Alekos was Greek, wasn’t he? Everyone knew that Greeks had big families. Everyone knew the Greeks loved children. Unlike their counterparts in England, who had a tendency to treat the arrival of children with the same enthusiasm as vermin, Greek restaurantowners were delighted when a young family arrived o
n the premises. They smiled indulgently if children ran around and danced to the music. Family was the Greek way of life.
And that was her dream, wasn’t it? The whole ‘big family’ thing.
That was what she’d always wanted.
Despite her efforts to keep her mind in check, Kelly’s thoughts drifted off on a tangent as she imagined what Christmas would be like with lots of small versions of Alekos dragging out prettily wrapped parcels from under the enormous tree. It would be noisy, chaotic, a bit like a day in her classroom, which was one of the reasons she loved teaching. She loved the noisy, busy atmosphere that was created when lots of children were together.
Maybe Alekos felt the same way.
Kelly gave a tiny frown. It was true that Alekos had talked to her class as if he’d been in a board meeting, but he probably just needed practice, didn’t he? He needed to understand that he couldn’t apply the principles of corporate management to child rearing. He was basically Greek, so that whole ‘family’ thing should be welded into his DNA.
Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.
At the very least, they had to try.
How could she ever look her child in the eye and say that she hadn’t even tried?
The limousine pulled up in a large courtyard dominated by a fountain, and Kelly gulped. The first time she’d seen Alekos’s Corfu home, she’d been shocked into awed silence by the sheer size and elegance of the villa. As someone who had grown up in a small house, she’d found the space and luxury of his Mediterranean hideaway incredibly intimidating.
She still did.
Reminding herself not to scatter her possessions around his immaculate villa, Kelly stepped hesitantly out of the car.
‘Mr Zagorakis has instructed me to tell you that he is finishing a conference call and will meet you on the terrace in five minutes.’ Jannis urged her inside the villa and Kelly gazed around at the familiar interior, no less daunted now than she’d been four years earlier.
The floors of the villa were polished marble and Kelly picked her way nervously, relieved she hadn’t worn the Christian Louboutin shoes. Death by stilettos, she thought uneasily, wishing Alekos had installed a handrail. Maybe the Greek aristocracy were given lessons in skating in heels when they were children.
Cautiously eyeing the priceless antiques, she kept her hands pressed to her sides, terrified that she was going to bang into something and send it smashing into a zillion pieces on the mirror floors. Nothing was out of place. Everything looked as though it was where it was supposed to be: no magazines, no half-read books, no unopened letters or junk mail covered in pictures of pizza, no half-drunk mugs of tea.
Feeling as though she was in a museum, Kelly looked round nervously, relieved when Jannis led her through a curved archway that led onto the terrace. No matter how many times she saw the view, it still made her gasp.
The beautiful gardens fell away beneath her, hot-pink oleander and bougainvillea tumbling down the gentle slope to the curve of perfect beach that nestled below the villa.
Kelly blinked in the sudden brightness of the midday sun, watching as a yacht drifted silently across the sparkling sea. She felt slightly disconnected, unable to believe that yesterday she’d woken up in her bed in Little Molting and now she was back on the island of Corfu with the sun shining in her eyes.
A lump settled in her throat.
She’d left her dreams here, on a sandy beach, with the sound of the sea in the air.
‘Was your journey comfortable?’ His voice was deep, dark and husky, and Kelly froze, desperately conscious that this was the first time she’d seen him since that day in her kitchen. A sizzle of sexual awareness shot through her body and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she turned.
The air was electric. If either one of them had touched the other, that would have been it. The dangerous glitter of his eyes said it all, and Kelly felt her body grow heavy with longing.
Suddenly she wished there were other people in the villa. She needed someone else to dilute the concentration of sexual tension that threatened to drown both of them.
She didn’t want to drown. She wanted to think with her head, not react with her body.
Trying to apply caution, Kelly reminded herself that this was nothing like the last time. She’d grown up, hadn’t she?
Her own particular fairy tale had most definitely not had a happy ending.
‘The journey was fine. I’ve never been on a private jet before. It was, well, private.’ She winced as she listened to herself. Oh for goodness’ sake, Kelly, say something more intelligent than that. But her tongue had apparently wrapped itself into an elaborate knot and her heart was racing at a very unnerving pace. ‘It felt a bit weird, if I’m honest.’
Bold dark brows rose in question. ‘Weird?’
Kelly shrugged awkwardly. ‘It was a bit lonely. And your hostess woman wasn’t very chatty.’