‘We did. And talking of good times—’ the woman peeped over the top of her sunglasses ‘—that guy makes me want to forget I’m married. If he’s looking for company, send him my way.’
A nasty suspicion pricking the back of her neck, Selene turned and glanced towards the man who was attracting so much attention.
Stefan lounged at a table in the far corner of the taverna. Even without the expensive suit there was an unmistakable air of wealth and power about him, and yet she knew women stared not because of the promise of riches but because his raw masculine appeal promised sex as they’d never had it before. He attracted women like iron filings to a magnet with no apparent effort on his behalf. Perhaps that was why, she thought numbly. Perhaps it was his supreme indifference that provided part of his appeal. Every woman wanted to be the one to catch the attention of a man whose attention wasn’t easily caught. There wasn’t a woman alive, even those happily married, who could look at this man and not wonder what a night with him would be like.
And she knew.
His gaze locked on hers and she knew her changed appearance hadn’t fooled him for a moment. In that single look she was hit with the full force of his masculinity. Her body burned under his steady appraisal but even though she wanted to she couldn’t look away.
Something passed between them. Something raw and primal that made it impossible to think of anything but those intense, unforgettable hours she’d spent in his bed.
Desperately, she tried to remind herself that none of it had been real. At least, not for him.
‘Kalimera.’
He spoke softly and Selene almost stumbled, tightening her grip on the tray to stop it from crashing to the ground.
It wasn’t fair that she should feel like this.
By rights she should be able to look at him and want to slap his face. Instead all she wanted to do was grab the front of his exquisitely tailored shirt with both hands and rip it open, exposing the man underneath. On the surface he seemed so urbane and sophisticated—civilised—and yet beneath the trappings of success was a man who had fought his way to the top with his bare hands. He had no scruples about doing what needed to be done to get what he wanted. Of course he didn’t. He ran his business according to his own agenda with no thought for anyone else. He’d used her to score points against her father. Knowing that, she wanted to look away, but those dark, dangerous eyes wouldn’t release her from that invisible bond that held her trapped.
Her brain appeared to have shut down and she was breathing so fast she started to feel light-headed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Pausing for a drink in a local taverna after a long, stressful day at work.’ He stretched out his legs, as relaxed as she was tense, those dark eyes watchful.
‘Why pick this one?’
‘You already know the answer to that.’
Why would he have tracked her down? Why go to that trouble?
She could feel everyone watching them, straining to hear the conversation. Saw her boss watching her with a frown and remembered just how precious this job was. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Just coffee.’ Somehow he managed to make that instruction sound intimate. ‘I like your hair. The cut shows off your face.’
The compliment threw her and she lifted her hand to her newly cropped hair.
She’d cut it herself, with blunt scissors and nothing but a chipped mirror in which to view the results. With a few hacks of those scissors she’d become Lena. And when she’d finished hacking she’d scooped up the mounds of soft golden hair and added them to the rubbish where no one would find it. It was the first thing she’d done in her new life. The second was to get a job, and she knew she’d been lucky to get this one when so many were struggling.
‘What do you want, Stefan?’
‘You didn’t have to cut it. You don’t have to hide.’
Panic gripped her and she glanced over her shoulder to check no one was listening. ‘I’m not hiding. I’m working in a restaurant in full daylight. And I’d like to take your order.’
‘You’re trying not to draw attention to yourself. You’ve cut your hair. You’re nervous. I can protect you.’
There was a strange fluttering low in her belly. ‘Too late. I don’t believe in heroes any more.’
‘How about man’s ability to make a mistake. Do you believe in that?’
She didn’t dare listen. He was smooth, persuasive and a master negotiator. She knew he would probably be capable of convincing her of anything.
‘I’ll fetch your coffee.’
‘What time do you finish?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to come here again. You mustn’t come here again. You’re too—conspicuous.’ Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. The thought that her father might find her made her feel sick. She’d contemplated hiding away but that would have made it impossible for her to work, and if she couldn’t earn money she couldn’t be independent. And that wasn’t all, of course. She refused to live her life in hiding.