Stranded with Her Greek Tycoon Page 13

  ‘You’re too generous,’ Hayley said, touched almost to tears. ‘I love the dress. Thank you.’ This particular shade of pink was growing on her.

  ‘Think of your friend Dell when you wear it and I’ll be happy.’

  Hayley hugged her again. ‘I see Alex beckoning you,’ she said, looking over Dell’s shoulder.

  ‘He wants to dance. Alex was such a party boy before we met. I had to have dance lessons to keep up with him.’

  Dell headed off to her husband. He swung her up in his arms and Dell laughed. Their love and joy in each other shone from them. When did that joy start to fade from her love for Cristos?

  What would it take to fan it back to life?

  The music switched to a Latin beat and within minutes Dell and Alex were dancing the salsa, dipping and twirling and undulating to the infectious beat. Hayley’s feet started to tap and her body to sway.

  ‘They look good, but are they as good as we were?’ Cristos’s voice came from behind her.

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ she said. ‘We were the best.’

  At Durham, she’d dragged him along to salsa-dancing classes not long after they’d met. He’d turned out to have amazing rhythm and style and had been very soon by far the best male dancer in the class.

  Now he handed her a cocktail, a very pink cocktail speared with a red cherry on a toothpick. ‘The mixologist behind the bar—’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘That’s what he called himself. He offered me a Lady in Red. I asked him to make me a Lady in Pink, just for you.’

  ‘How gallant.’ She sipped at the frothy pink confection. ‘Very nice, and packs quite a punch. What are you drinking?’ She eyed his red cocktail.

  ‘A pomegranate martini, using pomegranates grown on the island.’

  ‘Very Greek,’ she said. ‘It looks good.’ In the old days, she would have leaned forward without hesitation for a sip to taste.

  ‘He told me to come back for a Kiss on the Lips.’ Hayley raised her eyebrows. ‘For you,’ he hastily explained. ‘The drink would be for you.’

  She laughed. ‘I dare not ask what comes next in that sequence. Perhaps a Screaming Orga—’

  Now, why had she said that?

  He grinned. ‘This is a family party. He did mention he had some Hanky-Panky on offer.’

  Hayley spluttered on her drink. ‘We might leave it at that,’ she said, laughing. ‘Please don’t abandon me for too long when you get me my Kiss on the Lips. Dell had to rescue me from your friend Arianna.’

  He frowned. ‘She’s really not a friend of mine. Our grandmothers were friends and as kids we got thrown together, whether I liked it or not.’

  ‘She actually isn’t very nice, you know.’

  He groaned. ‘Tell me something I don’t know. Even as a kid she had a hard edge to her. Hence the one ill-advised date.’

  ‘You must have given her hope of some kind. She asked me had I left you because you were gay or did you leave me because I wasn’t woman enough for you.’

  Now it was Cristos’s turn to splutter into his drink. He cursed in Greek. ‘What did you say? I would have—’

  ‘I can’t remember the exact words but I think she got the message that it was none of her business.’

  ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘Diagonal corner, glaring at us. I think she’s had quite a bit to drink.’

  ‘She can’t speak to you like that,’ he said grimly. ‘I’m going to—’

  Hayley had always loved it when Cristos went all super-protective on her. But a confrontation with his unwanted admirer, who also happened to be a family friend, might not be the best idea. Something needed to be done to defuse the situation.

  She put down her cocktail. ‘Maybe a kiss on the lips might be a good idea right now.’

  ‘But you haven’t finished your—’

  She looked up at him. ‘I meant a real kiss on the lips, not the cocktail. You know, to show her that it was for neither of those reasons we split.’

  Cristos stared at her for a long moment, disbelief in his eyes, then a slow smile spread across his face. ‘With the greatest of pleasure,’ he said.

  She’d spoken more in jest but suddenly Hayley wanted Cristos to kiss her for real. No pretence. No hidden agenda. Just Cristos kissing her as he had so many times before. She wound her arms around his neck, tilted her head back in invitation. ‘C’mon, kiss on the lips.’

  His lips brushed hers gently at first, then with more pressure, his mouth firm and warm. She kissed him back with an enthusiasm that wasn’t in the slightest bit staged. ‘More,’ she murmured against his mouth. ‘We’re lovebirds, remember.’

  He needed no further urging and he claimed her mouth in a full-on passionate kiss, the tip of his tongue teasing hers. His kiss felt familiar, yet thrillingly new and she relaxed into the pleasure of it.

  The public kiss, staged for the benefit of a mean-spirited woman who showed no respect for a man’s wedding band, should have been enough but Hayley’s body urged more. She wanted tongues and teeth and moans and sighs and that delicious shiver of want rippling through her body that a kiss from Cristos could always evoke. She wanted more than his kiss; she ached for the pleasure of his touch on her body, his hands running down the sides of her breasts. She wanted—

  But they were at a family party on full display in front of his grandparents, cousins, friends and a number of kids. They couldn’t continue this for longer than would constitute appropriate under such circumstances—even for a married couple.

  But it was long enough and passionate enough to bring all the old feelings rushing back. And she kissed him back wholeheartedly and without reserve.

  Finally he murmured against her mouth. ‘That should do the trick.’ But by then she scarcely remembered the original purpose of the kiss. She just wanted more. Perhaps it was the Lady in Pink loosening her inhibitions. Perhaps it was the build-up of tension between her and Cristos since she’d first sighted him on the clifftop outside the chapel. The unacknowledged desire that had never gone away. She strained against him, breast to chest, thigh to thigh, but even through the fog of want and unanswered questions common sense prevailed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly, pulling away from him. She looked around him to where she’d last seen the woman who had given her a most unpleasant few moments. ‘She’s turned her back on us and is walking away.’

  ‘I think that’s the last trouble you’ll get from her,’ he said.

  ‘As long as she doesn’t trouble you after...after I go.’

  He put his fingers on her lips to stop her. ‘Didn’t I ask you not to talk about that? Tonight, it’s just us partying and enjoying ourselves.’

  ‘Sure,’ she murmured. He obviously hadn’t been as affected by the kiss as she had, although she noticed he was having to control his breathing. What could she do to let him know she wanted more, wanted him?

  He took her hand, tugged her towards him. ‘Come and dance with me. Ever since I saw Alex and Dell burning up the floor I’ve had a strangely competitive urge to show them what we can do. Are you with me?’

  She took a deep breath to try and gather her thoughts, still her racing heart. ‘Oh, yes. May the best couple win. And may that couple be us.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he said.

  They stood facing each other, waiting for the beat to start. Hayley felt a ripple of nerves. They’d danced so many times together in the past—would it be the same?

  He swung her into the salsa. Immediately they found their rhythm. Salsa was fast, energetic, sensual with lots of hip swaying and turning, improvised lifts and shoulder shimmies. Their dance teacher had told them it had roots in Latin dancing like mambo and cha-cha but was also influenced by Afro-Caribbean rhythms. Hayley had done ballet and jazz for years and enjoyed them but it wasn’t until she’d joined the danc
e club at uni that she’d got into salsa and loved it. But she’d never had a partner like Cristos. He was a superb dancer and she knew she was good too. Together they’d been sensational.

  He’d started classes with her at Durham before they were married. Latin dance was sensual and passionate; dancing with him had been like extended foreplay, fully clothed. But she’d been determined to wait to make love until after they were husband and wife. She had wanted him so desperately, and he her, that she sometimes wondered if they’d got married young simply so they could have sex. But she dismissed the thought. How could she separate the lust and love and sheer enjoyment of a man’s company? It had always been more than lust between them.

  Back then they’d been perfectly matched as dancing partners. Now they slipped right into the steps as though it had been days rather than years since they’d danced together. She’d prefer a dress that wasn’t as tight, and dancing shoes, but the tighter skirt gave more sway to her hips and she managed just fine. Cristos all in black was sensational; she found herself gasping at how sexy he was when he danced, how utterly beautiful. They were so in tune when they danced. As they had been in bed.

  What would it be like to make love with her husband again?

  They danced alongside Dell and Alex. ‘Are you challenging us to a dance-off?’ Alex called to his cousin. ‘If so, bring it on.’

  The two men threw their partners into ever more complex moves. Soon the other dancers had melted away from the dance floor as the two couples danced. Alex and Dell were good, very good. But Hayley thought Cristos was the superior male dancer and she was a trained dancer so that gave them an advantage. The observers cheering them on from the sidelines seemed to give them louder cheers but Alex and Dell were beloved and it was, after all, their party.

  The dance-off was ultimately declared a draw, which was the only possible result. ‘Although we really were the better dancers,’ her competitive husband whispered in her ear.

  Hayley could barely answer him. Dancing with Cristos had the same effect on her it always had. She felt flushed, exhilarated, breathless and more turned on than she would admit to from being held against his hard, strong body, pulsing her hips against his, feigning looks of passion that were anything but feigned. Excited because she realised his looks weren’t feigned either.

  But then she was whirled across to partner Alex while Cristos danced with Dell for a final salsa. The music switched to something more sedate and she found herself dancing in turn with the architect cousin from Athens, Alex’s doctor father from Sydney, and finally her grandfather-in-law, Stavros, who tested her on the Greek he had taught her while they’d been packing away the outdoor furniture before the storm. She found she enjoyed the big Greek family celebration more than she would ever have imagined.

  There was a short break for refreshments when the DJ switched to traditional Greek music. ‘Are the men going to dance?’ she asked Cristos, now back by her side.

  He nodded. ‘The men in our family enjoy horos. The traditional dances of these islands are always part of our celebrations.’

  ‘And the women? Do they dance too?’

  ‘Of course. But not tonight.’

  ‘Will you wear traditional costume?’

  ‘At other parties, yes. But this is an impromptu party. No one would have come prepared.’

  ‘Shame. I would have liked to see you in it.’

  When the men started dancing to the infectious music, Hayley couldn’t keep her eyes off Cristos. His natural rhythm and grace made even the simplest of steps look accomplished.

  Dell was beside her, her eyes on her beloved Alex. ‘They say some of these traditional dances started way back when as an innocuous way to flirt with women,’ she said.

  ‘I can see that,’ Hayley replied, mesmerised by the sight of her husband as he dipped and swayed and turned in step with the other men in the traditional dances, laughing, happy, relaxed. She’d been kidding herself the whole time she’d been in Australia that she could forget him. And it had been a battle with herself to channel her thoughts towards divorce since the moment she’d first seen him again at the chapel. It wasn’t that she was falling in love with him all over again.

  She had never stopped loving him.

  Finally the dancing ended and the guests started to dissipate and head to their rooms. Hayley stood about, uncertain of what to do next. Cristos had stated in no uncertain terms that he would not be sharing a room with her tonight. Yet they needed to keep up a pretence of unity.

  Cristos was talking with an older man she had scarcely spoken to. She walked up to her husband, planted a kiss on his cheek and said she was going up to their room and she’d see him when he came up. It was a typical husband-and-wife exchange, words only meant to maintain the illusion of their marriage, and she thought she handled it well. But it took a real effort to keep her voice steady and light when she really wanted to beg him to come to her bed.

  When she got there, she moped around the empty room. Her footsteps echoed on the marble floor, emphasising her aloneness. It was quiet outside and still. No new snow had fallen since dinner time. There was a chance this might be her last night on the island. She felt immeasurably sad at the thought of the divorce papers still packed away in her handbag.

  She showered and changed into her pyjamas. They were very nice pyjamas and had cost an extraordinary number of euros. But she wouldn’t take them back with her to Sydney. Wearing them would only evoke unwanted memories of her time on Kosmimo.

  Thankfully her life in Sydney was so different it held no memories of Cristos. She would be able to put this episode behind her as if it were some kind of dream. Scratch that. Not dream. Nightmare. Because she had a niggling feeling that this night—the party, the kiss, the dancing—had been the last chance to put things right with Cristos.

  She was brushing her teeth when she heard the knock on her door. At this time of night she thought she must have imagined it. But it came again.

  Without thinking twice, she opened the door. There was no stranger danger here. But that was no stranger standing there. Sheepish wasn’t ever a word she would have applied to her six-foot-two dark-haired Greek god of a husband. But that was the word that immediately sprung to mind.

  ‘Cristos. Aren’t you meant to be with your grandparents?’

  He shrugged. And behind the sheepishness she could see a hint of devilment in his green eyes. ‘They kicked me out. No sofa for this bad grandson tonight. Stavros told me to get upstairs and fix whatever I did wrong to my lovely wife.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  COULD SHE HAVE a one-night stand with her hot husband? With hungry eyes, Hayley drank in the sight of Cristos as he stood at the threshold of her room, his broad shoulders and powerful body framed by the doorway. She wanted him so much she felt giddy.

  He looked vaguely dishevelled in the sexiest possible way, his jaw darkly shadowed, his eyes hooded, his mouth in a half-smile. The fact he looked uncertain of his reception made him seem even more appealing. Desire for him rippled through her.

  The only man she had ever wanted.

  She wanted to grab him and haul him to the bed. Or to the sofa or the rug or even up against the wall. They’d made deliriously exciting love in all those places.

  Just one more time with him.

  ‘Come in,’ she said, her voice tight with pent-up longing. Now.

  Her husband stepped across the threshold. She kicked the door shut behind him. ‘But you’re not sleeping on this sofa either,’ she said.

  His dark eyebrows rose. But she didn’t give him an opportunity to question her. Instead she wound her arms around his neck and looked up at him with what she hoped he would recognise as blatant invitation. ‘You’re in the bed with me. And not with a row of pillows or any other barrier between us.’ She suffered a momentary loss of bravado. ‘Er...that is, if you want to be with me.’

&
nbsp; His eyes narrowed in the way she had always found unbearably sexy. ‘I never stopped wanting you, koukla.’ His voice was deep and husky and she thrilled to his words.

  He dipped his head and kissed her. In her bare feet she had to stretch up on tiptoe to meet his mouth with hers. She surrendered with a sigh to the bliss of his tongue stroking the seam of her lips, of her tongue welcoming his. At last a proper kiss. Not the fake, for-show kind that had been so deeply disturbing and unsatisfying. The kind of kiss with Cristos she remembered, so familiar yet so new and different.

  How she had missed him.

  So many kisses given and received over several years of marriage. There was the sweet, triumphant kiss of commitment on their wedding day; the quick friendly kiss to let her know he was home; the comforting kiss when something had gone wrong and a kiss was just the thing to help; and then the kiss like this one. A kiss of hunger unleashed, of rapidly rising passion, a no-going-back kiss that was the prelude to the kind of lovemaking that would have her almost fainting with pleasure—both the taking of it and the giving of it.

  She clung to him, weak with excitement and arousal as her tongue answered his, as she pressed her body close to his, breasts to solid male chest, hips to the hardness of his thighs. Her murmurs of pleasure were answered by more pressure, more urgency, his groan of impatience. His hands slid down her shoulders to tear open her pyjama top, the buttons bouncing on the marble floor. At last he cupped her breasts, stroking and playing with her nipples, already erect and aching for his touch.

  It felt so good.

  She slid her hands down his back to tug his shirt free from his trousers, slid them up to caress his back, smooth skin over rippling muscles.

  At last.

  She didn’t have to haul him to the bed. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her there, breaking the kiss only for as long as it took to place her down then join her. He slid the silky pyjama top over her shoulders and down her arms until it lay next to her and her breasts were bared. She raised her hips to help him tug her pyjama pants down and toss them on the floor.