Australia: Wicked Mistresses(46)

She could see from one end of this island to the other, the sweeping curve of dark cliffs topped with whitewashed villages that clung to the very edge of the cliff like icing spilling over the sides of a cake.

Andreas sat at the table already but, despite her growling stomach, she was too excited right now to sit and eat. How could she even think about eating when there was so much to devour with her eyes?

A breeze toyed with the ends of her hair as she stood at the balustrade, the air pure and clean as she gazed out across the sapphire-blue waters. The light was wonderful, more like the bright sunlight of home rather than the grey misty blanket that so often shrouded London, defining everything with sharp detail, so that even islands far beyond this ring of cliffs could be clearly seen.

Either side of her, the town of Fira spread across the clifftop, a jumble of closely packed buildings, some adorned with splashes of colourful bougainvillea and punctuated by stairways and narrow paths that somehow combined harmoniously to create a picture of charm, while far below two sleek cruise ships sat anchored. For a second memories of Kurt once more invaded her thoughts, but only for a moment. She was no day visitor here; she was living here for a month.

‘What do you think?’

Andreas appeared at her side, his arm looping casually around her shoulders. Appearances, she told herself, willing away the jag in her heart rate, he’s merely keeping up appearances for the maid busy filling up coffee cups. But it didn’t matter so much any more, not when she was being treated to a place of such amazing beauty that the man-made seemed not to detract from but to complement the natural.

‘It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how you can bear to leave it.’

He smiled as if pleased with her reaction. ‘It is always good to come home. Come.’ He drew her further around the terrace, pointing out the various islands. ‘This is the main island, known as Thera. The island across the water is called Therassia, and the tiny one between is known as Aspronisi.’

‘What about that one?’ She pointed to the low dark isle she’d noticed earlier.

‘That is Nea Kameni, the volcano.’

Her head swung around. ‘Volcano!’

He laughed, a rich deep sound that in normal circumstances would allay her fears. But these were hardly normal circumstances. He expected her to live on the edge of a volcano? ‘Like I was telling you last night, this ring of islands and these cliffs are the remains of the caldera after an eruption thousands of years ago. The empty chamber filled with sea water causing a massive explosion into which the volcano collapsed. This ring of islands is all that’s left.’

Despite the warming rays of the sun, Cleo shivered. The island cliffs formed a crater that was enormous. That something so beautiful could be created from something so devastating beggared belief. ‘But it’s safe now, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes, the volcano hasn’t erupted for some decades.’

Cleo wrapped her arms around her midriff. ‘You mean it’s still active?’

Andreas shrugged, a wry smile on his face. ‘The volcano is rebuilding itself. Sometimes the island rumbles with the reconstruction and sometimes she makes herself known in more obvious ways and lets off a little steam, but for the most part the earth is quiet. You are no doubt much safer here than on the streets of London.’

She breathed out. ‘Maybe you’re right, but Kangaroo Crossing is looking better by the minute. We lack the views of course, there’s nothing but red dust and Spinifex bushes as far as the eye can see, but at least it comes with no nasty surprises.’

‘You mean you don’t have poisonous spiders or snakes? What part of Australia is this?’And she had the grace to blush.

‘Come,’ Andreas said, ‘let’s eat, and then I must return to work. There is a pool on the lower terrace where you can swim or you can explore the town on foot. Do you think you will be able to amuse yourself during the day?’

‘I’m sure I will,’ said Cleo, surprised by his apparent interest in her, but her attention snagged as she sat before the breakfast table laden with what looked more like a feast. There were bowls of creamy yoghurt drizzled with honey and platters of pastries and rolls along with a selection of cheeses and fruit from which to choose.

‘Good,’ he said, ‘and then tonight I will show you the sunset and you will see it’s not so bad to live on a cliff top overlooking a volcano.’

‘I’ll take your word for that,’ she said, ridiculously pleased with herself when she caught his answering smile.

Refreshing was the word, he decided as he headed towards the suite of offices housed within the mansion. There was an innocence about her, a lack of sophistication that was charming.

Did she really fear for her safety here on Santorini when she came from a country with a reputation for its dangerous wildlife? It was laughable.

‘Andreas, you’re back at last.’ Petra perched herself on the edge of his desk, crossed her legs and smiled, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth between blood-red lips. ‘Your mother called.’

He didn’t miss the show of leg revealed by the split in the skirt, a skirt he’d never seen before. Was it his imagination or was Petra putting up a fight for his attention, first with her skintight clothes display last night, and now a skirt that was split to her thigh? ‘Did she leave a message?’

‘She said she’d like you to visit, said she hasn’t seen you for ages. I said you’d call her back later.’

Andreas wondered what else she might have said. ‘Was there anything else?’

Petra looked miffed, the coffee she’d brought them both forgotten Coffee together in his office around this time of day had been almost a daily ritual, where they would discuss whatever business had arisen or opportunities that might be in the offing. To him, there’d been nothing more in it than one colleague talking to another. Clearly Petra had read things differently. ‘No, nothing.’ She eased herself off his desk, straightening her skirt with her hands, the motion accentuating her cleavage. So different from Cleo’s ingenuous innocence that he almost felt sorry for her. Cleo didn’t have to play games to draw attention to herself. He’d noticed her attributes even before the makeover experts had woven their magic. Hers was a natural beauty, fragile, buried under a lifetime of feeling not good enough.

Cleo was more than good enough. Having her in his bed last night and trying not to touch her had been sheer torture. Only when he had been sure she’d drifted off, he’d allowed himself to gather her against him and breathe in the subtle scent of her skin and hair. Without even realising, she’d spooned her body next to his and it had taken every shred of self-control he owned to leave her sleeping when every part of him had been screamingly awake.

‘Although,’ Petra continued so abruptly that he looked up, surprised to see her still there, ‘I guess I should remind you about the Kalistos ball tonight. You’ll be taking Cleo, I imagine. Otherwise you and I could travel together…’

‘Of course, I’m taking Cleo,’ he barked as he sent her on her way. He suppressed a groan as he leaned back in his chair. What was wrong with him? It was clearly marked on his diary, but at breakfast he’d forgotten all about the ball and was thinking in terms of sunsets with Cleo instead. He knew what he’d rather do. But with Kalistos still to give his decision on Andreas’ latest proposal to tie their businesses together, a proposal that could benefit both companies to the tune of millions of Euros, there was no way he couldn’t show up.As for taking Cleo, she was starting to relax with him, but ideally he’d like another day or two before he could be sure she’d be completely convincing on his arm.

Another day or two he didn’t have.

Cleo had never been more nervous in her life. She’d wondered why Mme Bernadette had insisted on her taking the numerous gowns and had half suspected she’d been merely feathering her own nest—a Greek island sojourn surely wouldn’t require ball gowns?—and yet here she was, dressed in the pale gold halter-neck gown, her hair piled high on her head with coils trailing around her face courtesy of the hairdresser Andreas had sent to their suite, curtailing her sightseeing plans for today.

Andreas hadn’t helped relax her when he’d taken one look at her and whistled low through his teeth, sending her pulse and her senses skittering. And he certainly wasn’t helping relax her now as they drove down the windy switchback road to the port.

‘Constantine Kalistos is not only one of the major business and political leaders on the island, but also owns the largest charter boat operation in Greece,’ he told her, in a tone that suggested she should be taking notes. ‘He’s considering a business proposal I put to him and he’s the main reason we’re here tonight. He’s the perfect host but, at the same time, he’s a man you don’t want to offend.’

Cleo battled to absorb the information, growing more nervous by the second as the car pulled closer to a wharf lit with coloured lanterns, music spilling from the massive yacht moored alongside, couples dripping with jewellery and designer fashions emerging from the limousines and sports cars lined up before them.