The Secret Kept from the Greek

‘It will keep.’ She hoped. As her secret had been kept for eleven years, she had to believe it would keep a little longer.

She had already danced with Damon far longer than she’d had intended. But the band worked against her, segueing into another tune, allowing Damon to bring her close again.

Allowing? How hard did she fight him?

How could someone so much bigger than she was hold her close and prove they fitted together perfectly? Just for a few moments she allowed herself to close her eyes and rest her cheek against his chest. It felt so good. His thigh brushed against her intimately—by accident, she told herself firmly. She was so on edge she was ready to believe anything.

He’d been tender and gentle on that night, as well as hot as hell and sexy, and sometimes she longed for that tenderness and intimacy of thought as much as the sexual act. She wanted that too, of course. She was a normal, healthy woman, and it was impossible to be this close to Damon without thinking about sex.

That night had drawn them closer than either might have expected. He’d confided his hopes for the future, his love for his family, and his desire one day to have a family of his own. She’d told him about the holidays she remembered having as a child, when her mother had been alive. Summers had seemed to last for ever then, and Lizzie’s life had been full of warmth and a love she’d thought would go on for ever.

And then had come the hollow black part. She hadn’t burdened him with that. And then the greatest gift of all—Thea. Motherhood. Responsibility. Love. She’d embraced all three with gratitude, but if life had taught her one thing it was never to take anything for granted.

‘If I didn’t know you better I’d say you had a guilty conscience,’ Damon commented when she shifted restlessly in his arms.

‘No guilt,’ she said.

‘Not even a tiny bit?”

She chose not to answer that. Of course there was guilt. There was more than one parent in Thea’s life. How much more guilty could she feel?

* * *

Damon had often wondered if that first scorching spark between them would stand the test of time, and here was his answer. Sensation ruled him when Lizzie was in his arms. No other woman could come close to making him feel the way she did. His body was a raging conflagration of lust.

But what he liked best about her was her honesty. When other women would tell him what they thought he wanted to hear, Lizzie told him the truth, uncaring of the consequences. The temptation to kiss her—to kiss every part of her—was overwhelming, but once he started he wouldn’t stop, and this was neither the right place nor the right time.

‘Maybe you should go to bed now,’ he agreed. Releasing her, he stood back. ‘Alone,’ he murmured when she stared up at him.

* * *

How had she allowed things to go this far? Lizzie wondered. At this moment in time she would have followed Damon to Hades and back. The thought of parting from him and going upstairs to bed held no appeal at all, yet just a few minutes ago she had known it was the only sensible thing to do.

Iannis intervened, moving between them and insisting on shepherding them to his table.

‘The night isn’t over yet,’ he declared. ‘Eat! Drink! I have reserved two places at my table—’

How could they let him down?

‘Stavros would never forgive me if I allowed his favourite couple to miss out on the best part of the party—my food,’ Iannis explained proudly.

Lizzie thought Damon very restrained in not mentioning that it was his people who’d cooked tonight. More importantly, they weren’t a couple, as both Stavros and Iannis seemed to think. There was only Damon Gavros, billionaire, and Lizzie Montgomery, single mother with a child to protect.

* * *

‘And now we dance the kalamatianos!’ Iannis announced when the most delicious feast had been consumed.

He made a signal and a chord rang out. All his guests wanted to join in the famous national dance, and there was a group exodus from the tables.

‘As my honoured guest, you shall have the honour of leading the dance,’ he told Lizzie, handing her the traditional white handkerchief to hold aloft.

Her mother had taught her the steps of the dance when Lizzie was a child. They had often danced it together, with her mother humming the tune and Lizzie waving a little handkerchief over her head.

‘If you’d rather not...?’ Damon murmured.

‘Try and stop me,’ Lizzie said, standing up.

The distinctive twang of the bouzouki was like a rallying call. The rhythm, starting slowly and building up, made each Greek heart swell with longing. Waving the white handkerchief, Lizzie was the Pied Piper, drawing her flock to the area in front of the restaurant where the beach met the land beyond.

‘I’d kick off your sandals,’ Damon advised.

He was doing the same, she noticed. How ridiculous to find his feet sexy. She had to stop this now. One more dance and then she was definitely going to bed.

It was as if a lightning bolt zapped through her when Damon seized one end of the white handkerchief, effectively joining them by a shred of cloth. Lizzie tightened her grip as Damon’s heat seemed to invade the fabric, scorching her fingers, travelling on from there to her heart—

Really?

She was tired. Her mind was inventing things. They were dancing and that was all. But it wasn’t just dancing, and it wasn’t just music, it was memories wrapped up in a tune: a little girl dancing with her mother, holding her hand and believing that life would stay the same for ever.

‘Lizzie...?’ Damon murmured with concern.

Her eyes had filled with tears, she realised, dashing them away. ‘Why do you have to notice everything?’ she demanded impatiently.

The music suddenly picked up pace, forcing all the dancers to watch their feet rather than chat to their companions. Arms stretched out and resting on each other’s shoulders, their cries of ‘Oopa!’ grew louder, and as the dancing grew wilder several couples collapsed on the ground, laughing. But the band didn’t stop.

Soon it was Lizzie’s turn to grow dizzy, but as she stumbled Damon’s lightning reflexes saved her. ‘I’m going to show you the island tomorrow,’ he said as he steadied her on her feet.

She glanced at him in surprise. ‘You can spare the time?’

He’d never looked more dangerous, she thought, and he was waiting. Decisions had to be made. Common sense told her to stay away from him, but getting to know him all over again took precedence.

‘I’d have to ask Iannis.’

‘Would you?’ he flashed.

They both knew Iannis was only too keen to keep his part of the bargain with his cousin, and give Lizzie as much free time as possible.

‘Maybe a couple of hours?’ she said.

‘Good. That’s settled.’

‘But I’d have to be back by two,’ she said, remembering Thea’s concert in the afternoon.

‘That’s no problem for me,’ Damon assured her.

‘Then, thank you. What time in the morning?’

‘Eight. And bring a picnic.’

‘Don’t you have flunkies to do that for you?’

‘They’re away with my butler at the moment.’

Damon smiled, a flash of strong white teeth against his swarthy skin. She couldn’t match it. Things were moving too fast.

She tried telling herself that if he could be as relaxed as this when he learned about Thea things would be okay, but she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

CHAPTER SIX

SHE HAD TRIED to get hold of Thea the next day, before she set off with Damon, but Thea had been having breakfast before an early rehearsal for the afternoon concert. And now Lizzie was out of touch, clinging to a handrail on board Damon’s powerboat as they crashed through breakers as high as houses

on the open sea.

He was full of surprises. The value of his air, sea, and land craft alone would fund a small country, with change to spare. He was standing at the helm, controlling the massive craft with one hand, as casually if its immense power was just another extension of his magic.

He looked more like a marauding brigand than a respectable billionaire, with his swarthy skin and unshaven face, she thought, taking in the ripped and faded shorts, his bare feet and faded top.

‘Have you never been on a powerboat before?’ he asked as she lurched towards him.

‘The closest I’ve come to this is the cross-Channel ferry.’

‘Then it’s time to widen your horizons.’

She murmured in reply. She’d tried that once before, and now she preferred to limit her horizons to Thea.

‘So, where are we going?’ she asked. ‘No—don’t turn to look at me!’ she yelped as Damon swung round. ‘Shouldn’t you be concentrating on where you’re going?’

He laughed. ‘I know exactly where I’m going.’

Yes. That was what she was afraid of, and she only wished she felt half so confident as Damon looked.

Having rebuilt her life, Lizzie controlled it within certain boundaries, but those boundaries seemed to be disappearing fast. Telling Thea about Damon and then explaining to Damon that he had a daughter had seemed so straightforward in the planning, but time was rushing past and she seemed no further on.

‘Is this our destination?’ she asked as he slowed the powerboat. It was beautiful. She stared around with interest at the picturesque bay.