By ten to seven she had changed three times. She’d felt the first dress was too revealing and come-hitherish, the second outfit of a cream linen summer suit too austere, and the third dress in bright bubblegum pink had wiped all the colour out of her skin. Now she surveyed herself in the mirror, her face tragic and her eq
uilibrium completely blown.
The chocolate sequinned top with its spider-web thin straps dressed down beautifully with black jeans and strappy, high-heeled sandals, and she had fixed her hair into a loose casual knot, allowing a few tendrils to wisp about her cheeks and neck. She was wearing just a touch of shadow and mascara but that was all; the sun have given her skin a honey glow no cosmetics could improve and she only ever wore lip-gloss on her lips.
Would he think she had tried too hard? Or maybe that her outfit wasn’t dressy enough, or even too dressy? These females who chased him—how would they dress? Designer labels to a woman, no doubt, with real 24-carat little rocks glittering on their necks and throats. She bit her lip hard at the way her thoughts were going and closed her eyes for a moment. Enough. Enough, Sophy Fearn. You don’t have to compete with anyone—especially not where Andreas Karydis is concerned, for goodness’ sake! Pull yourself together, girl.
She opened her eyes and decided on no jewellery at all except a pair of simple silver studs in her ears. Ready or not, here I come… The simple childish rhyme she and Jill had used so often in their games of hide-and-seek when they were young made her smile for a second. There was no doubt Andreas Karydis would be ready and perfectly in control, but she herself was quite a different matter.
She remembered again his compelling sexuality and the effortless ease with which he had kissed her and smashed through all her defences, and her heart began to pound madly. When Jill knocked the door the next moment and popped her head round to say Andreas had just arrived, it was almost a relief to know the moment was here and the waiting was over.
‘You look gorgeous, Sophy, just right,’ Jill said approvingly.
Evangelos had told the girls that the Pallini was a favourite with the younger generation, an excellent restaurant with its own dance floor and band but with an informal reputation that meant almost anything went in the clothes line.
‘Are you sure?’ Sophy asked anxiously. ‘What’s Andreas wearing? He hasn’t dressed up, has he?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Observant had never been a word which could be applied to Jill. ‘Smart casual, like you.’
Smart casual could possibly have described the midnight blue silk shirt and beautifully cut black designer trousers that sat on Andreas’s frame like an advertisement for sensuality, but sheer dynamite would have been more apt, Sophy thought weakly as she walked into the drawing room some moments later.
‘Good evening, Sophy.’ Andreas moved from his position at Evangelos’s side to stand looking down at her, his grey eyes frankly appreciative. ‘You look very lovely tonight.’
‘Thank you.’ She tried to match his smoothness but felt the warmth in her cheeks and knew she was blushing.
‘All ready?’ He turned as he spoke and raised a casual hand of farewell to the others who were all trying—unsuccessfully in the most part—to hide their interest in the proceedings.
Sophy was vitally aware of Andreas as they walked out to the car, and after smiling at the impassive Paul sitting in the front seat she climbed into the back of the sleek limousine, catching a whiff of expensive aftershave as Andreas climbed in beside her.
‘Pallini’s isn’t far.’ Andreas settled himself comfortably beside her, apparently unaware that he brushed her body once or twice in the process with a hard male thigh. She, on the other hand, felt the contact like electric shocks and had to apply rigid control not to let it show.
The whole point of the evening was to let this impossible man know she was quite oblivious to him, not behave like a cat on a hot tin roof, she told herself desperately.
She expected him to turn on the charm big time but, after the few brief words when they had entered the car, Andreas was quite silent as they left the estate and turned on to the narrow lane outside. They had reached the main road and been travelling for some minutes before he said quietly, ‘Are you hungry?’
‘So, so.’ It was a beautiful evening, the sky still cornflower-blue and mellow sunlight slanting in the car window. ‘Michael and I had a barbecue together at lunchtime and I made the mistake of eating the food he didn’t want as well as my own,’ she said a touch ruefully, ‘so I’m not ravenous, if that’s what you are asking.’
‘Good.’ He smiled at her, an easy smile that smoothed out the hard angles and planes of his face. ‘I’ve reserved a table for nine; I thought it might be nice to take a stroll along the beach first. It is always beautiful in the evening, I think.’
‘Fine,’ she said with a wariness she couldn’t quite hide, and then found herself stiffening as he leant across and took her hand in his. She stared into his eyes, her own wide.
‘I am going to hold your hand, Sophy,’ he said with the ghost of a smile twisting his lips. ‘Okay? That gets that one out into the open. I shall probably hold it on the beach as well and put my arm round you, along with other little gestures that come naturally when a man is with a woman. I am not going to regress to the agony of adolescence with all its fumblings and awkwardness, so can you relax and accept you are out on a date?’
‘A date?’ She stared at him, horrified. And Andreas Karydis, even as an adolescent, would never, ever have fumbled, awkwardly or otherwise, her mind stated silently. ‘This isn’t a date. You’re Theodore’s brother,’ she said a little stupidly.
‘His half-brother,’ he reminded her evenly, ‘and as far as I know the one doesn’t preclude the other. This is a date, Sophy, whether you like it or not, and if you give yourself half a chance you might find you actually enjoy it.’
‘Enjoy being with you, you mean,’ she said before she actually thought what she was saying.
He smiled, apparently not in the least put out. ‘Exactly,’ he said drily, ‘and don’t expect me to apologise for suggesting such an outrageous notion, either. Woman is expected to be man’s companion. It is the right and proper order of things.’
He was teasing her and she knew it, and she smiled weakly.
The long sandy beaches and clear turquoise water in the north of Greece were renowned for their charm, but the exquisite, gently shelving stretch on which the Pallini was situated was particularly lovely, being just off the normal tourist track.
They had just passed through a small town which had been a winding maze of narrow cobbled streets and tiny squares, with flower-bedecked tavernas and sugar white houses spilling out on to the pavements. Just outside the perimeters of the town, Paul had turned the car off the main road on to a well-used track, which had opened immediately to disclose a large sprawling one-storey building built of wood, with an enormous veranda stretching the length of it which was painted white.
Massive wooden barrels stood to one side of the building, and the front of it was decorated with fishermen’s nets, huge shells, pieces of driftwood and other objects the sea had obviously brought to its door in its time. The effect was very attractive.