The Greek's Innocent Virgin Read online

  She didn't want to.

  Besides, he'd said he had feelings for her and for a guy like Sebastian, so proud and self-contained, that was a huge admission.

  She took extra care with her makeup and hair, brushing it until it was like dark liquid silk and then pulling it into a classic French twist that added to the sophistication of her outfit.

  As she stood outside the drawing room, she couldn't help remembering what a fool she'd felt ear­lier dressing up for him and then hearing him say he could never love her. Maybe dressing this way had been a mistake. She should go change. Right now, before he saw her.

  He looked at her as she tensed, ready to leave, and there was no mistaking the blatant male appreciation in his eyes. Her fears melted under the heat of his appraisal. He motioned to her to come to him and she started walking as if led by an invisible string.

  When she reached him, he leaned down and kissed both her cheeks, his hands warm on her bare shoul­ders. "You look beautiful."

  "Thank you."

  He looked pretty darn gorgeous himself in a dark suit, tailored to fit his muscular structure to a T. He wore a tie, something he rarely did to dinner at home with the family and she realized he'd dressed up for her as well.

  She smiled.

  He got her a drink and then Eugenie called them into dinner. They spent the meal talking, their dis­cussion surprisingly easy and diverse.

  "So, why do you work as an accountant?"

  "Why not be an accountant?" she quipped, sipping from her wineglass, feeling more relaxed with him than she ever had.

  "You used to paint."

  "I still do."

  "So, why not work in a job that calls on your cre­ativity?' '

  "I like my job. It's not too demanding and the environment is peaceful."

  "Would not an artist's studio be just as peaceful?"

  "I'm not that good. Besides, it's almost impossible to make a living as an artist." And she'd realized early on that she needed a steady source of income if she was going to make a life different and separate from her mother's.

  "Matthias would have supported you."

  She physically shuddered at the thought. The cost would have been much too high. Living with Andrea. "I didn't want to be supported. I wanted to make my own way."

  "That is commendable." There was something in his tone she didn't quite get.

  "Thank you. I really do like my job though. Numbers are reliable and they don't throw temper tantrums."

  "Do you?"

  "There's only room for one drama queen in a fam­ily. Andrea was ours. I'm pretty even tempered."

  He looked at her, as if assessing things about her she did not even know about herself. "I wonder."

  "Have you ever seen me have a fit?" she de­manded, a little irritated he would question her as­sessment of herself.

  Their argument earlier did not count. It had been mutual, not a diva temper tantrum and she had been blatantly provoked.

  "No, but I had never seen you react with passion before the other night on the beach either."

  "It's not the same."

  He shrugged as if the subject did not matter to him. "Perhaps not."

  But a little later, the conversation came back to her job.

  “You cannot meet many men working for a woman's fitness center?" he asked.

  "No." And she liked it that way.

  "I am glad."

  "Why is that?'"

  "I am a possessive man."

  "But I don't belong to you."

  "Don't you?"

  Honesty in this instance, even with herself, would cost too much. The thought of belonging to a man who would never belong to her was hardly confidence building, so she ignored the question. "How long are you staying on the island?"

  "For a few more days only. I must get back to Athens."

  "Your company is suffering?"

  “I employ proficient management and I am not un­connected here. I continue to work remotely, but to do so indefinitely would be bad business."

  "Why are you staying?" She doubted he was see­ing to the disposal of his great-uncles clothing per­sonally.

  "You cannot guess?"

  "It's that whole Greek hospitality thing I guess." After all, his mother had been staying until that morn­ing and then there was Rachel.

  "I had more reason than a need to play good host."

  "You didn't want Andrea's daughter to make off with the silver in your absence?"

  He didn't laugh as she expected him to, but shook his head, his expression pretty grim.

  "Then why?"

  "You are here. I find I cannot help wanting to be here as well." He didn't look very happy about the fact, but even so, his words touched her deeply.

  "It's a compulsion." And she was glad she wasn't the only one affected by it.

  He frowned, but his eyes made her insides shiver. "Yes. It is."

  After dinner, he led her out onto the terrace where the soft, bluesy music from the stereo filled the sultry air.

  He tugged her into his arms. "Dance with me."

  She hadn't danced with him, or anyone else since her eighteenth birthday, but he wasn't asking her to waltz a complicated step around the terrace. His hands were linked loosely just above her tailbone and he was swaying slowly to the sensual beat.

  Letting her hands slide up inside his suit jacket to rest against his chest, she relaxed into full body con­tact. Her conscious mind which told her such a move was unwise could not maintain sway against instincts clamoring for supremacy. It felt so good to be held by him and unreal. It was the sense of unreality that made it all seem so safe.

  Logic said that Sebastian Kouros could have any woman he wanted. He was gorgeous. He was sexy. And he was probably five times as wealthy as his great-uncle had been. The perfect catch, he would never let himself get overly involved with Rachel, no matter how strong the compulsion he felt to be with her. He was too cautious.

  And she was Andrea Demakis's daughter.

  One song segued into another, their bodies in com­plete accord and her nerve endings sizzled with slow burning pleasure. He was affected as well. The evidence pressed against her stomach while his hands sank lower and lower until they were cupping her bottom with gentle intensity.

  Their dancing, if you could call it that, reduced to nothing more than a slow movement from side to side as feminine and masculine flesh brushed profoundly against each other. Her cheek rested against his chest and she could hear the steady, strong beat of his heart. She rubbed her face up and down, enjoying the smooth, rich fabric of his shirt, loving the springy hair behind it.

  She was in a state of dazed enchantment when he unexpectedly set her away from him, his expression rueful. "If I do not send you to bed, I will end up joining you."

  She swayed, wanting him to do just that.

  "When you come to my bed, you will be sure you want to be there."

  He'd said when, not if, but she wasn't going to chastise his arrogance. She was ready to go now. Even knowing it was probably emotional suicide, only the fear that she would balk at the final gate kept her from saying so.

  Sebastian stood below the ice-cold shower and cursed his own stupidity. He didn't know which was dumber, letting himself get so worked up sexually, or not tak­ing advantage of Rachel's obvious willingness.

  Why the hell had he insisted on her staying in the first place?

  Compulsion.

  She'd said it, but the word was his. His desire for Rachel Long was a compulsion he could not ignore. He wanted her and he was going to have her, but it was more than physical need driving him and that bothered him.

  Sex he could handle.

  Emotion, the kind found between a man and a woman, had no place in his life.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next three days were sheer paradise for Rachel.

  She and Sebastian spent the mornings together, swimming and exploring the island. He even took her fishing and laughed when she refused to bait the
hook, but still managed to catch more fish than he did. The afternoons and early evenings were reserved for work. Then they ate dinner together and spent most every evening in one another's company until finding their separate beds.

  They kept strictly away from discussing her mother and his great-uncle, which meant they stayed off the past altogether. It also meant she didn't tell him about what happened when she was sixteen.

  She wondered if she should, but the more time they spent together, the more convinced she became that she would have no problem engaging in sexual inti­macy with him. She didn't really want to talk about that dark time, so she made no effort to break the unspoken moratorium Sebastian had placed on dis­cussing the past.

  Phillippa called the first day and upon learning that Rachel was still on the island, insisted on speaking to her. After that, they spoke each afternoon. Rachel re­ally enjoyed her chats with Sebastian's mother. Phillippa treated Rachel like a valued friend, almost like a member of the family and she liked that.

  At some point, she would have to return to work, but she couldn't make herself contemplate leaving Sebastian and the relationship growing between them.

  On the fourth morning after Phillippa left, Sebastian came to the breakfast table, his jaw taut and his eyes reflecting tension.

  "What's the matter?" she asked after he leaned over to kiss her square on the mouth.

  He did that a lot. Kissing her, but he never pushed for more and while part of her appreciated his re­straint, she couldn't help wondering the why of it.

  "I have business in Athens and must fly out to­day."

  Her heart sank. "I see. I guess I'd better look into that flight home."

  His mouth set in a grim line, he asked, "Is that what you want?"

  "I should get back to California. I don't know how long they'll hold my job open."

  ' 'You have only been in Greece for a week. Surely a family bereavement justifies more time away than that."

  "There's no point in my staying on the island alone. I've finished all I needed to do."

  "You could come to Athens with me."

  The words dropped like stones into the silence around them and she stared helplessly at him. He was inviting her to take another step forward in their re­lationship. Athens meant real life and he wanted to take her into it with him.

  He said nothing, his expression as blank as an unendorsed check.

  Her head told her to ignore the seductive attraction of such an invitation and get out while part of her heart was intact, but her heart told her it already be­longed to the powerful man and to go for it.

  She'd been ruled by her head all of her life and while she had a lifestyle far removed from anything resembling her mother's to show for it, she was also lonely. She'd wanted Sebastian for as long as she'd known him and the chance to do something about it stared her in the face.

  To ignore it would be to forever shut a door her heart was screaming at her to walk through. "I'd like that."

  His face transformed with a smile that she couldn't help returning.

  "Then it shall be arranged."

  The flight to Athens was a short one with no chance to communicate over the loud whir of the helicopter blades. Not that she would have interrupted Sebastian's intent study of documents from his brief­case even if she'd been wearing a communication headset. They were returning to Athens because he had no choice and that meant he needed to focus on the problem at hand, not entertaining her.

  And she didn't mind. Simply being in his company was something special.

  When they arrived in Athens, the limo driver dropped Sebastian off in front of his building and then took her to an apartment in an exclusive suburb of the city.

  The chauffeur disappeared with her luggage and a middle-aged Greek woman offered her refreshments. Rachel refused, more interested in exploring Sebastian's sanctuary than anything else. The house-keeper nodded and returned to whatever she'd been doing when Rachel arrived.

  His home was big and beautifully decorated, the great room big enough to fit her entire California apartment in with room to spare. It had an eating area as large as any formal dining room, a living area with a huge plasma screen television and a large corner of the room dedicated to reading with ceiling high book­cases and matching reading chairs.

  All the furniture had a rather traditional feel; it and the accents were all done in smooth dark woods. His interior decorator liked neutral tones with splashes of color, which fit the vibrant man's personality rather well.

  Inappropriate and no doubt misplaced jealousy had her wondering how well the designer knew her client. It was not even a fair thought, much less a rational one. There was nothing to say that Sebastian's de­signer had not been a man and absolutely no indica­tion that the relationship had been anything but a pro­fessional one.

  Nothing but Sebastian's reputation for dating beau­tiful career women while getting serious about none of them.

  The possessive feelings coursing through Rachel were not unfamiliar and had been another reason why she had spent the last few years in the States. Living far away from Greece, she had not been forced to watch Sebastian with other women.

  She walked into the first bedroom off the hall won­dering how wise she'd been to come to Athens with a man who was unashamedly commitment phobic. Even if he hadn't despised her mother, he was hardly a sure thing in the emotional department.

  The room she'd walked into was a fully furnished guest bedroom, but there was no sign of her luggage.

  The next room had been converted into a home office complete with computer, printer, fax machine and a three-line telephone system. She didn't think he'd mind her using the computer to check her E-mail, so she powered it up, her chaotic thoughts still whirling around her decision to accompany Sebastian rather than fly home.

  There was so little chance of a future for them that it was practically nonexistent. However, the feelings she had for him demanded she not walk away even if their chance at a future together had worse odds than winning the jackpot in California's state lottery.

  She loved him.

  She couldn't deny it. No other reason explained her inexplicable decision to stay on the island and to come with him to Athens knowing how little interest he had in a long-term relationship.

  It was horribly ironic that she'd fallen in love with the one man programmed by her mother's behavior to steer clear of any woman from the Long family.

  But there were lottery winners and maybe she could be a winner at love too.

  It took only a moment to check her E-mail via her server's Web site once the computer came online. There were several messages. So many in fact, that she almost deleted one from a friend of her mother's in a wholesale clearing of junk mail from her in-box. She stopped herself just in time and clicked on the message, expecting an expression of sympathy of her recent loss.

  Instead, the E-mail was a barely coherent diatribe about Matthias Demakis and his threat to divorce Andrea. It was only then that Rachel realized the mes­sage had been written the same day as the accident. She hadn't received it before she left and now wished she'd deleted it with the junk mail.

  Apparently Matthias had gotten fed up with his wife's outrageous behavior and told her that he in­tended to divorce her, settling a small alimony stipend on her. Nothing like enough to make it possible for her to continue with her current decadent lifestyle. Her mother's friend believed Rachel should come to Greece and stand beside Andrea in her time of need.

  The thought was a nauseating one.

  The very suggestion she stand by her mother's side in such a scenario was obscene. The additional sug­gestion by her mother's friend that it was in Rachel's own best interest was just as appalling. She'd never considered Matthias Demakis a meal ticket and hated the fact that anyone would assume she did simply because she was Andrea's daughter. She would never have countenanced a bid for more money by Andrea from a man who had already paid far too much in his marriage to her.

  T
he rest of her E-mails were innocuous and she finished going through them in very little time.

  Afterward, she continued her exploring. Across the hall, she found Sebastian's bedroom. It was ultra-masculine and she could almost feel his presence amid the chocolate brown and vanilla decor. She spent several minutes just soaking in the reality of being inside his most private sanctuary.

  She found her cases in the next room down the hall. The furnishings were decidedly feminine. Pale blue and peach with whitewashed wood made a departure from the other rooms in the apartment. Had he had the room designed for his lovers' comfort?

  But no, she couldn't imagine him planning to have female guests overnight that were not intending to share his bed. Perhaps he'd had it decorated for his mother's visits. That was much more in keeping with his character.