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Mary was trembling on the inside, though. His palms were at the edge of her jaw, his gorgeous fingers lightly over her ears, and then his mouth found the spot, theexactspot, where the awful Eric had kissed her.
She closed her eyes at the softness of his mouth and it was as if the fairies had been again, wiping the spot clean, annulling that kiss from history. Because, with the lightest of touches from his velvet lips, Costa Leventis kissed her first.
‘Would you like me to fetch a towel so you can wipe your cheek?’ Costa asked, and she smiled, for he had clearly noticed what she’d done at the table.
‘No need.’
And then the world went silver as his mouth moved to hers, and with the weight of his lips Mary amended everything.
Thiswas her first kiss.
It was like being stroked with a feather, soothing and tautening her simultaneously. The brush of his lips made her ache for more, and as she opened her mouth to gasp there came the shock of his cool tongue and the slow slide of it in her mouth. It made her want to lean deeper into him, to brush the wedge of muscle with her own. Yet all she was capable of doing was standing there, as she was very slowly, very delectably, very deeply kissed.
And then it ended.
From his expression she thought she was the only one affected.
‘I think we’re good to go,’ Costa said.
‘I haven’t said yes yet.’
‘But you are thinking about it.’
Oh, she was. Her mind was darting, exhilaration returning as he held her.
‘I really do have to go,’ he told her and let her go.
Good, because Mary needed to think.
‘I shall see you on Thira,’ Costa said.
And as she opened her mouth to remind him that she hadn’t yet made up her mind, he spoke over her.
‘Or not. It is entirely up to you.’
CHAPTER SIX
MARYHADN’TEXACTLYbeen expecting Costa to stand holding flowers and balloons as she stepped into Arrivals in Santorini. But then, given the enormity of her decision and its ramifications, neither had she expected a gorgeous, rather bored, rather pregnant woman in a tight blue dress, holding a sign with her name on, to be there to greet her.
‘I’m Mary...’ She made herself known while biting back foolish disappointment.
‘I thought so.’ The woman didn’t even bother to smile, just looked at her trolley, with her old rucksack and the bag from Mary’s first ever splurge in Duty Free. ‘I’m Kristina—Galen’s PA.’
‘Galen?’
‘Don’t worry about it...’ She waved her question away. ‘There’s been a change of plan. It slipped Costa’s mind that you were coming and he only told me a short while ago.’
If her rather harsh upbringing and many late-night arrivals in new foster homes had taught Mary anything it was not to expect a warm welcome, but even with a generous allowance for the words being ‘lost in translation’, this hurt.
Not that Mary would ever let it show.
Still, the fact that one of the biggest, most difficult decisions of her life—one that had cost her her job and her home—had been but an afterthought to Costa was sobering indeed.
‘Take it up with Costa.’ Kristina shrugged. She muttered something in Greek, and then needlessly translated. ‘Arrogant bastard.’
So Mary had been told.
‘Oh, and you’re to give me your bank details,’ Kristina added. ‘I’ll sort out a transfer this morning.’
