Won by the Wealthy Greek: The Greek's Seven-Day Seduction / Constantinou's Mistress / The Greek Doctor's Rescue

But just as Marianna was on the point of answering some friends at a neighbouring table attracted her attention.

Charlotte was beginning to feel vaguely threatened by the mysterious fisherman, and her lack of knowledge about him only added to the uncertainty.

She had never been confronted by such an overload of testosterone in her life, Charlotte told herself, thinking that must be the reason for her worry. Forcing herself to relax, she leaned forward to put the question to Marianna again. But before Marianna had a chance to say anything everyone started to applaud. The evening’s entertainment had begun.

‘Ah, the musicians,’ Marianna said, clapping her hands with pleasure and pointing as the bouzouki band assembled on the low stage at the far end of the jetty. She beamed at Charlotte. ‘I do hope you will enjoy this evening,’ she said, leaning over the table to pat Charlotte’s hand.

‘I know I will,’ Charlotte said warmly, putting her doubts to one side. But the smile soon froze on her face when Iannis Kiriakos walked across the dance floor and chose a table directly facing her.

As he settled down people called to him from other tables, and lifted their glasses to him in a toast. The whole of the taverna seemed to vibrate at a different frequency now he was here, Charlotte realised, wondering why that should be so. It was as if his presence was the signal for the music to strike up too.

Maybe he had been away from the island for some time, she reasoned. The welcome he was getting suggested something of the sort. But where would a man like Iannis go? To another island close by, perhaps?

Charlotte could see Marianna looking at her curiously, and was just about to launch into a whole series of questions when the volume of the music rose, making conversation impossible. And Marianna was soon engaged in a jovial shouting match with some friends at the nearby table. But it was Iannis Kiriakos who troubled Charlotte the most. He seemed to have only one person in his sight-line.

Charlotte dropped her gaze quickly, but not fast enough. Their eyes had clashed briefly, but it had been enough for her face to flame red as she interpreted the question in her fisherman’s gaze: Available, or not available? And there had been a curve at one corner of his hard and extremely sensuous mouth that seemed to suggest he already knew the answer to his silent question.

Before Charlotte could think what to do about it their food arrived, piled high on huge platters carried at shoulder height by a boisterous stream of waiters led by the fun-loving Mikos. She felt faint with relief at the distraction, and threw herself whole-heartedly into the rhythmical applause that greeted the parade.

‘This is just wonderful,’ she called across to Marianna.

‘I knew it was an evening you shouldn’t miss,’ Marianna agreed, inclining her head graciously.

But beneath Marianna’s hooded lids Charlotte glimpsed a glint of something that aroused her suspicious. Surely Marianna wouldn’t have engineered the meeting with Iannis Kiriakos? Charlotte dismissed her suspicions on the grounds of Marianna’s traditional upbringing. She would never expose an unattached woman to a blatantly rampant male when that woman was leaving the island in just a few days’ time. And more than that, Charlotte realised, she trusted Marianna.

Within minutes of her arrival on the island she had found herself confiding in the older woman in a way she would never have believed possible with someone who was practically a stranger. But Marianna had that quality. She drew people to her. She had drawn out the pain of Charlotte’s failed marriage like pus from a wound, and by the time she’d left that first evening Charlotte had felt the healing process had begun.

Marianna’s thoughts on Charlotte’s failure as a trophy wife had been bluntly put. ‘You need someone who is content in themselves—a man who does not need possessions to find his level in life.’

No, Charlotte told herself firmly, never in a million years would Marianna set her up with the steely-looking individual currently viewing her as if she was the next tasty dish on the menu.

Soon Charlotte’s own platter was piled high with food. The fish was so fresh it melted in her mouth like butter, and the bowls of salads and dips were so delicious she hardly knew where to begin.

‘Use your fingers,’ Marianna advised, taking the lead.

Breaking off a chunk of bread, Charlotte joined her in dunking it into the fragrant sauce and licking the excess off her fingers enthusiastically. The juices were running every-where—over her wrists, down her arm—and she had to resort to sucking her fingers clean one by one. Then something made her look up, and she found Iannis Kiriakos staring back at her, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

It was as if a practised hand strummed a set of strings deep within her, and it was impossible to tear her gaze away from him until Marianna reclaimed her attention, when she passed another bowl of food across the table. But even then Charlotte found it impossible to hold her glance in check. As her eyes strayed she saw one corner of his mouth tug up in the suggestion of a smile, but his eyes were hard and calculating and she felt a shiver of apprehension.

Instinctively, she drew closer to Marianna, concentrating all her attention on the food. But it was impossible not to snatch glances of Iannis—not to notice his long, lean fingers as he fed food into his mouth, or glimpse the flash of strong white teeth when he spoke to the waiter, or to see that his expression was always quite different when he directed his attention to anyone other than her. She saw him soften then, and his eyes sharpen with laughter. But when he looked back at her it was always with an expression in his eyes she didn’t care to name.

She discovered that his mouth was compulsive viewing too—he had the most expressive lips… Pull yourself together, Charlotte warned herself sternly. You don’t need either the friendship or the approval of this Iannis Kiriakos. You only need him like a scientist needs a theory—to write about.

That last thought should have helped, but even when Iannis was fully engrossed in the food set before him it was like being in a tunnel where only the two of them existed. And when he pulled back his head to stare at her again Charlotte noticed one of his ebony brows lifting just enough to send a slither of sensation down her spine.

Gradually plates were pushed aside and glasses refilled. Noise levels had risen, and only dipped slightly when the overhead strings of light were reduced to a single strand. Time to dance, Charlotte guessed, as a hum of anticipation rose above the tables. The musicians had returned after their break and were starting to tune their instruments. Moonlight flooded the dance floor, and it was all so romantic. She would have been having the time of her life, Charlotte realised tensely, had it not been for one man.

Determinedly she turned her attention to the leader of the band, watching as he made a signal with one hand. Despite her misgivings, she couldn’t help but thrill to the strong chord that rang out like a call to arms. Men were already answering the call, rising one by one from the tables surrounding the dance floor and assembling in front of her in a ragged line. They were forming up to dance the kalamatiana, she guessed as they rested their arms across each other’s shoulders.

And then the unmistakable beat began. Snaking outwards from the small stage where the musicians were assembled. She could almost imagine the notes winding and curling sinuously around the men on the floor, causing their work-hardened muscles to soften and their faces to take on a look of intense pride. It was if their machismo had become the servant of expression and dramatic intensity. It was a potent sight, and one Charlotte found impossible to resist.

To begin with the pulse was slow and steady, but promising more, like a racehorse reined in hard at the gate. The occasional musical flourish raised the tension, as well as the expectation of the audience, and soon everyone was clapping in time to the beat, stamping their feet in an attempt to push the tempo on. The rhythm was growing stronger and more persuasive every few bars, until it thrummed through Charlotte’s body with remorseless intent.

She was on her feet now, swaying in time like everyone else, echoing the cries around her as she urged the music on to its inevitable climax. Then one of the older men broke away from the chain of dancers and began walking around the tables, his arms extended in mute invitation for more people to join in. And as his glance passed over Charlotte, he winked.

What was she waiting for? Kicking off her shoes, Charlotte eased her way through the tables and walked onto the dance floor. She was oblivious to everything now apart from the beat—the wild, irresistible beat. Joining on to the end of the line, she tossed back her hair with abandon and lavished a smile on the man standing next to her. Stranger to the island or not, she had no intention of missing an opportunity like this.

Charlotte failed to register the gasp that went up. She was too busy watching the moves and trying to match her step to that of the men dancing with her. By the time she did notice anything, it was just the warm and slightly damp feel of the corded arm beneath her hand. The man she was clinging on to was clearly delighted to have her as his dancing partner, Charlotte realised, whipping her head away from his moist garlic breath. He seemed to be holding her a lot closer than was strictly necessary, and as the tempo lifted another man joined in at her free side. Now she was sandwiched between them—and out of sight of the spectators Garlic Breath’s hand was on an unmistakable mission…

Iannis sprang to his feet. It was bad enough that this woman chose to cavort naked on the beaches of Iskos. But this—this was insupportable!

Charlotte was just beginning to panic when her two partners fell away, releasing her so quickly that for a few moments she was stranded in the middle of the dance floor on her own, feeling completely foolish.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

She whipped around. The angry words startled her, but not half as much as the sight of Iannis Kiriakos in a rage. He stood in the middle of the floor, completely unconcerned that he was drawing more attention to her than ever. Charlotte’s face flamed red with embarrassment and with fury. She was dancing like everyone else—what the hell did he think she was doing?

‘Must you break every convention without the slightest consideration for other people’s sensibilities?’ he asked coldly, before she had a chance to recover. Then, turning, he made a swift signal to the band and the music slowed abruptly.

Charlotte was glad of the dim lights. Her blood pressure was so high she felt ready to explode. If Iannis Kiriakos really wanted a fight out here, in front of everyone, she’d give him one. But as if he could read her mind he seized her arm in a firm grip and steered her back to the line of dancers. ‘You want to dance?’ he rasped harshly. ‘We’ll dance.’

Everyone was staring at them now, Charlotte realised. In fact the noise and laughter around the dance floor had stilled into stunned silence. Her imposing fisherman could capture everyone’s attention simply by being, but in this state of mind he was compulsive viewing. The faces of the local people were frozen in anticipation as they waited to see what he would do with her.

‘Do you like being the only woman in a man’s dance?’ he demanded scathingly, positioning her at the end of the line next to him.

‘A man’s dance?’ Charlotte cloaked her shocked realisation, and the resulting rush of blood to her face, in anger. ‘I’m only surprised your pride allows you to indulge in anything so frivolous as dancing—let alone participate in a dance for men.’ She had just enough time to inject some derision and challenge into her angry words before the music restarted and quickly returned to its original pace and volume.

She gasped as Iannis seized hold of her and swung her around to join in the dance, and then she was forced to concentrate fast, or trip over his feet. The contrast between her dancing partners couldn’t have been more pronounced. Unlike Garlic Breath, Iannis showed no interest in groping her, and diverted all his passion into the intricate steps. His anger was converted into an expressive fire that allowed him to produce strong, powerful moves. And he brought her with him so firmly she didn’t even have to think about her own steps.

Charlotte hardly knew how she found the opportunity to breathe as her body swayed in response to the slightest undulation of Iannis Kiriakos’s commanding frame. But then, just when she thought the music had reached its peak, he made a sign to the leader of the musicians and the music changed again, slowing and deepening to little more than a low, vibrating rumble of sound.

Iannis broke away, leaving Charlotte disorientated until Marianna came to her rescue. Joining her on the dance floor, she took hold of Charlotte’s arm.

‘What have I done wrong now?’ Charlotte demanded, trying not to care that Iannis was trawling the room, collecting up every woman in sight. None of them could resist him, she noticed tensely—though he was at his most charming with the older women, helping them to their feet and moving back chairs for them. ‘Well, Marianna?’ she repeated tensely. ‘Can you tell me what I’ve done wrong?’

‘Iannis is saving your embarrassment,’ Marianna said, her dark eyes gleaming.

‘My embarrassment?’ Charlotte said distractedly, seeing all the young women waiting tensely to discover which of them Iannis would choose. He seemed to pick at random, she noticed, and his imperative gesture brought even the most diffident young girl to her feet. ‘He needs bringing down a peg or two.’

‘Are you the woman to do it?’

‘Marianna!’ Charlotte exclaimed. ‘Of course I’m not. I’m not even interested—’

‘Really?’ Marianna murmured, so softly Charlotte hardly caught the word. But before she could protest Marianna added, ‘All the women are interested in Iannis Kiriakos. Why should you be an exception?’

Not wanting to cause offence, Charlotte confined herself to a faint smile. But inside she was a bubbling cauldron of emotion—emotion that she longed to take out on Iannis Kiriakos, not the kindly Marianna who, for some inexplicable reason, chose to champion him.

‘Here on Iskos only the men take part in the kalamatiana,’ Marianna expanded.

‘I know that now,’ Charlotte admitted ruefully.

‘I can’t remember another occasion when a woman—especially a young, single woman, and unescorted at that—took the floor,’ Marianna went on with a shake of her head.

‘Perhaps it’s time, then?’ Charlotte suggested, meeting Marianna’s gentle reproach with a smile. ‘And anyway,’ she added fondly, ‘I’m not unescorted. You’re here beside me.’

Marianna smiled at that, and patted Charlotte’s arm. ‘I am now,’ she agreed heavily, rolling her eyes with a sigh.

Charlotte watched Iannis stroll confidently around the perimeter of the dance floor, bringing more women to their feet. Prowling, she mused, like the tiger she had first thought him to be… But would he come back to her?

He did, though he uttered but a single word. ‘Ready?’ He gave a curt flick of his chin to indicate that she should rest her arm on his again, whilst on her other side Marianna blithely marshalled Charlotte into the correct position for the dance.

Arrogant brute! Charlotte thought furiously, trying not to faint with pleasure when she rested her arm on his. Trapped between Marianna and Iannis, she had safety at one side and danger at the other. It made Charlotte feel slightly light-headed, and far too confident for her own good. By the time the dance began her senses were in free-fall and her arm seemed to melt into his. It was impossible to remain detached with Iannis standing next to her. So much machismo should never be let loose, Charlotte decided, flaring a look into his face that warned him plainly—No! But what use was that when her body blatantly called out to him, Yes?

Brava! she murmured inwardly, complimenting herself on her restraint as she mastered the steps of the dance. It was amazing she could concentrate on anything at all when all she wanted to do was tug him off the dance floor and put her theories to the test.

The line of dancers extended right along the jetty now, to the very limits of the dance floor. ‘Follow me,’ Marianna instructed in a discreet whisper, giving Charlotte’s hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘You are doing really well for a beginner. You will soon pick up the more complicated moves.’

Charlotte made sure she did. There was a very pretty young girl on the other side of Iannis. This fired her determination, particularly as she was quite certain he didn’t lavish the same accusatory stare on his other partner each time he was forced to deliver a prompt.

The rhythm of the bouzoukis was irresistible, and those still seated began to stamp in time and clap their hands, encouraging the dancers to pick up the pace. As the beat pulsed through her Charlotte was lost in the music. Everything outside the dance floor receded until nothing existed beyond the warmth and strength of Iannis’s outstretched arm beneath her own. The desire to move with him was all that mattered to her. Every fibre of her being vibrated in unison with him, until nothing existed outside the dance—nothing but Iannis Kiriakos, and he was the dance.

CHAPTER FIVE

FOLLOWING Iannis in the kalamatiana seemed so natural to Charlotte it was as if they were sharing a secret language only they knew. The dance was like a seduction, with the tension rising and falling between them so that in one sinuous move she offered compliance, only to promise conflict with the next aggressive step. And Iannis had a great sense of rhythm, as she had known he would.

Charlotte basked in the hot stab of his glance. It might be formalised and impersonal, but right now it was all hers, and the music kept them chained together, scaling the heights only to leave them, suspended on a plateau of awareness, before starting to climb again. Always, just when it seemed that they must reach the summit at last, it fell back again to a shiver-inducing, seductive whisper.

Charlotte’s mind was full of music, but her eyes were full of Iannis, and now when he met her stare she found his expression shockingly, thrillingly intimate. Snatching off her shawl, he tossed it onto an empty seat and turned to lavish a fierce glance on her, his intention unmistakable, the promise of it electrifying. She wanted him now, immediately, she didn’t want to wait. All she wanted was for Iannis to drag her from the dance floor and find some dark, secret place where they could be alone.

Charlotte was barely conscious of the fact that her breasts were threatening to overflow their tight constraint, or that her skirt had ridden up above her knees. All she knew was that her clothes had become an encumbrance, that she longed for Iannis to tear them off.

Marianna had retired to fan herself, and her place in the line had been taken by one of the young waiters, but quite suddenly the dance ended, and the line of dancers drifted apart. Still held firm in Iannis’s grip, Charlotte slowly emerged from the erotic trance into which she had fallen and found she was incredibly aroused. Still panting, she gazed at him, then flushed with uncertainty. In the heat of the dance her behaviour could have passed for flair and enthusiasm, but now that the music had slowed she felt less sure of herself.

Several married couples had joined them on the dance floor and they had no such inhibitions. Their movements were blatantly seductive. But that was okay for them, Charlotte realised, feeling increasingly unsure of herself. When she put her hands flat against Iannis’s chest and tried to pull away from him, he challenged her softly.

‘Won’t you dance with a simple fisherman?’

His cynical eyes were dark and watchful. Yes, he was only playing with her, Charlotte realised with a twinge of alarm—playing with her like a big cat with a mouse. But what did she expect after the exhibition she had made of herself?

Tiny shivers of awareness were still toying with her senses, and then her gaze fell to his lips and she saw the sardonic smile playing around the unforgiving line of his mouth. Marianna was right. Iannis needed curbing. And though she was not about to try, she had no intention of backing down either.

‘If you like,’ Charlotte managed evenly, levelling a cool green stare on his face.

Her defiance seemed to unsettle him. He wasn’t sure how to handle it, she realised. Clearly there wasn’t much need when every woman in the place wanted Iannis Kiriakos. This knowledge only made Charlotte want to carry on provoking him, to needle and goad him. And she had the satisfaction of seeing her tactics work perfectly. There was an answering flare of challenge in his gaze, and then his arms closed around her.

But as he dragged her close Charlotte knew she was fooling herself if she thought her mind was fixed against him. Her body was like butter, softening in defiance of her wishes. When Iannis placed one firm hand on her naked back she gasped and hoped he hadn’t heard. But, as if reading her responses was second nature to him, he lifted the hand away and made his touch frustratingly light instead. It made Charlotte long all the more for pressure, for confinement, and all the subliminal messages that could pass between a man and woman through the merest adjustment of a finger. But as they eased into the slow steps of the dance Iannis continued to hold her at a distance, until Charlotte felt as if she was skirting the fringes of a hurricane and could only hope that at any moment she might be sucked in and lost.

She tried to act cool while she lost herself in sensation, and all the time Iannis kept her steady and in step with him, using the same maddeningly light touch.

What better revenge could she exact for his arrogance than this? Allowing Iannis to arouse her without giving him the satisfaction of knowing what was happening. A contented smile curled around Charlotte’s lips as she relished the softening, swelling and yielding sensations that came with the moist preparations her body was making. The fact that it was her secret only made the tiny but delicious spasms all the more intense. Her fisherman’s power might be awesome, and the forces he could unleash immense, but she had his measure now. He liked to tease and provoke—and that was one game in which she could excel too.

But the only trouble with subterfuge was that it didn’t bring satisfaction—the heat gathering between her thighs bore witness to that. And the longer they danced together the greater grew Charlotte’s need for release. Finally she was aching so much she knew she had to thrust her pride aside and take the direct approach.

But he knew, she realised, staring up at him. His lips had tugged up at one corner, revealing his amusement and satisfaction at her plight.

As she struggled to pull herself away Iannis proved too fast for her again, and, changing his grip, he allowed her to feel his arousal, huge and hard, pressing into the soft cushion of her belly.

Charlotte’s breath quickened to rapid, greedy gusts. It was a brush with nature, primitive and intense. And one she didn’t want to avoid, Charlotte realised, meeting his hard, knowing gaze. Everything about Iannis Kiriakos promised an understanding of her needs that no other man could hope to match. He offered anonymity too, she remembered, and that gave her the freedom to indulge her senses to a degree she would never have risked before.

She stared into his face, meaning to accept his challenge, but his dark and very dangerous eyes were hooded now, their expression hidden from her.

Good. She had no desire to commune with the fisherman on an everyday level. She wanted him for one thing, and one thing only.

Iannis Kiriakos would banish all the ghosts from her past. She was starved of the type of attention he could give her, and she would have him, Charlotte determined as she relaxed, allowing his warmth to invade her. It slicked through her limbs, leaving no area untouched, and as her body grew soft and pliant she was conscious of his unyielding frame pressed against her like a coiled spring.

The compulsion to wrestle with him and lose overwhelmingly swept over her in waves. His hands were so strong, so smooth, she thought, moving sinuously beneath them. That was good—she needed all his skill, wanted none of that sensitivity lost beneath workworn skin or calluses. His sense of rhythm augured well too. He moved easily to the beat, bringing her with him just by holding her so lightly—too lightly, Charlotte acknowledged again, moving restlessly beneath his hands. She wanted more, so much more…

He didn’t need to ask himself what Charlotte Clare wanted, or what she needed, Iannis reflected, taking pleasure in moving away every time she tried to range herself a little closer to him in the dance. He would make her wait, he decided, a harsh smile tilting the corners of his mouth. She would be insatiable. He could afford to wait as long as he chose when the outcome was so certain.

He stared over Charlotte’s head, dismissing her in favour of the towering cliffs that showed vaguely on the other side of the shore like smoke trails against the inky sky. Iskos was his island, beautiful and uncomplicated—that was why he loved it so passionately. But there was nothing uncomplicated about the woman in his arms, he realised uneasily, tensing a little as she intruded on his thoughts.

On the surface she resembled any of the other sex-tourists who came to the Greek islands in search of a meaningless coupling to brag about to their friends back home. Any Greek man would do, so long as he had a foreign-sounding name and a pulse—the rest they could invent. The obligatory conquest was as necessary to them as the suntan they took away with them. And the closer they came to the end of the holiday, the more desperate for a man they became.

He smiled as he thought of the youths lining the sea walls each summer to gauge the level of frustration of each passing beauty. They could pick off their prey with absolute confidence. He glanced down again. Charlotte’s flight home must be imminent, judging by the amount of make-up she was wearing, not to mention the abundant décolletage and skintight outfit.

Purely out of curiosity he channelled his senses into the hand resting lightly on her back. Her skin was fine and smooth and warm. At least she wasn’t tomato-red and flaky.

Charlotte sensed the fisherman’s interest shift a gear, and glanced up. He danced so well. Probably got lots of practice in the tourist season. Would it be one dance or two? What price was he prepared to pay? She tensed as their gazes clashed and looked away. She didn’t want conflict. Conflict was provocative and called for resolution. She wanted straightforward sex and a pain-free goodbye. No regrets, no consequences.

Was this part of the evening tedious for him? Was it necessary courtship for the sake of injecting a little decency into the proceedings—the paying of dues before they got down to business? Was this his equivalent of a romantic dinner for two—the tab picked up by the man until you got back to his place, where you were expected to come up with your slice of the bill? Maybe that was why she had always insisted on paying for herself on the few occasions she had been out since the divorce, Charlotte mused, pressing her lips together in ironic acceptance.

He was right to be suspicious, Iannis decided. Even if he cut her some slack where the outfit was concerned—and he would, since in his experience women from northern climes never wore summer clothes well—Charlotte Clare could keep her ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ look. It didn’t work for him—not with everything else he could see going on behind her eyes. This was no innocent abroad; this was an intelligent, thoughtful, and possibly very dangerous woman—or else how had she slipped beneath the guard of Marianna, the shrewdest woman on the island? He could tell Marianna thought a lot of her. Theos, she had chosen to appoint herself unofficial guardian, and when had that ever happened before? Like everyone else on the island, Marianna was usually content to let him have his own way over everything—especially women.

Iannis dipped his head and smiled faintly in acknowledgement as Marianna caught his gaze. He should be angry with her for setting this hoyden loose on him—but he had too much respect for Marianna Lyknos, Iannis realised, grinding his jaw in frustration. But maybe, just maybe, she had got it wrong this time. Charlotte Clare would have to be watched, and watched closely. Not that that would be hard—she was fairly easy on the eye.

Iannis forced himself to relax, realising that his grip on Charlotte’s arm had tightened. That was exactly what she wanted, he thought, feeling the resulting tremor run right through her. Her response had only confirmed his thoughts. She was looking for action—of that there was no doubt. It was up to him now to decide if, when and where he would give her what she wanted.

Dancing was so like sex it was amazing it was permitted in public, Charlotte decided, as someone began to strengthen the beat by patting gently on a drum. The sound was muffled and persuasive, seeming to ripple through her like an electric current invading a supple cable. Her whole body was vibrating to the low, insistent sound. It made her want to sway her hips, to entice Iannis all the more.