Page 35 of Reunited By the Greek's Baby

Theo was on a knife edge, juggling his concerns about Isla and the baby, his family and the company.

Yet it wasn’t the company or his family keeping him awake.

Every night Isla was under his roof sleep eluded Theo. Each morning she looked a little better, a little brighter and he’d been thankful, though he functioned on a bare couple of hours a night.

Every night since she’d arrived, he’d spent hours in the study, working. Or in his home gym. Or in the private rooftop pool, doing laps. The pool had solar heating so even on a wintry night it was inviting. Yesterday he’d turned that heating off, preferring to take an icy dip in hopes of killing libidinous thoughts.

It had worked only until he fell, exhausted, into bed. Then he’d been consumed by memories of them together, moving as one, scaling peaks of fulfilment that surely his imagination exaggerated.

She took a step towards him then paused, frowning. ‘You must be cold. You’re only wearing a shirt.’

She was worried about him?

‘I’m fine.’ He was immune to the cold, given the heat searing through his veins at being close to her. He paused, trying to get his brain to focus on something other than sweeping Isla into his arms then into his bed.

‘Do you want to go out for dinner?’ he said abruptly. ‘It would make a change from eating in the apartment.’

It was a spur of the moment idea but tonight Theo didn’t trust himself to play nice and keep his distance. Not through an intimate evening alone, just metres from his bed and any number of inviting sofas.

Hell, even the dining table was a danger zone.

‘I’d like that,’ she said eventually.

Theo tried to read her. But it was no use, she’d retreated behind those walls she erected. He’d give a lot to know what she was thinking.

He had to find a way to get through to her. For their child’s sake. And his own.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ISLAASSUMEDHE’Dtake her to a sophisticated restaurant. Instead the car had wound through increasingly narrow streets until he parked below the towering Acropolis and they walked through tiny lanes. On a summer’s day it would be a tourist mecca but on this crisp night it was quiet.

She didn’t notice a sign, just lights over the door, then they plunged into a cosy room with small tables, wooden chairs and checked oilcloth tablecloths. The place smelled delicious. Candles in old bottles flickered as they entered but other diners paid them little heed.

Not so the proprietor who hastened across, greeting Theo like a long-lost brother.

Isla knew some basic Greek but had no hope of understanding the machine-gun rapid enthusiasm of their host as he ushered them to a corner table. As they sat Theo introduced her as his friend from England. The owner, Georgio, welcomed her warmly before leaning close and assuring her that Theo was a good man. A very good man, he reiterated, and she was to pay no attention to the lies spread about him.

‘It’s okay, Georgio. Isla knows me.’

The man smiled and nodded, heading off with promises of food.

‘No menus?’ Isla queried.

Theo shrugged and grinned and she couldn’t help but stare. He was an uncommonly attractive man, but that rare, carefree smile...

‘It’s easier to let Georgio choose. He knows what’s best each day and he never disappoints.’

‘You know him well? Obviously he thinks a lot of you.’

‘We go back a while.’

He didn’t elaborate which left Isla wondering what he’d done to impress Georgio. She caught the direction of her thoughts and felt uncomfortable at her readiness to judge Theo badly. He’d rejected her cruelly but that didn’t mean he couldn’t behave well to others. Georgio’s warmth convinced her it hadn’t been just a welcome for a good customer. Had she been too harsh with Theo, always expecting the worst?

‘What did he mean by lies about you?’

Theo lifted one dark eyebrow. ‘You haven’t been following the media?’

‘I’ve had other things on my mind.’

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