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‘When different involves you believing in the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus and the basic goodness of your fellow man after the age of nine, then, yes, it is a bad thing, a very bad thing. I believe we are eating in here.’ He paused outside an open doorway and gestured for her to precede him.
‘You are the most cynical man I have ever met.’ She paused on the threshold. ‘Oh, this is pretty,’ she exclaimed as she registered the table set before the open French doors. Light, gauzy window coverings were fluttering in the light sea breeze that caused the lit candles to flicker and dance. ‘I thought all the rooms were massive here.’
‘I thought, after the day you have had, you might like something slightly less...formal?’ He had phoned ahead to ask for the staff presence to be kept to a minimum to give her some breathing space.
Her eyes flew to his face, then, aware that her pleasure at the small consideration was excessive, she turned and walked across to the open doors to breathe in the fragrance blowing in from the water.
‘I can hear the sea!’
‘Hard to escape it. We are on an island.’
She swivelled around to face him. ‘Well, I have never lived on a private island so I can’t be quite so bored about it as you.’
What amazed him was she appeared utterly oblivious to the fact that, standing there with the moonlit, star-studded sky as backdrop, the spider’s-web-fine curtains blowing around her face like a bride’s veil, she looked utterly beautiful.
In this era of air-brushed perfection, she stood out, not just for her natural beauty, but her total lack of artifice. The inner sexuality that she was totally oblivious of added another transfixing layer to her appeal.
The idea of enjoying that sensuality, of wrapping himself in it, and her hair, raised his core temperature several degrees, which made him a little more effusive than he might normally have been when Selene arrived before he could say something really stupid, like, Let’s skip the food and go to bed.
‘Wow, multitasking tonight, Selene? Isn’t this a bit below your pay grade?’
Mouth prim, but smiling with her eyes, the housekeeper gestured to the two maids in uniform who appeared, pushing a trolley on wheels.
‘I have followed your instructions. It will be informal, but I wanted to see personally that Kat is comfortable.’ She nodded to the girls and said something in Greek that prompted them both to busy themselves with the items on the trolley.
Kat approached the chair that Zach held, nodding a silent thank you as she took her seat. ‘I’m very comfortable, thank you,’ she said, thinking it was almost true now she couldn’t feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, just the tingle it had left behind. There were disadvantages to the sense of intimacy this room gave.
The housekeeper lifted the lids from the dishes on the trolley, inspecting each one before she nodded and turned back to the diners. ‘Eloise...just put it down.’ The young maid nodded and put a dessert she carried onto the serving table.
‘Right, I’ll leave you to open the wine, shall I?’ She looked at Zach and at the champagne cooling in a cut-glass bucket.
‘So does he...my grandfather eat here when he’s alone?’
Selene gave a choke that might have been laughter before she whisked from the room.
‘Did I say something wrong?’
His sensual lips quirked into a half-smile. ‘Actually, Alekis eats in the main dining room, which is the size of a football pitch, and he would find it strange if he had to pour his own wine...or, for that matter, water.’
‘So this is?’
‘This is a private dining room used exclusively when your grandfather is entertaining one of his...friends.’
For a moment she looked blank, then comprehension dawned. ‘He has...’ Her eyes widened some more. ‘But he’s old!’
Zach’s lips twitched. ‘Not too old, apparently.’ He leaned back in his seat and looked at her. ‘So is any of this what you were expecting?’
‘I’m not sure what I was expecting. Mum used to tell me that one day I’d have beautiful dresses, and I have.’ She had found a wardrobe the size of her flat in London crammed with designer labels. A small smile played across her soft lips as her wistful gaze drifted to the fluttering candles on the table. ‘A birthday cake with lots of candles. Apart from the birthday bit, it’s all here.’
‘Do you like seafood?’
She jumped a little, jolting away the memories that curved her lips into a soft smile. ‘I like everything,’ she said honestly. ‘But I’m allergic to nuts.’
Zach could tell by her expression that another memory had been triggered—he didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to find himself rediscovering how uncomfortable empathy was. It was masochistic, but somehow, he couldn’t stop himself.
‘What are you thinking about?’
Her eyes fell from his as he walked with his own plate back to his seat. ‘This looks delicious.’ She looked up from her plate and their glances connected. ‘When Mum... When the police went to the flat.’
