Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand: Lie With Me

“And probably recognized him from the description I gave of the younger man on the beach.” I rose from the table. “I’m worried about Ariel and Caliban.”

“I spoke to Demetria about the cats. She says that ever since Caliban went missing, Ariel disappears for long periods of time. She may be with Alexi.”

I thought of the image of the white cat lying in the shadowy place. He was awake, just not moving. Maybe he couldn’t. “Perhaps she goes to her brother. That would make sense especially if she’s a worrier like my Pretzels is.” I recalled the remains of the small animal. “She may be bringing him food. And I saw water.”

“There’s nothing you can do right now. Not until Ariel returns.”

When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that Ionescu was still talking to Miranda. “The inspector suspects we’re lying about something. You should have told him you’re not Kit.”

“Miranda wouldn’t approve of my staying in your room if she learned the truth right now. I’m sure she feels that while you’re at the Villa Prospero, she’s standing in for your father. I wouldn’t want to add to the stress she’s under by insisting that I stay in your room as Roman Oliver.”

I met his eyes steadily. “I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions about who stays or does not stay in my room.”

Though his expression didn’t change I could tell he was amused. “That doesn’t alter the way your brothers would feel if they knew we were sharing a room. I know what I’d feel about my sisters.”

My brows shot up. “Theo is sharing a room with your sister Sadie on a pretty regular basis.”

“That’s different. There’s a commitment between Theo and Sadie.” All trace of amusement disappeared from his eyes. “I’m not a man who can make that kind of commitment, Philly. Running Oliver Enterprises is much more than a full-time job to me. It’s something I’ve worked for all of my life. I’ve watched my father try to juggle the responsibilities of business and family and now he’s heading for his third divorce. I decided some time ago that it wouldn’t be fair to ask someone to share my life when I would have so little time to devote to the relationship.”

With my temper surging, I closed the distance between us and poked a finger into his chest. “Let’s clear something up right now. I’ve never mentioned the C or the M word. I told you in your hospital room exactly what I wanted. I want to make love with you. Period.” Warming to my theme, I poked him again. “For two cents—”

Just in time, I reined in my anger and clamped my teeth together. I’d nearly threatened to expose his identity to Miranda and insist that she find him a room in the village. Thank heavens my more rational side prevailed. Because I didn’t want Roman staying someplace in the village. I wanted him in my room tonight. I was going to take what the Fates were offering me. I was going to take Roman Oliver.

Roman was looking at me as if he was seeing something he hadn’t seen before. “For two cents, you’d what?” he asked.

“Knock you on your ass again,” I said.

He chuckled then, and the sound had the rest of my temper draining away.

“C’mon.” He took my arm and led me toward the lobby. “Demetria said that our room is ready, and we’ll want to freshen up. Drinks are served at seven, dinner at eight.”

It was almost six. I figured that would give me plenty of time to implement stage one of my plan.

HANDLING PHILLY was going to be a problem. Roman knew it in the same gut way that he always knew when a business deal threatened to go south. He stood on the small balcony that opened off the living room of Philly’s suite. The rooms were small but well appointed, and the view of the sea below was one of the best that the villa had to offer. The sun was lowering in the sky and the scent of lemons filled the air.

But it was Philly’s scent that lingered in his mind. It had been haunting him ever since he’d kissed her. She’d used the shower first, so when it was his turn, each breath he’d inhaled had filled his mind with images of how it might feel to have her standing in the shower with him. He’d imagined running his hands over that slender body that he’d just begun to explore on the cliff path. Of molding her slick with soap against him. Hardness to softness. Heat to heat.

Spinning the fantasy out in his head, he’d lifted her and once she’d wrapped her legs around him, he’d pressed her against the wall and entered her slowly, drawing out the pleasure for them both until her wet heat totally engulfed him.

He’d very nearly come just thinking about it.

Turning, he glanced at the closed door to the bedroom. She’d been throwing him one curveball after another ever since she’d walked into his hospital room and propositioned him. And he could admit now that it had been a mistake to follow her here—the result of acting on impulse—something he rarely did. And now he felt trapped. How could he leave her? She was in trouble, and so, however distant the connection might be, was her family.

Someone had been murdered. Ionescu was a good man, competent. But there was no way to tell how successful the investigation would be or how long it would take. In the meantime, Philly had planted herself firmly in the middle of whatever was going on. If the young man she’d seen arguing with the dead man turned out to be her cousin, Ionescu would have a lot of questions for him. Then there were the cats.

Though he’d done his best to calm her worries about them earlier, there was no way she’d butt out until she was sure that both of them were safe. There was no way she’d butt out, period. The one thing he’d noticed about Philly was that once she set her sights on a goal, she always achieved it. Since she’d finished her degree in psychology, she’d slowly but surely built up her pet-psychic business while juggling part-time jobs at a veterinary hospital and filling in as hostess at her family’s restaurant. Kit bragged to him about each new client she got.

He glanced at his watch—a little after seven. She’d been getting dressed for over half an hour. He turned his attention back to the view. While Philly had been talking to Ionescu, Demetria had filled him in on the local legend that there was a kind of magic on the island that people could tap into. What you wished for could come true.

Standing on the balcony and watching the sun lower in the sky, Roman could almost believe the legend was real. Demetria’s English was more enthusiastic than clear, but from what he’d pieced together it was based on the belief held by many that Corfu had been the inspiration for the setting of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Perhaps some of Prospero’s magic still lingered and that was why he was feeling so bewitched.

Philly had made it pretty clear what she’d come to the island wishing for. Sex with a stranger. Recalling how she’d talked so casually of making love with some man she hadn’t even met yet, jealousy once again sliced through Roman with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. He was getting tired of the sensation and damn tired of wanting someone he’d told himself he couldn’t have.

He turned when the door opened and watched Philly step into the room. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe and his mind emptied. The one stray thought that tumbled into the void was that this wasn’t the Philly he’d known for years. Either it was the new haircut or she’d done something to her eyes that made them look larger. And her lips were a siren red. But it was the dress—or the lack of it—that had his throat going dry. The silky material that dropped from thin straps at her shoulders to stop well above her knees and hugged every curve of her body.

He had to work to keep from staring at her legs. Then she turned around and he gave up the battle. The dress was backless, and the combination of white skin and black dress had him thinking of magic again.

“What do you think?” she asked. “The saleslady guaranteed this dress was male bait.”

His only thought was that he would have to fight each and every one of those men off.

“Well?” Philly prodded, turning in another circle. As she did, the dress flared and revealed more leg.

“The saleswoman was right.” Roman was surprised that he’d actually formed words. “Shall we?” He gestured toward the door and gave her a wide berth as he led the way. If he stayed in this room one second longer, the fantasy he’d indulged in earlier during his shower would become a reality. Once in the hall, he drew in a deep breath and stifled an impulse to run. As they made their way down the hall, he hoped that the drinks on the terrace would include something much stronger than wine.

“I THINK THIS PLACE is a magical spot, don’t you?” Roman and I were seated on the terrace, lingering over a final glass of wine and some pastries. The sun was sinking into the sea and the sky was streaked with shades of blue and rose.

“The cuisine certainly is,” Roman said.

I was sure that the food was excellent, but I’d hardly tasted any of it. Our conversation had passed the time pleasantly enough. We’d avoided the topics of the dead man and the sniper and my still-missing cousin Alexi. And talking to Roman earlier about the cats had eased my mind—I was convinced that Ariel was with her brother just as Pretzels would be with Peanuts if she were injured and in need of help.

Instead Roman and I had talked about our work. I’d learned that he was on his way to Athens where he was negotiating a deal with a Greek millionaire and entrepreneur, Gianni Stassis, to buy into select privately owned hotels in Greece. The Villa Prospero was a prime example of the type of place they would approach with their offer.

My contribution to the dinner conversation had been to describe some of the more eccentric animals and owners that I worked with. But all the time what I really wanted was dessert, and he was sitting directly across from me.

Nerves jittered in my stomach, but I was determined to overcome them. I was just not going to let myself waste this opportunity. I ran my finger around the top of my wineglass, just the way I’d seen Linda Hamilton do it in a made-for-TV movie called Sex & Mrs. X. After dipping my finger into the glass, I raised it to my mouth and licked the wine off. In the film, Linda was a journalist who was writing a story on the most famous madam in Paris, and she’d picked up several tricks on how to attract and seduce a man. This particular one seemed to be working on Roman.

Sexy seductress was not my usual role, but I was beginning to think that I might have a knack for it. The dress was helping. I’d never before worn anything quite like it, and the look right now in Roman’s eyes was anything but brotherly. However, the man seemed to have a talent for running hot one minute and cold the next. Prime example—the kiss on the cliff path. I was still annoyed with him for pulling back.

Tonight, I wasn’t about to leave anything up to chance. Roman Oliver was a businessman, so I’d decided that it might be a good idea to offer him a deal.

Leaning forward, I said, “I’ve been thinking. As I told you earlier, I came here to Greece to have a fling. But I haven’t changed my mind about wanting to make love with you.”

He didn’t reply, but the look in his eyes could have liquefied my bones.

“Clearly, your story about your feelings for me being brotherly—well, that was an out-and-out lie. The way you kissed me on the cliff path wasn’t brotherly.”

He didn’t deny it. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all.

Encouraged, I took a sip of wine and went on. “It occurred to me at some point during our individual sessions with Inspector Ionescu that any reservations you might have about having a sexual relationship with me because of my family don’t apply here.”

His eyes narrowed then. “They sure as hell do.”

I raised a hand, palm out. “On the contrary. My father and brothers are back in San Francisco. We’re thousands of miles away on a magical Greek island. They’ll never have to know. And you’ve told my cousin that you’re my brother. So all we have to do is be discreet in public.”

“Philly—”

I ran a finger down the back of his hand (another Sex &Mrs. X tip). Not only did the gesture shut him up, but he turned his hand over and gripped mine. My throat went dry, and I felt the heat streak right to my center. Roman Oliver was going to be some dessert all right.