Kate Hewitt - Greek Mavericks - The Greek's Unforgettable Secret

‘Maybe you should go to bed now,’ he agreed. Releasing her, he stood back. ‘Alone,’ he murmured when she stared up at him.

How had she allowed things to go this far? Lizzie wondered. At this moment in time she would have followed Damon to Hades and back. The thought of parting from him and going upstairs to bed held no appeal at all, yet just a few minutes ago she had known it was the only sensible thing to do.

Iannis intervened, moving between them and insisting on shepherding them to his table.

‘The night isn’t over yet,’ he declared. ‘Eat! Drink! I have reserved two places at my table—’

How could they let him down?

‘Stavros would never forgive me if I allowed his favourite couple to miss out on the best part of the party—my food,’ Iannis explained proudly.

Lizzie thought Damon very restrained in not mentioning that it was his people who’d cooked tonight. More importantly, they weren’t a couple, as both Stavros and Iannis seemed to think. There was only Damon Gavros, billionaire, and Lizzie Montgomery, single mother with a child to protect.

‘And now we dance the kalamatianos!’ Iannis announced when the most delicious feast had been consumed.

He made a signal and a chord rang out. All his guests wanted to join in the famous national dance, and there was a group exodus from the tables.

‘As my honoured guest, you shall have the honour of leading the dance,’ he told Lizzie, handing her the traditional white handkerchief to hold aloft.

Her mother had taught her the steps of the dance when Lizzie was a child. They had often danced it together, with her mother humming the tune and Lizzie waving a little handkerchief over her head.

‘If you’d rather not…?’ Damon murmured.

‘Try and stop me,’ Lizzie said, standing up.

The distinctive twang of the bouzouki was like a rallying call. The rhythm, starting slowly and building up, made each Greek heart swell with longing. Waving the white handkerchief, Lizzie was the Pied Piper, drawing her flock to the area in front of the restaurant where the beach met the land beyond.

‘I’d kick off your sandals,’ Damon advised.

He was doing the same, she noticed. How ridiculous to find his feet sexy. She had to stop this now. One more dance and then she was definitely going to bed.

It was as if a lightning bolt zapped through her when Damon seized one end of the white handkerchief, effectively joining them by a shred of cloth. Lizzie tightened her grip as Damon’s heat seemed to invade the fabric, scorching her fingers, travelling on from there to her heart—

Really?

She was tired. Her mind was inventing things. They were dancing and that was all. But it wasn’t just dancing, and it wasn’t just music, it was memories wrapped up in a tune: a little girl dancing with her mother, holding her hand and believing that life would stay the same for ever.

‘Lizzie…?’ Damon murmured with concern.

Her eyes had filled with tears, she realised, dashing them away. ‘Why do you have to notice everything?’ she demanded impatiently.

The music suddenly picked up pace, forcing all the dancers to watch their feet rather than chat to their companions. Arms stretched out and resting on each other’s shoulders, their cries of ‘Oopa!’ grew louder, and as the dancing grew wilder several couples collapsed on the ground, laughing. But the band didn’t stop.

Soon it was Lizzie’s turn to grow dizzy, but as she stumbled Damon’s lightning reflexes saved her. ‘I’m going to show you the island tomorrow,’ he said as he steadied her on her feet.

She glanced at him in surprise. ‘You can spare the time?’

He’d never looked more dangerous, she thought, and he was waiting. Decisions had to be made. Common sense told her to stay away from him, but getting to know him all over again took precedence.

‘I’d have to ask Iannis.’

‘Would you?’ he flashed.

They both knew Iannis was only too keen to keep his part of the bargain with his cousin, and give Lizzie as much free time as possible.

‘Maybe a couple of hours?’ she said.

‘Good. That’s settled.’

‘But I’d have to be back by two,’ she said, remembering Thea’s concert in the afternoon.

‘That’s no problem for me,’ Damon assured her.

‘Then, thank you. What time in the morning?’

‘Eight. And bring a picnic.’

‘Don’t you have flunkies to do that for you?’

‘They’re away with my butler at the moment.’

Damon smiled, a flash of strong white teeth against his swarthy skin. She couldn’t match it. Things were moving too fast.

She tried telling herself that if he could be as relaxed as this when he learned about Thea things would be okay, but she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

SHE HAD TRIED to get hold of Thea the next day, before she set off with Damon, but Thea had been having breakfast before an early rehearsal for the afternoon concert. And now Lizzie was out of touch, clinging to a handrail on board Damon’s powerboat as they crashed through breakers as high as houses on the open sea.

He was full of surprises. The value of his air, sea, and land craft alone would fund a small country, with change to spare. He was standing at the helm, controlling the massive craft with one hand, as casually if its immense power was just another extension of his magic.

He looked more like a marauding brigand than a respectable billionaire, with his swarthy skin and unshaven face, she thought, taking in the ripped and faded shorts, his bare feet and faded top.

‘Have you never been on a powerboat before?’ he asked as she lurched towards him.

‘The closest I’ve come to this is the cross-Channel ferry.’

‘Then it’s time to widen your horizons.’

She murmured in reply. She’d tried that once before, and now she preferred to limit her horizons to Thea.

‘So, where are we going?’ she asked. ‘No—don’t turn to look at me!’ she yelped as Damon swung round. ‘Shouldn’t you be concentrating on where you’re going?’

He laughed. ‘I know exactly where I’m going.’

Yes. That was what she was afraid of, and she only wished she felt half so confident as Damon looked.

Having rebuilt her life, Lizzie controlled it within certain boundaries, but those boundaries seemed to be disappearing fast. Telling Thea about Damon and then explaining to Damon that he had a daughter had seemed so straightforward in the planning, but time was rushing past and she seemed no further on.

‘Is this our destination?’ she asked as he slowed the powerboat. It was beautiful. She stared around with interest at the picturesque bay.

‘It’s called Cove Krýstallo,’ Damon explained. ‘Or Crystal Cove. This area has always been a favourite of mine on the island, and now I’ve built a house here.’

And not just a house but the most magnificent dwelling Lizzie had ever seen, she thought as he eased back on the throttle. The mansion was built of blush-pink stone. Low built, to blend in with its surroundings, it was elegant and vast. It could be called a beach house, she supposed, because of its seafront position, but it was a beach house fit for a billionaire.

She was so far out of the customary modest rut that she shared with Thea, it was becoming ridiculous.

‘We’ll be back for two. I haven’t forgotten,’ Damon said as she frowned and shook her head with incredulity.

‘Thanks.’ She supposed she should be grateful that he couldn’t read her mind.