The Best Man's Guarded Heart (8 page)

‘Apparently dinner was your idea?'

He didn't even have the decency to look abashed. ‘You can't visit the Cyclades and not see some of the other islands.'

Dinner was
so
not going to happen. ‘I won't be finished until very late.'

‘How late?'

She deliberately adopted a look of grave consideration. ‘Oh, at least eleven.'

He gave a smile that was much too smug for her liking.

‘That's not a problem—we eat late here in Greece.' With that Andreas picked up his phone again and spoke briefly in Greek.

When they got back to the jetty, he steered her away and back towards the villa.

She gestured to the pots still on the jetty. ‘We need to finish the planters.'

‘You need a break first.'

He led her down onto one of the lower terraces built into the cliff-face, where a tray of food was awaiting them on a rattan dining table. Despite herself, Grace sank down onto the plump cream cushions of a rattan chair with a sigh, welcoming the shade provided by the raised parasol at the centre of the table.

Andreas poured some homemade lemonade for them both and uncovered a basket of bread and a selection of dips. Another basket held a selection of freshly baked pastries.

Grace greedily gulped the lemonade, only now realising just how thirsty she was.

‘Why do you push yourself so hard?'

She lowered her glass to the table. ‘I don't think I do...but I grew up with my dad's exacting standards. I suppose I'm still trying to meet those in some way. But, also, I want to deliver the best service that I can. I take my commitments and responsibilities very seriously.'

Andreas leaned forward and broke a bread roll in two. He handed a piece to her. ‘Including your responsibilities to your brother and sister?'

‘Yes.'

He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Why?'

She busied herself with breaking her roll into smaller pieces. ‘When my mum left they had no one else. They were children. They needed someone to care for them.'

‘How did it affect them?'

‘Matt went quiet and barely spoke for a year...'

Grace stopped for a moment as memories caused her throat to thicken painfully. An unaccountable emotional force shifted around in her chest, as though it was searching for a way out. And suddenly she needed to tell him it all, so that he would understand why her heart had broken every single day in the year after her mum left.

‘He used to get up early every morning...' She met Andreas's eye and then gazed away. ‘He'd get up to wash his sheets. I used to have to pretend that I didn't notice the load in the tumble drier. I thought Lizzie was coping—she seemed her usual bubbly self—but then one day I was cleaning her bedroom and found that she was hoarding food...which accounted for her clothes not fitting any longer.'

‘I'm sorry.'

She forced herself to shrug. ‘It was tough, but now we're really close because of having gone through it together—so I guess some good has come from it all.'

‘Do you miss them?'

Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes at his question and, perplexed by their suddenness and the powerful loneliness rolling through her, she took a while before she managed to speak. ‘I miss them terribly. I miss our little family. I miss being loved.'

‘They still love you.'

The gaping hole inside her widened at his words. How would he react if she told him just how desperate she was to be in love? To find companionship and security, fun and exhilaration?

‘I know...but it's not the same when we're apart. And Lizzie's dating now. They're both moving on.'

‘Do you ever see your mum now?'

Her heart lurched at his question. ‘No. At first I was mad as hell with her and refused to, but after a while I came to understand why she'd left... After years of putting up with my father, it was kind of understandable. But by then we had drifted apart from her—to have got back in contact would have been like opening an old wound.' She gave him a wobbly smile and stood. ‘Anyway, we don't have time for this now. I'd better get back to work.'

Andreas stood and walked towards her. Next thing she knew she was in his arms, being given the biggest bear hug of her life. His arms wrapped around her and he lowered his chin onto the top of her head. His arm blocked her eyes so that she was in a cocoon of darkness. She inhaled his scent, a mixture of lemon and fresh salty perspiration, so earthy and male she felt dizzy with the desire to lift his tee shirt and press her nose against his damp skin.

For a moment every worry, every painful memory disappeared as she was held in his protective embrace. Her rigid body slowly melted against him and she gave a little sigh. He drew back and smiled down at her.

Dazed, she hoped her eyes weren't rolling in her head. ‘You give a very good hug.'

His thumb ran the length of her cheek. ‘I'm here any time you need one.'

For a moment they both smiled at each other, but then she pulled away. She was in serious danger of feeling things she could not afford to for a man intent on never having love in his life.

* * *

As they walked back to the workshops Andreas wondered what was happening to him. He didn't hold women like that, want to protect them, wipe out every painful memory for them.

Beside him, Grace gave a contented sigh. ‘I haven't travelled to many countries, but Kasas Island has to be the most beautiful place in the world.'

Something dormant in him stirred at her words. When had he stopped enjoying this island? Stopped taking the time to relax in its simple pleasures? For the past two years he had driven himself relentlessly at work, and the island had become a refuge rather than a place he truly enjoyed.

But then a warning bell sounded in his brain. How often had his ex claimed the same?

‘You'd tire of it once the novelty wore off.'

She stopped dead and stared at him. ‘No, I wouldn't.' She cocked her head to the side. ‘You don't believe me, do you?'

Why was he standing here arguing with her? He started to walk away. ‘It doesn't matter.'

She caught up with him and pulled him to a stop. ‘It might not matter to you, but I'm fed up with the fact that you don't trust me, Andreas. You constantly pull back from telling me about yourself. You'll go so far and then the shutters go down as though you don't trust me. You look at me as though you don't believe what I say. What have I done that makes you think I'm untrustworthy?'

‘Come on, Grace, I barely know you.'

‘You know me well enough to kiss me senseless.'

She stared at him so indignantly he could not help but smile. ‘I kissed you
senseless
?'

Her eyes narrowed and she stamped a foot on the path. ‘Wrong phrase—ignore it. Now, are you going to answer my question?'

He took a step closer, his shadow falling over her. He lowered his head and inhaled her scent, his voice automatically turning into a low baritone. ‘I have a question for you first: can I kiss you?'

Her violet eyes shadowed and her cheeks flushed deeply. ‘I... Not until you promise me that you're going to start trusting me. That you don't think I'm lying to you or that I want anything from you.'

‘You drive a hard bargain.'

‘You have to mean it. I'm trusting you not to pretend, not to lie to me.'

He drew back, paralysed with indecision. Could he honestly tell her that he trusted her? His stomach was a knot, his heart a time bomb ready to explode. Others might lie, but that was anathema to him. He could just walk away now—go back to the way his life had been a few short days ago. But, gazing deep into her eyes, he realised that he didn't want to this to end—not yet—and that he believed he
could
trust her.

‘I trust you.'

She gave him a solemn smile, and when he ran his hand along her cheek she leaned into it.

And then he walked away.

CHAPTER SIX

G
RACE
STOOD
ON
the path, dumbstruck. What had happened to their kiss?

She chased after him. ‘Did I just miss something?'

He stopped by the steps up to the workshops, his expression sombre. ‘You said you wanted to trust in me. Which means that you'll trust me to look out for you, not to hurt you. With that being the case, there's no way that I can kiss you—because, frankly, I don't know where it could lead.'

He was right. Of course he was. She just wished she didn't feel so upset at the prospect of all this being over so quickly. That their kiss last night had been the end of the line for them.

‘My helicopter will be here to collect us at eleven. I'll help Ioannis with the remaining planters. What else can we do to help you?'

His businesslike attitude pulled her up short. She needed to start focusing on the wedding.

‘The candles need to be placed inside the lanterns...' She paused and gave him a pleading smile. ‘And two white ribbons need to be tied to each of the bay trees.'

He inhaled a deep breath. ‘If you
dare
tell Christos that I was tying ribbons you'll be in big trouble.'

He looked so hacked off she couldn't help but giggle. And once she started she couldn't stop, because he was studying her so incredulously. But eventually he too laughed, his laughter coming from deep inside him was highly infectious, which only caused Grace to start her ‘hiccupping hyena' impression, as Sofia so charmingly called it. He stopped and stared at her, clearly surprised, but then he laughed even harder.

When their laughter eventually petered out he shook his head and eyed her with amusement. ‘You do crazy things to me, Grace Chapman.'

With that he walked away, and she stared after him, knowing, despite their differences, that she had never felt so in tune with another person in all her life.

* * *

Later that night Grace ran towards the villa. She had fifteen minutes to get ready. Not enough time to wash her hair.
Just great
. She was going out for dinner with the sexiest man she had ever met with unwashed hair and make-up slapped on. But then maybe it was for the best. Maybe he would take one look at her and the attraction between them would wilt.

She took a quick shower and whilst dragging a towel over her body in order to dry herself hopped from one foot to the other in front of the wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. Would the cocktail dress she had bought especially for the pre-wedding reception tonight be too over the top? Send the wrong message? But all her other clothes were too casual.

She yanked the dress from the wardrobe and pulled it on. Five minutes to go. Quickly she applied some foundation and cream eyeshadow, a rose-pink gloss on her lips. She tied her hair back into a ponytail. A quick spritz of perfume and she was out through the door.

Andreas was waiting for her by the patio doors in the living room, staring out onto the terrace.

She came to an abrupt stop beside him. ‘Ready?'

He stood back and his eyes trailed slowly down over her body. He cleared his throat before he spoke. ‘You look incredible.'

All evening she had firmly reminded herself that to get involved with Andreas would be a major mistake. Past experience had taught her the awful pain of having someone walk away from her—which undoubtedly
would
happen should she get entangled with this oh-so-gorgeous playboy. This was just a cordial dinner between...

Between what? She had no idea how to define their relationship, but maybe ‘friends' was the most suitable description. But how was she supposed to deal with the heat in his eyes and the pull of desire coiling within her?

She gave him a quick smile. ‘Thank you...and you don't look half bad yourself.' Which was the understatement of the year. He was freshly showered, and his damp hair was tamer than usual, which emphasised the impossible height of his cheekbones, the green brilliance of his eyes. His dark navy suit fitted him to perfection, the snow-white shirt open at the neck highlighting the golden tones of his skin. She would never get to touch him, to trace her fingers over his skin, to feel the hard muscle underneath...

‘Why are you carrying your sandals?'

She tore her eyes away from him and dangled her stiletto heels to swing between them. ‘There's no way I'll climb the hill to the helicopter wearing
these
bad boys.'

His gaze travelled downwards and her French polished toes curled when his gaze remained at her feet. When he eventually looked back up there was a new tension to his jaw.

‘Your feet will get dirty. Put them on and you can hold my arm—I'll help you to the helicopter.'

Grace sat on the side of a sofa and bent over to place her feet in the sandals. The sandals were new, and she struggled to fasten the strap, the metal bar refusing to go into the tiny eyelet pierced in the dark navy leather strap. She gritted her teeth and pushed as hard as she could, while her hip bone screamed at the awkward position she was leaning over in.

‘Sit back and I'll try.'

Before she had time to protest Andreas was crouched down before her. He gently lifted her foot and balanced it on his thigh. She bit down on the dual temptations fighting within her: to pull away—his touch was way too much for a woman already on a knife-edge of temptation—or sigh so loudly she would be heard over on Naxos.

When he was done, he stood up and held his hand out to her. For a moment she hesitated. More than ever this evening seemed like a thoroughly bad idea.

As though reading her mind, Andreas said, ‘We're going out for dinner and a little fun—nothing serious.'

Three days ago she had closed the door to her minuscule apartment in Bristol, full of dreams for the future, hoping for excitement. Well, boy, had she got it—in a bucket full. And although she knew she was dancing with danger maybe, just for tonight, she could embrace this crazy scenario and relish being in the company of this utterly gorgeous man.

* * *

He was going to have a heart attack. Grace's dress was too much. A mid-thigh-length navy lace wrap dress, embellished with sequins, it was far too short and far too figure-hugging. Way too much flesh was revealed in the deep scoop that ended at the tip of the valley between her breasts. And what was
really
driving his pulse berserk was the knowledge that with a simple tug of the satin ribbon sitting at her waist it would come undone.

How was he supposed to act like a gentleman tonight when she was wearing that?

Next to him in the helicopter, she folded one leg over the other, and he groaned inwardly at the sight of her toned thighs. Thin straps of dark navy leather crisscrossed her foot, which dangled provocatively in front of him, and a jolt of unwanted desire barged through him. Earlier, as he had buckled her sandal, his fingers had trailed against the smooth skin of her slender ankle and he'd had to battle hard against the urge to keep trailing his fingers upwards.

Her words this afternoon that she wanted to trust in him came back to taunt him. He couldn't abuse that trust. He couldn't seduce her as he so desperately wanted to do. Grace believed in love and romance, in happy-ever-after; he had to respect everything she wanted even if the tension of attraction and desire between them was so thick right now he could almost punch it. He had to keep this light and fun—keep the conversation neutral.

‘Did you finish all the prep work?'

She gave him a bright grin of relief. ‘Yes. All the major displays are finished. I just have to complete the bouquets in the morning.' She puffed out her cheeks. ‘I can't believe Sofia's getting married tomorrow; it's all happened so quickly. I need to start getting my head around my chief bridesmaid's duties. Talking of which—have you completed your speech?'

He shifted in his seat. ‘Almost.'

She gave him a knowing look. ‘Can I help in any way?'

He didn't want to talk about the speech—his ongoing nemesis for reasons he didn't fully understand. ‘No, I plan on finishing it tomorrow morning. Christos and my parents aren't arriving until lunchtime.'

For a moment she paused and worried at her lip, doubt clouding her eyes. ‘How do you feel about the wedding now?'

Ambivalent
was the word that best summed up how he felt about tomorrow...and it was something he didn't want to overthink. Right now he just wanted to pretend it wasn't happening.

‘If you're worried that I might object to the vows, or share my views on relationships in my speech, don't worry. I promise to be the perfect best man tomorrow.'

At first she beamed with relief, but then her face clouded with tension. She glanced at him, and then away, and then her eyes darted back to him. ‘Do you think the flowers will be okay?'

The fear in her eyes was so sudden and intense his heart jolted. He twisted fully in his seat and placed a hand on hers. ‘Grace, I know nothing about flowers. I've been to endless weddings, even my own, and didn't notice them. But even I can see how spectacular yours are. After tomorrow you'll be turning away bookings.'

Her eyes shone with gratitude. ‘Thank you.'

The helicopter began to hover down towards the restaurant, which sat high on a clifftop on Santorini Island. Once it had landed Andreas helped Grace out, and as they neared the building the heavy beat of music greeted them.

Friday night was party night at the Ice Cocktail Bar and Restaurant.

He had to lean low, so that Grace could hear him above the music. ‘How about we get a cocktail to start and then eat?'

The bar was busy, and as usual the central floor space had become a dance floor. The music was a fast constant beat, energetic and sensual.

He glanced down when Grace's hand touched against his arm. She reached up to shout in his ear.

‘This bar is amazing...I've never seen so many people enjoying themselves so much.'

Her breath tickled his ear. Desire gripped him hard and he had the sudden urge to turn around and lead her somewhere quiet. He bit down on the temptation and taking her hand in his, led her through the throng.

As usual his friend Georgios, Ice's owner, was sitting in the far corner. When Georgios saw him approach he jumped up and the two men embraced. After Andreas had introduced Grace, Georgios insisted they take his seats and promised to return with two of the house specials.

They attempted to have a conversation, but the music was too loud, so they sat sipping their gin and ginger cocktails, watching the dancers out on the dance floor, their movement so carefree and joyful it was addictive. His heartbeat pounded in time with the music, and when Grace moved beside him, her thigh grazing against his, he turned to her.

Her eyes were bright, her skin flushed, and she leaned towards him, a slow smile breaking on her lips. ‘Do you want to dance?'

Sense and caution went out of the window at her question, which had been asked in a low voice, whispered against his ear.

He stood and removed his jacket and led her out on to the dance floor, pulling her into the centre of the action.

Her arms reached upwards and her body swayed to the music, her head thrown back. Strobe lights flashed over her tilted face, highlighting the plumpness of her glossy lips, the sultry look in her eyes. The light danced on the sequins of her sexy dress, and the thought of pulling that ribbon and revealing what lay beneath sent firecrackers of desire through his system.

For a few seconds he watched her, trying to resist the inevitable, but then he reached out and pulled her towards him, his hands on her waist, and together their bodies dipped and swayed, their eyes never leaving one another.

* * *

Lithe, and with perfect timing, Andreas held her to him, his body lightly controlling her movements. She was on fire. It was all wrong. But right now she didn't care. It felt too good. She felt alive and young and carefree.

Through his shirt her fingers touched against the taut bulk of his biceps. His hips moved against hers and an ache grew in her belly. His hand moved up from her waist and for a brief moment his thumb ran along the side of her breast. She gave him a brief smile and he smiled back, his eyes darkening.

The ache in her belly spread outwards and her breasts grew tight and sensitive. The hard muscles of his thighs pushed against hers, and then he shifted her so that one of her legs was in between his. The ache spread even further, until all her insides felt hollow.

His hands moved around to her back. One held her at the waist while the other splayed downwards, touching the sensitive point at the bottom of her spine. She arched even further into him, her breath catching as his hip bone pushed against her.

She stared at the smooth line of his freshly shaved jaw, fighting the desire to trace her lips against the warm skin. His hard body and his scent of lemons with an undertone of spice tugged her under, into a world where no one but he existed.

Much too quickly the music came to an end. For a brief moment his lips swooped down and he planted a hot kiss on her exposed collarbone. He led her off the dance floor, dazed, and she was unable to wipe the grin from her mouth.

When they reached their seats she sat down, but Andreas remained standing. He took his phone from his back trouser pocket and his brow furrowed when he checked the screen. He pointed at it, and then out to the outside terrace. She nodded and waved towards him, telling him that it was okay for him to go and make a call.

When he was gone an involuntary shiver ran through her body. She was definitely dancing with danger. And she didn't know if she was going to be able to stop.

* * *

Andreas sat at a table out on the terrace to return his missed call from Christos. Unlike the other customers, who were all facing outwards towards the spectacle of the night sky, he faced back into the bar, where he had the perfect view of Grace, sitting in front of a low window.