Stranded with Her Greek Tycoon Page 11

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  Cristos was lost in admiration of Hayley’s knowledge and practical skills when it came to working with the island’s power system. Fortunately, although there was a solid cover of snow, the wind had dropped so the low wind-chill factor made it possible for her to work outside.

  She teamed up with one of the Athens cousins who was an electrician. Between them, Hayley and the cousin did their best to make sure the resort wasn’t going to lose electricity. They fixed the faulty connection that had caused the power hiccup and got the generator ready to kick into action if required. There wasn’t much for him and Alex to do except provide muscle where required.

  It was a novelty for Cristos to take orders from his wife as she enlisted help to clear the snow from the panels. With a bunch of Greek men taking direction from a petite, blonde woman doing skilled manual work there was much good-natured banter. Cristos was surprised to see how well she took it, how happy and relaxed she seemed, giving as good as she got. He realised he knew nothing about her work in Australia, the life she had built up as an apparently single woman with no ring on her finger and no husband’s name attached to hers.

  And yet there had been no other man in her bed.

  When it was done, he offered Hayley a hand to help her down the ladder, was surprised when she accepted. She’d been so keen to assert her independence.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said as she jumped the final step back onto the ground. This was the only time he’d been alone with her all morning.

  ‘Careful, it’s slippery there.’ He put his arm around her to steady her. A helpful, impersonal touch, as even his grandfather might offer.

  ‘Yes, we’ve churned up the snow and it’s freezing into ice.’

  She was wearing sturdy work boots provided by, surprisingly, his grandmother. Her work gloves had come from his grandfather. Stavros had helped wherever he could. Penelope had stood for a while observing the process before she’d disappeared back inside. Cristos detected a grudging admiration for Hayley from his yia-yia. His grandmother was a great believer in honest hard work—another of the reasons she’d loathed his father.

  Once Hayley gained her balance she shrugged off his arm and rubbed both gloved hands together. ‘A job well done,’ she said with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘We shouldn’t have to worry about lighting or heating or access to the internet now. But we should try and keep the panels free of any further snowfalls.’

  Her face was flushed high on her cheekbones, which accentuated the blue of her eyes and her naturally pink lips. It wasn’t just cold, he realised, but exhilaration.

  ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you?’ he said.

  ‘I did. I was glad to be able to help. It was interesting too, to see how things are done here with solar. There are some slight differences.’

  ‘I can speak on behalf of everyone here when I say how grateful we are for your help.’

  Hayley wore a bulky too-big jacket in an unflattering shade of brown and an even uglier fleece hat she’d found somewhere, her hair was dark with damp and clinging to her face, and her nose glowed red with cold. She looked beautiful.

  ‘I thrive on hard work, Cristos. Always have.’

  And he hadn’t seen that. Or he’d seen it and glossed over it. He’d been so determined to give her the life his father had never given his mother that he had failed to see Hayley’s needs—needs so very different from those of his mother from another generation and culture. He’d thought he knew what his wife needed—and hadn’t listened to her when she’d told him what she wanted.

  ‘It wasn’t enough, was it?’ he asked her now. ‘The apartment in fashionable Brera in old Milan, the designer clothes we got at a discount, the parties.’

  ‘I wasn’t cut out to be a housewife, Cristos. Not at that age. Probably not at any age. The apartment was so tiny it took no time to clean. Brera was funky and fun but even shopping gets boring. Sitting at a café nibbling on biscotti and drinking the best cappuccino in the world paled after a while. If I didn’t bury myself in a book, the Italian guys were annoyingly persistent in trying to pick me up. Remember, I didn’t wear my wedding ring in public. I tried to learn the language but missed classes when you were back from a shoot so I could be with you. My friends had all finished uni and were working. The life of a kept woman wasn’t really for me.’

  ‘You tried to tell me all that—’

  ‘But maybe not loudly enough. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. I mean... Milano. People would kill to live in such an exciting city.’

  ‘But you were there too often on your own. I see that now.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. The one word told him more than she might have imagined.

  ‘And you thought I was with other women.’

  ‘Sometimes. You’re such a handsome man, I could see the hunger for you in their eyes.’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘But not in my eyes,’ he said. ‘That was only for you.’

  He’d had to handle unwanted attention from when he was a young teenager. Living in a tourist area meant women looking for a fling with a local. Someone to boast about after they’d gone home—like a sexual trophy. He’d even had older women suggesting they could initiate him. It had disgusted him. He’d only been interested in girls his own age. Good looks could be a burden, which was why he had been willing to try and earn money by exploiting them commercially—for him and Hayley. ‘Do you believe me now that there was never any other woman?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she said firmly. ‘Back then I doubted you because I was insecure. You were sometimes away for weeks at time. A man used to regular sex.’

  ‘With his wife. I was trying to do the best I could for you, for us.’ He couldn’t keep the note of anguish from his voice, cursed himself for it. One thing that had been drilled into him was that a man never showed weakness. He couldn’t let the mask slip.

  ‘And I wanted to let you shine,’ she said. ‘I never wanted to squash my husband the way my mother did to my dad. Whatever you felt you needed to do, I was behind you. But while you shone, I... I grew duller and duller. Until I was so tarnished I felt you didn’t see me any more.’

  How could his beloved Hayley ever have got to feel that way? How had he taken his eye so off the ball? ‘Never,’ he said. ‘You were never, ever dull in my eyes.’ He looked down into her face. ‘You have to believe that. You were smart, beautiful—still are—and all I wanted to do was give you a good life.’

  ‘You came home with stories of shoots in Venice and I struggled to find something interesting to say about my day. I needed to work, to have a life outside that apartment.’

  ‘We should have moved back to London.’ He cursed. ‘Why didn’t I know you were feeling like that?’

  ‘Why didn’t I tell you? I look back and see I also was at fault when back then I thought it was only you in the wrong.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re being way too reasonable. Way too English. You shouldn’t have had to tell me. I should have realised. And then when you got pregnant I—’

  A switch seemed to turn off behind her eyes and she put up her hand in the thick glove. ‘You know I don’t want to talk about that. Especially not here, not now.’ She looked over his shoulder and he turned.

  Dell was headed their way with steaming mugs of coffee and his favourite cheese pie, tiropita. His cousin’s wife, a food blogger, had become quite the Greek food aficionado since she’d married Alex.

  ‘Hayley, you’re a wonder woman,’ Dell said. ‘I can’t believe you know how all that stuff works and how to fix it.’

  Hayley shrugged but she looked pleased. ‘It’s my job,’ she said. ‘And I’m glad to be of help.’

  ‘Seriously, we would have been in big trouble if we’d lost power. I really don’t know how to thank you.’

  Hayley, flushed with pleased embarrassment, looked up to Cristos for help with the answer.

  ‘M
y wife is a wonder woman all right,’ he said. He put his arm around Hayley to draw her close, though he could scarcely feel where her waist was through the jacket. ‘And she’s family, of course she wants to help.’

  Dell smiled and Cristos could tell she was delighted that he and his estranged wife were getting on so well. He hoped he would never have to tell her the truth. Dreaded the thought of Hayley becoming part of family history as Cristos’s English ex-wife.

  Dell indicated the coffee and pie she held on a tray. ‘I’ve brought nourishment, but you should come inside.’

  Hayley shook her head. ‘I’d love a snack but I don’t want to go inside. It’s cold out here but so beautiful. Like a fairyland.’ The clouds were clearing and a pale sun glinted off the snow reflecting like tiny crystals. They had woken up to a completely different, snow-shrouded landscape.

  ‘I’ll stay here with you,’ he said, holding the tray for Dell. ‘I’ve never seen the island under snow either.’

  ‘None of us have,’ said Dell. ‘But it’s too darn cold for my Aussie blood.’

  Hayley took a piece of the pie—crisp filo pastry enclosing a savoury cheese filling—and a mug of coffee. ‘Thanks Dell, it was worth getting up on that roof just to taste this.’

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ said Dell. ‘Thank Penelope. She baked the tiropita and she suggested I bring it out to you.’ She smiled at Cristos. ‘And you too, of course, Cristos. She said it’s been your favourite since you were a little boy.’

  Hayley’s eyebrows rose. ‘Did I hear that right? Penelope sent me out some pie?’ She glanced up at Cristos.

  ‘Looks like you’re making a good impression,’ he said. ‘Who knew getting your hands dirty on a diesel generator would get you into Yia-yia’s good books.’

  He laughed, but inside he felt bleak. Maybe if Hayley had felt welcome in his family she might not have run so far away from him. But perhaps that had had more to do with her parents’ dislike of him. Whatever had happened, he’d always had a feeling her mother had stage-managed it.

  ‘What was that you said about making a snowman on the beach?’ he asked Hayley. ‘When you’ve finished your pie, I’ll take you down there.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘I might even challenge you to a snowball fight.’ Cristos tried not to think of tussling with Hayley in the snow, pinning her down, claiming a kiss because he won. Or conceding defeat and letting her have her way with him.

  ‘Before you do,’ said Dell, ‘I’d like to run an idea by you. The troops are getting restless, not knowing when they’re going to get off the island. Alex and I thought we might have a party tonight. What do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s a very good idea,’ Cristos said.

  ‘Me too,’ said Hayley.

  ‘It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow,’ said Dell. ‘What do you think of a Valentine’s theme? You two lovebirds should approve.’

  Cristos sensed Hayley still and watched the colour drain from her face. How could Dell be so insensitive? But how could he blame her? He and Hayley had obviously put on too good an act of being reconciled.

  He shrugged. ‘Valentine’s? Sure. Why not?’

  ‘What about you, Hayley? You seem a bit stunned by the idea,’ said Dell.

  Cristos could see Hayley’s struggle to compose herself. ‘I was just wondering what people would wear. I’ve only got the trousers and sweater I wore yesterday and these jeans.’

  ‘That’s not a problem,’ said Dell. ‘I can loan you something. I’m a size bigger than you now but I’ve got smaller clothes I haven’t been able to fit into since Georgios was born. The other guests are in the same boat clothes-wise but no one will really care. They all wore something nice for our vow-renewal ceremony—they can wear that again.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Hayley. ‘I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you.’

  She didn’t meet his gaze. The word lovebirds hung between them as if it were really a bird, fluttering its wings for attention.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what people wear,’ he said. ‘It will keep people’s minds off their plight and we’ll all have fun.’

  ‘What can I do to help?’ asked Hayley.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Dell. ‘You’ve done more than enough. All you have to do is enjoy yourself. Isn’t that right, Cristos?’

  Dell glanced back over her shoulder to give him a knowing look before she headed back into the resort with her tray.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HAYLEY DREADED THE Valentine-themed party. Not because she didn’t think it was a good idea. As Dell had said, the guests were indeed getting fed up with their enforced vacations and wanting to get back to their homes. Tempers were fraying and annoyance being expressed, even with the awareness that the delay was no one’s fault but Mother Nature’s. Down on the beach that afternoon some of the snowballs had been thrown by the older kids with rather too much vigour and there’d been more than the odd tantrum from the toddlers. A party might help everyone relax.

  No, that was not what bothered her about the party. The reason she was tying herself up in anxious knots was that she and Cristos were obviously expected to act like ‘lovebirds’.

  Getting to know Cristos again wasn’t in any way straightforward. Being in such proximity to him was slowly scratching at the scars of old memories from their shared past. And then there were the scars beneath the scars. The painful process was forcing her to really look at her relationship with her husband and the circumstances that had ended it. And some of it puzzled her.

  Then there was the shadow that the past threw on the present. She’d thought she was happy in Sydney. But seeing Cristos again was messing with her head—as well as sending all sorts of confusing messages to her body. Her job was fulfilling, she’d made new friends, she lived in a charming older-style apartment on the north shore near Sydney Harbour. What was missing was a man. Her man.

  Could any man ever match up to Cristos?

  Rather than bundling the past into a big box to shove somewhere in the recesses of her mind, with the divorce being the ribbon neatly tying it all up, she was beginning to rethink her time with Cristos.

  Could she have got him wrong back then?

  Trouble was, if she were Hayley and he were Cristos, Dell and Alex’s guests having just met for the first time yesterday—she’d be madly attracted to him and excited at the possibility of falling for him.

  As it was, she and Cristos were still wearing their wedding rings and she was more mixed up than ever. Would the evening involve more fake embraces and fake kisses? Each time she remembered how happy she’d been with him, she wanted those kisses to be real.

  Cristos had not been back to ‘their’ room since he’d left that morning and it felt very empty without him. She closed her eyes to try to recapture his presence, his scent, but there was only the lemon and thyme tang of the resort shampoo she had just used in the shower. She looked over to that big, empty bed. Forced herself not to walk over to it. Not a good idea to go lie down on ‘his’ side, put her head on his pillow and try and breathe in his essence. Though she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t do that after the party when she climbed between those cold solitary sheets.

  She wondered what his grandparents would make of Cristos bunking down on their sofa. Penelope would probably be delighted. And yet... Penelope was turning out to be not quite the witch Hayley had thought her. As evidenced by the gorgeous shoes Cristos’s grandmother had loaned her for the evening.

  She was going to the party in borrowed finery. Dell had rummaged through her wardrobe to find her a stylish dress in just the right size, elegant with a nod to retro. The fitted bodice with a scoop neck enhanced her curves and revealed a glimpse of cleavage; the tight, three-quarter-length sleeves were perfect for the cold weather, and the skirt was cut in a slim line with a split at the back. It made her wiggle when she walked.

  ‘Perfect for Vale
ntine’s,’ Dell had enthused. ‘It really suits you.’

  Trouble was, the dress was pink. And Hayley never wore pink. She’d always wanted to be taken seriously in her career in a man’s world. Petite, blonde and dressed in pink just didn’t cut it.

  But to refuse Dell’s kind offer would have been exceedingly impolite. ‘Thank you, Dell,’ she’d said as she’d hugged her new friend. ‘It’s a lovely dress.’ Besides, it wasn’t a bright candy pink, it was more a soft dusky rose. And looked way better on than she would have imagined. Maybe she should rethink pink.

  But she only had knee-length daytime boots with her. And Dell’s shoes were too big to borrow. That was where Penelope, who had the same size feet as Hayley, had come to the rescue. She’d insisted Hayley borrow a pair of smart, pewter-coloured stilettos subtly adorned with anthracite-like beads across the pointed toes. ‘I brought an extra pair with me for the ceremony,’ Penelope had explained. They’d fitted perfectly and looked fabulous with the dress.

  She’d just slipped into the shoes ready to go downstairs. She pointed her foot in front of her to better admire them. These were not old lady shoes. Hayley had lived in Milan long enough to recognise them as Italian designer. She had thanked Penelope with genuine delight.

  But she’d fussed around with the dress and shoes long enough. Her hair and make-up were fine too. Luckily she’d had some basic make-up packed in her handbag—for a final touch up after the boat ride before she’d faced Cristos yesterday for the first time in so long.

  Now it was time to head down to the party. If she was late, she would only draw attention to herself and she had no desire to be conspicuous. It was bad enough knowing she’d be entering a room where everyone knew each other and where they all were, in one way or the other, curious about her.

  She picked up the small purse Dell had loaned her and click-clacked in the stilettos across the marble floor to the door. As she did so there was a knock on the door. Cristos.

  ‘Are you decent?’ he called as she slid open the security lock.