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Demetri opened his eyes to the sound of a shower running. For a moment he stared up at the ceiling above his head, seeing nothing familiar in its papered surface, sure he’d never seen a ceiling in that particular shade of peach before.

Then his eyes lowered to the windows, tall casement windows, shaded by ruched Roman blinds in a contrasting shade of lime green. The blinds were drawn against the daylight that was visible in a line above the sill.

Totally unfamiliar.

Yet suddenly totally recognisable.

Demetri sucked in a jagged breath, pushed himself into an upright position and looked about the room with unbelieving eyes. God, he was in Jane’s apartment, Jane’s bed! What in hell had he been thinking of? He’d come here to ask her for a divorce, not to have sex with her, for pity’s sake.

He closed his eyes again, hoping against hope that it was all some crazy dream, that when he opened them again he’d be back in his own bedroom in Kalithi, with the sound of the Mediterranean a gentle murmur in his ears.

But it wasn’t to be. When he lifted his lids for a second time, it was to find he was still occupying Jane’s bed, a single sheet, which he suspected she’d thrown over him, covering him from hip to thigh.

Which was just as well, he reflected, conscious that an awareness of his surroundings had done nothing to quell an arousal that was as vigorous as it was inappropriate. Hristo, he was supposed to be thinking of a way to get out of this with his dignity intact, not allowing his mind to wander into the bathroom and the delights of sharing Jane’s shower.

Forcing himself to get out of bed, he groped for his boxers and pulled them on. Then, without giving himself time to think, he tugged his T-shirt over his head and stepped into his trousers, only cursing when he hurt himself fastening his zip.

The shower ceased abruptly, and, although he was tempted to wait and see what she’d be wearing when she came out of the bathroom, common sense had him snatching up his shoes and jacket and letting himself out of the bedroom before he made another mistake.

In the living room, he pushed his feet into his loafers and pulled on his jacket. Then he combed slightly unsteady fingers through his hair. Theos, he thought, looking about him, how had it happened? How had a simple conversation turned into a sensual assault on his senses?

Why had he been fool enough to go in there? Why hadn’t he waited until she’d composed herself and then completed the interview with speed and objectivity? It was what she’d said she wanted, for heaven’s sake. And when she’d first quit the room, he’d assumed she’d gone to get dressed and nothing else. It was only as the minutes had slipped by and there’d been no sound from the bedroom that he’d become suspicious.

Anxious, even, he conceded wryly. Jane had always been able to do that to him. In the three years they’d been together, he’d lost count of the number of occasions when she’d walked out on him. The fact was, he’d usually gone after her, desperate to assure himself that she was all right. Just like today.

He sighed. Even so, finding her in tears like that shouldn’t have affected him as much as it had. It wasn’t his fault they weren’t still together, and if him asking for a divorce meant that much to her, why hadn’t she tried to see him again before the situation had deteriorated as badly as it had?

None of it made any sense, not least the pleasure he’d gained from making love to her just now. He hated to admit it, but he hadn’t enjoyed himself so much since the last time they’d been together.

Having sex with other women had never done it for him. And, although when Jane had left him he’d told himself it would be easy enough to replace her, he never had. He’d lost count of the number of women his mother had paraded in front of him, hoping to persuade him that remaining single wasn’t an option for him. But his marriage to Jane had spoiled him for other woman, and he’d begun to believe that whatever happened he would never have that kind of sexual satisfaction again.

But now he had.

With her!

Although he’d sat down on the sofa to put on his shoes, now he got to his feet again. He couldn’t sit still, not when his whole world was in turmoil. This was supposed to have been a short meeting, the courtesy of telling her himself instead of allowing her to learn the truth from his London solicitor. Instead, as his mother had feared, he’d allowed her to get under his skin, again.

He paced across to the windows, peering out at his limousine, parked at the front of the house. The chauffeur, who worked for Souvakis International, would be wondering what he was doing. But he knew better than to make any comments to his employer or anyone else.

The sound of a door opening behind him had him swinging round almost guiltily. Another sensation that was new to him. It occurred to him then that perhaps he ought to have left before she’d finished her shower. In spite of the fact that they hadn’t finished their discussion, it could have waited until tomorrow or the next day. Now it was too late.

Jane came into the room rather tentatively. She’d taken the time to dry and straighten her hair and now it hung silky smooth to her shoulders. She’d put on a dark green T-shirt that clung to her breasts, and low-rise jeans exposed a delicate wedge of creamy pale skin.

She looked just as good to him now as she’d done before, thought Demetri grimly. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have wondered if she’d worn the outfit deliberately to emphasise her eyes. She certainly looked tantalising, but her expression wasn’t encouraging. Her eyes were guarded, cold, watching him with a wariness that bordered on contempt.

‘You’re still here,’ she said, when he didn’t speak. Then, making her way across the room, ‘D’you want coffee?’

Coffee?

Demetri didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. Only minutes before she’d been writhing beneath him, and now she was offering him coffee, as if they’d just been passing the time of day instead of having hot, sweaty sex.

‘Efkharisto, then thelo.’ Not for me, thank you. Demetri spoke tersely, following her across the room to where a small counter separated an equally small service kitchen from the rest of the room. He hesitated, and then added unwillingly, ‘You are OK?’

Jane turned from filling a filter with coffee. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she countered, though this time he noticed she broke their gaze. ‘Go and sit down. I won’t be long.’

‘I’d rather not.’ Demetri took a deep breath. ‘Are we going to talk about this?’

Jane concentrated on setting the jug on the hotplate. Then, when it was placed to her satisfaction, she opened a cupboard above her head and took down a porcelain mug. Glancing fleetingly in his direction, the mug in her hand, she said, ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?’

‘I’m sure.’ Demetri could feel impatience digging away at his good nature. What the hell was she trying to do? Pretend it had never happened? ‘Jane, look at me,’ he said sharply. ‘No, not like that. Really look at me. What are you thinking? Tell me!’

CHAPTER THREE

JANE found it impossible to do as he asked. OK, she knew that nothing had changed really. Just because they’d had sex— pretty phenomenal sex, as it happened—didn’t make a scrap of difference to Demetri. Sex was what he did. Particularly when he wanted something from her. It had always been a damn good means of getting his own way in the past. And he must be thinking she was such a pushover. He’d only had to tumble her onto the bed and she’d been practically begging him to do it.

She’d been so stupid, she thought bitterly. If only he hadn’t chosen to come here at a time when she was not only exhausted from her trip, but expecting her period as well. She was always overly emotional at this time of the month. And his deliberate kindness had been the last straw.

‘I’m not thinking anything,’ she lied now, as the water dripped through the filter. Then, turning the tables, ‘What about you? What are you thinking, Demetri?’

Believe me, you don’t want to know, Demetri reflected drily, aware that his thoughts ran along the lines of taking her back to bed. But he’d be crazy to admit that. It would expose a weakness and he was already feeling far too exposed as it was.

‘I’m thinking—I should apologise,’ he declared at last, choosing the least provocative option. ‘I—never intended this to happen.’

‘Well, that makes two of us,’ said Jane at once and Demetri felt a fist twisting in his gut. Did she have to sound so dismissive? Couldn’t she at least have admitted that she’d been partially to blame?

But that wasn’t going to happen, he realised, and, leaving the counter, he walked back to the position he’d previously occupied beside the window. His limousine still stood there and he wished he could just get into the car and drive away. He wanted to forget what had happened, forget that when he’d come here he’d been looking for closure. Closure! His lips twisted. Instead, he’d torn away a veneer and left what felt like an open wound.

‘So?’ He heard her voice and turned to find Jane had come to perch on the arm of one of the sofas. She was holding a mug filled with black coffee and she lifted enquiring eyes to his face. ‘Do I take it there’s someone else?’

It was such a ludicrous question in the circumstances. Demetri was tempted to say ‘Damn you!’and walk out. He felt so foolish having to admit that that was the reason he’d come here. That he was intending to marry someone else when he was free.

But he didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was what was expected of him as his father’s eldest son. When Leonidas Souvakis retired, he’d handed the control of Souvakis International to him. And such power held responsibilities, not all of them to do with the company itself.

‘My father’s dying,’ he said at last, deciding he didn’t owe her any consideration. But even so, he was unprepared for the way the colour drained out of her face.

‘Leo is dying?’ she echoed faintly. ‘My God, why didn’t you tell me?’ Her soft lips parted in mute denial. ‘I can’t believe it. He was so—so fit; so strong.’

‘Cancer is no respecter of strength or otherwise,’ responded Demetri flatly. ‘He found a lump. He did nothing about it. He said he was too busy.’ He shrugged. ‘When he did go and see the doctor, it was too late to operate.’

‘Oh, God!’ Jane put down her cup and pressed both hands to her cheeks. Her eyes were once again filled with tears. ‘Poor Leo. He’s such a good man, a kind man. He was always kind to me. He made me welcome when your mother never did.’

Demetri said nothing. He knew that what she’d said was true. His mother had never wanted him to marry an English girl. Their values were so different, she’d insisted. And ultimately she’d been proved to be right.

Now Jane attempted to pull herself together. ‘How long have you known?’ she asked, wondering what this had to do with Demetri wanting a divorce. She paused, trying to find a connection. ‘Does he want to see me?’

Demetri was taken aback. Although he had no doubt that Leo Souvakis would have liked to see his daughter-in-law again, his mother would never agree to it. For the past five years she’d persistently begged her son to go and see a priest and try to arrange an annulment of his marriage to Jane. She was sure Father Panaystakis would do everything in his power to get some special dispensation from the church.

But, ironically, Demetri had been in no hurry to sever his relationship. It had been convenient in all sorts of ways. Not least to discourage any gold-digging female from getting the wrong idea. Now remaining unattached was no longer an option and only a divorce would do.

His silence must have given Jane her answer, however, because now she said, ‘Then I don’t understand. What does your father’s illness have to do with you asking for a divorce?’

Demetri’s sigh was heavy. He pushed his balled fists into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels before he spoke. ‘Mi pateras—my father,’ he corrected himself, ‘wants a grand-child. Grandchildren. With Yanis a priest and Stefan not interested in women, the responsibility falls to me.’

‘How archaic!’ Jane was sardonic. Then she frowned. ‘But what about—’ she hesitated ‘—the boy?’

‘Ianthe’s son?’ Demetri was matter-of-fact, and Jane’s nails dug into her palms. ‘Marc died. I thought you knew.’

Jane was incensed. ‘And you thought this, why? We haven’t exactly kept in touch, Demetri.’

He shrugged as if acknowledging her words. ‘Poli kala, Marc caught pneumonia when he was only a few days old.’ His voice was tight. ‘The doctors tried to save him, but he was too small, too premature. He didn’t stand a chance.’

Jane caught her breath. ‘Poor Ianthe,’ she said, finding she meant it.

‘Neh, poor Ianthe,’ echoed Demetri, though there was a distinct edge of bitterness to his tone. ‘She didn’t deserve that.’

‘No.’ Jane shook her head, reaching for her coffee again. She took a gulp, grateful for the rush of caffeine. ‘So now I suppose you two are planning on getting married at last.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘Your mother will be pleased.’

Demetri’s thin—yet oh, so sensual—lips curled into a scowl. ‘No,’ he told her harshly. ‘I was never interested in Ianthe, despite what you believed. I intend to marry Ariadne Pavlos. You may remember the Pavlos family. Ariadne and I have been friends since we were children. She has recently returned from an extended visit to the United States.’

‘How nice!’ Jane tried not to let her true feelings show. Ariadne’s mother, Sofia Pavlos, was a friend of Demetri’s mother, she remembered. Someone else who hadn’t approved of their marriage. She moistened her lips. ‘Does Ariadne know about Ianthe’s baby, too?’

‘She knows enough,’ said Demetri shortly, realising he was getting into deep water. The past was the past and there was no point in raking it all up now. He shouldn’t have come here. He should have taken his lawyer’s advice and let him handle it. But he hadn’t realised how dangerous it would be for him to get involved with Jane again.

‘Look,’ he said, when the silence had become unbearable, ‘I’ve got to get going.’ He sucked in a breath before adding, ‘I’m sure you hate me now, but I really didn’t intend to—to—’

‘Seduce me?’

‘No.’ Demetri was angry. ‘It was hardly a seduction. You met me halfway.’

Jane’s colour deepened. ‘All right. Perhaps that was unjustified. But it wouldn’t be the first time you used—it—against me.’

Demetri swore then. ‘What do you expect me to say, Jane? I came here to warn you about the divorce, that’s all. I didn’t expect to find you half-naked.’

Jane gasped. ‘What?’ she choked. ‘I’m so irresistible I got under your guard?’

‘Something like that,’ muttered Demetri, aware that he wasn’t doing himself any favours. He straightened and moved towards the door. ‘I’ll have my lawyer contact you with all the details. Despite—well, despite your attitude, I won’t contest any settlement your lawyer asks for.’

Jane sprang up from the sofa, almost spilling her coffee in the process. ‘I’ve told you, I don’t want any of your money, Demetri!’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘I’m quite capable of supporting myself, thank you.’

‘Ala—’

‘Forget it!’ Without giving him any further time to defend himself, she strode towards the outer door and jerked it open. ‘Get out of here, Demetri. Before I say something I’ll regret.’

Demetri flew back to Kalithi that afternoon.

He had planned to stay a couple more days. He’d been invited to attend a meeting of the Association of Oil Producers the following morning, but he’d had his assistant call and offer his apologies instead. His father wouldn’t be pleased. He’d been delighted that the Souvakis Corporation had garnered such respect in the oil-producing countries, and it had also proved he had been judicious in handing control of the organisation to his son.

Demetri wasn’t so sure, however. He’d already realised that being head of an organisation like Souvakis International demanded a considerable amount of his time. It might even be said that the responsibilities he’d taken on eight years ago had played no small part in the breakdown of his marriage. If he and Jane had had more time to talk about what had happened, more time for him to persuade her he was innocent of the charge she’d levelled against him, she might not have walked out as she did. But she’d believed that he was to blame for Ianthe’s pregnancy, and without proof he’d been unable to convince her otherwise.

It was already dark when the powerful little Cessna landed on the island. The airstrip was a private one, owned by the Souvakis family, and although the island attracted tourists, they came by ferry, landing at the small port of Kalithi in the south of the island.

Headlights scanning the runway were an indication that his father had got the message he’d sent earlier, though he guessed the old man would want to know exactly why he had avoided speaking to him personally.

His own personal assistant, Theo Vasilis, had travelled with him, and it was he who was first off the plane, organising the transport that would take them to the Souvakis estate. A sleek four-wheel-drive vehicle stood at the edge of the tarmac, waiting for the preliminaries of landing to be over. Then, when Demetri strode across the apron to get into it, he discovered it wasn’t his father’s chauffeur who was driving. Ariadne Pavlos was seated behind the wheel, her glossy lips parted in a smile that was both welcoming and slightly smug.

‘Eh,’ she said, when Demetri climbed into the vehicle beside her. ‘A nice surprise, no?’

Demetri’s jaw tightened momentarily, the knowledge that he would have preferred not to have to deal with Ariadne tonight giving him pause. But then, realising why he was feeling this way, he forced a smile and leant across the console to kiss her. ‘A very nice surprise,’ he said untruthfully. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

‘Only about six years,’ she responded artfully, her tongue making contact with his before he could pull away. ‘You have missed me, yes?’

Demetri turned to fasten his seat belt. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, avoiding a direct reply. Then, in an effort to change the subject, ‘How is my father? Not too pleased that I cut the oil conference, I’ll bet.’

‘He is—OK.’ Ariadne spoke indifferently, glancing round with some impatience when Theo Vasilis deposited their luggage rather heavily into the back of the car. ‘Prosekheh!’ she ex-claimed irritably. Be careful. Then her eyes widened even further when Theo swung open the rear door and climbed into the back. Her head swung round to Demetri. ‘Must he come with us?’

‘Why not?’ Demetri’s response was innocent enough, but he couldn’t deny a sense of relief that Theo was coming along. He nodded towards the laptop the other man was carrying. ‘My father will expect a report on the meetings we’ve had while we’ve been in London.’

‘The meetings with your wife?’ suggested Ariadne silkily, her dark eyes alight with malice. ‘Oh, yes. I will be interested to hear about those myself.’

Demetri expelled a long breath. ‘Not that meeting,’ he said flatly. ‘The meetings we had with business associates.’

‘Ah, but those meetings are so boring, no?’ said Ariadne archly. ‘Tell me about your wife. Is she going to be difficult, do you think?’

Difficult! Demetri stifled the groan of frustration that rose inside him. But, ‘Not difficult, no,’ he told her, and then turned again to Theo in the back seat. ‘Did you collect all the papers from the plane?’

His meaning couldn’t have been plainer and, although Ariadne tossed her head as she reached for the ignition, she knew better than to pursue the matter now. There’d be time enough later, Demetri could almost hear her thinking. And dammit, why not? It was because of her—and his father’s illness—that he’d gone to see Jane in the first place.

Leaving the airport behind, they drove along the narrow country lane that led to the Souvakis estate. There was little to see in the car’s headlights but the coarse grass that grew alongside the road and the occasional stunted cypress. But Demetri knew that running parallel with the track were the sand dunes and beyond that the blue-green waters of the Aegean. It was spring in the islands and it would be good to wake up tomorrow morning and hear the murmur of the ocean instead of the hum of traffic outside his window.

But thinking of London wasn’t the wisest thing to do in the circumstances. It reminded him too much of what had happened earlier in the day. And he couldn’t help but compare Ariadne’s dark, somewhat sultry, good looks with his wife’s fair-skinned beauty. They were so different, he thought, not welcoming the comparison: Ariadne, full-figured and voluptuous, and Jane, tall, slender, hiding her sensuous nature behind a tantalising façade of cool composure.

He squashed that thought, saying tersely, ‘Did you attend your cousin’s wedding?’

‘Julia? But, of course.’ Ariadne shrugged as the tall wooden gates that marked the entrance to the estate came into view. She flashed the car’s headlights, and a man appeared from the white-painted gatehouse to one side of the gates, hurriedly releasing the latch and throwing them wide. ‘Naturally, I was the only woman there without an escort. Thia Thermia said I should not have allowed you to go away at such a time.’

‘She would.’ Demetri’s mouth compressed. He wasn’t unduly worried what Thermia Adonides thought of him. She was also Ianthe’s mother and because of that she already disapproved of him. He’d been amazed that she hadn’t attempted to thwart his and Ariadne’s relationship, but evidently the advantages of his wealth far outweighed any misgivings she might retain.

Demetri raised a hand to Georgiou, the gatekeeper, as they drove past, and then the powerful vehicle was accelerating up the long, winding drive to the main house. The villa, which stood on a small plateau overlooking the ocean, was still occupied by his parents. Demetri had built his own house on the property, but since Jane’s departure he tended to spend much of his time elsewhere.

His mother often complained that they saw little of him, and it was true that until his father’s illness, Demetri had spent little time at home. He worked hard, and there was no denying that his work had saved his sanity. If he’d played hard, too, he’d told himself he deserved it. He’d been certain he’d never succumb to any other woman’s appeal.

And he hadn’t. It was only when he’d discovered his father’s illness was terminal that he’d been persuaded to consider marrying again. Ariadne was the perfect candidate: she was single, she was Greek and his mother approved of her.

A paved forecourt fronted the cluster of buildings that comprised barns and garages as well as his parents’ home. Ariadne brought the car to a halt and turned off the engine. But when Theo sprang out and Demetri made to open his door, her hand on his arm arrested him.

‘Wait,’ she said huskily. ‘Talk to me, Demetri. Tell me you haven’t changed your mind.’

Demetri stared at her, the lights that encircled the courtyard illuminating the anxious expression in her dark eyes. ‘Changed my mind?’ he echoed, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He put out his hand and cupped her cheek. ‘Sweetheart, whatever gave you that idea?’