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“You like running with me,” he pointed out, and she felt that swirling feeling of shame again.
“That’s because we’re, er, friends,” she supplied awkwardly, shooting him an apologetic glance as she tightened her pony tail.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He turned and looked towards the looming shape of the Villa. It was a veritable mansion. Imposing yet inviting at the same time. “I guess a billionaire’s just too good to resist.”
“Hey,” she chided gently. “Don’t be like that, Bobby.” She frowned, as she realizedd he wasn’t going to let the subject go. “I don’t know what’s got into you, anyway. Everything was great between us until a week ago. Now it’s like you can’t be in the same room as me without it turning into some kind of weird flirting exercise.”
He expelled a long sigh. “I had you to myself until a week ago.”
“Ah.” She nodded, as comprehension dawned. “So you’re jealous of Loucas or something?”
“Not something. Exactly.”
She shrugged, not sure what she could say. “I just... I don’t feel that way about you, Bobby.”
“Yeah, I know. But until he showed up, we had something special.”
Her mouth dropped. “I’m so sorry you felt that way,” she whispered, truly aghast. “I guess I must have given you that impression without realising it.” Her expression was anguished as she put an arm around his waist. “Please don’t make things weird between us, Bobby. I’ve loved getting to know you.” She looked up at his face. “I felt a real connection to you from the moment we met. I knew we were going to become good friends, and that together we’d be able to help Andrew.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He was angry. He spun around to face her, and felt a softening in his heart. He believed that she’d never meant to hurt him. Bobby had a history of falling in love too fast. And he’d gone and done it again. He clamped down on the angry epithet he’d been about to launch against their arrogant as hell boss, and instead, smiled. “You’re too nice to argue with, Mikey.”
Gratitude whooshed through her. “And you’re too good a friend to lose, Bobby.”
He swallowed down the bitter rush of disappointment. “I’m heading in. You comin’?”
“Nah,” she shook her head. “I’m not scheduled to see Andy until this afternoon. I’m going to get some sun.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, flicking her pony tail teasingly as he walked away. “Catch you for lunch?”
She kept her response non-committal. A small shrug. “Maybe.”
He laughed over his shoulder as he continued to stride towards the villa. “Relax, honey. It wasn’t a marriage proposal.”
Could he blame her for overreacting? She grimaced as she turned her attention back to the glistening ocean. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the ocean seemed to sparkle beneath its glowing warmth, and the fragrance of jasmine and orange blossom was heavy in the air. She didn’t want to waste it feeling like she’d screwed things up with the only friend she had at Nisi Ourano.
Longingly, Mikey thought of home.
What were her brothers doing? Back in Ventura, the weather would be warm, too. No doubt they’d be hitting the beach every morning for their daily surfs. She thought wistfully of the Sunday lunches Diane Jones hosted every week. A spread of the finest Cali seafood and wines, and the requisite salad for Ben’s vegan girlfriend. It wasn’t homesickness that assailed her. Just a strange sense of disconnect. Mikey had never been away from home for long stretches at a time, and she had thought she’d miss it. Realising now that she didn’t was interesting.
It was the first time since packing up her apartment and hopping on the Aleksandros jet that she’d so much as thought of her own life. Everything had been focussed on Andrew and his recovery. Her cheeks glowed pink as she forced herself to acknowledge that, actually, she’d been more distracted by his uncle of late. Something she had to rectify. Loucas Aleksandros would eat her for breakfast and spit out the pieces, if she didn’t watch herself. He was a law unto himself. A total womaniser. An absolute lothario. A very, very handsome, devilishly sexy, fascinating lothario.
A moan escaped her as she remembered the intimate way he’d kissed her the night before. How his tongue had felt against her most sensitive skin. How his mouth had felt on her breasts, and his hands as they’d roamed her body. Forgetting him was impossible. She would remember him wistfully for the rest of her life.
The grass was still a little damp from the early morning dew, but Mikey sat on it anyway. She needed a shower after the run she’d just done. As she had done a thousand times before, she unlaced her bright green sports shoes and set them down neatly beside her.
It wasn’t that she’d never seen the ocean before. She was a West coast girl, born and raised. The sounds of the ocean had been the backdrop to her childhood. She couldn’t count how many hundreds of hours she’d spent collecting rubbish off the beach after school. She’d always loved the sea. It offered a sense of promise; a belief that escape and adventure were just a wave ride away.
And here she was, half way around the world, staring at another ocean. But it didn’t inspire the same zest for escape in her. When she looked out at the gently lapping Aegean sea, she felt a completely different sensation. One of contentment.
It was utterly at odds with the way her insides were churning.
All night, she’d tossed and turned. Wondering if she should have just gone to Loucas. The way he’d made her feel was beyond compare. If they’d actually made love, she knew she would have been rocked to the moon and back.
But how many other women had been similarly enthralled by the great Loucas Aleksandros. Too many. More disconcerting than the number of lovers in his past was the question of who else he’d restrained with those cuffs. She was certainly not the first woman to experience that particular brand of seduction, and the knowledge burned painfully inside of her. With a huff of pique, she plucked the head off a nearby clover and distractedly spun the stem in her fingers, so that the bobbly white flower flicked against her leg.
No. The handcuffs were obviously de rigueur to Loucas. He had them in his bedside table, for God’s sake, at a villa he rarely stayed at. And he’d pulled them out as though using them was as uncomplicated as kissing.
How could she hope to compete with his usual lovers? She had no real experience. No real seductive skill. Hell, she was so far out of her depth she might as well have been in a different body of water.
