Page 26 of Virgin's Night with the Greek

‘Handy for getting around.’

And for whisking women off for a weekend of sex at his secluded island villa, such as the beautiful brunette he’d chatted to at the party? They’d seemed pretty friendly. Not that it was any of her business. She wasn’t remotely interested in Leo’s romantic past. Just as well she wasn’t the jealous type, though. Otherwise the urge she’d had to shove the other woman out of the way would have been down to the desire to scratch her eyes out instead of simple annoyance at the delay.

‘So who was the brunette?’

Hmm. Perhaps she was more interested than she cared to admit.

A flicker of bemusement flitted across his face. ‘What brunette?’

Willow set her glass down on the table and feigned nonchalance. ‘Leggy. Gorgeous. Silky white trouser suit. Very pleased to see you as we made our way out of the nightclub. You gave her a kiss on each cheek, rattled away in Greek for a few moments and then she drifted off with a cool smile.’ Not that she’d noticed or anything.

‘Ah,’ he said with a faint nod. ‘That was Sophia.’

‘A girlfriend?’

‘We dated for a couple of months a year or so ago. I haven’t seen her since.’

For some reason, that came as a relief. ‘She has excellent hair,’ Willow said magnanimously. ‘Personally, I’ve never been able to master the art of the chignon.’

Leo ran his gaze over her head and her face, so leisurely and thoroughly that by the time his eyes met hers, her heart was pounding and her mouth had dried. ‘Your hair suits you.’

‘I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult,’ she said, taking another sip of champagne to alleviate her parched throat and willing her raging pulse to slow.

‘It’s a compliment. It’s very unusual.’

‘Unusual good or unusual bad?’

‘Merely an observation,’ he said smoothly, the canny brother of three sisters.

Overly warm, her skin prickling, Willow shifted on her seat to alleviate the sensation, a move which nearly resulted in a wardrobe malfunction. ‘Have you had many girlfriends?’ she asked, adjusting the asymmetric bodice of her one-shoulder navy dress.

‘Many before my father died,’ he replied vaguely his gaze lingering on her cleavage before returning to hers, a fraction darker and hotter than it had been a moment ago. ‘Only some since then.’

‘You never appear in the press with any of them.’

‘I take great care not to. My private life is private.’

‘Why aren’t you married?’ she asked, the interest she wasn’t supposed to be showing apparently overriding his right to privacy.

‘I’ve yet to meet the right woman.’

That came as no surprise. He’d be a hard man to please. The woman to match his exacting standards probably didn’t even exist. ‘I got the impression when we first met that you don’t have much regard for romantic love.’

‘It’s not an emotion I’m familiar with.’

‘Do you want children?’

‘I wouldn’t be averse to having a family at some point in the future.’

Which ruled her out. Not that she’d ever ruled herself in, of course. But still, it was good to know where she stood. No point in getting hopes up where regrettably there could never be any.

‘And what about you?’ he said a little abruptly, breaking into her thoughts before they could drift off into the sorrow and regret she felt whenever she contemplated how different her life could have been if her mother hadn’t died. ‘What’s your issue with relationships?’

Willow pulled herself together and determinedly staunched the flow of dreams of an alternative universe in which she successfully had the operations and, after a string of boyfriends, settled down with a husband to make a dozen adorable babies. ‘Who says I have an issue with relationships?’

‘You did. In my car. The night of my sister’s wedding.’

Ah. He was correct. She had. But she didn’t need to give an answer with any great detail. He must have read about the potential fertility issues, the possibility of depression and the general disruption to life associated with endometriosis anyway, and disclosing her complicated feelings towards love and death, which she knew made her sound completely irrational, would necessitate a conversation about her parents’ relationship and hers with them that was far too emotionally revealing to have with a man she’d never see again once the weekend was over.

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