunt Cass had met and begun to date two men—Mason Leone, who headed up security for the Oliver family, and Charlie Galvin, the police commissioner. Roman and I seemed to be the only ones romantically unaffected by the events of that weekend.

Aunt Cass drew me over to the couch. While she poured tea, she said, “You’re hurting.”

“Yes.” I took the cup she handed me and set it down. “But I don’t want to be. I hate the fact that I am.”

“This is about Roman.”

I glanced at the crystals, then at Aunt Cass. “You know.”

She nodded as she sipped tea from her cup. “All wounds heal.”

I opened my mouth and then shut it. If anyone had the experience of that, Aunt Cass did. She’d lost her husband, Demetrius, the one true love of her life, nineteen years ago. And her son, Dino, had been gone for two years serving in the navy.

“Okay. I can accept that. But I want to hurry the healing along. I can’t concentrate. I mixed up two dinner reservations at the Poseidon last night. And this morning I couldn’t focus when Mrs. Trumble brought her cat, Esmerelda, in to see Dr. Wilson. Neither she nor Esmerelda were happy campers when they left, and Dr. Wilson had already told me that I seem distracted lately. I want to get Roman Oliver out of my system and get on with my life.”

With a smile, Aunt Cass studied me. “Of all Penelope’s children, you’ve always been the most impatient. Have you told Roman how you feel about him?”

“Yes. A month ago, I told him I wanted to make love with him.”

“Of course you did,” Aunt Cass murmured. “You’re always so decisive.”

I looked at her then and for the first time I saw a trace of uncertainty in her eyes. Aunt Cass never seemed to be uncertain. “What is it? Do you think I did the wrong thing?”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about you. I was thinking that I wish I could make decisions and act on them as easily as you do.”

“This is about Mason Leone and Charlie Galvin, isn’t it?”

Cass sighed. “I can’t keep juggling them forever—it’s not fair. And I can’t seem to see anything in the crystals.”

I studied my aunt with interest. She was blushing, and she actually looked flustered. I took both of her hands in mine. “I don’t think you should pressure yourself. You haven’t dated anyone since Uncle Demetrius died. Take your time. Enjoy both of them. I’ll bet that’s why you’re not seeing anything in the crystals. When the time is right, you will.”

Cass leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Thank you. Now tell me more about Roman. What did he say when you told him you wanted to make love with him?”

Temper and frustration streamed through me as it did whenever I let myself recall what had happened in Roman’s hospital room that day. Rising, I strode to a space near one of the long, narrow windows where I could pace. “He said that his feelings for me were brotherly. And even if they weren’t, we couldn’t have a…sexual relationship because I’m Kit’s sister—or something stupid like that. He didn’t want to hurt me.”

“It sounds like he cares a great deal for you.”

I turned and strode back to the sofa. “He cares for me the way he cares for his sisters. And I know what they mean to him. Sadie and Juliana have told me how he stepped in and tried to fill their parents’ shoes after their mother died. They hardly ever saw their father, but Roman was always there for them. The problem is that my feelings for him aren’t sisterly at all. They never have been. And I refuse to be the kind of woman who spends her life pining away for a man who doesn’t want her. Stuff that.”

Aunt Cass picked up her tea and took a sip. “So what’s your plan?”

For the first time since I’d entered the room, I felt some of my tension ease. Of course, Aunt Cass would know I had a plan. I sat back down on the couch next to her. “I’ve decided to go to Greece and have a fling with a sexy Greek man.”

Aunt Cass didn’t bat an eye. “Why Greece?”

I leaned forward. “Because that’s where you and mom found Uncle Demetrius and Dad. It was love at first sight. And that’s where Dad met Helena, so there must be something magical about Greece when it comes to our family. I figure that if anything can get me out of this rut I’ve fallen into with Roman, a trip to Greece will do it.”

Cass took another sip of tea, and this time I joined her.

“So you want to go to Greece to find your true love.”

I frowned. “No way. I just want to find someone very sexy to have a fling with so that I can forget Roman Oliver. I spoke with a travel agent today and she’s looking for a cheap flight. The sooner I get this taken care of, the better.”

CASS ANGELIS LEANED back and once again studied her niece. How wonderful that Philly’s plan coincided so perfectly with her own. A little vacation, a trip to Greece, was just what she’d seen in her crystals last night. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t I call your father’s cousin Miranda? She operates a little hotel—the Villa Prospero—along the coastline of Corfu.”

Philly’s eyes lit up. “Isn’t that the place that Dad and Helena just visited on their honeymoon?”

Cass nodded. “I’m sure she’d love to have you.” And being family, Cass knew that Miranda would look out for Philly. Her niece had a tendency to rush headlong into things. And Philly’s father and brothers would feel better about the trip if she visited family.

“How soon can I leave?”

Cass shook her head and smiled. “You never were one to let the grass grow under your feet. As soon as I check with Miranda, you can book your flight.”

Philly wrapped her arms around Cass and hugged her hard. “Thanks, Aunt Cass.”

Once her niece had left, Cass picked up a few of the crystals that had been sitting on the table. She could only hope that she hadn’t made a mistake in suggesting the Villa Prospero to Philly. At midnight, she’d seen in the crystals Philly standing on a white sand beach. But she’d also seen blood and sensed danger —much the same things she’d seen a month ago for her nephews.

But Cass had also sensed very strongly that Philly was meant to go to Corfu. In the mists that had pulsed and eddied in the depths of the crystals, she’d glimpsed other images—a white bird soaring into a blue sky, and a man she’d recognized immediately. She suspected that he was the one Philly was fated for. But both of them would have to decide if they would accept what the Fates were offering.

Tears pricked at the back of Cass’s eyes. If they did, Philly would find her true love in Greece just as she and Penelope had.

WITH A FRUSTRATED SIGH, Roman dropped the papers on his desk. This was the third time he’d tried to read through Gianni Stassis’s business plan and the third time he’d drifted off in his mind.

He’d been out of the hospital for a month and physically, he was almost back to normal. There’d been no permanent nerve damage from the fall, and the doctors were amazed at how quickly his body had responded to therapy. In another month or two, he’d be able to beat his sister Sadie at tennis again. In the interim, she was thoroughly enjoying each one of her victories, and the exercise was good for him.

The problem was, his mental recovery seemed to be lagging behind his physical recovery. He couldn’t concentrate. Running his hands through his hair, Roman leaned back in his chair.

Working with his father and eventually running Oliver Enterprises had always been his dream. The company dealt primarily in commercial real-estate development and before his accident, he’d been pouring every spare minute of his time into the project that Stassis, a Greek entrepreneur, had proposed to him. Even though he’d been working with his father almost 24/7 to close a deal for a prime strip of land in Orange County, he’d found time for the Stassis proposal. It involved Oliver Enterprises and Stassis Ltd. acquiring a stake in a select number of small independently operated Greek hotels. They would help them modernize and then share in a percentage of the profits. Within five years, they hoped to own a string of small exclusive hotels throughout the Greek Islands.

If he and Stassis could come to terms, this would be the first time that Oliver Enterprises would be operating outside of the United States. Roman’s goal had been to take the company global for some time, and the project had been his baby. He didn’t just want to run the company his father had founded, he wanted to expand it.

He’d been excited about the project with Gianni Stassis, confident of its success, and now, when it was close to coming together, he couldn’t seem to drum up the same level of enthusiasm he’d had before.

Roman picked up a paperweight, tossed it into the air and caught it. Letting out a frustrated breath, he stifled the urge to throw it at the wall. It wasn’t his damn fall that was to blame for his current situation. It was Philly Angelis.

A month had passed and he couldn’t get her words out of his mind. What had possessed her to walk into his hospital room that day and tell him that she wanted to make love with him?

Before that, he’d been able to convince himself that she was too young, that having her was out of the question. Before she’d spoken those words, he’d been able to find happiness and total satisfaction in his work. He glanced around his office. For as long as he could remember, this was where he’d wanted to be. Now he was restless, having trouble focusing, and nothing he’d tried so far had seemed to help.

His gaze shifted involuntarily to the group of photos he had on his desk. There were various shots of his family and the Angelis family. He’d removed the one snapshot he’d always had there of Philly. Out of sight, out of mind had been his thought.

That hadn’t worked. Staying away from her family’s restaurant hadn’t worked, either. Except for the celebration that Spiro and Helena had thrown when they’d returned from their honeymoon, he hadn’t been to the Poseidon. Philly frequently filled in as hostess, and there was no telling when she might be there. Dammit, he missed it—the laughter, the music, the opportunity to hang out with Kit and his brothers.

Be honest. You miss the chance of running into Philly, too.

It wasn’t as though he could hang out with his sisters, either. Sadie was spending her days with Theo Angelis, and Juliana spent as much time as she could with her fiancé, Paulo Carlucci. Roman went home each night to an empty apartment and tried to bury himself in work that he couldn’t find the same satisfaction in that he did before.

He’d even thought of calling another woman. Though he’d never dated anyone seriously, there were several women who would be more than willing to share drinks or dinner followed by some satisfying and uncomplicated sex. The problem was that he couldn’t work up the enthusiasm for that, either.

The bigger problem was that he couldn’t get Philly’s proposition out of his mind. Nor could he get rid of the image of her standing there—those wide brown eyes, that dark hair. It had curled when she was younger, but now she wore it in one of those sleek, chin-length cuts that made a man want to run his hands through it. There was a passion in her that lurked so near the surface, threatening at any moment to break through. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to be there when it finally did?

Roman glanced at the paperweight again and gave serious thought to throwing it. Or perhaps the better solution to his frustration was to simply take Philly up on her offer. Maybe if he made love to her once, he could get her out of his system. He’d almost convinced himself that that was a reasonable alternative—perhaps the only one—when there was a knock on his door, and Kit Angelis strolled in.

“Long time, no see.”

Roman watched Kit settle himself in a chair and felt like the worst kind of heel. They had been fast friends ever since Kit had also strolled into their dorm room that first day of college. And a month ago, when he’d taken that fall at Saint Peter’s Church and had also fallen under suspicion of murder and kidnapping, Kit and his brothers had worked nonstop to clear his name and protect his family. He owed Kit. He owed Nik and Theo too. And having a one-night stand with their little sister was no way to repay what he owed.

“Nik and Theo and I were thinking that you might have had a relapse, but you look fit enough to me.”

“I am.” Roman willed himself to relax. Kit couldn’t possibly know just what he’d been thinking. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Good. But just the same, I’m here on a search-and-rescue mission. My brothers and I are planning a fishing weekend—men only—at my grandfather’s fishing cabin. We may even talk Dad into joining us. Interested?”

Roman smiled. “Absolutely.” It might be just the ticket to get him back on track. It certainly appealed more than spending the weekend at the office or in his empty apartment. “How are you getting away from your women?” Each of the Angelis brothers now had a special woman in their lives, and from the looks of it, a permanent one. They’d all met their significant others during the weekend when they’d literally saved his family.

“Easy.” Kit shot him a grin. “They have a wedding to shop for. J.C. and Nik are tying the knot on Thanksgiving weekend. According to Drew, that doesn’t give them nearly enough time to register for gifts and decide on flowers.”

It had been so long since he’d dropped in at the Poseidon that Roman hadn’t given much thought to Nik’s upcoming wedding. He didn’t suppose it would be long before Kit would give Drew a ring. And Theo and his sister Sadie would probably follow their lead. He’d never in his life seen men fall so hard and fast as the Angelis men had and all in the space of one weekend.

“When Philly heard about the girls-only shopping weekend, she nearly postponed her trip.”

Every muscle in Roman’s body tightened. “Her trip?”

Kit pointed a finger at him. “See? You really are out of touch. Philly’s going to Greece.”

Roman frowned. “Why?”

“That’s what we all asked her.” Chuckling, Kit leaned back in his chair. “You know the story about how my mom and dad and my aunt Cass and uncle Demetrius met on a beach in Greece and fell in love at first sight?”

Roman nodded. The story had become a sort of legend in the Angelis family. Spiro and Demetrius had left Greece and followed Cass and Penelope back to San Francisco.

“My dad met Helena in Greece, too.”

He’d met her at the five-star restaurant where she’d been the head chef, Roman recalled. Spiro Angelis had persuaded her to come back by promising to open a similar restaurant on the top floor of the more casual Poseidon.

“So Philly has this idea that it’s high time she followed in the family tradition. She’s cut her hair, splurged on a new wardrobe, and she’s off to Greece to find her true love.”

“That’s crazy!” Roman quickly rose to his feet. “Aren’t you going to stop her?”

Kit shot him a quizzical look. “Trying to stop Philly once she’s made up her mind is a bit like trying to stop a runaway train. But you can relax. Aunt Cass has the situation under control. She’s arranged for Philly to stay at a small hotel on Corfu that’s run by my dad’s cousin Miranda Kostas. Philly will be perfectly safe. Helena says that Miranda is a very traditional Greek woman. Her own marriage was even arranged. She’s not likely to let Philly stray too far to the wild side.”

Right, Roman thought as he sat down in his chair. He was overreacting. But in his mind he saw Philly walking up to some handsome Greek and saying, “I want to make love with you.”

2

THE MOMENT I STEPPED OUT of the taxi onto the crunchy white gravel path that wound its way to the Villa Prospero, I knew that I had made the right decision in coming to Greece.

My driver made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You’ll see the villa as soon as you walk around that curve.”

I tried to be patient as he opened the trunk and began to unload my luggage. Now that I was here, I wanted to get started on the rest of my life—the part that I’d named Post Roman. I’d cut my hair and my brother Kit’s fiancée, Drew, who was a dress designer, had helped me select a new sexy wardrobe. I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror.

I’d also done my homework and discovered that Corfu was believed by many to be the setting of Shakespeare’s The Tempest—hence, the name of Miranda Kostas’s hotel. The island was located off the west coast of Greece on the Ionian Sea.

I’d flown into Corfu Town, which was in the middle of the island across from the mainland of Greece. To reach the Villa Prospero, I’d hired a driver to take me to the other side of the island where the rugged coastline bordered the Ionian Sea.

My driver was an endless source of information, most of it gossip about the Castello Corli, which sat atop a cliff about two miles away from the Villa Prospero. Venetians had built the castle in the fourteenth century—thus, the Italian name. Below the fortresslike walls, there were a series of caves that were reputed to have been used by smugglers for hundreds of years. However, according to my very talkative driver, what the Castello Corli was famous for now were the extravagant biannual parties that its billionaire owner, Andre Magellan, threw. One of his famous soirees was due to take place in three days.

“You may actually meet some movie stars walking along the beach,” my mustachioed driver had said to me. “Or a member of royalty. When Andre Magellan throws one of his parties, the Castello Corli becomes a destination for the rich and the famous.”

Magellan’s family had supposedly been bankers in Rome for centuries. But local rumor had it that Andre was a spoiled playboy who expended all of his energy on living an opulent lifestyle and only visited his family’s banks to make withdrawals.

By the time my driver had unloaded my luggage and I’d paid him, thanking him again for a very informative ride, I was itching to get to the villa and begin my Grecian adventure. I hurried along the narrow lane, then stopped short as soon as I went around that first curve. Just as the driver had promised, the Villa Prospero had come into view to my right. Color was everywhere—from the ivy and roses that draped over pink stucco to the riot of flowers that edged the path to the front of the small hotel.

The building itself was two-storied and tucked into a hillside. Parked right in front of the entrance was a sporty red convertible. The terrain to my left was rugged, thick with cypresses and fell away steeply. Through the trees, I spotted a serpentine trail that wound its way to a brilliant expanse of turquoise-blue sea. As colorful as the villa was, it was the sea that pulled at me.

I stood for a moment torn between following my impulse to take that winding path down to the beach and checking in with my cousin Miranda. In the end, family obligation won. After all, she was expecting me. I couldn’t let her worry.

The ground floor was bordered by a wide terrace with several porticoes opening into the lobby. I crossed to one of them. At first I thought the lobby was deserted; there was no one behind the small reception desk. But then I heard the angry voice.

“I demand to speak with your son Alexi.”

“He’s not here right now, Mr. Magellan.”

Peeking through the open portico, I could see two figures to my right. I recognized my cousin Miranda from the photos Helena had shown me. Her voice was calm, pleasant, professional, but the tension in her body contrasted sharply with her tone. Miranda had the kind of face that medieval artists had captured in their portrayals of the Madonna. She wore a tailored white blouse, a black skirt and sensible shoes. Her hair was pulled back in a ballerina’s knot and gold hoops winked at her ears. She was average height, but the way Mr. Magellan was towering over her made her seem tiny.

I had no doubt that I was also getting an up-close-and-personal view of the rich, flamboyant playboy that my driver had described to me in such great detail. Magellan’s red print shirt and matching red slacks were made even more dramatic by the way he stood in front of my cousin, his hands fisted at his sides. Diamonds glittered from his watch and a ring on his pinkie.

“Of course he’s not here. Even as we speak, he’s probably trespassing on my land again. It has to stop. I’ve warned him more than once. And I don’t want him poking around in the caves, either. They’re dangerous—that’s why they’re posted. I should think as his mother, you’d see to it that he doesn’t go there.”

“You don’t understand. One of Alexi’s cats is missing—Caliban. Alexi just wants to—”

“I don’t give a damn about his cats or his fixation on them.” Magellan’s voice had grown shrill with temper. “I’ve warned him. If either of those cats are seen anywhere on the grounds of the Castello Corli, my men have orders to shoot them.”

“No, please, don’t hurt them.” Miranda pressed a hand to her chest. “I’ll speak to Alexi.”

“I’m filing a complaint with the police. If your son trespasses one more time, I’ll have him arrested.”

Anger flared inside me at the callous way he spoke of Alexi and the cats. I knew from Helena and my dad that my cousin Alexi was eighteen and had always been a bit slow in school. But since his father had died three years ago, he’d become quite good at helping his mother run the hotel.

Fueled by my temper, I was about to move into the lobby and give Mr. Andre Magellan a piece of my mind when he whirled and strode out through the main entrance. He vaulted over the door into the sporty red car. An instant later, tires squealed and gravel sprayed as he raced away.

The lobby was empty when I turned back. To my left, doors opened onto a sunny terrace where lunch was being served, and every table was filled. Helena had raved about the cuisine at the Villa Prospero, and it seemed that the current guests were in agreement. Miranda was now serving dishes from a loaded tray. I hated to interrupt her, so I wandered around the large, airy room. There was a small gift shop that opened off the lobby, and through its open door I caught a glimpse of glass cases as well as racks of T-shirts and wide-brimmed hats.

A young woman entered from yet another door. She, too, carried a loaded tray. The moment she saw me she paused and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Her English was heavily accented, but she meant what she said. She returned to the lobby just as soon as she’d served a table of four.

“Sorry. You have a reservation?”

“I believe so. I’m Philly Angelis.” Her name tag said that she was Demetria.

“Oh, Ms. Angelis.” A smile warmed her whole face. “Welcome to the Villa Prospero. Mrs. Kostas is expecting you.

Over her shoulder, I could see Miranda chatting with the guests at a table for two as she cleared plates and cups.

“I’ll get her,” Demetria said.

“No, I can see she’s busy. And you’re busy, too. Why don’t I just leave my luggage here and go for a walk until things settle a bit.”

Relief swam in her eyes. “Are you sure? We’re shorthanded today because Alexi hasn’t shown up yet.”

I smiled at the young girl. “I’m positive. The sea is calling me. I thought I saw a path down to the beach.”

“Yes. Just go to the end of the gravel drive and turn right.”

With a final smile, I turned and after stopping briefly to get my camera out of my suitcase, I hurried out of the lobby. I believed in following my impulses, and something was pulling me to the beach, in much the same way that something had drawn me to Greece.

Of course, sometimes my acting on impulse had gotten me into trouble. A prime example was the day Roman had saved me from drowning. I was sixteen and decided I had to go for a sail. Right then. It had been a boring, rainy day at my grandfather’s fishing cabin. My brothers and Roman and my dad had been whiling away the hours with a game of poker. Roman had been winning, of course. The moment the sun had come out, I’d announced my intention to take Nik’s boat out. Then I’d hurried down to the dock before anyone could object.

I’d wanted to sail alone, but Roman followed and asked if he could join me.

Before that, I’d always thought of Roman as just an additional brother, but everything changed once the storm came up. It was so sudden and so severe that the boat had capsized almost immediately. Once in the water, I’d felt a huge wave pick me up and toss me. I’d barely had time to catch a breath before I was pulled under. Dizzy and disoriented, I wasn’t sure which way to swim to get to the surface. Panic had streamed through me, and I’d felt my lungs begin to burn. Then a pair of strong hands had gripped me, and seconds later Roman and I broke the surface. The water was rough and another wave had crashed over us. When we’d surfaced again, his voice had been calm as he told me to put my arms around his neck and lie on top of his back. I did, and he’d struck out toward shore. Though waves had tossed us and dragged us both under several times before we finally reached the beach, I’d never once doubted that we would both make it.

When I felt the now-familiar band of pain tighten around my heart, I stopped in my tracks and swore under my breath. I had not come to Greece to think about Roman Oliver. I had come to solve my “Roman problem” once and for all. And I would. I knew it in the same way that I often “knew” things about the animals I worked with.

The path to the sea was narrow and sloped gently as it zigged and zagged its way down the steep hill. I’d only been walking for a short time before I realized that it was going to take a while to reach my destination. I was tempted to just forget the path and strike out on a more direct route through the trees. But it wouldn’t do to get lost on my first day in Corfu.

Then I rounded a sharp corner and caught sight of a wide, crescent-shaped beach and the vast stretch of the crystalline blue Ionian Sea. There was no sound other than the breeze rustling through the trees and the distant push of waves against rocks.

I raised my camera and focused the lens. The deserted stretch of white sand was tucked snugly between two rocky promontories that stretched far out into the water. Waves broke frothy and white against the rocks. I took a few shots. Beyond the far promontory, the terrain changed abruptly from wooded hillside to a cliff face of solid rock that shot straight up to form a fortress wall and two towers. It had to be the Castello Corli.

As I snapped more photos, I felt transported to a much earlier time, and I thought fancifully of the castle that Princess Aurora slept in for one hundred years after she’d pricked her finger. Because of its location between Italy and the Greek mainland, Corfu had always had strategic importance. I recalled what my driver had said about the Castello Corli being built in the fourteenth century when the Venetians had ruled the island, and I could see the Italian influence in the design of the towers. My driver had said that the estate’s current villa dated from the turn of the century and had been renovated ten years ago by Andre Magellan’s parents, and then presented to him on his birthday. I zoomed in with my telephoto lens, but even then, I could see nothing past the towers.

Suddenly my attention was caught by a large white bird that flew out of one of the towers and soared upward in wide circles. I had no idea what its species was, but an odd mix of fear and excitement moved through me. Perhaps I was still being influenced by the enchanted appearance of the Castello, but the white bird made me think of the numerous calls to adventure that populated so many fairy tales.

Silly, I said to myself. But I knew better. Hadn’t I known all along that I was meant to come to Greece? More than ever I was convinced that the Fates had brought me here.

Once the bird had disappeared inland, I lowered my camera and continued to follow the frustrating, snakelike path. Gradually, the vegetation thinned. Cypresses and pines were replaced by boulders and rocks. As I rounded yet another sharp curve, I caught another glimpse of the crescent-shaped beach. It was no longer deserted. There were two men standing near the far promontory near the Castello.

Curious, I raised my camera and focused the lens. It was only as I zoomed in that I spotted the cat. It was so pale in color that it nearly blended into the white sand, and it was circling the two men. Not happy, I thought. And female. The cat had to be seriously agitated for me to be able to sense so much over such a distance. She reminded me a bit of Pretzels. What was the source of her worry?

I shifted my attention back to the two men. They were deep in conversation, and from the gestures the younger man was making, it appeared to be a heated one. He looked to be in his late teens. The older man pointed to the cell phone he had in his hand. Both men were of medium height and wearing sunglasses and shorts, and both carried backpacks, but that’s where the resemblance stopped. The older man had a more portly build. He wore a T-shirt, hiking boots and a wide-brimmed hat that cast his face in shadow. A pair of binoculars was slung over one shoulder.

He turned and took a few steps in my direction, but the other man grabbed his arm and stopped him. The younger man had an athletically toned body, and sun glinted off a medal he wore around his neck.

The cat was circling them now, growing more agitated. The younger man squatted, and when she went to him, he stroked her. But she backed away. It wasn’t soothing that she was after.

The man in the hat was hurrying along the beach now in my direction. The other man rose, ran after him, then grabbed his arm and jerked him around. The argument escalated, and suddenly, the younger man shoved the older man to the ground. When he fell, he missed the cat by inches.

Concern for the animal filled me, and lowering my camera, I gave up on the path and began to make my way down the rugged hillside in a more direct route to the beach. By the time I reached it, my view of the two men and the cat was blocked by the rocks that bordered the little cove on the Villa Prospero’s side.

I felt the cat before she appeared around a boulder. Her emotions slammed into me with enough force to stop me in my tracks. The agitation I’d sensed earlier in her had given way to terror, urgency. In my head I saw a bright red color. I squatted, tried to calm my mind and waited for her to come to me. She did, pausing when she was only a few feet away.

Slowly, I held out my hand. I’m Philly. I’m a friend.

Most often when I communicated with animals, I did it mentally. I thought what I wanted them to know—sometimes in words, other times in images, depending on the initial way the animal communicated with me.

She was a beauty—nearly pure white, and her eyes a pearly mix of gray and green. Without coming any closer, she studied me in much the same way I was studying her. The emotions rolling through her were chaotic, and I couldn’t get a clear image.

What’s your name?

Ariel.

I’d heard the word in my mind as clearly as if she’d said it aloud. With a name like Ariel, I bet she was one of Alexi’s cats. I recalled Miranda had mentioned the name of the other—the one that was missing. Caliban.

Help.

This time I caught an image. A white cat lying still in a shadowy place. Bigger than Ariel, I thought. I caught the gleam of his eyes before everything went red.

Ariel turned and raced back toward the boulders.

When she paused to glance back, I was already on my feet and heading after her. She had an easier time of climbing down the rocks than I did. After slipping for the second time, I thought, Slow down.

Ariel paused and waited for me. The moment I joined her, she began to run again, and I followed her lead. I was beginning to feel the same overpowering sense of urgency and fear that I was getting from her. The two men who’d been with her at the far end of the beach were gone. It wasn’t until I reached the center of the crescent that I realized I was wrong. One of them was still there—lying on the sand. I broke into a sprint.

I was out of breath when I finally reached the man. As I dropped to my knees, my mind registered details. He was the older of the two men I’d seen. His wide-brimmed hat had fallen off, and he was lying faceup, the backpack and binoculars at his side. But my eyes were riveted to the hole in the side of his head, and the large red stain on the white sand. My heart was racing and not from the run. I wasn’t a forensic scientist, but it looked like a bullet hole to me. Wouldn’t I have heard the shot?

My stomach was in free fall, my hand shaking as I did what I’d seen people do on countless TV shows. I put two fingers to the side of his neck and felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

I felt myself going numb. When an insect hummed past my cheek, I brushed at it absently. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ariel, standing, watching me. Waiting. Worrying.

Help.

This was no time to go numb. I can’t help him. He’s dead.

Once again an image flashed into my mind—the white cat. There were fewer shadows this time because of dappled sunlight, so I caught more details. Next to the cat was what appeared to be the remains of a small animal. A bird? And I made out a puddle of water. Even as the image faded, questions poured into my mind. What was Ariel trying to tell me? Was the other cat the one that was missing? And what was her relationship to the dead man? Had she witnessed what had happened to him? Where was the younger man who’d stroked her and shoved this man to the ground?

The list of questions would have gone on if I hadn’t heard another insect hum by. This time I also heard a ping and I glanced in the direction of a nearby boulder. Then I heard yet another hum and saw sand erupt inches away from Ariel.

Shock threatened to numb me again. Someone was shooting at us. He had to be using a silencer. That was why I hadn’t heard a shot.

Run.

Ariel took off first, racing toward the foot of the hill. A second later she’d leaped across rocks and disappeared into the trees. I was about three beats behind her and not quite as fleet of foot. But that gave me time to spot the flash of reflected sunlight from the woods bordering the Castello Corli.

Ariel! Wait. I scrambled over the rocks and raced after her into the cypresses.

CASS ANGELIS STOPPED pacing the moment the knock sounded on her door. When she opened it and saw Kit, some of her tension eased.

He hugged her soundly, then moved to the tea tray she’d set up near the couches. He never drank the tea, but he’d already popped one of the finger sandwiches into his mouth. “Mission accomplished,” he mumbled around it. “Roman’s plane should be touching down in Corfu Town as we speak.”

“Good.”

He glanced at Cass, studying her for a moment. Then he sat down on one of the couches and gestured for her to join him. “Everything’s going just the way we planned. Philly’s in Corfu, and Roman has followed her. What’s worrying you?”

Of all of her nephews, Kit was the one who could always read her the most clearly. She sat next to him and picked up one of her crystals. “This morning I was out at the pond.” Kit knew that she usually went there at sunrise—visions often formed for her in the water. “I saw more—Philly and Roman standing on white sand and there was a castle in the distance. I saw a white cat, and there was blood on the sand. It’s the second time I’ve seen blood.”

Kit frowned. “Philly’s or Roman’s?”

Cass shook her head. “No. But they’re headed into danger. I sensed that before. And that cat—if there’s an animal in the middle of it, your sister is going to get involved.”

Kit took one of her hands. “Maybe an adventure is just what the two of them need. Look at Nik and J.C., Theo and Sadie, Drew and me—we were all in a lot of danger the weekend we fell in love. You keep reading the crystals, and I’ll keep in touch with Roman. If things get serious, I’ll go over and give them some backup.”

Cass smiled at her nephew. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

He leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Funny—you have the same effect on me.” Then he grabbed another sandwich. “Mason said to give you his best.”

Cass’s heart skipped a beat. “You saw him?”

“He was at the Poseidon last night. I think he was hoping to run into you.”

Cass felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She’d been attending a fund-raiser for the mayor with Charlie Galvin.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to decide between those two men.”

“I can’t. I can see that Roman and Philly are meant to be together. And I knew the moment I saw Demetrius that he was the one for me. But with Charlie and Mason, I can’t tell—I like them both. They’re very different. Charlie is so outgoing while Mason is reserved. Philly says to give it time and I’ll know. But maybe I’m not meant to be with either of them.”

Kit squeezed his aunt’s hand. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

3

ROMAN STEPPED OUT of the car he’d hired in Corfu Town. A sense of urgency had been growing in him ever since his plane had touched down. His decision to come to Greece had been made shortly after Kit had left his office two days ago. The trip was business related. Meeting personally with Gianni Stassis in Athens would allow him to finalize the details of their project. Oliver–Stassis Ltd. would be officially launched, and his dream of taking Oliver Enterprises into the global market would be realized. But Roman wasn’t a man who liked to lie to himself. He’d also come to Greece to check on Philly.

If his plane had been on time, he would have landed at the Corfu airport before Philly. His plan had been to have a reasonable talk with her and persuade her to go back to San Francisco. Or if that didn’t suit her, he’d take her with him to Athens for his business meeting with Stassis. At least he could keep an eye on her there.

Exactly what he was going to say to her still hadn’t come to him yet, even though he’d had plenty of time to think about it on the long flight. But he was a first-rate negotiator. Surely he could make Philly see the risk in coming to Greece to make love with a perfect stranger. And he had no doubt that was what she intended to do. A mix of fear and frustration streamed through him. She might be propositioning someone right now.

When his flight had been delayed, he’d had to reschedule his meeting with Gianni Stassis and switch to plan B—follow Philly to the Villa Prospero. The driver he’d hired had promised in broken and minimal English that he knew exactly where it was. Now, after a two-hour drive, the hotel was nowhere in sight.

Tamping down his temper and his growing sense that Philly had already gotten into some kind of trouble, Roman paid the driver, tipping him generously, and asked, “The villa?”

For a moment, the driver looked puzzled.

Roman made a sweeping gesture with one hand and repeated the question.

This time the driver shot him a beaming smile, motioned for Roman to follow and then grabbed his carry-on and led the way up the white-graveled driveway. Around the first curve, Roman spotted the small hotel and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe his luck was turning. Nodding his thanks to the driver, he shouldered his bag and strode up the drive.

Once inside the lobby, he let his gaze sweep the room. It was a pleasant airy space, with doors opening onto a sunny terrace where people were enjoying food and drinks. In the distance he caught a glimpse of an incredibly blue sea.

He turned his attention to a young girl behind the registration desk and read her name tag. He prayed that Demetria’s English was better than his driver’s. When he smiled at her, she responded by directing a worried glance at his bag.

“Welcome to the Villa Prospero. Do you have a reservation?”

He hadn’t made one because he’d expected to settle things with Philly in Corfu Town. Setting his bag down, he turned up the wattage on his smile. “No, I’m sorry—my plans changed at the last moment. I’m afraid I was depending on luck to get a room. I’ve heard so many good things about the Villa Prospero.”

Concern filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry, but we’re full. There’s a huge party going on at the Castello Corli the day after tomorrow, and we’ve taken in the overflow. I could try to find you a room in the village.”

When she reached for the phone, Roman stopped her. “That won’t be necessary. I actually came to surprise someone—Ms. Philly Angelis. Is she here?”

“No.”

Roman frowned. “She should have arrived by now.”

“She has, about an hour ago. Mrs. Kostas and I were in the middle of serving lunch, so Ms. Angelis went for a walk on the beach.”

Just the word beach had an image forming in his mind of Philly rolling around in the sand with some strange man. “How do I get there?”

For the first time, Demetria smiled. “Just follow the path at the end of the driveway. You can’t miss it.”

He almost did miss the path, and even though he was at the Villa Prospero and it was only a matter of minutes before he would see Philly, Roman found himself growing more and more anxious. Like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, he felt that he was late for a very important date. He didn’t possess any of the Angelis psychic powers, but his instincts seldom failed him in business. Right now his gut was telling him that Philly was in some kind of trouble. Was he too late?

In spite of the rugged terrain, the question had him stepping up his pace. He nearly stumbled when he saw the white cat burst out of the woods and streak across his path. Philly appeared next. There were pine needles in her hair and fear in her eyes. He barely had time to absorb those details before she crashed into him, threw her arms around him and held on for dear life.

At last. Roman threaded his fingers through her hair and pressed her close against him. For the first time since he’d landed on Corfu, he felt his anxiety ease. For a few seconds, there was only the sound of Philly’s ragged breathing and the rustle of the wind in the trees. He’d never held her like this before, never felt that slender, firm body pressed to his. She fit perfectly.

“There’s…a man,” Philly said, her breath hitching.

“Did he hurt you?” Roman drew her away so that he could study her face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m…” Her breath hitched again. “…fine. He’s on the beach. He’s…”

“Shh,” he murmured. She wasn’t hurt, he told himself. Frightened, yes. Fury at whatever—or whoever—had scared her threatened to rise up, but he tamped it down. Something had happened on that beach, and as soon as she settled he’d get it out of her. Then he’d handle it. But for now, she was safe. She was here. For the first time he noticed that she’d cut her hair very short. The curls and even that straight sophisticated bob were gone. In the dappled light, filtering through the trees, she made him think of one of Shakespeare’s more ethereal woodland creatures.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, but Roman felt the air around them grow thick and charged. Desire sprang from the same place the fury had a moment ago, and he couldn’t block it. Or he didn’t want to.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

For this. Unable to stop himself, Roman lowered his mouth to hers.

Her lips parted. In surprise? In acceptance? Roman couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t care. Kissing her was a mistake, and there would be consequences. But he’d waited forever to really taste her. Just this once, he told himself. But once her flavor flooded his mouth, he knew that was a lie. And he could have sworn that the rocky ground beneath his feet shifted.

She was sweeter than he’d imagined, but there was a bite beneath the sweetness. As he took the kiss deeper, he discovered a dark richness that he’d never experienced before. Then her scent wrapped around him and it wasn’t sweet at all. It was exotic, erotic, and it made him think of the Sirens who’d lured sailors to their deaths. For the first time, Roman understood why they would have gone willingly.

AT LAST. That was the only coherent thought that formed in my mind once Roman pressed his mouth to mine. I felt as if I’d come home. Then he nipped at my bottom lip, changed the angle of the kiss, and I felt as if I’d just entered a brave, new world.

The sound of the sea, so muted before, grew louder. The breeze so gentle just seconds ago whipped around us, a storm seemed to be brewing.

I could feel everything so acutely. One of my hands was trapped against his chest and his heart hammered frantically against my palm. His taste—I’d imagined it so often, but it was so…potent. His touch burned my skin and sent thrill after thrill rippling through me. But it was his mouth I craved more of. It was so tempting that I took and took and took.

Still, I wanted more. I strained closer. As if answering my demand, he slipped one hand between us and covered my breast. Pleasure so sharp that it bordered on pain arrowed through me.

His other hand gripped my hip and lifted. Wrapping arms and legs around him, I scooted up until we were pressed center to center, heat to heat. It still wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get close enough. My heart was beating so hard, so fast that I was surprised it didn’t burst right out of me.

Then suddenly, abruptly, he set me down on the path. I cried out in protest, but he took a quick step back.

“No. I can’t. We can’t.”

“What?” I gave my head a shake, trying to clear it. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I never should have—” He broke off to run a hand through his hair. The other one was clenched at his side.

Anger shot through me, and some of my brain cells clicked on. He was apologizing! Again! Suddenly I wasn’t just mad, I was furious. “You never should have what? Followed me here to Greece? Looked at me as if you wanted to eat me whole? Kissed me?”

“It was a mistake.”

This time it was pain that shot through me. But I pushed it away, fisted my hands on my hips and sent him a killing look. “A mistake?”

Roman said nothing. He was staring at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. But I was seeing red. Over the years, I’d worked on controlling my temper, but at times it slipped away from me. Usually right after I saw red.

I lunged at him and shoved him hard enough to make him fall on his butt. “What you are, Roman Oliver, is a big fat liar.”

I wanted to jump him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his head rattled. But if I went near him again, even for a moment, I was afraid that I would simply beg him to finish what he’d started.

I summoned up all the pride I could muster and pointed a finger at him instead. “Maybe you think it was a mistake to kiss me. Your loss. And you can stuff your apology. But don’t you ever try to tell me that you think of me just as a sister.”

I wanted to leave then. But my dramatic exit was impeded by the fact that Roman was blocking my path. His eyes never left mine as he rose and brushed off his pants. “Tell me about the man on the beach.”

My anger drained away as all the terror and panic I’d felt ever since I’d seen the bullet send up that telltale spray of sand came flooding back. “He’s dead.” I glanced around, looking for Ariel, but there was no sign of her. And I couldn’t feel her, either. I had to hope she’d headed for the Villa Prospero and safety.

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a dead man on the beach?”

I lifted my chin. “I’ll show you.” Then, whirling, I started through the woods, retracing the route that the cat and I had taken up the hill. So I was able to execute my dramatic exit after all.

TEN MINUTES LATER, I stood next to Roman on the white sand, exactly where the man in the wide-brimmed hat had been lying when Ariel had led me to him. Only he wasn’t there. The red stain caused by his blood was gone, too. There wasn’t even a depression in the sand where his body had been. Roman and I hadn’t spoken on the climb down the hill—not even when I’d slipped and fallen and he’d helped me up—but as much as I hated to admit it, I was glad that he was here. I felt a lot less spooked than I would have otherwise.

“He’s gone,” I said, stating the all too obvious.

“You’re sure this is the spot?”

Since it was a legitimate question and there was no trace of skepticism in his tone, I kept the annoyance out of mine. “I’m positive.”

“Any chance that there’s another little cove similar to this one and we angled down the wrong way?”

I’d already asked myself that question. I pointed at the Castello. “There’s only one cove that’s flanked by a fourteenth-century fortress.”

Roman glanced up at the towers. “Good point. And the man was lying right here?”

I squatted. “His feet were about here, and he was medium height.”

“Could you tell how he’d died?”

I drew in a deep breath as the image of the man’s body filled my mind. “He had a bullet hole in the side of his head.” I tapped a finger against my left temple. Then I pointed to the spot on the hillside where I’d seen the flash of light. “I think the killer shot from up there just below the Castello.”

“You actually spotted him?”

I shook my head. “I just saw a flash of reflected sunlight when I was racing after Ariel.”

Roman frowned. “Ariel?”

“The white cat.”

“The same one I saw dash out of the woods just before I bumped into you?”

I nodded. “She was the one who led me to the body—she was very upset. I’m assuming because of the name that she belongs to my cousin Alexi. He has two cats and one of them, Caliban, is missing. I’m hoping that Ariel is back safe at the Villa Prospero.”

Roman stared out at the sea, then walked in a wide circle around the area I’d indicated. “Can you tell if the tide’s coming in?”

I glanced at the waves and noted that they were closer than they’d been before. The base of the boulder that one of the bullets had ricocheted off of was wet now. “It’s coming in. That boulder was totally dry before.” Then I saw light reflect off metal. Moving to the boulder, I leaned down and retrieved a cell phone. “It could be the victim’s. He had one in his hand when I first saw him.”

“That will help the police identify him,” Roman said.

I tucked it into my pocket.

Roman studied the water. “How much time has passed since you first saw the body?”

I’d completely lost track of time since I’d realized I was being shot at, so I glanced at my watch, then considered briefly. It was nearly one-thirty and my driver dropped me off at noon. “A half hour to forty-five minutes.”

“So the body couldn’t have been carried off by the tide.”

“No.”

Turning, Roman met my eyes directly. I could read nothing in his expression, I had no way of telling whether he believed me or not. Even with the cell phone, I wasn’t sure I would have believed myself.

Finally, he said, “The killer must have come back and cleaned up after himself.”

Relief streamed through me. Then I glanced around. “Maybe not entirely.” I rose and walked over to the spot where I’d seen the sand spurt up near the white cat. The image was indelibly imprinted on my mind. The sand was damp now. Squatting, I began to dig with my fingers. On the fifth scoop I found the bullet and held it up for Roman to see. “He missed this.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed as he strode toward me. “How did you know that was there?”

“He shot at the cat, too. One of them ricocheted off the rock. Then I saw the sand spurt up.”

Roman glanced up at the Castello, then grabbed my free hand and urged me toward the trees at the foot of the hill. Once we were in their shelter, he told me to sit down and then he sat down beside me. “Start at the beginning, Philly. And tell me everything.”

4

BY THE TIME we finally reached the Villa Prospero, my initial adrenaline rush at finding the body had faded, and I was beginning to react to the reality of the situation. Telling Roman what had happened had brought all the details vividly to my mind. Since we hadn’t talked on the climb back up to the villa, I’d had time to dwell on them.

A man was dead. And someone had disposed of his body. A bone-deep chill moved through me, and I shivered.

Roman turned to me immediately and took my arm. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Just a bit of a delayed reaction, I think.”

“You’re going to have to repeat the whole thing to the police.”

“I can do that.” I squared my shoulders in reaction to the concern I heard in his voice. “I’m a big girl, Roman.”

Miranda was at the registration desk and she looked up with a polite smile when we walked into the lobby. I noted again the combination of neatness and elegance in her appearance.

I knew from Aunt Cass and my father that Miranda was only in her early forties, but she looked even younger. She’d married early to Sandro Kostas, a man her parents had chosen for her so that she would have help running the hotel after they passed away. Kostas had left her a widow three years ago. Before his death, she’d spent most of her time seeing to the cuisine and keeping the books. Sandro had played the host. But it seemed to me as though Miranda was doing well as a hostess—she looked far more assured than she’d been earlier when Mr. Magellan had confronted her.

“Philly?” Her face brightened as she moved toward me and took both of my hands in hers. “Spiro’s daughter. You’re even prettier than your pictures. Welcome, welcome. It’s such a pleasure to have you here. I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you properly when you arrived. Demetria should have told me.”

“Don’t blame her—I told her not to. I wanted to walk on the beach and I ran into a white cat. Did she come back here?”

As she shook her head, a faint frown appeared on Miranda’s forehead. “That might have been Ariel. But I haven’t seen her at all today. She may have gone to look for my son, Alexi.”

Miranda turned to Roman then. “Demetria told me that you know my cousin Philly?”

Roman smiled at her. “I know her very well. I’m her brother Kit Angelis.” He held out a hand, and Miranda grasped it warmly, her face a mixture of surprise and delight.

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