Page 24 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

He immediately broke off the conversation though when Meghan informed him of Poppy’s arrival. His gaze raked over her figure with the dark intensity that she had been busy avoiding for three days as he strolled towards her.

He brushed his thumb down her cheek, the gesture both intimate and proprietorial. Heat flushed through her system on cue.

‘You are well rested, I hope?’ he said, the husky tone not doing much to disguise the edge of irony. Because they both knew it wasn’t fatigue that had kept her hiding out in her cabin since Sorrento.

She nodded. ‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Good. I thought we could go for a swim and then lunch at Seirína’s Cove while our luggage is transported to the villa.’

Seirína’s Cove? The place where she had instigated an energetic game of swim tag on that bright, sunny afternoon in April?

The place where he’d won easily, and thrown her over his shoulder to cart her out of the cool, crystal-clear water and onto the white sand beach?

The place where she’d wriggled out of his arms, only to realise she wasn’t the only one who had been impossibly aroused by their water play—make that foreplay.

The place where she had been only too eager to agree to his suggestion that they sneak into the billionaire’s villa—so she could throw caution to the wind and jump him?

Terrific.

He was doing his mind-reading thing again, the dare in his expression unmistakeable.

If she said no, he’d know what a chicken she was.

Not that he didn’t already know, given that she’d spent three whole days reading every single book on her e-reader.

And if she said yes, she would be walking straight into the lion’s den with nothing to protect her but her bikini and the knot of anxiety in her gut—those provocative memories an even more powerful aphrodisiac than the longing that had only intensified since the last time they’d made love…

Time to woman up, Pops.

Stepping away from his callused palm, and the thumb that had slid down to press against the rabbiting pulse in her collarbone, she stuck out her chin and sent him her best Whatever smile.

‘Sounds delicious, I can’t wait,’ she murmured.

He chuckled. ‘Neither can I.’

It was only as he took her hand to escort her onto the launch that she realised her show of bravado was about as useful as a string bikini, when it came to dealing with Xander Caras’ bad intentions.

The water was the same pure and iridescent turquoise she remembered as Xander drove the Jeep they’d climbed into at the dock down the rocky track towards the hidden cove.

As he cut the engine, she could hear the murmur of the waves as they lapped gently onto powdery sand, which looked almost pink in the sparkle of noon sunlight.

The rocky outcrops that edged the cove only made the beach look more idyllic, while a grove of olive trees created a natural shaded area where a couple of cool boxes had been left on the sand, beside an outdoor sofa and a low table—which must have been brought out here especially for their picnic.

Their very deluxe picnic.

She climbed out of the Jeep and sighed, her heart aching for so many things—all at once.

The last time they’d been here together, she’d told ‘Alex’ all about her mum and their magical holidays in Greece.

Of finding this island on their final summer, and how this had become their ‘special place’ after they’d borrowed a boat and landed on this deserted beach…

How they’d lain on the sand after a picnic lunch—and the plans her mum had constructed, about buying a plot of land on this paradise island and building a cabin to live in.

All fanciful nonsense, of course. But it had seemed such a wonderful idea, and somehow so possible to twelve-year-old her—because she’d always believed her mum could do anything. That love would find a way.

By the following summer her mum had been sick. And by the next year, she’d been gone, and it was as if she’d taken all those possibilities and Poppy’s belief in the power of love with her. But when Poppy had come back here with ‘Alex’, those dreams had felt tantalisingly close again.

But the memory of the day she’d spent here with her mum so many years ago was hazy and sentimental, compared with the adrenaline overload when she recalled her time here with Xander this spring.

He’d made her feel special that day. So beautiful and seen.

Like a siren, in complete control of her own destiny.

During that day, she had been sure again the dreams she’d once spun with her mum didn’t have to be out of reach if she just had the courage to take what she wanted and damn the consequences…

Which was why she’d reached for him later in the villa, why she’d asked him to kiss her, and demanded he make love to her.

And when she’d fallen asleep later that night, in the small bed and breakfast hotel where she’d been staying on Rhodes, not knowing they’d made a baby together, she had convinced herself she could find a place to belong, with him, even if it couldn’t be here.

Had he brought her back to Parádeisos to unsettle her again? Because it was working, the tug of connection as strong as the pulse of awareness.

‘Tell me something, Xander,’ she asked carefully. ‘Were you laughing at me that day? When I told you all the silly plans I’d made on this beach with my mum?’

She had to know, because the thought he’d been secretly amused by the confidences she’d shared with him was what had hurt the most when she’d discovered he was the island’s new owner.

His brows lowered. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I was not laughing, because I did not think those plans silly. I found them enchanting.’

The spurt of relief had the knot of anxiety releasing.

‘But also hopelessly na?ve…’ he added.

‘Why na?ve?’ she asked, her heart pulsing heavily at his hollow tone.

‘Because those plans could never be more than pointless dreams when your mother had no way to achieve them. Dreams do not feed you or clothe you. And they cannot keep you safe. For this, you must always face reality.’

Her heart slowed. She could see he meant it, from his harsh expression.

She shivered, despite the warm day.

Of course, on one level, she knew he was right.

Her mum hadn’t ever really had a coherent plan—they’d coasted from one financial cliff-edge to the next, forced to move around constantly until she’d bought that broken-down cottage in Kent where the roof leaked if it rained too hard, and the walls got damp in the winter.

But despite having to wear cast-off clothing, never being able to afford to go on school trips, Poppy had always known her mum loved her unconditionally, and that had made her feel so supported and secure, regardless of their money worries.

Kind of like that cheesy but also impossibly sweet Dolly Parton song, which her mum had loved to play at top volume, about a rag coat that Dolly’s mom had made her.

Poppy had insisted on playing it at her mother’s funeral.

Her dad had been rich by comparison, but she’d known the money he spent on her was a replacement for the love he couldn’t give her.

Xander’s insistence that dreams weren’t practical made her feel sad for him. Because without dreams, how could there ever be hope? And without hope how could there ever be love?

Xander climbed out of the Jeep and she turned to find him watching her, with that guarded but intense expression on his face, as if she were a puzzle he wanted to solve.

Strangely his curiosity made her feel a little less insecure about being here with him again.

Perhaps he wasn’t a hopeless cause after all?

He’d just been forced to give up his dreams too soon, much sooner than her, because of the insecurity of his childhood.

Had he ever been allowed to be carefree?

Ever felt unconditional love? It seemed doubtful given what he’d told her.

How could he understand the power of dreams without that?

‘Would your mother not be happy,’ he said, ‘to see you here again?’

‘I guess.’ She smiled, because it was a surprisingly sentimental question for such a defiantly unsentimental man. ‘Although it wasn’t really Parádeisos she wanted for me, so much as the dream of it.’

‘I see,’ he said, although it was clear he didn’t see, from the confused frown on his face. But then he relinquished eye contact, to stare out into the cove, and she wondered if he was uncomfortable at having revealed more than he’d intended.

‘We should swim,’ he said, suddenly.

She blinked at the abrupt change of tone. But she couldn’t help the laugh that popped out. Or her desire to lighten the mood, too.

‘I don’t have a swimsuit with me,’ she said, cursing the stupidity of not thinking to grab her bikini before they got into the Jeep. But then she hadn’t been thinking at all when they’d stepped onto the dock—in the grip of the emotions this island always stirred.

‘I had Meghan pack swimwear for us both,’ he said, reaching into the Jeep’s back seat for the beach bag he’d thrown in at the quay. ‘But if you want to swim naked, I have no objections,’ he added, a provocative smile curling his lips.

She tensed, the fierce rush of longing so intense it hurt.

‘You bastard,’ she murmured, but she couldn’t seem to conjure up the indignation she wanted to feel.

‘You knew, didn’t you,’ she said, ‘that there was no way I’d be able to resist you here?

’ She wanted to be mad at him, but the only person she was really mad at was herself, for making this physical attraction that much more potent by trying to deny it.

A schoolgirl error. And she was a grown woman—who was going to become a mother in a few months’ time.

‘Yes,’ he said, with typical arrogance, but then the awareness in those pure blue eyes flared. ‘But I still do not understand why you would want to deny us both this pleasure?’

Because I don’t want to fall for you. Not again. Not until I can trust my feelings for you.