Page 6 of The Greek's Innocent Virgin

He turned to greet his brother, but his mother was not finished with the conversation. She walked around him to stand between him and his brother. "And does your personal comfort require you to drag her down to her mother's level in your mind so that you will not give in to the attraction you have for her?"

"I am not—"

His mother raised her hand. "Lie to yourself, my son, but do not attempt to lie to the woman who gave you birth. Rachel is not anything like Andrea, but if you believed that, your heart would be at risk and that frightens you."

That was going too far. "I could never love the daughter of Andrea Demakis.''

"Uh-oh. " His brother's expression was pained and his mother made a moue of distress.

Needing no further impetus. Sebastian turned to­ward the doorway.

Rachel stood, framed in its entry, wounded green eyes fixed on him.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE'D made an amazing transition in so short a time. Her straight brown hair was in a loose pile on top of her head and she'd changed into a dress that not only matched her eyes, but fit her more closely than her other clothing. The sage green silk highlighted the curves he'd been desperate to touch only minutes be­fore and she'd glossed her bow-shaped lips. She looked beautiful and infinitely kissable.

Her expression said that would not be on offer again in this lifetime.

"I did not mean..." He drifted into silence for the first time in memory, not knowing what to say to undo the damage his hasty words had done.

She turned her head, breaking eye contact, her body language dismissing him as effectively as if she had told him to go to hell.

“Would it be possible for you and Aristide to delay your departure an hour?" she asked his mother. "I could pack and go with you. I've finished sorting Andrea's things."

His mother shocked him by shaking her head with evident regret. "I am sorry, Rachel, but Aristide has an appointment he must keep. We will leave directly after lunch."

Aristide looked surprised as well, but he nodded. "That is right. I am sorry, Rachel."

"I could pack while the rest of you eat," Rachel offered.

Both the offer and her initial request infuriated Sebastian and he did not know why. "Surely that is not necessary. I will arrange for your transport to the mainland tomorrow morning."

"I would prefer to leave today." She didn't bother to look at him as she said it.

"You have no reason to fear staying alone in the villa with me."

She turned then and her gaze flayed him. "You've made that clear enough."

"Come, let us eat lunch. Rachel, you do not wish to pack in a rush. That invariably leads to leaving something behind."

Rachel sighed, looking unhappy, but accepting. "You are right. I won't be returning to the island, so I will have to make sure I take everything with me this time."

"You will always be welcome here." His mother's tone brooked no argument. "After all, this was your home for several years."

"It is Sebastian's home now and I wouldn't dream of intruding on him in the future."

Aristide came around the table, stepping in front of Sebastian to lead Rachel to a seat.

"Visits from family are never an intrusion," he said with a charming smile

Sebastian had an inexpli­cable urge to wipe off his brother's handsome, young face.

"You are kind to say so, but I am not family, not really, and I won't be coming back to Greece so the issue won't arise," she replied as she allowed him to seat her and then asked a question about his business, effectively changing the subject.

Sebastian had known in a vague way that once Rachel left, she would be gone for good, which was as it should be. He did not need the temptation of Andrea Demakis's daughter around, but hearing her say it with such certainty inexplicably angered him.

Rachel did her best to ignore Sebastian during lunch, focusing her attention on his younger brother and Phillippa. Aristide was very charming, flirting shame­lessly with her and keeping them all entertained with an account of one of his friend's visit to Crete.

Sebastian smoldered, but she could not imagine why. What did he care if she enjoyed a harmless flir­tation with Aristide?

Sebastian had been so adamant she was not worthy of his affection and she'd felt so stupid for allowing herself to give in to the urge to dress up a little for lunch, to try to look pretty for him. A man who could kiss her senseless one minute and the next declare with positive vehemence that he would never feel any sort of emotion for her. What a laugh.

She was such an idiot.

She wished she could have left with the younger man and Phillippa, but that was not possible. Sebastian's mother was right. Rachel would no doubt regret attempting to pack in haste. Not that she would contact Sebastian to send anything on for her, no mat­ter what might get left behind.

However, she supposed she could avoid Sebastian until the following morning when the launch came for her.

Rachel was on the beach attempting to do just that a few hours later.

She dug her toes into the sand, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun. It was the first time in three days she'd really relaxed. She'd spent the time since lunch packing her own things, making sure she'd cleaned out every nook and cranny of the room that had been hers since she was seventeen.

And she was still berating herself. Because when she'd come across a small decorative box of memen­tos, she'd been unable to toss them and they were now packed in the corner of her biggest suitcase.

Inside the box were pictures she'd accumulated over the years since her mother's marriage to Matthias. Many of them were of Sebastian. Some were clippings from newspapers; some were photos from family gatherings she'd attended before finish­ing university. There was a single dried yellow rose from the bouquet he'd given her for her eighteenth birthday and the silver locket engraved with her ini­tials he'd given her for her twenty-first.

There was even a black onyx cuff link he'd tossed in the study's trash bin when he'd lost the other one. She'd dug it out and put it away with her mementos. Such a silly, juvenile thing to do, but perhaps under­standable as a teenager.

So, why had she felt the need to keep the cuff link at the age of twenty-three?

She didn't know. All she did know was that she had been unable to toss it and when she'd tried, she'd actually ended up pulling it out of the trash can in her bedroom to gently polish and put it back in the box. He'd worn the set of cuff links to her eighteenth birth­day, the one and only time he'd ever danced with her.

She refused to analyze too closely why that had such emotional significance for her, just as she would not dwell on his forceful and public rejection earlier.

Both issues were best left in the far recesses of her mind.

She yawned and lay back in the sand, letting tired muscles unwind. The quiet surrounded her, empha­sizing the difference between the Southern Californian beaches back home and this one. No crashing surf or cacophony of voices rose to disturb her solitude. There were no horses for rent, or surf­boards standing erect in the sand. The island was pri­vate and though a small village existed on the North side, the other occupants never trespassed on the Demakis Villa's beach.

She'd swum here unafraid of being ogled by men...when her mother was not entertaining.

Soon she would be leaving all this behind for good. She would not return to Greece, never see Sebastian again, never soak the sun's rays into her skin in quiet solitude like this one. Her heart contracted in rebellion of her thoughts.

"Eugenie informs me you plan to eat a snack in your room rather than join me for dinner."

Her eyes flew open to the sight of Sebastian tow­ering over her reclining form. His hair covered, tanned legs dominated her line of sight and she had to tilt her head back to see his face. Like the other night, he'd changed into shorts, but his white polo shirt that emphasized the darkness of his skin went better with his power persona than the casual tank top had.

"What are y

ou doing out here?"

"Obviously, I came to find you."

"Oh. Why?"

He frowned. "Is it really such a sacrifice to share your final meal in Greece with me?"

"I cannot imagine you wanting my company."

"Do not be foolish. You are a guest in my home."

And Greek hospitality was offended by the notion she would eat a solitary meal in her room. It had nothing to do with her, or him wanting to spend time with her. "Don't worry about me," she said, wanting to allay a guilt prompted evening a duel. "Entertain­ment is not required for my last night here."

His dark eyes traveled up and down her form, an expression in the gray depths she did not want to decipher and then he smiled. "Perhaps I wish to en­tertain you."

He was back to being the charming Greek billion­aire, but she was still smarting from his vow he could never love Andrea Demakis's daughter and wanted none of it.

She clambered to her feet, brushing the sand off the seat of her loose fitting capris. "There's no need. I'm tired and could use the extra sleep of an early night.''

"You cannot be thinking of going to bed now." He looked genuinely horrified as only a man who slept a mere five hours a night could. "It is barely evening."

"I'm hardly going to sleep right this minute." Though she was tired enough that the thought held some appeal. "But neither am I going to stay up for a typically late European dinner."

"Your flight is an early one?"

Why was he pushing this? Whether or not she spent her final night in his company could not really matter to him.

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