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Rosalie gave a moan of appreciation. It all tasted incredible. The herb-crusted lamb melted in her mouth—it had been slow roasting over charcoal for hours, Xandros told her—and the accompaniments, hearty as they were, tasted, to her mind, better than all the gourmet food she’d been revelling in since Xandros had lifted her of the poverty she’d known all her life.
‘This is so good!’ she enthused.
Maria emerged yet again, this time bringing an open bottle of red wine, depositing that, too, on the table with a flourish.
Rosalie ventured another line of phrasebook Greek, trying to saying how good the food was, and acquired a volley of approving speech in return.
Xandros translated for her. ‘She says you need to be strong for your wedding night,’ he told her.
In the candlelight there was a knowing glint in his eyes that Rosalie found difficult to cope with. But then reason came to the rescue.
He knows the irony of that. That’s what that glint is for.
A shadow fluttered over her and she reached for her flute again, to banish it. But as the meal progressed it was hard to keep to her resolve not to be beguiled by everything about Xandros.
He’d always been attentive to her when they’d dined together in Athens, but this evening, under the fairy-lights woven into the vines, in the soft, flickering candlelight, she could see his eyes constantly on her. Warm...glinting...
She tried to ward it off.
He doesn’t realise the effect he’s having! That’s the thing—he doesn’t mean it...doesn’t intend it. It just comes naturally to him. It’s part of who he is.
The most intensely attractive male she could imagine, let alone have set eyes on in real life.
She fought it—she had to—but it was getting harder by the minute.
He’d poured a full glass of red wine for her, and its heady strength could not be denied. Perhaps it was not wise of her to imbibe so freely, but it washed the rich lamb down so perfectly it was hard to refrain.
Her plate was empty now, finally, but then there was a smaller second helping for them both, because it was so good it was impossible to refrain from that.
But when Maria re-emerged, whisking away the remnants and then replacing the lamb with another platter groaning with pastries, Rosalie gave an echoing groan.
She sat back, shaking her head. ‘I couldn’t! Not a thing!’
Across the table from her, Xandros laughed, picking up his wine glass and draining it. ‘These are different from this afternoon. Lighter. Filled with curd cheese and honey. Try one. You’ll like it, I promise you.’
Tempted, she did just that, and he was right—it was delicious.
‘Is this the goat’s cheese you told me about?’ she asked Xandros brightly. That was better, surely? Asking about goats and cheese...anything that wasn’t about the way his dark, long-lashed eyes were resting on her...
He nodded, helping himself to several of the pastries and starting to demolish them. Where they all went, Rosalie wasn’t sure—certainly not into body fat.
Memory leapt in her—seeing him stripped down to swim shorts h
ad been even more disturbing than seeing him when he’d been wearing that moulding white tee. In the sea she’d been able to see what it had been moulding. A perfectly honed torso, with smooth, golden pecs, and ripped and rippling abs...
She banished the memory. Definitely not a safe one. Not when she had a glass of champagne and nearly two of red wine inside her.
A sense of danger caught at her. She must not succumb—must not!—to the seductive aura all around her. Xandros opposite her, the gold-flecked glint of his eyes resting on her, lounging back, looking so lithe, so fabulous, so incredibly tempting...
I have to resist it! Resist him! Resist everything about him—everything he does to me when I’m gazing at him like this...
Because he didn’t want her—not in that way.
Into her head came the words he’d thrown at her last night as he’d broken away from their kiss.
‘This was a mistake.’
And it would be a mistake—her mistake this time!—for her to carry on indulging in gazing at him the way she wanted to. Indulging herself in anything about him at all. What did she know of men? Her romance-starved, constricted life had given her no experience—let alone of a man like Xandros.
