Six Greek Heroes

Both the offer and her initial request infuriated Sebastian and he did not know why. “Surely that is not necessary. I will arrange for your transport to the mainland tomorrow morning.”

“I would prefer to leave today.” She didn’t bother to look at him as she said it.

“You have no reason to fear staying alone in the villa with me.”

She turned then and her gaze flayed him. “You’ve made that clear enough.”

“Come, let us eat lunch. Rachel, you do not wish to pack in a rush. That invariably leads to leaving something behind.”

Rachel sighed, looking unhappy, but accepting. “You are right. I won’t be returning to the island, so I will have to make sure I take everything with me this time.”

“You will always be welcome here.” His mother’s tone brooked no argument. “After all, this was your home for several years.”

“It is Sebastian’s home now and I wouldn’t dream of intruding on him in the future.”

Aristide came around the table, stepping in front of Sebastian to lead Rachel to a seat.

“Visits from family are never an intrusion,” he said with a charming smile Sebastian had an inexplicable urge to wipe off his brother’s handsome, young face.

“You are kind to say so, but I am not family, not really, and I won’t be coming back to Greece so the issue won’t arise,” she replied as she allowed him to seat her and then asked a question about his business, effectively changing the subject.

Sebastian had known in a vague way that once Rachel left, she would be gone for good, which was as it should be. He did not need the temptation of Andrea Demakis’s daughter around, but hearing her say it with such certainty inexplicably angered him.

Rachel did her best to ignore Sebastian during lunch, focusing her attention on his younger brother and Phillippa. Aristide was very charming, flirting shamelessly with her and keeping them all entertained with an account of one of his friend’s visit to Crete.

Sebastian smoldered, but she could not imagine why. What did he care if she enjoyed a harmless flirtation with Aristide?

Sebastian had been so adamant she was not worthy of his affection and she’d felt so stupid for allowing herself to give in to the urge to dress up a little for lunch, to try to look pretty for him. A man who could kiss her senseless one minute and the next declare with positive vehemence that he would never feel any sort of emotion for her. What a laugh.

She was such an idiot.

She wished she could have left with the younger man and Phillippa, but that was not possible. Sebastian’s mother was right. Rachel would no doubt regret attempting to pack in haste. Not that she would contact Sebastian to send anything on for her, no matter what might get left behind.

However, she supposed she could avoid Sebastian until the following morning when the launch came for her.

Rachel was on the beach attempting to do just that a few hours later.

She dug her toes into the sand, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun. It was the first time in three days she’d really relaxed. She’d spent the time since lunch packing her own things, making sure she’d cleaned out every nook and cranny of the room that had been hers since she was seventeen.

And she was still berating herself. Because when she’d come across a small decorative box of mementos, she’d been unable to toss them and they were now packed in the corner of her biggest suitcase.

Inside the box were pictures she’d accumulated over the years since her mother’s marriage to Matthias. Many of them were of Sebastian. Some were clippings from newspapers; some were photos from family gatherings she’d attended before finishing university. There was a single dried yellow rose from the bouquet he’d given her for her eighteenth birthday and the silver locket engraved with her initials he’d given her for her twenty-first.

There was even a black onyx cuff link he’d tossed in the study’s trash bin when he’d lost the other one. She’d dug it out and put it away with her mementos. Such a silly, juvenile thing to do, but perhaps understandable as a teenager.

So, why had she felt the need to keep the cuff link at the age of twenty-three?

She didn’t know. All she did know was that she had been unable to toss it and when she’d tried, she’d actually ended up pulling it out of the trash can in her bedroom to gently polish and put it back in the box. He’d worn the set of cuff links to her eighteenth birthday, the one and only time he’d ever danced with her.

She refused to analyze too closely why that had such emotional significance for her, just as she would not dwell on his forceful and public rejection earlier. Both issues were best left in the far recesses of her mind.

She yawned and lay back in the sand, letting tired muscles unwind. The quiet surrounded her, emphasizing the difference between the Southern Californian beaches back home and this one. No crashing surf or cacophony of voices rose to disturb her solitude. There were no horses for rent, or surf-boards standing erect in the sand. The island was private and though a small village existed on the North side, the other occupants never trespassed on the Demakis Villa’s beach.

She’d swum here unafraid of being ogled by men…when her mother was not entertaining.

Soon she would be leaving all this behind for good. She would not return to Greece, never see Sebastian again, never soak the sun’s rays into her skin in quiet solitude like this one. Her heart contracted in rebellion of her thoughts.

“Eugenie informs me you plan to eat a snack in your room rather than join me for dinner.”

Her eyes flew open to the sight of Sebastian towering over her reclining form. His hair covered, tanned legs dominated her line of sight and she had to tilt her head back to see his face. Like the other night, he’d changed into shorts, but his white polo shirt that emphasized the darkness of his skin went better with his power persona than the casual tank top had.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Obviously, I came to find you.”

“Oh. Why?”

He frowned. “Is it really such a sacrifice to share your final meal in Greece with me?”

“I cannot imagine you wanting my company.”

“Do not be foolish. You are a guest in my home.”

And Greek hospitality was offended by the notion she would eat a solitary meal in her room. It had nothing to do with her, or him wanting to spend time with her. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, wanting to allay a guilt prompted evening à deux. “Entertainment is not required for my last night here.”

His dark eyes traveled up and down her form, an expression in the gray depths she did not want to decipher and then he smiled. “Perhaps I wish to entertain you.”

He was back to being the charming Greek billionaire, but she was still smarting from his vow he could never love Andrea Demakis’s daughter and wanted none of it.

She clambered to her feet, brushing the sand off the seat of her loose fitting capris. “There’s no need. I’m tired and could use the extra sleep of an early night.”

“You cannot be thinking of going to bed now.” He looked genuinely horrified as only a man who slept a mere five hours a night could. “It is barely evening.”

“I’m hardly going to sleep right this minute.” Though she was tired enough that the thought held some appeal. “But neither am I going to stay up for a typically late European dinner.”

“Your flight is an early one?”

Why was he pushing this? Whether or not she spent her final night in his company could not really matter to him.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure how long it would take to sort through Andrea’s things, so I didn’t book my return flight in advance. I’ll make reservations once I reach Athens tomorrow.”

“What is the rush to leave then?”

She’d never been a game player and wasn’t about to start now. “Sebastian, you don’t want me here and I don’t want to be here. That’s reason enough, but there is also the fact I have to get back to work.”

“I did not say I did not want you here.”

No, he had merely said he could never love her. “I’m Andrea’s daughter and you hated my mother.”

“I hated the affect she had on my great-uncle, the way she stripped him of his dignity.”

“Which can only mean the sooner I’m out of your hair the better you’ll like it. You can forget Andrea and her daughter ever came into your family.”

“I can never forget. It is because Andrea came into his life that Matthias is dead now.”

“Then you definitely don’t need a living reminder of your pain.” She turned and started walking across the still warm sand, toward the steps leading up to the villa.

“Wait.”

She ignored him. They’d said all that needed to be said.

Hard fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting her progress across the beach. “Damn it, I said wait.”

She spun to face him, her emotions on the verge of exploding. “And I made it clear I don’t want to. Now let me go.”

She yanked at her wrist to no avail.

“I am sorry.”

“I don’t need an apology for the truth, I just need you to leave me alone.”

“My mother was pushing me into a corner and I didn’t like it.” His tone was driven, his cool shattered before her. “I’m not proud of saying something hurtful.”

“What are you talking about?”

An impatient sound exploded from him. “You know very well. What you overheard me say at lunch.”

She’d been reacting to his vow he couldn’t forget her mother was the cause of his great-uncle’s death. It had superceded the words she’d been working so hard all afternoon to sublimate, but they had to be faced now.

“Let me repeat, don’t apologize for speaking the truth. It may hurt, but it’s a clean wound and will heal faster than pain born of dishonesty.” After a lifetime as Andrea’s daughter Rachel knew the difference all too well.

His hand cupped her cheek, the touch oddly protective. “And did it hurt to hear I could never love you?”

“Yes.” She’d promised herself a long time ago to be as honest as it was possible for her to be. “Do we really need a postmortem?”

“I wish to know.”

“Why, so you can gloat? Do you need to hear that I’m stupid enough to care about you so your ego is bolstered? Or maybe you just want some revenge for what you perceive as my dereliction of duty toward Matthias.”

“It is not that.”

“I don’t understand you, Sebastian.” She swallowed against the constriction in her throat. “You kissed me in Andrea’s room. And the other night, you kissed me on the beach and touched me. We almost made love, for goodness’ sake, but then you told your mother you could never love me.”

His hand traveled down her cheek and neck, one finger softly brushing the rapid pulse he found there. “Sex is not love.”

She flinched from the physical pain of those words. “No, it’s not,” she said barely above a whisper.

She might have almost no personal experience in that area, but she’d seen enough growing up to know he spoke an irrefutable truth. Another bit of honesty that hurt because his words confirmed that any feelings he had for her were limited to the physical.

“I want you.”

“I’m not my mother.” Sex was not a disposable commodity for Rachel and she hated it that he would relegate something so devastating to her to nothing more than the slaking of a base desire.

“No, you are not.”

She pulled away, not believing him for a second. He’d said too much to the contrary in the last four days. “I need to go.”

“I want you to spend the night with me.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Every word he spoke was like a knife slashing her heart and her hope was bleeding to death. “No.”

“I did not mean it.” His face was creased with lines of frustration.

“You don’t want to spend the night with me?” she asked with blatant sarcasm that hurt her as much as it mocked him.

“I assure you that I do, but I did not mean what I told my mother.”

“Is sex really worth compromising your personal integrity?” Or maybe he didn’t consider it wrong to lie to Andrea Demakis’s daughter.

“It is not like that.”

“Of course it is.”

“Please, Rachel.”

Her mouth froze in open astonishment the he would plead. “What is it like then?” she heard herself asking.

“My feelings for you cannot be dismissed simply because you are the daughter of a woman who brought my family grief.”

“Of course they can. It’s the Greek way.” A concept of vengeance as old as the story of Nemesis.

“No, they cannot.” It was as if the admission was dragged out of him and that more than anything else made her believe it.

“You have feelings for me?” she choked out.

His jaw tightened. “Have dinner with me; spend the evening as my companion.”

Admissions of emotion were over it seemed, but he had said the words. His feelings could not be dismissed.

“And tomorrow?”

“You have no plane reservations.”

“But…”

“You do not have to leave right away.”

“I—”

He pressed his finger to her lips. “Shh…do not think.” His eyes were hotter than the scorching sun. “The past is gone, but we exist here in the present and I want to explore what it is between us.”

She could no more deny him than she’d been able to throw away her memories surrounding him. “All right.”

His smile stole her breath and then his lips finished the job, closing over hers with a drugging sensuality that left her dazed long after he walked her to her room and left her there to get ready for their dinner date.

She wore a dress Andrea had bought her, one she had left behind in Greece when she went to America. It was short, falling to three inches above her knee in a sophisticated black crepe, leaving her arms bare and though the neckline was demure, it clung revealingly to her breasts.

She would be horribly uncomfortable wearing it with another man, but Sebastian was different, even after everything that had transpired since the funeral. She was coming to accept that he always would be. To her.

Which was why she was willing to explore this thing between them. If it wasn’t Sebastian, she was sure it would never be anyone else. Not only because of what had happened to her when she was sixteen, but because the emotional connection she had to him had grown over years she had tried to starve it, staying away from Greece and the island.

What were the chances they would diminish altogether, even if she never saw him again? Nil. And if she cared for him, she wasn’t going to fall for someone else.

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.