There would be other men—lots of them.
She tossed her dark curls defiantly as she strode purposefully toward the room’s private bathroom. She wasn’t going to let him fob her off and move on to the next female conquest that easily. He’d ignited a flame within her that wasn’t about to go out on its own.
No, Andreas Lazarides was not going to dismiss her that easily.
…
What had he done?
Andreas poked a metal tool roughly around in the glowing embers of the woodburning oven on the terrace and flinched as a hiss of fat from the roasting pig dripped and spattered on to his forearm.
“Damn!” he muttered, and then continued with a tirade of profanities in Greek. The burn stung unpleasantly, but that wasn’t the real reason for his outburst.
He was angry. Very angry.
With himself.
He had just about managed to calm down in the half hour since hurriedly leaving the bedroom. Kizzy’s vulnerability and innocence had threatened to render him irrationally emotional. Her revelations had crawled right under his skin, touched a raw spot, the deeply hidden wound within him that would never heal. He’d been just a few moments away from making a complete fool of himself. But now he had the situation in perspective. He was in control.
How on earth had he been supposed to know she was a virgin, anyway?
He shook his head and tapped iron on stone as he ran all possible arguments and defenses at his disposal through his mind, but it wasn’t looking good. Not only had he taken a helpless, vulnerable orphan away from her home, he had also made sure that she had nothing practical to return back to. But at least he intended to give her a job and a roof over her head.
Though he’d already offered her both, he reminded himself—and been soundly rejected.
He emitted a hollow laugh as he realized how ridiculous he must have appeared—he’d offered her the “job” of being his mistress and a home that involved sleeping in his bed. No wonder she’d told him where to go!
His stomach clenched at the thought that Kizzy must have told Angie what had happened back at Villa Madeline and begged for an escape route, hence the surprising offer of Liz’s room rent-free, with no strings attached.
The hormones racing around his body must have rendered him temporarily insane to have behaved in such a way. And then he’d practically kidnapped the woman to bring her to the island. He was certifiable.
A monster!
“Something smells good.”
Andreas twisted his head quickly to see Kizzy standing a few feet away with a broad and mischievous grin dancing on her face, her shiny, chestnut curls floating like bronzed feathers in the breeze.
He swallowed deeply and turned his attention back to the glowing charcoal.
Thee mou, she was so beautiful…
“Orfeas got it started for us before we left this afternoon.”
“Orfeas?”
“An old friend. He lives over the other side of the island and takes care of the place when I’m not here.” He paused. “Which is pretty much most of the time.”
“And he lit all these candles as well?”
“No.” Slowly, Andreas laid the poker down on the hearth. He turned and leaned back against a low wall with his arms folded across his chest. A reluctant smile began to surface; he couldn’t help himself—she looked so mischievous. “I managed that all by myself.”
“It’s beautiful, like a hundred million fireflies dancing around just for us. I love it.” She took up the glass of chilled white wine that Andreas had already poured for her. “I hadn’t pegged you as the romantic type.”
“I’m not,” he replied sharply and straightened up, reaching for his own glass of wine. “It keeps the bloody mosquitoes at bay.”
“Well that’s a relief,” she said, seemingly oblivious to his brusque response. “Can’t have you going soft on me now, can we?”
Andreas’s eyes opened wider at her cheeky innuendo, but he resisted the urge to engage in further sexually charged banter in case he had misinterpreted her remark. This wasn’t the Kizzy Dean he was accustomed to sparring with; something had changed behind those mystic blue eyes. She seemed to be in an unaccountably high-spirited mood. Or maybe this was the prelude to a vicious fight. He could never tell with women—one minute they were sweet as honey and the next hissing and spitting at him like alley cats.
“Listen, about earlier—”
“About us falling into bed together like a couple of sex-starved teenagers, you mean?”
“If you want to put it like that—”
“I forgot to thank you,” Kizzy interrupted him again and took a quick swig of her wine. “I couldn’t have planned losing my virginity any better if I tried. A beautiful Greek island, a powerful and experienced lover—how much better could it have been?”
“Kizzy, about that. If I’d known—”
“You wouldn’t have done it?” Kizzy took a couple of steps closer, looking up at him. “I already know that, I’m not stupid. With all the women you could take your pick from, why on earth would you choose to take a chubby virgin like me to your bed?”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” he replied, with a distinct feeling of unease. “And you’re not chubby, you’re—you’re astonishingly beautiful.”
“Good enough to get the mistress job, then?”
“Ah.” Andreas edged cautiously away as she ran a slender finger up the length of his forearm. “Now, when I came up with that idea I wasn’t thinking things through clearly and—and I can understand perfectly why you turned me down. It was an undignified proposition. I don’t know what came over me, and I apologize.”
“I’d call it lust, Andreas,” she purred, and placed her wine glass carefully on the low wall behind him. “And you did start all this, didn’t you?”
She nudged the flat metal button that fastened his shorts with a knuckle.
“I rather like the idea now, so maybe I can make you a new proposition?”
“I’m listening,” he replied unsteadily and hissed in a breath as her fingers trailed lazily over the sudden bulge between his legs.
“The mistress thing was a bad idea, Andreas, but not because I don’t want to sleep with you—I just don’t want to be paid for doing it. I want a job—a proper one. Independence is very important to me.”
“I understand, of course. I’m sorry—”