Susan Stephens - The Greek's Virgin Temptation

Seawater drained off his body as he stepped out of the water and impatiently raked back his hair. He was immediately drawn to a woman at the head of the group. Great breasts, fantastic legs and the most eye-catching waist-length ebony hair streaked with purple. Wearing the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen, she was dancing down the dunes to the sound of an old beatbox one of her companions was carrying on his shoulder. She’d tied a brightly coloured chiffon scarf around her waist and it was decorated with something that flashed in the sun. Tiny bells attached to it jingled as she moved. There were so many strings of beads around her neck that if she went in the water, she’d surely sink. He liked quirky, but this was ridiculous, though her manner interested him as much as her looks. There was something wild, almost reckless in her behaviour, as if she had nothing to lose and was dancing to blot out some unpleasant incident. No doubt in on the facts, he guessed her friends were trying to show their support.

What the hell? His hackles rose as they started to light a bonfire. On his beach! Then someone produced a dress from a sack—it looked like a wedding gown. Did it belong to the quirky woman? Yes, he gathered as she refused to touch it and, pulling a face, stepped back, leaving her friends to place it on the funeral pyre.

Resentment clawed at his gut, but he was keen to see the drama play out. As the flames rose and the dress disintegrated, the woman remained motionless, watching. Her friends, having formed a protective circle around her, also remained still until the fire had guttered and gone out. With only ashes left, she stabbed at the embers with a stick, as if she had to be sure that every atom of the gown had been completely consumed. Dropping the stick, she walked to the water’s edge where, tugging a ring off her finger, she flung it into the sea. He watched it glint as it went out and glint again as a strong wave brought it straight back onto the beach again. The tide was working against her, though she had no idea that the ring had returned as she’d already turned away.

Wanting to meet her for some reason he didn’t examine too closely, he retrieved the ring and caught up with her before she reached her friends. Holding it out on the palm of his hand, he asked, ‘Is this yours?’

She stared at him in silence for a moment, and then her gaze dropped to his outstretched hand and she shuddered.

‘Take it, or I can toss it back,’ he offered.

* * *

Kimmie was in turmoil. Her heart was jumping in her chest. Not only had she survived the shock of her life this morning, and then tried to make things good for her friends, she was now confronted by a Titan who might have stepped straight out of myth and legend. And he was holding out the ring, expecting her to take it.

She guessed he was around thirty years old. Huge and brutally masculine, he was the last thing she needed today. A piercingly intelligent stare that wouldn’t let her go, and hard, rugged features that looked as if they’d been hewn out of stone completed a picture she had no wish to see. His wild mop of thick, inky-black hair was still damp from the sea, and had caught on his sharply etched cheekbones thanks to the thick shading of black stubble that suggested he hadn’t shaved today. Tough enough to be a roustabout from the docks, she guessed he might be a local fisherman. Deeply bronzed by the elements, his body could have been sculpted by Michelangelo.

‘You found it,’ she said lamely, finding her voice.

‘Evidently,’ he confirmed.

‘But I don’t understand.’ She frowned. ‘I just flung it out to sea.’

‘And the tide brought it straight back again. I thought you’d want to know,’ he remarked in perfect English. His voice was deep and husky, and only faintly accented—Greek, she thought, having recognised the familiar intonation. So he was a well-travelled roustabout.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, shading her eyes to stare up at him.

‘And now you’d like me to throw it back again,’ he guessed with an amused quirk of his brow.

‘Would you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Can you make sure it doesn’t come back again?’

‘It won’t ever come back,’ he assured her, glancing at her hand on his arm.

What was she thinking?

She wasn’t thinking, Kimmie concluded as she snatched her hand away from his arm. Shock had sent her reeling this morning, and stunned amazement at seeing this man had halted her recovery stone dead.

But he was as good as his word. She watched as he fired the ring so far out to sea she was confident it would never be seen again. Her gaze strayed to the formidable width of his shoulders. He was as stunning from the back as he was from his front.

‘So something went wrong for you today,’ he said as he swung around.

She almost jumped out of her skin, embarrassed to think he might have caught her staring at him. ‘You could say that,’ she admitted sparingly.

‘Everyone has bad days.’ His magnificent shoulders eased in a shrug.

‘This one was extremely bad,’ she admitted.

‘Yet it prompted a party?’ he queried.

‘It’s more of a wake,’ she explained, turning to glance at her friends, who were already dancing on the flat, damp sand at the edge of the beach. They seemed to be having a good time, which was all she wanted.

‘A wake?’ the Titan prompted.

‘I don’t want to answer any more questions,’ she said bluntly. Walking into Janey’s room that morning had been quite enough. Staring into the mirror later, and realising she could never compete with Janey’s polish, wasn’t something she wanted to relive either.

‘Fair enough. Glad to be of service,’ the Titan drawled.

As she filled her eyes with him, her mind raced to work out how she’d reached this point. She’d been a scholarship girl, which was how she’d first met Mike’s sister. Jocelyn had taken Kimmie home for the holidays, which was where she’d met Mike. It was no wonder suave, sophisticated Mike had ultimately grown bored with Kimmie and looked elsewhere. She just wished he’d done that before asking her to marry him.

‘Don’t let me keep you,’ she said to the Titan.

One satanic brow lifted and she guessed he didn’t make a habit of doing other people’s bidding. And that posed another question. Why had he approached her now? Why Kimmie? She couldn’t bear it if he felt sorry for her...if anyone felt sorry for her. She’d sort this out herself.

Lifting her chin, she said, ‘Can I offer you a drink to say thank you?’ In her peripheral vision she could see her friends setting out the picnic they’d brought with them. Their landlady, Kyria Demetriou, had prepared the most wonderful wedding breakfast, and Kimmie was determined it wouldn’t go to waste.

‘I appreciate your offer,’ he said, ‘but I won’t be able to accept as you and your friends must leave.’

‘I’m sorry?’ She gazed up, uncomprehending.

‘This is a private beach,’ he explained, ‘and you don’t have the necessary permission to be here.’

‘And you do?’ she challenged. It might have been a hell of a day, but she wasn’t on the canvas yet, and she had no intention of going down without a fight. Her guests had travelled a long way, only to have the wedding cancelled at the eleventh hour. The least she could offer them was a party on the beach.

‘Look,’ she reasoned when the man remained stony-faced, ‘we’re not doing any harm, and we’ll clear everything up when we leave.’

‘Read the notice,’ he rapped.

She followed his stare to a huge red sign proclaiming the beach off-limits to the general public.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t see it,’ she admitted. ‘Are you some sort of ranger?’ Her heart thumped wildly as she stared him up and down.