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Chapter Three

‘I WISH you had told me it was the Greek Embassy, instead of just saying a foreign embassy,’ Phoebe said, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. She certainly hadn’t gone out of her way to put herself in the path of any Greeks in the last five years.

‘What difference does it make? Foreign, Greek, French—the same crowd attends all of them. Stop worrying, Phoebe. You look stunning in that silver thing, and you fit in perfectly among the international elite of our capital city—in fact you are the best-looking woman here by a mile.’

‘Flatterer, Julian! And my dress is not silver, but pale grey,’ she informed her partner with a smile as they moved slowly in the line to be presented to the Greek ambassador to London. ‘And this is a big step up for a history teacher from Dorset—an ambassador’s ball.’ And she would bet the simple jersey silk halter dress she was wearing was a fraction of the cost of every other woman’s gown in the place.

‘Rubbish! You studied politics as well as history, and you are smarter than most of the females here. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to switch careers and join the Foreign Office in London with me?’

‘No—and anyway, you are hardly ever in London, but off all over the world on government jaunts most of the time.’

Julian shook his head. ‘You know me too well, that is the trouble,’ he said with a mock sigh.

Phoebe laughed, but it was true. He was three years older than her and he had known her almost all her life. Her Aunt Jemma had worked as his father’s secretary for years, and after the old man’s death Julian had inherited everything. But instead of taking over the full time running of the vast Gladstone estate, as his father had, he had hired an estate manager as he much preferred his government career.

Her Aunt Jemma lived in a cottage on the outskirts of a village on the estate, and Phoebe had spent part of the summer holiday at her aunt’s for as long as she could remember. After her parents had died it had become her permanent home. Still was, she thought with a wry smile.

‘Stop daydreaming, girl,’ Julian quipped, ‘It is our turn.’ He stopped. ‘Phoebe, meet Alessandro, our Greek ambassador and a good friend of mine—who, I might add, is a widower, and will be sorely missed by the ladies in the drawing rooms of London when he returns to his own country next month.’

Phoebe smiled at Julian’s informal introduction and held out her hand to the distinguished-looking man standing in front of her. ‘Pleased to meet you. I am Phoebe Brown.’

He was a very attractive man, with silver hair and a warm smile, and this ball was apparently his way of saying goodbye to the other ambassadors of the international community in London. Something Julian had omitted to tell her when he had talked her into attending the ball with him.

‘The pleasure is mine, Phoebe. Now I understand why Julian has spent so much time in Dorset lately. It is always a delight to meet a beautiful woman.’ His dark eyes twinkled, and she was flattered as he asked her a few questions about her life.

Beginning to relax, she held Julian’s arm as he let her down the staircase into the elegant ballroom. He took a couple of glasses of champagne from a circling waiter and handed her one.

‘Not as bad as you feared?’ He touched his glass to hers. ‘To an interesting night.’

Phoebe smiled and took a sip of the excellent champagne. ‘You know, Julian, for once you may be right.’

The band struck up a waltz, and Julian took her glass from her hand and placed both on a nearby table. ‘I’m sure I can do this,’ he declared, wrapping an arm around her waist and taking her hand in his. ‘I watched some celebrity ballroom dancing show while I was consigned to the country for so long.’

Phoebe laughed out loud. ‘A few weeks with your legs in plaster and being convalescent for another two months watching television does not a dancer make,’ she quipped.

‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ he mocked, and led her onto the dance floor.

Surprisingly, he was an excellent dancer, and Phoebe knew he had not really learnt from the television—though it was a fact that his enforced sojourn at the family manor in Dorset was the longest period he had stayed there in his adult life, after smashing both his legs in a motorcycle accident.

Julian, six-feet-two, twenty-nine years old, unmarried and undeniably handsome, with blond hair, grey eyes and a wicked smile, enjoyed playing the typical man about town. But after being a long-time family friend over the last few months he had developed his relationship with Phoebe into something a bit more. At first she had thought it was because, devoid of much female company in rural Dorset, he considered her his best bet. But his kisses were persuasive, and he had almost convinced her otherwise. Tonight they were staying at his London apartment after the ball, and though he had never said she got the impression he was hoping for a lot more than kisses. But, having been burnt before, she was still a bit wary.

In fact she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have changed her mind if she had known the ball was at the Greek Embassy before they had arrived. But it was too late. Besides, no doubt her fears were groundless, she decided, and she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’

Phoebe grinned up at him. ‘Oh, they are worth a lot more than that. If you are good, I will tell you later,’ she teased, and he stopped for a second and held her closer.

‘Trust me, I can be very good when the occasion arises.’ The look in his eyes was sexually explicit.

‘Behave yourself and dance,’ she said, smiling, pleased by the sudden slight tingle of awareness she felt. Maybe tonight would be the right time to move on. She had certainly been celibate far too long…

Then the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, and she had the oddest feeling it had nothing to do with Julian. Someone was watching her.

Ten minutes later, standing at the bar in an adjoining room, Julian ordered a whisky and soda. He wasn’t a champagne man. He ordered a fruit juice for Phoebe. One glass of champagne was enough for Phoebe, and she was thirsty. The barman served them and, picking up her glass, she took a refreshing drink before placing the glass back on the bar.

‘This is an embassy, right?’ she said, grinning up at Julian. ‘So where is the Ferrero Rocher?’ she teased. She was laughing with him when the ambassador appeared beside them and cut in.

‘That advert is a very old joke,’ he chuckled. ‘But I am glad to see you two are enjoying yourselves. Now, allow me to introduce my daughter, Sophia.’

Phoebe turned slightly, her eyes still lit with humour, and shook hands with a smiling, raven-haired and very attractive woman.

‘And this is her boyfriend, Jed Sabbides—chairman of the Sabbides Corporation.’ The ambassador moved to one side. ‘Our families have been friends for years,’ he inserted, his voice filled with pride as he made the introduction.

At the mention of a name she’d hoped never to hear again Phoebe froze, and then he was standing in front of her, and she knew exactly who had been watching her. Her worst fear was stupefying reality.

Speechless and rigid with shock, she stared at him, and for a moment all she could see was the powerfully drawn face of Jed Sabbides, the man who had been her first lover. Her heart hammered in her chest and she drew in a deep, unsteady breath, willing the shock to recede.

He was wearing an elegantly tailored black dinner suit, as were all the men present, with a brilliant white shirt and black bow tie, and his eyes were equally black as they briefly met hers. He looked older, and there were a few threads of grey in the thick curly hair. The planes of his arrogant masculine face were a little sharper, and the lines around his eyes and bracketing his nose a shade deeper. He was in his mid-thirties now, and the extra years had only served to give him an even more impregnable self-assurance, but she would have recognised that harshly handsome face anywhere.

Only by a stupendous effort of will did she force her smile to stay in place as the introductions were made.

Would Jed admit he knew her? That was the question screaming in her mind. No, of course not—he was with his girlfriend, for heaven’s sake.

‘Phoebe.’ A strong, long-fingered hand reached out for hers.

She steeled herself to take the hand he offered, ‘Pleased to see you, Jed,’ she said noncommittally, still not sure if he was going to admit they knew each other.

‘The pleasure is all mine,’ he offered, and the dark eyes that met hers were sardonically mocking. The brilliant charm of his smile that had so captivated her the first time they’d met had gone, lost in the hard tight line of his mouth.

She withdrew her fingers before he could clasp them, but even so she was horrified to feel a familiar electric spark at his brief touch, and glanced away, instinctively moving closer to Julian for protection.

Not that she needed any. Jed obviously did not think it necessary to acknowledge their former relationship, and as far as Phoebe was concerned that was a relief. Apart from Aunt Jemma no one in her life today—not even Julian—knew of her past connection with the man, and that was the way she wanted it to stay…

The conversation became general, and Phoebe threw in the occasional comment when Julian drew her into the conversation, but she studiously avoided looking at Jed Sabbides.

Her glance rested instead on Sophia, his girlfriend. She was petite and beautiful, and the gown she wore screamed haute couture—a red strapless number that had been designed to cling to her every curve. Sophia was just the type a Greek tycoon like Jed would finally settle for and probably marry, Phoebe thought cynically. Wealthy, with family connections, and of course Greek.

‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before, Phoebe?’ The deep accented voice slipped the question casually into the conversation, and she had no choice but to look at him again.

This time Phoebe didn’t mind. Jed had never considered her good enough for him years ago—unlike Sophia, who apparently knew all his family and friends, Phoebe had been strictly mistress material. Now she realised she had had a lucky escape, because he certainly was not good for her now…

If he thought he could bait her with his sly questions he was wrong. Two could play at that game. She was no longer the naive girl he had seduced, but a mature women. Three years of teaching teenage girls more interested in boys than in learning had taught her to be assertive and resilient.

‘No, you must be mistaking me for someone else. This is the nearest to Greece I have ever been.’ He had certainly never taken her…

She saw the flicker of dark amusement in his eyes. The swine was enjoying this.

‘Then maybe you are a model and I have seen your picture in a magazine?’ he suggested, and she knew he was mocking her.

‘No, I am afraid not.’ Luckily for Phoebe his girlfriend took his arm, and stopped her from blurting out sarcastically that he had probably known so many women in his time the faces must blur together after a while…

‘You men know nothing about modeling, Jed,’ Sophia teased, hanging on to his arm. ‘Phoebe is much too big to be a model. They are all reed-thin, coat hanger types.’

Phoebe stopped feeling slightly sorry for Sophia, having a ruthless, arrogant devil like Jed for a boyfriend. A misnomer if ever she had heard one. She decided they made a

good match. Hidden behind the false smile and big brown eyes the woman was a bitch—with a huge bum, she thought rather cattily, not like her at all.

Phoebe had put on a couple of pounds in the past five years, though no one could call her fat. She taught physical education as well as history, and was well toned if slightly bigger in the chest. But there was a very good reason for that, and not one she wanted this pair to discover.

‘Your girlfriend is so right.’ She addressed Jed, but looked at Sophia. ‘Actually, I teach history at a girls’ school near my home,’ she informed them. Then, picking up her glass from the bar, she took a sip of juice and wished she had never let Julian persuade her to come to the ball.

‘History, Phoebe? An interesting subject. Which do you prefer to teach? Ancient or modern?’ Jed asked, with a sardonic arch of a black brow.

The damn man was baiting her again, and she could not help it—she flashed him a fulminating look. ‘Both.’

‘Wise of you. Past history can teach us a lot about people,’ he drawled.

Was she the only one who heard the cynicism in his tone? ‘I’m pretty sure there is not much anyone could teach you,’ Phoebe snapped, and stopped. Oh, hell! Why couldn’t she have kept her big mouth shut? They were all looking at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. Maybe she had. Jed Sabbides had always had that effect on her. But she knew him for what he was and she hated the man.

Julian’s hearty laugh broke the moment. ‘Ah, Phoebe, I take back what I said about you joining the Foreign Office.’ His arm came around her shoulders. ‘You would never make a diplomat.’ The three Greeks smiled rather conde-scendingly, Phoebe thought.

‘You say what you think—a fatal flaw in a member of the diplomatic corps.’ Julian dipped his head and brushed his lips lightly against hers. ‘But in every other respect you are flawless, Phoebe,’ he added.

For a brief moment Jed Sabbides was stunned by the sudden surge of anger he felt as Julian Gladstone kissed Phoebe. Five years since he had last seen her, since he had returned to find she had left him, taking everything he had given her and the cat…

He hadn’t been pleased at the time, but after what had happened between them he hadn’t been surprised and had moved on, taking it for granted she had done the same. Phoebe was nothing to him now, he told himself. But he could not resist teasing her, wondering how long she could keep up the lie about not knowing him.

Yet seeing another man actually kiss Phoebe had stirred a primitive proprietorial instinct in him he had thought long gone. And she was wearing diamonds he had gifted her, which somehow offended him even more—though she had certainly earned them. He had never had such a sexually compatible bed partner before or since Phoebe, and the realisation dented his firm control.

‘I remember where I saw you, Phoebe.’ Jed was no longer amused, but angered by her denial of him, and dropped all pretence. ‘You were working as a receptionist in a hotel I stayed at once. You were a student at the time, I believe.’ Let her wriggle her way out of that one.

‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ she offered. ‘I did once work part-time in a hotel, but a lot of people pass through a hotel reception and I don’t remember all of them.’ Implying he was not memorable…

The elegant woman now standing before him was the opposite of the innocent wanton Jed remembered. The silver-grey silk gown clung to her every curve, and the high heels she wore added to her above average height. She looked at him with cool blue eyes and, knowing he had been insulted, he reluctantly had to admire her defiant response. He did not remember Phoebe being so feisty in the past.

‘Come on, Jed.’ Sophia grabbed his arm. ‘The band is playing our tune—let’s dance.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, glancing down at Sophia, his anger abating and his control restored. He realised a trifle ironically that Phoebe enraged him but the woman he intended asking to marry him did the opposite—she left him cold.

He led Sophia on to the dance floor and held her close. The music was slow, her head was resting on his chest and he was content to leave her that way. It avoided his having to talk and gave him time to think.

He never usually attended this kind of gathering, but as Sophia had asked him and she was the ambassador’s daughter he had agreed. They were staying at the embassy tonight, and he had decided it would be a good opportunity to do the conventional thing and ask her father for her hand in marriage before proposing.

Sophia was an attractive woman, well known for her voluntary work as a fundraiser for numerous charities in Athens. She was also a family friend and Greek, so she knew what was expected from a Greek wife, and if she was a bit stocky from the waist down he could live with that. She had good child-bearing hips—or so he had thought half an hour ago…

Sophia and her father had been opening the dancing, and he had stood at the top of the staircase, a glass of champagne in his hand. He had taken a sip and glanced idly around the room and stiffened, his dark eyes narrowing on the striking looking couple stopped in the middle of the dance floor.

The stem of the champagne glass had shattered in his fingers. But Jed had dismissed the hovering waiter’s concern, his eyes fixed on the couple. The man was tall and blond and the woman in his arms was Phoebe…There was no mistake. Her image was engraved in his mind for all time. Phoebe Brown…

Her fair hair was swept severely back from her face, revealing her exquisite features, her head was tilted back and she was smiling up at her companion. His intent gaze had followed the slender line of her throat down to the creamy curves of her breasts, the tantalising cleavage shown to advantage by the halter-style long dress she was wearing. He had shoved his hand into his pants pocket, surprised by the stirring of arousal he had felt looking at her. But then she had always had that affect on him, and seemingly nothing had changed…

He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Her partner spun her around and Jed had noted her once shoulder-length hair was much longer, and cascaded in gleaming waves down her back to end a few inches short of her narrow waist. Then he’d recognised something.

The diamond clip in the shape of a butterfly holding the sides of her hair at the crown of her head was a present he had given her. At the beginning of their affair he had teased her about shoving her hair behind her ears and fastening it with a rubber band. It was the first piece of jewellery he had bought her, and she had taken it with all the rest when she had left the apartment.

He had told himself at the time they were gifts, little enough for what she had gone through, and dismissed her from his mind. So why now was he bothered at seeing her wearing his gift when she was with another man? They were close—it was obvious by their body language. Almost certainly lovers, maybe even man and wife.

For some reason he did not question too deeply why he wanted to know. Then he’d seen his soon-to-be fiancée and her father approach, and forced a smile to his lips. Feigning a mild interest in the tall blond man with a few judicious questions to the ambassador, he’d discovered a lot about him.

Apparently Julian Gladstone was a wealthy landowner, and a fast rising star in the Foreign Office, known for his brilliant linguistic skills. The ambassador knew little about Phoebe, but he’d offered to introduce Gladstone, saying Jed would like the man—everyone did…

Well, he had met him…and he didn’t. Jed’s lips formed a cynical twist. But he could see why Phoebe or any woman would…The younger man was the golden-haired Adonis-type, but the steel-grey eyes told him Gladstone was no push over. In other circumstances, he admitted wryly, he probably would have liked him!

‘Jed, the band has stopped playing.’ Sophia wriggled sensually against him and he felt nothing. ‘You were miles away.’ She pouted.

‘Lost in your embrace,’ he said smoothly, and with a hand at her back led her towards the group at the bar.

Sophia was not fooled, and in a sulk she made a beeline for Julian, fluttering her long lashes at him and suggesting they dance.

Jed’s lips twisted again. Whether Sophia was a natural flirt or trying to make him jealous, he didn’t care. Gladstone was too much of a gentleman to refuse her, and it gave Jed the opportunity to move in on Phoebe.

‘That leaves you and me, Phoebe.’ He saw the rejection in her brilliant blue eyes, followed by a stiffening of her spine and a determined tilt to her small chin. ‘Dance with me,’ he demanded, and wrapped his hand around her wrist before she could refuse him.

Phoebe had opened her mouth to say no, but the electric touch of Jed’s smooth palm against her skin made her catch her breath, and she was too late as his other hand slid around her waist and drew her against him and on to the dance floor.

The music was slow again…

She rested one hand on his broad shoulder, trying to keep some distance between them. Preferably the Arctic Ocean…

And why didn’t this damn band play anything but mood music? she wondered as he moved her to the romantic rhythm with consummate ease. But her real problem was he was moving other parts of her she had considered thoroughly immune to him for years.

Get a grip…Jed Sabbides is just a man, like any other, and not a very nice one at that, she told herself. All she had to do was dance with him. She didn’t have to speak to him. Turning her head slightly, she stared over his shoulder, but she could feel his dark eyes on her.

‘Not looking at me won’t make me go away, Phoebe.’ He chuckled—a deep, throaty sound. ‘So stop staring into space and tell me how you have been. Good, by the look of you. If anything, you are more beautiful than ever.’

She glanced up at him then. ‘Thank you, I am fine,’ she said, determined to be coolly polite. But it was difficult with Jed’s arms around her and his piercing dark eyes holding hers.

‘Then tell me why, given our past relationship, I get the feeling you wish you had never set eyes on me again. Even denying we had met?’ he asked, with a mocking smile.

‘Me?’ Phoebe raised a delicately shaped eyebrow. ‘I gave you the opportunity to acknowledge we knew each other when I said I was pleased to see you, instead of meet you. You didn’t take it, and I understood why. Obviously you did not want to upset Sophia. But what I don’t understand is why you started playing your stupid games. You should think yourself lucky I didn’t blurt out the truth,’ she said her blue eyes hard. ‘Your fiancée does not need to know what a louse you are.’ That knocked the smile off his face, she noted, and felt the sudden tension in his body.

‘Sophia is not my fiancée.’

‘Tell that to the ambassador, because I think he’s hoping she is going to be very soon.’

‘Sophia might have given him that impression,’ he said, without any inflection whatsoever, ‘but it is not necessarily true.’

‘Well, for what it is worth I think you make the perfect couple.’

It suddenly occurred to Phoebe that if Jed was married and living in Greece with a family of his own she would feel a whole lot better and her secret would be safe.

‘Now, why would you encourage me to marry? Maybe because you have plans of your own with regard to Julian Gladstone and you don’t want me telling him about our affair and how it ended?’ he mused. ‘Is that it, Phoebe? You want to keep our tragic little secret?’

Her face paled. That he should remind her of the miscarriage was bad enough, but if Jed ever knew the whole truth…

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Julian and I have been friends for years, and he knows everything about me. I just think you and Sophia look good together.’

‘And lovers for how long?’

‘That is none of your business,’ Phoebe said tightly.

He said nothing, just held her eyes with one of his dis-concertingly astute looks. Then, from holding her hand loosely in his, he suddenly linked his long lean fingers with hers and clasped them against his broad chest.

Phoebe knew she was in deep trouble.

She felt the warmth of his other hand flex at the back of her waist, and his long fingers trailed gently up her spine to find the smooth skin of her bare back beneath the heavy curtain of her hair. The blood seemed to heat in her veins, and long forgotten sensations flooded through her.

She did not want to feel like this. She did not want to feel anything with this man. She stiffened, every nerve stretched to breaking point, as she fought to stay in control. All she had to do was get through the rest of this dance, this one evening, and she would never see Jed again, she told herself.

‘Enough about other people, Phoebe,’ Jed drawled huskily, and dipped his dark head, bringing his mouth very close to her ear. ‘And enjoy the dance. You always loved dancing with me in the past and nothing has changed. Relax—you know you want to.’

He was so close she could inhale his clean male scent, the subtle hint of expensive cologne that was achingly familiar. His hand at her back stroked down and urged her into even closer contact with him.

Phoebe looked up and caught the sensual glitter in his eyes. Shockingly, she felt the hard pressure of his erection against her thigh, and a shiver snaked down her spine, curled in her belly. For a terrifying second she was tempted.

‘The chemistry between us is still there, Phoebe. I can feel you trembling,’ he declared huskily.

The girl he had known would have blushed and then eagerly melted against him. But Phoebe wasn’t that person any more. She had more courage and more self-respect than to succumb to an arrogant, over-sexed swine like Jed, and more importantly she had more than herself to protect…

The knowledge gave her strength, and she lowered her hand from his shoulder to shove against his chest. Tilting her head back, she looked straight up at him. ‘Remember where you are and save it for your girlfriend. As for trembling—that was a shiver of revulsion. You disgust me, Jed,’ she declared scathingly.

She was fierce, and the deliberately aimed blow to his ego was savage, but Jed Sabbides was a threat to the comfortable life she had made for herself, and she wanted to make absolutely sure he would never want to see or speak to her again.

He stopped. He looked down at her and she could sense the tension in his big body. His hands fell to his sides and she could see it in the dark eyes that surveyed her from head to toe. His mouth was tightly compressed, and she expected him to explode with anger. But he didn’t.

‘A bit of overkill there, Phoebe, but I get your point. The music has stopped—shall we join the others?’ And, taking her arm, he curled his firmly chiselled lips in a sardonic smile. ‘By the way, I am glad to see you still wear the clip I bought you. It looks even better with your hair so much longer.’

Phoebe had forgotten all about the damn clasp in her hair. It was the only piece of jewellery she had kept, and now she wished she had not. She blushed…

Jed knew enough about women to know Phoebe had lashed out at him not because she was disgusted but because she was scared by her own response. ‘So you can still blush, Phoebe.’ And, lifting her chin with his finger, he looked deep into her eyes. ‘I’m glad you kept something I gave you, Phoebe, though we both know it was not what you really wanted, and for that I am truly sorry,’ he said sincerely.

Her reaction astounded him. She gasped and twisted her head away, but not before he caught the flash of panic laced with fear in her eyes. He reached for her arm, but she shrugged him off and walked swiftly back to Julian without a word in response.

Phoebe’s reaction intrigued him. In his own way he had been trying to be compassionate by alluding to their shared past and her tragic miscarriage, not throw her into a panic, and he had to wonder why.

Seated in the back seat of Julian’s chauffeur-driven Bentley, Phoebe asked him how far it was to his apartment.

‘We are not going to my apartment, Phoebe, you can relax. I’ve instructed Max to take us back to Dorset. Much as I fancy you, I don’t want to be a stand in for another man. The journey will take an hour or so—plenty of time for you to tell me all about Jed Sabbides. You did know him, didn’t you?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes, I met him when I was at university.’ And she told Julian everything.

It was cathartic in way, and it put her reaction to Jed in perspective again.

‘The man did not strike me as that shallow, but it his loss,’ Julian said, and put an arm around her. ‘Forget about the rat.’

And she almost did…

Especially when on arriving home Julian smilingly warned her, “I’m not giving up totally, Phoebe. I’ll be away for a couple of weeks or so and I’ll call when I get back.’ Then he kissed her lightly on the lips and left.