Chapter Three

Demetri glanced over at Rania sunbathing next to the lap pool. She’d dispensed with the cover-up and lay in full glory in her tiny white bikini. He’d seen a lot of beautiful sights cruising around the Greek islands. But Rania on his deck was the most breathtaking and the most distracting. He’d been trying to work on the plans for the Gavdos resort for almost half an hour now and still couldn’t concentrate.

He was supposed to be on vacation, anyway. He shut down his laptop and strolled over to Rania. “Careful you don’t burn, glykia mou. At sea the sun is stronger than you think. I’d better put more sunscreen on you.” He grabbed the bottle of lotion next to her and squeezed a generous amount into his hands. As he rubbed them together he met her gaze. She swallowed, then glared at him. With their audience, she couldn’t really protest her husband touching her. She flipped over onto her stomach. Well, he’d always enjoyed a challenge.

“I… Oh God,” she ended with a groan as he swept one hand up her leg, his fingers lingering over her inner thigh, stroking toward her center. His index finger deliberately grazed the fabric of her bathing suit between her legs, eliciting a loud moan.

“That sounds more natural,” he leaned in and whispered in her ear before rubbing cream up her other leg. He slid a finger under the edge of her bikini bottom this time, and she shuddered. He had to shift his own body as it responded to touching her. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But now that he’d started…

He undid the ties at her back and nape. Her hair was piled on top of her head, exposing her long, graceful neck. After kissing her under her right ear, inhaling her heady scent, he creamed up her arms and over her shoulder muscles, which were unusually tense. After finishing her back, he hauled in a deep breath and then slid his hands to her sides, lingering on the soft swell of her breasts.

Rania, took a deep breath which lifted her body higher, allowing his fingers another centimeter of access. Her whole body quivered under his touch.

“Turn over and let me do your front,” he said, although he’d probably end up doing more than applying sunscreen.

“Demetri, we have an audience,” she reminded him, her voice low and husky.

He glanced over at the two Egyptian agents who both appeared as hot and bothered as he was feeling. One of them shifted where he was sitting. As much as Demetri was personally enjoying tormenting Rania, he wasn’t about to share the fun with the other men.

“You’re right. We’ll continue this when we’re alone.” He pulled off his T-shirt and dived into the pool, hoping the cool water would relieve the pressure in his swim trunks. He swam against the artificial current until his arms and legs burned.

When he pulled himself out of the water, both guards were gone, and Rania stood by the railing, staring out to sea.

He should leave her alone, but couldn’t. She drew him to her like a magnet. Not bothering to towel off, he put his arms around her. The heat off her body could have created steam from the water on his. He drifted kisses from her shoulder to under her ear. She tilted her head to allow him greater access.

“This was such a bad idea,” she whispered.

“What was?”

Her head lolled back onto his shoulder. His hands crept up her torso until they rested just under her full breasts. His thumbs swept over her nipples, and they instantly pebbled under his touch. Already his body had hardened again. His erection strained against his swim trunks, pushing into her back.

“Stowing away aboard your boat, pretending to be married to you.” She moaned again as his thumbs circled her nipples through the thin fabric of her bikini top. Before he could do it again, she swiveled, her arms going around his waist, her cheek against his heart.

“I don’t know. It seems to be working. Where have the agents gone?”

“Probably to have a cold shower. You’re a very convincing husband.” He forced his hands to stay still on her back, not rove up and down as they wanted, not pull her closer to him until every one of her curves was molded into him. After all, she wasn’t his wife, wasn’t even his girlfriend. She was a woman in trouble. He shouldn’t add to her distress, no matter how incredible it felt. Then again, she’d started it; he was only playing along.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said.

“Please, Demetri. I can’t take much more of this.”

Twenty-four hours ago she’d barged into his shower and begged him to help her. Twenty-four hours ago he’d been contemplating marriage to Christina. Twenty-four hours ago he’d been sane.

“It would be amazing. I’d make sure of that.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I have to rescue my uncle not have a torrid affair with you.”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of one of the Egyptian agents returning to the deck. He put a thumb under Rania’s jaw and raised her face to his.

“This was part of your plan,” he said.

She laughed, a pure, blissful sound that ruffled the hair on his chest. “If you haven’t worked it out yet, habibi, I’m not so good with actual plans. I come up with some half-assed idea and then jump in with both feet and try to figure out what to do as I fall.”

“Let me catch you this time.” He kissed her long and hard until she melted against him. One of her arms slid up his body, around his neck, and into his hair. Before he ripped the bikini from her body and took her right there on the deck, he released her. They both sucked in lungfuls of air, and he forced his eyes from her heaving chest.

One of the Egyptian agents approached. “Tell your captain to slow down, Mr. Christodoulou. Our boat will come alongside and we will get off. However, I warn you to keep your wife away from Egypt. If she tries to free her uncle, it will not be good for her. Or you.”

Rania began to argue in Arabic. As the man reached for his gun, Demetri pulled her to his side. She was going to get herself killed if he didn’t look after her. “Easy, glykia mou; let’s get rid of them so we can enjoy the rest of our honeymoon.”

He led her over to the intercom on the wall, ordering the captain to halt the yacht. As the engines powered down, the high-pitched whine of a motorboat filled the air. The second Egyptian agent appeared and hooked a rope ladder over onto the railing and threw the rest of it over the side of the boat. Five minutes later, they were both gone, the ladder flapping in the breeze as the motorboat with its human cargo sped toward a larger ship barely visible on the horizon.

Rania turned and opened her mouth. Before she could say anything he swept her into his arms and whispered into her ear. “I suggest we keep up the pretense until I can get a security specialist to check the boat for microphones and hidden cameras.”

“Really?” Her warm breath caressed his neck, and he repressed a shiver of delight.

“It’s what I would do in their position. While we were up here on deck, I’m sure they were in our stateroom. They may be gone, but I bet they’re still watching and listening, probably hoping to find out what you plan to do next.” She slumped against him, defeated. “We’ll figure out something. I promise,” he said.

She raised her gorgeous face, her almond-colored eyes full of questions. “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.” She laughed and an odd warmth invaded his chest. Too much sun, not enough food.

“We’re a couple hours from Milos. Why don’t we stop and have dinner at one of the restaurants there.” His suggestion was greeted with a smile, and his chest got tighter. Definitely too much sun.

…

Rania slipped into the last dress she’d brought with her, a black floaty creation she hoped would be suitable for the restaurant where Demetri had reserved a table. She’d spent ten minutes in the shower, scrubbing off the sunscreen, in a vain attempt to erase the feel of his hands on her body. He could reduce her to a quivering mess with only a touch. She didn’t appreciate the power he had over her body. She had to make sure her head stayed in command. There’s a first time for everything. Then the bathroom door clicked open, and Demetri walked in. Any thought she had about being in control evaporated in the heat of his gaze. He was still bare-chested and his swim trunks sat low on his hips. To stop from licking her lips, she tried to concentrate on applying her lipstick.

“If you’re done with the shower—”

She grabbed her small makeup bag and fled the bathroom, her shoulder brushing his naked chest as she passed. Damn the man, but he was tempting.

She’d managed to get her eyeliner almost even when Demetri opened the door. His hair was still damp, a riot of curls, a white towel wrapped around his hips. A girl had to know her limits.

“I’ll wait for you on deck,” she said, her voice a little too breathless for her liking. She grabbed her one pair of heeled shoes and escaped the cabin. Demetri’s laugh followed her down the hallway like a challenge. The competitor in her wanted to march right back in there and turn him into a quivering heap of gelatinous mass. The pragmatist told her this was one battle she couldn’t win.

As she waited in the lounge, her mind replayed Demetri’s statements from earlier in the day. Had his words about getting married “again” on Gavdos been simply for their audience? Was he really going to help find and free her uncle?

When she’d returned to their cabin, she’d had a quick glance around for listening devices or hidden cameras. Everything had appeared in order, yet she still felt on edge. And Demetri was right. They probably were being watched, which meant she couldn’t stay in Milos tonight. If she didn’t return to the boat, the Egyptians would know in minutes and probably pick her up within hours.

And she still hadn’t found the paper where she’d written notes to Demetri that first night. First night, it was last night. Odd how it seemed she’d known him so much longer. Maybe it was the two weeks she’d trailed him before she’d set foot on his boat. She’d been impressed with the way he treated everyone from hotel bellboys to government officials. And when he’d stopped to help an old lady in Albania pick up her groceries after she’d been knocked over by a jerk on a bike, Rania knew he was a good guy. He’d even slipped the old lady some money to make up for her lost produce, which had been squished by passing cars. A man that thoughtful wouldn’t rape her and toss her overboard.

But it didn’t mean she wanted to keep playing his wife for long. Tonight at the restaurant, hopefully away from any listening ears, she’d convince him to stop in Crete. There they could have the boat cleared of cameras and bugs, then she could slip ashore someplace and disappear, maybe make her way to Turkey and eventually through to Jordan and find someone willing to slip into Egypt for her and bribe the right people for her uncle’s freedom. It was as good a plan as she could come up with at the moment. So why did she still feel so deflated?

Demetri appeared wearing a tailor-made suit. The dark fabric emphasized his broad shoulders and expanse of chest. His light-blue shirt had the top two buttons undone at his neck. This time Rania did lick her lips. She’d always been a sucker for a man in a well-fitted suit.

The boat bumped lightly against the dock, and Demetri’s arms came around her, preventing her from falling back onto the sofa where she’d been sitting.

“I may have to give up my day job. Rescuing you is becoming a full-time occupation,” he said, steering her out to the gangplank.

“I’m not helpless.”

“I never said you were, but we could all use a little assistance now and then. For example, there’s something you could help me with.”

“What’s that?”

He put a finger on her lips. “I’ll tell you after dinner. It’s a short walk to the restaurant, but I could call a taxi to take us if you prefer.”

“No, I could use the exercise.” What she hadn’t counted on, however, was the continual pitch of the land. In two short days her legs had become used to the roll of the boat beneath her. Demetri’s solid arm around her waist kept her somewhat steady. “They probably won’t serve me a drink thinking I’m intoxicated already.”

“Give it a few minutes. Your legs will adjust.”

“How come you don’t have a problem?”

“Maybe I do. Maybe you’re the one holding me up.”

She laughed and he tightened his arm around her. The restaurant owner greeted Demetri like a long-lost son before ushering them to a secluded table at the edge of the patio where their table did have a magnificent view. They looked out onto the harbor and the boats bobbing gently in the water. Rania could easily pick out Demetri’s boat, the most magnificent one there. Across the water, the hill was populated with white-washed homes, their brightly painted doors a pop of color in the fading sun. Fairy lights in the pergola above and candles on the table provided soft light in the fast-approaching dusk. It was the ultimate romantic setting.

“Giorgio opened specially for us,” Demetri said. “With the tourist season closing down he’s usually only open four nights a week.”

“I hope we haven’t inconvenienced him. I don’t mind where we eat.” The proprietor arrived with a bottle of wine. He looked old enough to be her grandfather’s grandfather.

“He would never speak to me again if I was nearby and went somewhere else, would you, Giorgio?” Demetri repeated the question in Greek.

Giorgio laughed and poured the wine, all the while complimenting Demetri on his beautiful woman. She caught him glancing at their rings. She’d considered not putting them back on after her shower. However, if there were cameras on board the boat, she figured she’d better be cautious. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that her chest burned a little when she thought about handing them back to Demetri, probably tomorrow when they said goodbye. She took a long swig of her wine to ease the lump in her throat.

“You’ve captivated another man, glykia mou,” Demetri said when Giorgio eventually wandered away. He hadn’t offered them menus or asked what they wanted to eat. He’d simply promised something tasty. Speaking of tasty…

“We’re alone now. You can stop pretending.”

Instead, Demetri raised her hand to his lips and kissed the rings she’d been thinking about. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to turn pretense into reality?”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp. It was hard enough to concentrate with his body so close. When he was touching her, it was nearly impossible. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want you to be my wife. For real.”

…

Rania reached again for her wine and drained half the glass.

“You’re not married already are you?” he asked.

“Of course not, but just because I pretended to be married to you doesn’t mean I want to make it real.”

“You already have. The Egyptian government believes we’re married. Giorgio is undoubtedly on the phone this minute calling everyone on my birth island of Gavdos to announce the news. By the time we dock the day after tomorrow, there won’t be a single person who knows me who hasn’t heard I’m married. It’s too late to go back now. You started this game. I’m taking it to the next level.”

“You could explain to Giorgio.”

“Ah, but I don’t want to. Being married to you suits me. For now. However, that fake Albanian marriage certificate won’t pass muster with my mother and grandmother. They’ll insist on seeing proof of our marriage for themselves, which will require a real wedding on Gavdos.”

“Why? I am sorry if I’ve put you in a difficult position. I could explain to your family. Tell them what a hero you are. I’m sure they’d understand.”

He hadn’t seen such panic in her eyes when they were facing two assault rifles in the hands of hostile government agents. For a second he considered letting her off the hook, then she leaned forward and put her hand on his arm and a bolt of desire raced through him.

“I need to marry for business reasons. You’re as good as any other woman.”

“As good as any other woman?” She jumped from her chair and paced, muttering in Arabic under her breath. She was clearly trying to calm down in order to dissuade him with a rational argument. “Demetri, surely you want to marry a woman you love. Or at least one who loves you? You had rings on board. You must have had someone in mind.”

“I did, but you will suffice.”

She gave up her attempt at being rational. Her eyes blazed with fury, her hands fisted on her hips. Her anger, her passion, only added to her beauty. “I will suffice? I suffice for no man!”

“Sit down, Rania.” He waited until she sat, still quivering with rage. God, she was magnificent. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. Marriage to you has two major advantages over an alliance with another woman.”

“Oh, how wonderful. Tell me, Demetri, in what two ways am I better than any other woman you know?”

Audacity had a new definition—Rania. He probably wouldn’t have to deal with a lot of tears where she was concerned. Make that three positives, although she probably wouldn’t appreciate that point so he’d keep it to himself. “First, we have a mutual short-term need. You need the protection of my name while you try to get your uncle out of prison. I need to be married to secure a property I wish to purchase. Once those things are accomplished, we can go our separate ways, no harm no foul. As this isn’t a love match, neither of us will be heartbroken when we divorce.”

She tilted her head to one side as though considering his words. “And the second reason?”

He reached for her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her until her hand went from pushing against his chest to sliding around to the back of his head and threading her fingers through his hair. They were both helpless in resisting the attraction between them. He released her lips and buried his face in her hair. “Secondly, we can explore this passion between us in marital-sanctified copulation.”

Rania pulled back to stare at his face. Her eyes were narrowed but the glare was ruined by the banked desire evidenced by the heightened flecks of gold in her amber eyes. “Marital-sanctified copulation? Is that your way of talking dirty? Because you aren’t going to convince me with those words, Demetri.”

He laughed. She did that to him. Made him laugh. Made him think of things other than business. Mostly at this point about how much he wanted to get her in bed. Still, it wasn’t business.

“Let me try logic, then. Do you have any legitimate reason why you can’t marry me? Would your parents object to me?” Because as much as he wanted her, he wouldn’t cause a rift in her family, not like the one in his.

“My parents wouldn’t object to my marriage, as long as my husband loves me and is honorable.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I am honorable, and if we both agree that love isn’t an issue, then I don’t see the problem. And you know I can fake it when called upon to do so.”

The shuffling sound of Giorgio approaching with their meal spurred Demetri to action. He kissed Rania again until he sensed Giorgio’s presence by their table, which was damn hard when most of his senses were overwhelmed with Rania’s taste, smell, and the feel of her skin under his hand. He had to convince her to marry him.

Giorgio placed plates of fish before them. So fresh, the fish had probably been swimming in the sea half an hour ago. The restaurant owner lingered at their table until Rania invited him to join them. Whether it was genuine friendliness on her part or she was hoping to keep Demetri in check, he didn’t know or particularly care. He had an ace up his sleeve he wasn’t averse to playing.

The meal was pleasant. Giorgio tried his best to converse in English; Demetri translated when necessary. Rania was charming and amusing, telling stories of her travels throughout Europe, which invariably started with her getting on the wrong train and ending up somewhere entirely different from where she’d planned to go. Then she’d have the most amazing time and not bother to go to her original destination. By the time they’d finished dessert, if Demetri didn’t convince Rania to marry him, he was sure Giorgio would try, despite the fact he already had a wife of sixty years.

“Giorgio, Rania loves to dance. Would you mind playing for us?”

While Giorgio ran off to get his bouzouki, Rania glared.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to dance with my wife.”

Before she could reply, Giorgio returned and began to play a haunting melody. Demetri led Rania over to a corner of the restaurant where the tables had been pushed back forming an impromptu dance floor. Putting both her arms around his neck he pulled her flush against his body. His lips rested against the top of her ear, and he gave it a little lick, feeling a shiver course through her whole body.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

“No.”

“If you don’t agree, I’ll show the notes we wrote last night to the Egyptian authorities and hand you over personally.”

She stopped moving and pulled back as much as he would allow.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Her eyes searched his in the dim light as if trying to gauge his seriousness.

“Don’t underestimate me. When I want something, I get it. At the moment I want a wife, and I want you.”

“You are a bastard.” She said something else, in Arabic, which he was pretty sure he didn’t want translated.

He pulled her against him and whispered into her ear, “Yes, glykia mou. But for better or worse, in sickness or in health, I’m your bastard.”