Greek Affairs: In His Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger / Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon's Bed / Bedded by the Greek Billionaire

‘But how could she?’ Milos couldn’t take it in. ‘She didn’t know where I was staying.’

‘Then someone must have told her,’ said Helen practically. ‘I don’t suppose it was a secret, was it?’

Milos shook his head. ‘When?’ he asked, ignoring her question. ‘When did she phone?’

‘Can’t you guess?’ Helen’s voice was flat now. ‘You may remember, you’d gone into the bathroom to—to get rid of the evidence. She was very surprised when I answered your phone.’

‘And what did you tell her?’

‘Well, I didn’t expose your dirty little secret,’ said Helen with a grimace. ‘Though I imagine she had her suspicions. Was that why you got a divorce?’

Milos’s lips curled. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you how it was with Eleni and me. There was no love lost on either side.’

‘That wasn’t my impression.’ Helen was sceptical.

‘I don’t care what your impression was,’ he answered, his mind filled with the images of that evening at his hotel. He remembered going into the bathroom, to dispose of what had evidently proved to be a faulty condom. He remembered turning on the shower and sluicing his overheated body with cold water. He even remembered thinking Helen might like to join him. But when he’d come out of the bathroom, she’d gone.

‘So why didn’t you stay and tell me this?’ he demanded now. ‘Why didn’t you ask me about Eleni, instead of running away like a spoilt child?’

‘Because that’s what I was,’ she retorted. ‘A child, anyway. And when she told me that you’d come to England, not for a holiday, as you’d said, but to get me to change my mind about my father, I knew the suspicions Mum had had about your motives were right.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Though why you thought seducing me would make me feel more sympathetic towards Sam, I can’t imagine.’

‘I didn’t seduce you!’ Milos couldn’t prevent an oath. ‘So that’s why you refused to speak to me again.’

‘Among other things.’ Helen sounded weary now. ‘I felt sorry for your wife. She sounded really nice. I remember I made some excuse about us going out for dinner and you forgetting something. I told her you were just in the bathroom, but she didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘I can believe that!’ Milos was furious. ‘That woman had manipulation off to a fine art. She was lying, Helen. If she let you think I’d betrayed her, she was lying. You should have asked her whose bed she was sleeping in that night. I can guarantee it wouldn’t have been her own.’

‘And that excuses what you did?’

‘I never said that.’

‘No, but it did prove that you and my father were one of a kind.’

‘No!’ Milos swore again. ‘Sam knew nothing about it. He still doesn’t. He’d have killed me if he’d suspected what I’d done.’

‘Chalk one up for my father, then.’ Helen was derisive.

Milos sighed. ‘He trusted me and I betrayed him.’

‘And he betrayed my mother,’ she countered. ‘That makes you fairly even in my book.’

Milos lifted his shoulders helplessly. ‘It wasn’t quite the same.’

‘No. Sam got a divorce and married Maya.’

‘I meant, our—relationship; affair; whatever you want to call it—was too short.’

‘And whose fault was that?’

‘Well, it wasn’t mine.’ Milos ignored her attempt to deny his words and hastened on. ‘I tried to see you again, Helen. You know I did. But you hid behind that gorgon of a mother of yours, and I had to get back to Greece.’

‘How convenient!’

‘It wasn’t convenient at all,’ said Milos harshly. ‘I didn’t know Eleni had been filling your head with lies. And I had a job to do, people that depended on me for their livelihood. As far as I was concerned, you’d made it pretty obvious you wanted nothing more to do with me.’

‘Well, it’s too late now.’ Helen caught her tongue between her teeth and gave a little shiver—of what? Remorse? Regret? She moistened her lips. ‘It’s a pity you didn’t tell me the truth at the beginning. It would have saved—’

She broke off abruptly, almost as if she was afraid she’d said too much, and Milos frowned. ‘It would have saved—what?’ he prompted, feeling as if he was on the brink of learning something significant. He took an involuntary step towards her. ‘Helen—’

‘I think this is the coffee you ordered,’ she said quickly, once again taking his thoughts in an entirely different direction. He turned with some impatience to see the housekeeper stepping carefully onto the veranda with a tray.

‘Theos!’ His frustration was almost crippling and he had to force himself not to take his anger out on the old woman. ‘Just put it on the table,’ he ordered shortly, in his own language, and Andrea bowed her greying head in nervous submission.

‘Afto ineh ola, kirieh,’ she asked, giving Helen a hasty once over as she spoke.

Milos tamped down his irritation. ‘Ineh mia khara, efkharisto.’ That’s fine, thanks. His smile reassured her. ‘Tipoteh alo.’

The old woman returned his smile and, with another brief glance at his companion, she left them alone. As Milos had expected, Helen took the interruption as a way of evading continuing their discussion, and, contenting himself with the thought that she couldn’t avoid him for ever, Milos let her get away with it.

She was obviously waiting for him to suggest she take charge of the coffee, and when he didn’t she approached the table herself. It was apparently the lesser of two evils, and, seating herself on one of the wicker chairs, she picked up the pot.

‘Cream and sugar?’ she asked politely, making a mockery of the ceremony, and Milos wanted to haul her up out of the chair and force her to finish what she’d been going to say.

‘As it comes,’ he said stiffly, watching as she poured some of the thick, aromatic beverage into a thin porcelain cup. But he couldn’t help taking pleasure from the fact that her hand shook as she handed it to him.

He noticed that, although she poured herself some coffee, she didn’t drink it. Instead, she took one of the honey-soaked pastries from the plate the housekeeper had provided, breaking the flaky sweet between her fingers, attempting to bring the crumbling morsel to her mouth.

Milos had sworn to himself that she wasn’t going to distract him again, but his stomach lurched as her tongue swept out to rescue an errant crumb from her lower lip. There was something distinctly sensual in the way she was enjoying the pastry, and he set his cup back on the tray with a growing feeling of impotence.

As if sensing his frustrated regard, however, she finished the pastry and got to her feet again. Then, as if indifferent to his presence, she walked past him to the steps above the pool where she had been standing earlier.

‘Did you mean what you said?’ she asked, over her shoulder. ‘About me taking a dip in the pool?’

Milos stifled a groan, and then, his jaw clenching, he said, ‘If that’s what pleases you.’

‘It would please me if you would take me back to your parents’ villa. But as I’m here …’ She turned back to look at the pool again. ‘Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my swim-suit.’

‘And that’s a problem?’

He couldn’t resist the taunt, but she’d had it her own way for far too long.

‘Not for you, perhaps,’ she said tersely, and he was pleased to see he’d disconcerted her. ‘I’m not used to taking off my clothes in front of strange men.’

‘Nor am I,’ he remarked mildly and saw the way her lips compressed.

‘Nor in front of strange women,’ she retorted. ‘I have a little more self-respect these days.’

The barb in the tail of the sentence didn’t escape him, but he had no desire to cut their time together short. He nodded towards the row of wooden cabanas at the end of the pool deck. ‘I think you’ll find everything you need in there.’