The Greek's Innocent Virgin
Шрифт:
There was even a black onyx cuff link he’d tossed in the study’s trash bin when he’d lost the other one. She’d dug it out and put it away with her mementos. Such a silly, juvenile thing to do, but perhaps understandable as a teenager.
So, why had she felt the need to keep the cuff link at the age of twenty-three?
She didn’t know. All she did know was that she had been unable to toss it and when she’d tried, she’d actually ended up pulling it out of the trash can in her bedroom to gently polish and put it back in the box. He’d worn the set of cuff links to her eighteenth birthday, the one and only time he’d ever danced with her.
She refused to analyze too closely why that had such emotional significance for her, just as she would not dwell on his forceful and public rejection earlier. Both issues were best left in the far recesses of her mind.
She yawned and lay back in the sand, letting tired muscles unwind. The quiet surrounded her, emphasizing the difference between the Southern Californian beaches back home and this one. No crashing surf or cacophony of voices rose to disturb her solitude. There were no horses for rent, or surf-boards standing erect in the sand. The island was private and though a small village existed on the North side, the other occupants never trespassed on the Demakis Villa’s beach.
She’d swum here unafraid of being ogled by men…when her mother was not entertaining.
Soon she would be leaving all this behind for good. She would not return to Greece, never see Sebastian again, never soak the sun’s rays into her skin in quiet solitude like this one. Her heart contracted in rebellion of her thoughts.
“Eugenie informs me you plan to eat a snack in your room rather than join me for dinner.”
Her eyes flew open to the sight of Sebastian towering over her reclining form. His hair covered, tanned legs dominated her line of sight and she had to tilt her head back to see his face. Like the other night, he’d changed into shorts, but his white polo shirt that emphasized the darkness of his skin went better with his power persona than the casual tank top had.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Obviously, I came to find you.”
“Oh. Why?”
He frowned. “Is it really such a sacrifice to share your final meal in Greece with me?”
“I cannot imagine you wanting my company.”
“Do not be foolish. You are a guest in my home.”
And Greek hospitality was offended by the notion she would eat a solitary meal in her room. It had nothing to do with her, or him wanting to spend time with her. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, wanting to allay a guilt prompted evening `a deux. “Entertainment is not required for my last night here.”
His dark eyes traveled up and down her form, an expression in the gray depths she did not want to decipher and then he smiled. “Perhaps I wish to entertain you.”
He was back to being the charming Greek billionaire, but she was still smarting from his vow he could never love Andrea Demakis’s daughter and wanted none of it.
She clambered to her feet, brushing the sand off the seat of her loose fitting capris. “There’s no need. I’m tired and could use the extra sleep of an early night.”
“You cannot be thinking of going to bed now.” He looked genuinely horrified as only a man who slept a mere five hours a night could. “It is barely evening.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.