My Greek Island Fling Page 6

  But the real problem was his father. He had built up Belmont Investments by taking a low-key, low-risk approach that had worked well years ago. Not any longer. Not in today’s financial market.

  Mark flicked over to his own plan—the plan he’d been working on in the early hours of the morning when sleep had been impossible. It was dynamic, modern and exciting, and until now this plan had been a dirty secret that he hadn’t shared with anyone else.

  His father would hate it. But he had to do something to save the business. Even if it meant breaking through the unwritten rules his father had laid down—rules which came with all the obligations attached to being the next Baron Belmont.

  Mark quickly scanned through one of the key implementation plans, and had just started to work on the projected time schedule, looking for ways to bring it forward, when he heard strange, cooing baby-love sounds below his bedroom window.

  And they were definitely human.

  Mark closed his eyes, dropping the tablet onto his knees with a low sigh.

  Of course. Just for a second he’d forgotten about his uninvited and very unexpected houseguest. Miss Alexis Sloane.

  No doubt fresh as a daisy, bursting with energy, and ready to get started on ripping his family history apart so she could collect her fee and head back to civilisation as fast as her cute, shapely and very lovely little legs could carry her.

  A whisper of doubt crept into his mind.

  What if he had made a mistake when he’d asked her to stay?

  What if this was all some elaborate ruse and Lexi truly was intending to leave with all the Belmont family secrets tucked under her arm, neatly packed up to pass on to her paparazzi father?

  For all Mark knew he could be handing Mario Collazo all the ammunition he needed to twist Crystal Leighton’s life story into some sordid tabloid hatchet-job.

  He slipped out of bed and padded over to the window to peek out onto the patio.

  Lexi was bending down and was rubbing her fingers together in front of Emmy and Oscar, the feral cats who called this villa home and whose kittens had invaded her car. The cats clearly couldn’t decide whether this replacement for Mark’s soft-hearted housekeeper was friend or foe, and were taking the ‘feed me and I’ll think about it’ approach. But at least she was making an effort to be friendly.

  Mark almost snorted out loud. He’d made the mistake of bringing his one-time fiancée here for a weekend break. She’d been horrified that he allowed ‘vermin’ so close to the house, and actively shooed the cats away at every opportunity in case they contaminated her clothing—which had confused Emmy and Oscar so much that they’d kept coming back to find out what was going on.

  She’d lasted three days before stage-managing an emergency at the bank.

  Pity he hadn’t picked up on the clue that the beautiful girl had enjoyed the kudos of being the future Baroness Belmont a lot more than she’d liked him and his ordinary life.

  He pulled back the blind just an inch and watched Lexi dangle a piece of ribbon up and down, inviting the cats to play with this strange new toy. Her childlike laughter rang out in the sunshine and was so infectious that he couldn’t help but smile in return.

  It struck him all at once that his life revolved around people who were very different from the girl he was looking at now. Lexi was pretty, dynamic and confident enough to challenge him and defend herself against what she saw as unfair treatment.

  If this was an act, then she was playing her part very well indeed.

  The girl he was looking at—okay, ogling—seemed to have no off button. No dial he could turn to slow her down and make her start conforming a little to other people’s expectations.

  She had surprised him by telling him who her father was before they’d started work.

  A shrewder person might have kept quiet about that little bombshell until the cheque had cleared.

  Honesty and integrity. He admired that. Even if she was the daughter of a man he despised. And, unless he had lost his knack of judging people, she was telling the truth about not knowing she’d be working with Mark.

  Overall, a fascinating, intriguing and very unsettling package. Who probably didn’t realise that as she bent over the back of her hipster slim-fit trousers, which were probably extremely fashionable in the city, had slid way down past her hips, exposing the top of what passed for her underwear. And providing him with a splendid and tantalising view of a smooth expanse of skin divided by a tiny band of what appeared to be red lace.

  Considering the hot weather, and the tightness of her trousers, it was just about as uncomfortable and unsuitable a combination as he could imagine.

  But if her intention was to make a man’s heart pound rather too fast, she had succeeded brilliantly.

  She was skipping across the patio now, perilously close to the swimming pool where he had held her so close against his body—and had enjoyed every second of it. Enjoyed it rather too much for comfort.

  That was it. She made him feel … uncomfortable.

  Of course that had been until he’d looked into those remarkable violet-grey eyes and instantly been transported back to the horror of that morning in a London clinic when his world had collapsed around him. And that was not uncomfortable. It was damning.

  Mark released the blind and took off his glasses.

  Perhaps it was just as well that he knew who her family were. She was way too attractive to ignore, but that was as far as it went—as far as it could ever go.

  There was no way around it. Lexi Sloane was part of his past. The question was, would she be able to help him get through this project so he could move on to his future?

  Because if he had made the wrong choice, then bringing Lexi into his life could be the worst decision he’d ever made.

  Lexi sang along under her breath to the lively trance track blasting her eardrums while she flicked through her cell-phone messages, sending off fast replies to the most urgent and deleting what she could.

  She was just about to switch to emails when Adam sent her yet another text. That had to be the fourth in the last twenty-four hours.

  Please. Call me. We need to talk.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so, loser. You don’t tell me what to do. Not any more,’ Lexi hissed, moving on to the next message. But the damage was done: her eyes and brain refused to connect and she put down the phone in disgust.

  The last time they had spoken face to face had been in the hall of Adam’s apartment. Both of them had said things which could not be unsaid. And then she had embarrassed herself by slapping him harder than she’d ever hit anything in her life.

  Girls did that when they found out their boyfriends had been cheating on them.

  What a fool she’d been to pin all her hopes of happiness on the one man she’d thought was a friend. She should have learned from her mother’s experience not to let personal feelings interfere with her judgement. And that was exactly what she’d done. Stupid girl.

  She wasn’t going to live in Gullible Girl City again. Oh, no. At least not until her home office was ready and her children’s books were in the shops.

  Then she might think about dating again. If …

  She held the thought as she caught a blur of movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just as Mark strolled into the room. He was wearing loose navy trousers and a very expensive-looking navy polo shirt. His hair was dark and slick, as though he had just stepped out of the shower.

  Mark Belmont looked like heaven on legs.

  And with one single glance she was instantly hit with a sudden attack of the killer tingles.

  The kind of tingles that left a girl feeling hot, bothered, brainless and desperate enough to do something really stupid. Like forgetting that Mark was her client. Like wanting to find out what it felt like to run her fingers through his hair and feel his breath on her neck.

  Bad tingles. Very bad tingles.

  Not ideal qualities for a professional writer.

  This was the man
who’d accused her of being her father’s accomplice and almost thrown her out yesterday. As far as Mark Belmont was concerned she was here to work. And that was all. She had to keep her head together!

  It was time to turn on a cheery nonsense gossipy voice and the fixed smile that had become her standard mask to the world. Busy, busy, busy. Chatter, chatter, chatter. That was the role she played. He wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgeways, and she could keep her distance.

  Deep breath. Cue, Lexi. Action!

  ‘Good morning, Mr Belmont.’ She smiled, nervously rearranging the cutlery to hide her complete mental disarray. ‘I hope you’re ready for breakfast, since I’ve been on a mission of mercy and made the village baker and shopkeeper very happy. But please don’t be worried about your reputation as a ladies’ man. I told them I was only here for a few days to help with a business project and I’d be heading back to the office ASAP.’

  Oh, and now she was babbling about his love life. Great. Could she be more pathetic?

  ‘My reputation?’ Mark repeated, staring at her through those incredibly cute spectacles as he leant against the worktop, his hands in his trouser pockets. Casual, handsome, devastating. ‘How very thoughtful of you. But why did you think it necessary to go on a mission of mercy?’

  ‘I was brave enough to rummage around inside your freezer looking for breakfast. Behind the bags of ice cubes were a few ancient, dry bread rolls, which crumbled to pieces in my hands and were only fit for the birds, and an assortment of unlabelled mystery items which, judging by their greyish-green colour, were originally of biological origin. But they did have one thing in common. They were all inedible.’

  She stopped cutting bread and looked up into Mark’s face. ‘It’s amazing what they have in small village shops on this island.’

  ‘Food shopping,’ he replied, running the fingers of one hand through his damp hair. ‘Ah. Yes. My housekeeper stocked up the refrigerator last week, but of course I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

  ‘No need to apologise,’ she said as brightly as she could. ‘But it has been my experience that we can get a lot more work done if we have food available in the house and don’t have to run out and stock up at the last minute. And, since the room service around here seems to be a little deficient, some creative thinking was required.’

  He peered over her shoulder and the smell of citrus shower gel and coconut shampoo wafted past. She inhaled the delicious combination, which was far more enticing than the food and did absolutely nothing to cure her attack of the tingles.

  But as he stepped forward Lexi heard his stomach growl noisily and raised her eyebrows at him.

  ‘It seems that I could use some breakfast. Um … What did you manage to scavenge?’

  ‘Since I don’t know if you prefer a sweet chocolatey cereal breakfast or a savoury eggs, bacon and tomatoes type breakfast, I bought both. I’ve already had scrambled eggs and toast, washed down with a gallon of tea.’

  ‘Tea is disgusting. But eggs and toast sound perfect if I can persuade you to go back to the frying pan. I’ll take care of my coffee. It’s one of my few weaknesses. I’m very particular about what coffee I drink, where it came from and how it was made.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Belmont,’ Lexi replied, with no hint of sarcasm in her voice, and turned back towards the cooker.

  ‘It’s Mark.’

  ‘Oh,’ she replied, whizzing round towards him and making a point of taking out her earphones. ‘Did you say something?’

  Mark crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, well aware that she had heard what he said but was making a play of it since she had just scored a point. ‘I said, since we will be working together, I would prefer it if you called me Mark.’

  ‘If that is your instruction, Mr Belmont.’ She smiled and relaxed a little. ‘I’d be very happy to call you Mark. But only if you call me Lexi in return. Not Alexis, or Ali, or Lex, but Lexi.’

  Then she turned back to the hob and added a knob of butter to the hot pan before breaking more eggs into a bowl.

  ‘Breakfast will be with you in about five minutes, Mark. I do hope you like orange juice. That was the only—’

  The sound of a rock band belted out from her cell phone, and Lexi quickly wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before pressing a few buttons.

  ‘Anything interesting?’ Mark asked casually as he reached for the coffee.

  ‘I always receive interesting messages.’ Lexi twisted to one side and peered at the display. ‘But in this case they were two new messages from my ex-boyfriend, which are now deleted. Unread, of course. Which I find deeply satisfying.’

  ‘I see. I thought you might be a heartbreaking sort of girl.’

  ‘It cannot be denied. But in this particular situation it transpired he was cheating on me with a girl who took great satisfaction in enticing him away from me.’

  Mark’s eyebrows went skywards and his lips did a strange quivery dance as his hands stilled on the cafetière. ‘He cheated on you?’ he repeated in an incredulous voice, then shook his head once before going back to his coffee. ‘Do you always share details of your fascinating-but-tragic love life with people you’ve only just met?’ he asked with a quick glance in her direction.

  Lexi shrugged, and was about to make some dismissive quip when it struck her that he was actually trying to have a conversation this morning.

  That was different.

  He’d barely said a word over their light dinner of crackers, cheese and sweet tomatoes apart from commenting on the local red wine. The meal had been so awkward that she’d felt she was walking on eggshells every time she tried to break the silence.

  She wasn’t complaining, and it helped that she now wasn’t the only one talking, but she wasn’t used to having one-to-one, intelligent, hangover-free conversations with her clients at this time in the morning. Perhaps Mark Belmont had a few more surprises for her?

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Lexi replied with a shrug as she added lightly beaten eggs to the sizzling butter in the pan and immediately started working the mix. ‘But, if you think about it, my job is to help you share details of your fascinating-but-tragic love life with strangers whom you are never going to meet. This way we are both in the same business. I think it works.’

  ‘Ah.’ Mark pressed his lips together and gave Lexi a small nod as he carried the coffee over to the table. ‘Good point. I should probably tell you that I am not totally thrilled by that prospect.’

  ‘I understand that. Not everyone is a natural extrovert.’ She shrugged just as the bread popped up from the toaster. ‘But that’s why you called me in.’

  ‘I prefer keeping my private life just that. Private. I would much rather stick to the facts.’

  ‘Are you speaking from past experience?’ Lexi asked quietly, flashing him a lightning-quick glance as she quickly tipped hot scrambled egg onto a thick slice of golden toast.

  ‘Perhaps it is,’ Mark replied between sips of juice. ‘And perhaps it isn’t.’

  ‘I see.’ Lexi slid the plate onto the table. ‘Well, I can tell you one thing. If you want this biography to work you’re going to have to trust me and get that private life out for the world to see, Mark.’

  His response was a close-mouthed frown which spoke volumes.

  Oh, this was turning out so well.

  Lexi nodded towards the food. ‘Enjoy your breakfast. Then I really do need to find out how much work you’ve done so far on the manuscript. Perhaps you could show me your mother’s study? That’d be a good place to start. In the meantime I’m off to feed the cats. Bye.’

  And Lexi waltzed out of the kitchen diner on her wedge sandals, safe in the knowledge that Mark’s stunned blue eyes were burning holes in her spectacular back.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LEXI followed Mark through a door to a large room on the first floor, looking around in delight and awe.

  Crystal Leighton had not had a study. Crystal Leighton had created a private library.

  ‘How did you know my
mother even had a study? I don’t recall mentioning it.’

  Lexi touched two fingers to her forehead in reply to Mark’s question. ‘Intuition. Combined with the number of rooms in this huge house and the fact that Crystal Leighton was an undisputed artist. Any creative person coming to this island would bring a fine collection of writing materials and reading matter with them. And when it’s your own house … She would have a study. Elementary, my dear Watson.’ She tapped her nose and winked in his direction. ‘But this …’ she continued, whistling softly and waving her arm around the room, turning from side to side in delight. ‘This is … wonderful.’

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘Like it?’ She blinked at him several times. ‘This is heaven. I could stay here all day and night and never come up for air. Total bliss! I love books. Always have. In fact I cannot remember a time when I haven’t had a book to hand.’

  She almost jogged across the room and started poring through the contents of the bookcases. ‘Poetry, classics, philosophy, history, languages. Blockbuster fiction?’ She flashed him a glance and he shrugged.

  ‘I have a sister.’

  ‘Ah, fair enough. We all need some relaxing holiday reading. But look at this collection of screenplays and books on the theatre. My mother would be so envious. Did I mention that she works as a wardrobe mistress? She loves reading about the theatre.’

  ‘Every school holiday my mother used to stuff a spare suitcase with plays, books, scripts her agent had sent—anything that caught her eye.’ Mark gave a faint smile and plunged his hands into his trouser pockets, nodding towards the shelves. ‘I spent many wet and windy afternoons in this room.’

  ‘I envy you that. And it’s just what I need.’ Lexi turned to face Mark, resting her fingertips lightly on the paper-strewn table in the centre of the room. ‘Have you ever heard the expression that you can tell a lot about someone from the books they have in their home? It’s true. You can.’