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Hurriedly she slipped into her swimsuit, pulling a long, loose, semi-transparent cover-up over her head and pushing her feet into flip-flops. She grabbed her beach bag and headed outdoors via the private patio, separated from Nikos’s by a low grey stone wall that could be hopped over in a second.
Nikos was already waiting for her, lounging back in one of the terrace chairs at the little dining set provided. He got to his feet, and Mel’s breath caught.
Board shorts in deep cobalt-blue hugged lean hips, and his torso was moulded by every square centimetre of a white short-sleeved top bearing a fashionable surfing logo. And he was sporting wrap-around sunglasses that made her want to drop her jaw gormlessly open and gaze at him.
It took a moment for her to realise that he was returning her stare. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the opaque sunglasses, but that was just as well, part of her registered. The other part was trying hard to ignore the insistent fact that beneath the veiling of her cover-up and the sheer material of her swimsuit her breasts were shamelessly engorged, following an instinct that was as powerful as it was primeval...
I want him.
The stark, visceral words sounded in her head almost audibly as she stood, rooted to the spot.
‘Ready for a hard day’s beach-lounging?’ Nikos smiled at her, the corners of his sculpted mouth crinkling.
Mel took a breath. ‘All set,’ she said with determined lightness, and they headed down the path that would take them to the beach below.
A line of white sunbeds had been set out along the pale sand that was already too hot to walk on. A beach steward ushered them to a pair with a little table in between them, a parasol overhead for shade, and towels draped over the foam mattresses, with more neatly folded at the end of each lounger. They settled themselves down, and the steward enquired if they would like refreshments from the beach bistro.
‘OJ and sparkling mineral water, please.’
Mel smiled. How blissful just to give a request like that and know that two minutes later it would be served to her as she relaxed back on her lounger, gazing out over the sea, feeling the warmth of the day like a cocoon around her.
‘This,’ she announced feelingly, ‘is absolute bliss.’
‘No question,’ agreed Nikos.
He reached across the space between their respective sunbeds and took her hand. It was an instinctive gesture, and he was hardly aware of doing it—except that the moment his fingers wound into her hers he knew it felt right.
Mel turned to look at him, then smiled. A warm, wide smile that seemed to encapsulate everything about what they had done—run off here, to this beautiful island in the sun, to have time to themselves, to have the affair that both of them wanted to have. He knew that with absolute certainty.
He gave a deep sigh of contentment and looked out to sea again. Beside him, Mel gave an echoing sigh—and then a wry little laugh.
‘It’s just so gorgeous,’ she said, ‘to lie here with absolutely nothing to do except relax on the beach. I feel utterly idle.’
Nikos turned his head to glance at her. ‘That’s the general idea of a holiday,’ he said, amused.
She gave a semi-shrug. ‘Well, I’m not used to holidays.’ She glanced away, towards the brilliant azure sea glinting in the morning sunshine, then back to Nikos. ‘I’ve waited just so long to start my real life—to travel as I’ve longed to do—that now I am I can’t quite believe it. I keep feeling I should be working.’
The focus of Nikos’s gaze sharpened slightly. ‘Tell me,’ he asked, ‘why do you feel so strongly that you should be working all the time?’
He cocked an interrogative eyebrow at her, but his voice was merely mildly curious.
Mel’s expression changed. Became thoughtful. But also, Nikos thought assessingly, became guarded.
‘Habit, really, I suppose. Like I say, I’m not used to holidays. Not used to having time off.’
‘I seem to remember you said you did waitressing in the evenings, after the sandwich bar had closed?’ Nikos recalled. ‘How long did you keep that kind of double shift going? It can burn you out in the end, you know.’
He sounded sympathetic, but Mel shook her head. ‘Oh, no, that wasn’t a problem. I was working for myself—building up my bank balance to fund my getaway. It was a joy to work, to be honest, in comparison with looking after my grandfather. That was—’ She broke off, not finishing.
What word would describe that period of her life? Only one—torment. Absolute torment...
Torment to watch the grandfather she’d loved so much become more and more frail, in body and mind. Torment to be the only person who could look after him—the only person he wanted to look after him—so that she could never have a break or even the slightest amount of time to herself.
