Kizzy laughed, emitting a witchy cackle. “Mess with Lazarides at your peril, little boat!”
She bit down pensively on her bottom lip. The scene out in the bay summed it up for her: sleek super-yacht putting a scruffy old boat in its place. It was a warning from the gods, she told herself wryly, to remind her of the fire she had played with last night.
“I heard that,” came a deep voice from below.
Kizzy gasped and dropped the lemon she had been holding as she leaned over the edge to see where he was. There wasn’t the slightest doubt in her mind as to who had spoken. She peered down into the shady courtyard, and saw her boss staring straight back up at her, tossing the lemon nonchalantly from hand to hand.
Dressed casually in taupe cargo shorts, he radiated pure maleness. A black T-shirt clung to his torso in a revealing and erotic manner, hugging the hard contours of his shoulders and muscular chest. She felt her mouth go dry as her eyes drifted from his chest to his bare legs. Golden skin with a smattering of dark hair fed her imagination as she considered what the rest of his body might look like undressed.
“I didn’t realize you were there.”
“Clearly not,” he replied, and threw the lemon back up to her.
He locked the door at the base of the tower, then slid the key back into his pocket.
“Dorinda will bring breakfast up to you shortly. After you eat, I’d like to get out and about. A few issues have arisen since we arrived that need to be addressed quickly.” He stared at her silently for a few seconds. “And I need to deal with you, Miss Dean.”
Kizzy felt heat flare in her cheeks as Andreas turned and strode away through an archway leading from the courtyard, disappearing down a flight of rugged steps into a lush tangle of greenery.
Miss Dean?
So he had decided to revert to formality in the light of day. He must have seen sense and decided to forget the ridiculous “be my mistress” proposition he had made the night before.
Well, that would be good. It was the only sensible course to take.
She drew the edges of the silk robe Andreas had purchased for her on Rhodes closer across her chest. He was undoubtedly a very proud man who wasn’t used to his offers being refused, so he was pretending that the whole sorry episode had never happened.
She would be wise not to allude to it either, she thought, and pressed her lips together. And as for that odd, disappointed feeling in her stomach?
It could only be hunger, nothing more.
Chapter Seven
Kizzy wandered nervously down the steps from her room to the sun-drenched courtyard below, comforting herself with the thought that Andreas appeared to have put the unfortunate episode the previous evening behind him and she must do the same. She must forget all about it. And when she saw him again shortly she would absolutely not allow herself to stare at his body, or wish that she could tangle her fingers through his black hair once more. Or even notice how good Andreas smelled, with that clean, spicy, male scent of his.
She felt a frisson of annoyance and roughly wrenched the strap of her handbag across her body as she reached the table they had shared at dinner the previous night. It had been simply decorated with a potted succulent, all neat and perfectly tidy with no trace of the passion that had burned there previously.
She jerked suddenly as a large hand closed over her shoulder from behind.
“You’ve put your hair up.” Andreas smiled down as her startled face snapped around to meet his gaze. “It looks much prettier down, like you had it first thing this morning.”
“It’s hot,” Kizzy replied feebly and rubbed the back of her neck as if to emphasize the point, though it was really to disguise the blush his observation had caused.
“This morning I’ll show you around some of my commercial interests in Lindos. I also need to visit the property office and sort out a few problems—you may be able to help me out.” He took a notebook out of his back pocket along with a small, scruffy plastic pen, and handed them to her. “I have no idea where your business skills lie but I’m sure you couldn’t have pulled off a degree without being able to write. You can take notes for me when necessary.”
“Fine,” Kizzy replied brightly as she fought the urge to tell him just how condescending he sounded. “I think I can manage that.”
“Good.” He ignored the sour turn of her mouth. “There’s a ridiculous rumor circulating that my office manager is about to hand her notice in. I have no idea where these absurd stories originate, but on this occasion I can’t resist checking it out.”
“It couldn’t be true?” Kizzy replied as she slipped the notepad and pen into her bag, having made sure their hands would not touch.
“Of course not.” He began to stride toward the large gated front door in the wall. “No one has ever resigned from my employ. Why on earth would they?”
Kizzy resisted the urge to say something along the lines of “Because you’re an autocratic control freak?” and managed instead to mumble, “I can’t begin to imagine.” She kept her eyes firmly focused on the path below her feet and not on the visual temptation of his magnificently broad back as she followed him into the busy streets of Lindos village.
Their stroll through the growing crowds that filled the arterial alleyways was pleasantly brief and, mercifully for Kizzy’s aching calves, downhill.
Andreas paused outside a small doorway set in a shady recess reached via two time-worn, white stone steps partially obscured by a sleeping ginger cat.
The hand-painted blue and white sign of Lazarides’ Property offices was a more relaxed affair than the stern, metalwork plate outside his vast London headquarters. This sign was battered with rust spots and rattled askew as he pushed open the glass-fronted door with one confident hand and walked though.
An ancient bell announced their arrival. Andreas shot Kizzy a glance that seemed to be more about checking to see that she was still there than to reassure her, before turning the sign to its “Closed” position.
He locked the door and strode assertively toward a door at the rear.
“Get Miss Dean a drink, Angie,” was the brusque command he threw over his shoulder. “And I don’t want to be disturbed.”
As the door clicked shut behind him, the petite young blonde behind the reception desk raised her eyebrows in a silent, comical gesture that couldn’t have been more different from the chilly professionalism of Isabella back in London. “What’s gotten in to him today?”