Page 39 of Virgin's Night with the Greek

‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘I’dliketo join you.’

‘Well,I’dlike some space,’ she said, picking up her bag and dropping her phone into it, her smile small, the gaze that met his cool. ‘So I’ll see you later.’

The taxi dropped Willow off at the famous church known for its blue dome, its spectacular views and obviously, its three bells some time later, and she spent an hour exploring first it and then the streets around. Delightful and interesting though the experience was, however, it didn’t give her the respite she’d been hoping for.

She’d been looking forward to spending some time alone. To cleansing her head and clarifying her thoughts and ridding herself of the longing to find out more about Leo. She hadnotanticipated missing him. Yet she did. She kept thinking of things to tell him. Time after time she turned to do so, expecting to find his tall broad frame in the vicinity, and without fail, a stab of disappointment at the realisation it wasn’t struck her right through the heart.

It was ridiculous. After all, she was well accustomed to doing things on her own. With a largely absent father, both emotionally and physically, and no boyfriend to snuggle up with on the sofa, she’d been doing so for years. Somehow, though, probably because of the amount of time she’d spent with him, she’d got used to Leo’s company. She’d had a glimpse of what it could be like to be part of a couple, and even though she knew it wasn’t real, even though she’d be foolish to dwell on such things, secretly she’d found it thrilling.

She finished off the sparkling water she’d ordered at the cafe at which she’d stopped to escape the heat of the sun, her head teeming with exciting, possibly unwise yet unstoppable thoughts. Surely there’d be no harm in letting him tag along on her days out if he wanted to. As long as she remembered that theyweren’ta couple, that this fling of theirs had to come to an end—and soon, because time was marching—she’d keep her head. She was in no danger of falling for him. Nothing had changed in that regard. Her heart was still safely locked away and there it would stay.

‘Meet me at the bottom of the Karavolades Stairs in half an hour,’ she told him over the phone, blocking out the faint warning voice ringing in her head as she dropped some coins into the saucer that contained the bill and got to her feet, ‘and I’ll buy you lunch.’

Leo had spent the morning prowling around the villa, wondering what Willow was doing and whether she was all right. He should have gone after her was the thought that kept zipping through his head. If his common sense hadn’t kicked in at the last minute to remind him that he had to respect her request for space, he would have.

He should also have been delighted with the solitude her departure had generated. She wasn’t the only one who’d wanted it. Time on his own suited his need to regroup and rebuild his defences perfectly. But the villa felt strangely empty and colourless without her in it. He’d got used to having her, her hair and her jewellery around. To his bafflement, he wasn’t grateful she’d gone; he was annoyed.

His phone rang twice, but when he saw that the callers weren’t her but firstly Daphne, who must have just returned from honeymoon, and secondly, Zander, he ignored it. Within moments of hanging up on the third call, however, he was out the door and on his way. The Karavolades Stairs, comprising over five hundred steps, were steep and winding and plagued with donkeys. Had Willow taken a hat to protect her from the intense sun? And what shoes had she been wearing? There was no handrail and the stone could be deceptively slippery.

He didn’t stop to think about the probing personal questions that might arise during lunch and beyond. He didn’t stop to analyse the absurd pleasure and sheer relief he felt at her invitation to join her. He just got in the car and drove.

CHAPTER TEN

INTHEDAYSthat followed, Leo took Willow to the hot springs on the tiny, uninhabited islet of Palea Kameni and the black sands of Kamari Beach. He introduced her to fragrantsouvlakiand the sweet, creamy, custard-flavoured delights ofgalaktoboureko. One evening at an open-air cinema, they saw a film in Greek, which she didn’t understand. He leaned in close to provide a continual translation, but his proximity had such a disastrous effect on her concentration that she didn’t follow much of that either.

At no point did Willow regret having invited him to join her for lunch and the sightseeing that came after. Every time she turned to talk to him, there he was, and she felt no stab of disappointment, just a little leap of delight. Thankfully his surliness had gone. In fact, he’d become positively chatty. He’d told her more about his siblings and his relationship with each of his parents. About the sailing competitions he’d participated in as a youth and his job as an adult. By sticking to her modus operandi of getting other people to talk—he wasn’t a client she was painting, but the principle was helpful—Willow had actually got away with sharing very little.

Tonight, he’d brought her to a tiny but packed taverna. It sat right over the bay, the wide pergola-covered terrace just a few metres up from the crystal-clear azure shallows. The colour of the painted wooden balustrade around the edge and the tables and chairs matched the cerulean sky. The setting sun radiated off the blinding white walls of the restaurant behind and hot pink bougainvillea trailed down the pergola uprights.

It was rustic and charming. The clientele was laid back, the conversation buzzed and not so long ago she’d have been surprised by the choice. She’d have imagined that a billionaire CEO with control issues and a liking for order might prefer a more formal setting in which to dine. But recently she’d seen less of that man and more of the one she felt he must have been before.

They were shown to a table in the corner, overlooking the sea. It was too small really, and the positioning of the chairs—ideal for maximum appreciation of the view—resulted in a seating arrangement that was far too intimate for two people who were engaged in nothing more than an ultra-short affair. But Leo didn’t steer her to another and she certainly wasn’t going to object. She’d take all the close contact she could get.

He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down. He took the other and folded his large frame into it. When his knee bumped against hers beneath the table, a thousand volts shot though her. His scent dizzied her head. His proximity made her want to lean in to him and sigh.

Instead, she stayed where she was and picked up the menu. Understanding not a word of it, she put it back down. ‘Would you order for me?’

‘What would you like?’

She’d like to able to appreciate the romance of the place and the tangerine sunset, to gaze into his eyes and hold his hand. She’d like to burrow into his soul and stay there until she knew everything there was to know about him. She’d like to be able to share with him all her hopes and dreams, her insecurities and her fears, the hallmarks, she felt, of a proper relationship. To be able to overcome the emotional and physical obstacles that littered her life, to be his type and for thingsnotto be coming to an end. But unfortunately none of that was on the menu, either in Greek or in English.

‘What comes recommended?’

‘The calamari is reputed to be excellent.’

‘Then I’d like that.’

But unbeknownst to her, Willow had been on borrowed time and the idyll was about to implode. She was lying by the pool the following afternoon when a familiar stabbing sensation suddenly skewered her abdomen. For a moment she lay there, staring up the wisps of cloud streaking the sky like candyfloss, a little confused, a little alarmed, her heart beating a fraction too fast.

No.

This couldn’t be happening.

She’d never been very regular, but it was way too soon, surely. It had to be indigestion or something.

What date was it anyway?

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