A grim smile touched his lips as he drew towards the end of the path which would give him access onto his front lawn. Milos Loukas could be infuriatingly thorough when he wanted to be. Every passport had to be checked by telephone for its authenticity. Even his own Greek patriots were treated with suspicion and forced to endure the same checks. By the time Anton had arrived on the scene, all six reporters had been more than ready to beg him to get the customs officer off their backs. But it was a case of allowing the official his hour of importance and just taking a back seat until Milos was ready to release them into Anton’s care.
Perhaps he should have joined them on their departing boat, he mused, because he’d missed his chance to fly away, which left him with little choice but to come home for the night.
But he did not want to be here. He did not want to suffer the aggravation of another fight with Zoe Kanellis, or worse risk feeding his growing desire.
The sound of a woman’s delighted laughter ringing out into the darkness brought his head up and he pulled to a stop. He had decided to delay his arrival here by walking the two miles home from the village via the beach; his eyes had adjusted to the darkness but still he found himself questioning what it was he was staring at.
She looked like the nymph Thalia come out to play while no one was about, a shimmering vision of golden hair and pale, pearlescent skin. The bright white of her dress glowed in the sultry darkness and she stood in the middle of his garden with her face lifted up to the heavens, her beautiful hair spilling down her back.
She was turning slowly as she counted—counted—the damn stars up above. Had she gone mad? She was naming them too. He could not hear what names she was saying because her voice was just a breathlessly enchanting whisper, but every couple of seconds another laugh would break from her when she spotted something that truly delighted her.
Standing there on the edge of the path in the shadows, Anton was entranced. He should go; he knew that he should. If anyone was guaranteed to rob all that childlike delight from Zoe Kanellis then it was him. He should just turn around and creep away again like a thief in the night. Go and bunk down on the sofa in Kostas’s house in the village. Perhaps the two of them could get drunk on a bottle of ouzo and Kostas could vent his spleen with all the disapproving remarks about Anton’s behaviour he had been storing up.
Where had he got the idea that she was too thin?
That dress didn’t say thin, it said delicately formed curves in all the right places, the teasing shape of her neat behind and her nipped in little waist. His gaze drifted higher as she completed a full circle, giving him a full-on view of two firmly rounded globes filling the shape of her tie-neck top. The inner growl of his sexual animal brought a soft curse hissing from his lips as his body responded with a flood of fierce heat directly to his pelvis, and he twisted round to face in the opposite direction, intending to make good his escape while he still had the strength.
But he stood on a twig and made it snap. Behind him he heard a sharp little gasp.
‘Who is there?’ Zoe Kanellis called out uncertainly.
Anton shut his eyes and ground his teeth together. The ensuing silence behind him played across his tense shoulder-muscles and the fine hairs on the back of his neck. If he moved she would see him. If he stayed where he was it was like accepting that he was a scared wimp.
Be a man, Pallis, he told himself, and made himself turn round again.
‘I said, who’s there?’ Zoe repeated, already balancing on the balls of her shoes ready to run. It was so dark over by the trees her eyes were stinging as she tried to pierce through it.
‘It’s OK,’ a familiar voice answered very dryly. ‘It is only me.’ Her heart gave a giant leap when she saw the tall, lean figure of Anton Pallis emerge from out of the darkness.
‘Oh.’ She put a hand up to cover the pounding beat of her heart. ‘You scared me.’
She caught sight of the way his mouth drew down at the corners in a grimace. He was still wearing the grey suit he’d changed into on the flight over here, only the jacket was no longer on his back put slung over a wide shoulder and held there by a long finger hooked into the loop. His tie had gone, the top few buttons on his shirt dragged open at his taut brown throat. A five o’clock shadow gave his jaw a roguish look and as he came closer she saw how that grimace seemed to mock himself.
‘Stargazing, Zoe?’ he quizzed.
‘I’ve never seen a sky like it.’ She actually smiled at him as she said it, then looked up again as he came to stop a couple of steps away from her. ‘It’s just glorious.’
‘So, how many did you count?’
‘I got to two billion before you interrupted.’
‘My apologies,’ he murmured.
‘Accepted,’ she returned, softly, because as far as Anton could tell she was busy counting stars again. ‘I wish I had my telescope.’
‘You have your own telescope?’
‘Mmm. If you look just up there—’ she raised a pale, slender arm to point towards the night sky ‘—you can see the dense-star field around the Antares. It’s an M4 cluster and looks spectacular here because there’s no air pollution to cloud it out.’
Anton looked up and just saw stars. ‘Where is this telescope you wish you had with you?’
‘I sold it when I left uni … Oh, Anton, look; there’s Perseus. How fitting to find him flying over Greece. I could …’
Her excitement faded into nothing when Zoe realised she was talking to a lost audience. He wasn’t looking up at the sky, he was watching her with a brooding intensity that flooded a blush into her cheeks.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, her voice turning husky with embarrassment as she added, ‘The night sky is my—passion.’
‘I can tell,’ he said softly.