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He saw her stiffen.
‘My mother is dead and I never...’
She lifted her jaw almost pugnaciously. ‘I never knew my father. So now you know. You’ve heard everything and you can go.’ Her gaze was very steady. ‘Can’t you?’
All her defiance was still there but so too was a sudden sense of wariness which had made her words so brittle. Leon wondered if she was expecting condolences about her parents, but he made none. He couldn’t be that hypocritical and, besides, wouldn’t she be appalled if he told her the truth? That part of him envied her the inevitable freedom which resulted from being orphaned?
But she had painted a bleak picture of her life. Of someone struggling on her own and fighting against the odds. He looked around the small room, which was so hot it felt like being in a sauna. At the hairbrush lying on a table, next to a pile of well-read books and a photo of a beautiful woman who looked a lot like her. Was that her sister? A large, half-filled suitcase lay open on the floor in one corner and his gaze lingered on it for a moment longer. Did that mean she was leaving? And despite the inner voice of caution which was urging him to stay out of her troubles, he found himself ignoring it.
‘I can help you,’ he said suddenly.
Her suspicious eyes became iron-hard as she shook her head. ‘I don’t want your help.’
Leon frowned, for this was the last thing he had expected. In a world where wealth talked, he’d never met anyone who wasn’t eager to have a conversation. People never refused his money or influence. But then, he’d never met anyone like Marnie Porter before and the fierce pride radiating from her tiny frame drew from him an unwilling sense of admiration. ‘I have the wherewithal and the resources to help your sister,’ he growled. ‘Let me put them at your disposal.’
‘Thank you for the offer. It’s very kind of you and I appreciate it,’ she said. ‘But no.’
‘Why not?’
She considered his question for a moment. ‘Because I don’t really know you,’ she said at last. ‘And I don’t want to be beholden to you. I don’t want to be beholden to anyone.’
He stared into her determined face and could see she meant it. But he could also see that she was far from immune to him.
Nor he to her.
Her eyes had grown dark and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip was failing to conceal its telltale tremble. Against the bodice of the white uniform dress he could see the tantalising thrust of her nipples as they silently acknowledged his proximity—just as the hard ache at his groin acknowledged hers. He could feel the throb of mutual desire which flowed between them like like some tangible life-force. The sexual chemistry between them had been intense and powerful from the start—and, oh, the temptation to capitalise on it was overwhelming.
He knew he could pull her into his arms and kiss her and within minutes she would be kissing him back with the same hunger which had captivated him on the beach last night. He swallowed, tortured by all the possibilities which might follow such a move. He pictured his hands exploring her newly awoken body, hearing those mewling little cries of hunger as she touched him back. He imagined his fingers rucking up her uniform dress to slide down panties he suspected would already be wet. Would she instinctively tilt her pelvis towards him—inviting him to ravish her here, where she stood, her back pressed up against the wall and her legs wrapped around his back? Or would she lead him over to that lumpy-looking bed where they could spend a long and sticky night together?
But that would be wrong, on so many levels. He needed an outspoken hairdresser with a sister in jail like he needed a hole in the head.
The aching in his body was almost unendurable but Leon forced himself to project an indifference which, for once, was proving elusive.
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is.’
‘Then I guess I must wish you well. Goodbye, Marnie.’
‘Goodbye, Leon.’
He saw the shadow which flickered over her face just before he turned his back on her and wondered if she would break in the short time it took for him to walk to the door. Would she call him back and tell him she’d changed her mind? Tell him that she wanted his money and his body—and didn’t the prospect of that fill him with heady anticipation?
But she didn’t.
She didn’t say another word as he let himself out into the sultry darkness of the Greek evening and Leon experienced a powerful sense of disappointment.
And surprise.
CHAPTER SIX
AMBER SUNLIGHT SLANTED in through the windows of the tiny London pub and although a TV screen was showing highlights of a hugely anticipated football match, most people were watching the bubbly blonde who was waving a half-empty champagne flute in the air.
‘Ooh, I’m just so thrilled! I can’t believe it, Marnie,’ she was cooing. ‘After all the dire predictions the court just threw the case out!’
Marnie shook her head and smiled. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she breathed. ‘And no, I can’t quite believe it either.’
They were sitting in the nearest pub to the courthouse in central London, while her sister celebrated her acquittal in typical, flamboyant style. She was wearing a leopard-skin jacket over a very short black dress and her bottom-length blonde hair was accessorised with a glittering gold headband. It probably wasn’t the best choice of clothing in which to attend an important court hearing and Marnie had been amazed at the eventual outcome. All charges against her sister had been quashed, the surprising verdict no doubt due to Pansy’s slick new barrister who had defeated the prosecution lawyer with his clever arguments and was now joining them for a celebratory glass of prosecco.
