Книга - Lie With Me / Destiny’s Hand: Lie With Me

Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand: Lie With Me
Lori Wilde

Cara Summers


Lie With Me Cara Summers When Philly fled to Greece to soak in its sultry magic she didn’t expect childhood crush Roman to follow her. Or for him to take her outrageous sexual proposition seriously. Yet now Roman’s ready to unleash some deliciously hot fantasies of his own…Destiny’s Hand Lori Wilde It’s been ten years since Morgan said, “I do” to Adam, her powerful and super-sexy husband. But rather than days of champagne and flowers, the decade has buried their passion. Now Adam plans to bring back their spark - in daring, explosive ways!







LIE WITH ME



“Can I make a sexy suggestion?” Philly asked.



She cleared her throat, then continued. “How about we have a fling? It will only last while we’re on the island, and will remain our secret. Once we’re home, we’ll go back to being friends. But for now, anything goes…”



Roman said nothing. Still the hunger in his eyes had her toes curling. Still, his hesitation spurred her on. She wanted to nail this deal…now. She didn’t want Roman reneging on their agreement at a more awkward time…



“Listen,” she said, stroking his chest, and watching in satisfaction as he stiffened. “Why don’t we pretend to be strangers? I want you and you want me, and while we’re here, we’ll indulge all our sexual fantasies. No strings. And no holds barred. Deal?”



There were a few moments of silence, each one seeming like an eternity to her. Then suddenly he pulled her into his arms and kissed her roughly, frantically…thoroughly.



Finally coming up for air, he touched his forehead to hers. “I hope you don’t regret this, Philly.”



She wasn’t going to worry about regrets. And she was determined to keep Roman so occupied, he wouldn’t have a chance to think about them either…





LIE WITH ME


BY

CARA SUMMERS




DESTINY’S HAND


BY

LORI WILDE




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




LIE WITH ME


BY

CARA SUMMERS







Cara summers’sLie with Me is her thirtieth story. Cara’s books have won several awards, including two Golden Leaf Awards, the Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill. Cara loves writing for the Blaze


line because it allows her to tell such a variety of stories – from Extremes and Gothic romances to an exciting adventure on the magical Greek island of Corfu. When Cara isn’t involved with her characters, she teaches in the Writing Programme at Syracuse University. For more information about her, visit her website – www. carasummers.com.


To Janet Ridgeway, my fellow instructor in

the Writing Programme at Syracuse University and a

true pet psychic. Thanks, Janet, for patiently putting up

with and answering all my questions. you’re the best!




Prologue


SECOND THOUGHTS ambushed me, stopping me short just as I reached the door to Roman Oliver’s hospital room.

It was a hell of a time to be having them, but the momentum that had fueled me to race to Saint Jude’s Trauma Center at the crack of dawn was threatening to drain away with the speed of air leaving a pricked balloon.

I needed that momentum if I was going to convince Roman to make love with me.

Get a grip, Philly. You’ve made your decision, and once you do that, you never backslide.

That was certainly true when it came to business. Since I’d graduated from college last year I’d already implemented steps in my plan to open my pet psychic business. In addition to working part-time as a hostess in my family’s restaurant, I also assisted a vet at a local animal hospital, and I’d created my own Web site. But my plan with regard to Roman Oliver was not only more immediate, it was dependent on whether or not he agreed to it.

Stop dithering. Angelis women know what they want and how to get it. And you want Roman Oliver.

Through the narrow pane of glass in the door, I could see him sitting in the chair next to his bed gazing out the window. Just looking at Roman was enough to make every molecule in my body yearn.

Why did I want him? Let me count the ways. The man was incredibly attractive—if you went for a lean, rawboned face, tousled dark hair, a full, firm mouth and the kind of hard-muscled body that ancient sculptors had captured over and over again in bronze and marble.

And it wasn’t just his looks that attracted me. There was a quiet sense of determination and purpose about him that pulled at me, too.

Something fluttered right beneath my heart. Roman Oliver, current CEO of Oliver Enterprises and my brother Kit’s best friend since their freshman year in college, had been causing that “heart flutter” response in me ever since I was sixteen and he’d saved my life while we were sailing. That’s when I’d developed my first big crush on him. It had been a classic case of fantasy love, existing totally in my mind and completely one-sided. After all, I was sixteen and he was an older man of twenty-two.

But in the past year, my response to Roman had changed—drastically. The dryness in my throat, the thickness in the air and the heat that flooded my senses whenever I was in his vicinity signaled clearly to me that I was way beyond the crush stage and well into lust territory where Roman was concerned. Still, I might have been able to ignore my body’s responses if I hadn’t become convinced the attraction I felt was reciprocated. I hadn’t been imagining the heated looks Roman had sent my way when he thought I wasn’t looking. And I certainly hadn’t imagined what had happened in his hospital room two days ago.

Nearly a week had passed since he’d taken the nearly fatal fall that had put him in Saint Jude’s Trauma Center. He’d been injured at Saint Peter’s Church while saving his sister Juliana’s life, and it had been three more days before he’d fully regained consciousness and three days before the doctors had been able to say with certainty that there’d been no permanent injury to his spine.

I’d come to visit him every chance I got. Before that, I’d been shy in Roman’s presence. But having almost lost him had motivated me to change my ways. Then two days ago, I’d been alone in the room with him. He’d been sleeping and because I couldn’t help myself—I’d slipped my hand into his just as I had when he’d been unconscious. I hadn’t even known that he was awake until his fingers had suddenly tightened on mine.

Startled, I’d met his eyes, and the heat I’d seen there had more than matched what I was feeling. The sharp flood of desire was something I’d never experienced before. My whole body went into a meltdown, and my mind had emptied and filled with Roman.

“Come here.” His voice had been raw, hungry, and there was a question in his tone that I’d answered by sitting down on the bed next to him. He’d moved quickly then, levering himself up and moving his free hand to the back of my neck to draw me even closer until his mouth was only a breath away from mine.

Time had seemed to slow as everything about him flooded my senses. His eyes had been so beautifully dark. Had I noticed that before? And he’d smelled of soap, simple, basic. Wonderful. I could feel the press of each one of his fingers against the skin at the back of my neck.

I’m not sure who moved first, but our mouths made contact. It wasn’t a kiss really—just the gentlest brush of lips against lips. But the pleasure was so intense, the need to have more so huge that when he’d suddenly dropped his hand and drew back, I’d wanted to cry out in protest. But before I could make a sound, someone had spoken from behind me.

“Good morning, Philly. I’m beginning to believe that Roman’s recovery depends on your visits.”

Roman’s father. I’d taken a moment to gather my thoughts before I turned to him and managed a smile.

I hadn’t slept for two nights as I’d relived those torrid moments and fantasized about what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted…

Though I’d visited him each day, we hadn’t been alone again. Finally, this morning, I’d reached a decision. It was high time I took action. I wasn’t a sixteen-year-old with a schoolgirl crush. I was a woman, and I knew what I wanted.

Even now, I wanted to go into the room and touch him, to strip him out of that thin hospital gown and run my hands over that smooth skin, those taut muscles—

Roman rose suddenly from the chair. Through the slightly opened back of the hospital gown, I caught a glimpse of bare buttocks before I whirled away from the door and pressed my back against the wall. Ruthlessly, I tried to gather my thoughts, and rev up my momentum. I dragged up all the arguments I’d made to myself in the past two days, mentally ticking them off on my fingers. He’d very nearly died. I might have missed my chance of making love with Roman Oliver forever. But the Fates had spared him. The Angelis family has always put a lot of store in the Fates. Surely the fact that Roman was alive was a sign that I should do something.

Not for the first time I wished that I’d inherited my aunt Cass’s power to see into the future. Psychic powers run strong in the Angelis family—especially in the women. Aunt Cass believed that the power could be traced back all the way to the Oracle at Delphi. Even my three brothers possessed some kind of clairvoyance. But my psychic ability seemed limited to the work I did with animals. I’d always had a special knack for communicating with them mentally. Some people were skeptical about my special connection with animals, but because of the pets I was able to help at the vet hospital where I worked, my reputation was growing more and more.

Animals I understood. It was people I didn’t always get. So I didn’t have a clue about what would happen when I propositioned Roman Oliver.

Nerves knotted in my stomach. A part of me wanted to race right back home. But I was twenty-three; Roman was twenty-nine. What were we waiting for? Drawing in a deep breath, I turned, opened the door of Roman’s room and walked in.

He was back in bed with most of his body discreetly covered by the sheet, and he was reading what looked to be some business papers.

“Philly.” Glancing up, he sent me a smile. The kind of brotherly smile he’d been giving me for so many years. My stomach sank, but I moved toward the bed.

“Am I interrupting?”

He glanced down at the stack of papers. “A lot of things have been piling up on my desk, and I bribed my personal assistant to smuggle some work in to me.” He met my eyes again. “But I have some time for my most frequent visitor.”

For a moment, our eyes merely held, and I thought for an instant I saw a flicker of something. My heart leaped.

It’s now or never, Philly. Go for it.

“I came here to say…I have something that I want you to know.” I’d prepared a little speech. But every time I was with Roman, I had difficulty organizing my thoughts. I couldn’t help remembering what had almost happened the last time we were alone in this room. What if I stopped talking? What if I just walked to the bed and pressed my mouth to his?

“Yes?”

I caught myself twisting my fingers, something I’d stopped doing when I was in junior high. I felt a sudden surge of anger at myself. Why was I still hesitating? “I came here to talk about us and about what happened two days ago just before your father walked in.”

Roman opened his mouth, but I held up a hand. “Please. Let me finish. I know that we’ve known each other a long time. And for a lot of that time, I’ve had a kind of schoolgirl crush on you.” Get to the point, Philly. “But my feelings for you have changed. I’m very attracted to you and I want to make love with you.”

For a moment, Roman said nothing, and I couldn’t read anything in his expression. Finally, he responded, “Philly, I want you to know that I care a great deal about you, in much the same way that I care for my sisters, Juliana and Sadie.”

Pain struck—a hard sucker punch to my gut. I might not have been able to say another word if a surge of temper hadn’t followed. Hands fisted on my hips, I strode toward the bed. “It wasn’t brotherly affection I saw in your eyes two days ago, and I didn’t imagine your mouth brushing against mine. If your father hadn’t walked into the room, we would have kissed and a whole lot more.”

I saw another flicker in his eyes. Of desire? Or pity?

“I’m sorry. I was afraid you might have misinterpreted that, and I should have said something sooner. I was just waking up, and I thought for a moment you were someone else. Someone I’ve been dating.”

For a moment, I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The second slap of pain was too consuming. It pounded into my heart like a fist.

But I didn’t have to say anything—Roman was talking. I saw his lips moving, but only caught bits and pieces—something about how he thought of me as family, loved me like a sister. And that he couldn’t lead me on but it was a good thing I’d brought it up so that we could clear the air. And then he apologized.

I nearly saw red. I’d spent most of my twenty-three years learning to control my temper. But this time, I was grateful for it because it helped me deal with the pain. Roman was dead-on right about the fact that it was a good thing I’d brought the subject up. Because now I had my answer—even though it wasn’t the one I’d wanted.

Pride ran deep in the Angelis family, and I didn’t think I’d ever needed it more. Squaring my shoulders, I said, “I won’t bother you again.”

Then, somehow I made it out of the room.



ROMAN STARED at the door after it swung shut. Philly Angelis had thrown him for a loop, and he still couldn’t gather his thoughts. For two days, he hadn’t been able to rid his mind of the memory of what had nearly happened right in this room. He’d almost kissed her, and if he had, he wouldn’t have stopped there.

He never went into a business meeting unprepared, but he hadn’t been prepared for her today. If he had been, he would have handled the situation better. He wasn’t even clear on what he’d said to her. The words he’d spoken had been nothing but babble in his ears because he’d had to focus all his energy on staying still when, with every fiber of his being, he’d wanted to go to her, take her into his arms and act on the proposition she’d just made him. How many times had he imagined having her beneath him, plunging into her again and again?

Now, he’d hurt her—the last thing he’d wanted. But it was for her own good, and for his. Roman raised his hands, intending to run them through his hair. When he saw they were shaking, he dropped them back down on the blanket. Something akin to fear moved through him.

No other woman had ever affected him this way. For years, he’d been guiltily lusting after Philly Angelis—ever since she was sixteen. He’d taught himself to live with the steady thrum of desire he’d felt whenever he was near her. And for years, he’d been able to control it by reminding himself that she was too young for him. But since she’d returned from college a year ago, all of his discipline and control had been slipping away. Whenever she was near, desire escalated into a raging need that bordered on pain. There’d been an incident at the Angelises’ family restaurant, the Poseidon, when he was sure Kit had caught him watching Philly. Roman had seen something in Kit’s eyes. A question? A warning? But then Theo and Nik had joined them, and Kit had said nothing.

But Roman didn’t need a warning from Kit. Even without the age difference, he could never act on his attraction to her. The Angelises were family to him. Kit and Nik and Theo were the brothers he’d never had. Becoming sexually involved with their little sister was out of the question. Her father, Spiro, a man Roman looked on as a second father, was an old-fashioned Greek. He’d expect commitment. Marriage.

Hell, Philly would expect it. And deserve it. And Roman had long ago decided that marriage was not on his agenda. Oliver Enterprises would always be his first priority. Ever since he was a boy, he’d dreamed of running the company his father had created. But there was a price to pay. A wife and family would always suffer from neglect. He’d experienced that personally and so had his sisters. His father had buried himself in the business while they’d been growing up, and even more so after their mother’s death. Roman had spent more time with his younger sisters than Mario Oliver ever had. He was now on wife number three, and she was already constantly complaining that she saw nothing of him.

I’m very attracted to you and I want to make love with you.

God. This time Roman managed to run his still-trembling hands through his hair. Words always made things more real. When she’d looked into his eyes and spoken them, he’d very nearly lost it. He could have had her right here in his hospital bed. Or on the floor. Or in the chair where he’d been sitting and fantasizing about her. It would have been wild and crazy and perhaps once would have been enough. But Roman didn’t think so.

He’d done the right thing, the only thing he could do. Whatever hurt Philly had experienced today would pale in comparison to the way he’d hurt her if he acted on his feelings. She’d keep her distance now. He’d stay away from her family’s restaurant and gradually the feelings would fade.

They had to.

He glanced down at the business papers he’d been reading, but it was a long time before he could actually see them.


1

One month later…



“YES, CALL ME BACK just as soon as you have some information on flights.” I hung up the phone on my travel agent and turned to face my two curious cats.

Well, Pretzels was curious. And a bit apprehensive. He could always sense it when I was thinking of leaving him for any length of time. Not that I did it very often. Peanuts, his sister, had a more complacent nature. Though they looked very much alike, a pure silvery-gray with white paws, they had very different personalities.

Right now, both cats were seated on the wide window seat of the small apartment I kept in the mansion my aunt Cass had inherited from her father. The house was huge, and it took a lot of money to keep the place going, so about four years ago the family had decided to renovate it into apartments. My brothers and I each paid rent on our own places, and my dad and new stepmother, Helena lived in the gardener’s cottage. When we eventually moved out, Aunt Cass could continue to make a good income by renting the apartments out.

“I’m going to go to Greece,” I informed my two pets. Saying the words aloud helped make my plan more of a reality, and a little thrill moved through me. I hadn’t told anyone yet, so Pretzels and Peanuts were functioning as my test audience. It was a role they often played. My family tended to be a bit protective of me, and I wasn’t sure how they’d react to my trip. Of course, now that I’d made my decision, I was going to go to Greece no matter what, but I’d have a better time if they weren’t worrying too much.

Pretzels immediately leaped off the window seat and joined me on the couch. His apprehension had escalated into high anxiety. I lifted him onto my lap and began to stroke him. “You’ll be with Aunt Cass and Kit.” I pictured first one apartment and then the other in my mind. Then I pictured Aunt Cass and Kit. Almost immediately he began to calm. “They’ll take good care of you.”

With a sigh, Pretzels settled himself firmly on my lap as if to keep me there. He was a bit possessive of me. Peanuts remained on the window seat cleaning her paws. I sensed she was already anticipating the extra treats she would receive from Aunt Cass and Kit.

Of all my brothers, Kit was the one who most loved animals. He had a huge dog named Ari who often stayed with me when Kit was working on one of his P.I. jobs. Luckily my cats loved Ari, and vice versa. Kit would be the primary caretaker of my animals while I was away, and Aunt Cass would serve as backup.

As soon as I told them of my plans.

Pretzels was already snoring, so I eased him off of my lap and, after stopping to scratch Peanuts behind the ears, let myself out of my apartment. The cats had taken it pretty well. I hoped the news would go as well with the rest of the family.

As I climbed the stairs to the third-floor tower room where my aunt Cass spent much of her time, I tried to gather my thoughts—something that I was finding increasingly difficult to do since I’d walked out of Roman’s hospital room a month ago. I’d vowed that day that I was going to get him out of my system once and for all. My utter failure to accomplish that was what had triggered my decision to go to Greece.

In the past month, Roman and I had only run into one another once, at the wedding reception my father, Spiro, and his new wife, Helena, had given at the Poseidon. That had been two weeks after I’d left his hospital room for the last time. I couldn’t avoid attending my father and Helena’s party; neither could Roman. But we’d managed to steer clear of each other.

What I couldn’t shake were the feelings he stirred up in me. All he’d had to do was walk down the steps to the main dining room of the Poseidon, and I’d realized that I wanted him even more desperately than I had before. Nothing had changed. Frustrated and angry with myself, I’d thrown myself into my work, but that hadn’t helped, either.

Dr. Wilson at the vet hospital had begun to depend on me to help him diagnose what was troubling the animals he saw, and recently he’d commented on the fact that I’d seemed distracted. That’s when I’d decided that drastic action was required. I was going to Greece.

When I reached the door to the tower room, I hesitated, once more gathering my thoughts. Aunt Cass had raised my brothers and me ever since I was four and her husband and my mother had been taken from us in a tragic boating accident. In many ways, she was the only mother I’d ever known.

The door swung open and Aunt Cass smiled. “I’ve been expecting you.”

I glanced over to a sitting area and spotted a teapot and cups on the coffee table. Of course she’d been expecting me. Aunt Cass had been one of the most well-known and successful psychics in the San Francisco area even before my older brother Nik got himself engaged to J. C. Reilly, the mayor’s daughter, and her business had increased by almost fifty percent.

Next to the tea tray, I saw the crystals that Aunt Cass frequently used to help her see into the future. Over a month ago she’d foreseen the dangerous adventure that my brothers were going to have on one fateful weekend and she’d known that they would each meet the woman they were destined for.

Oddly enough, my brothers’ good fortune in finding their true loves had had a ripple effect on other members of the Angelis family. My dad had finally gotten engaged to Helena, and my aunt Cass had met and begun to date two men—Mason Leone, who headed up security for the Oliver family, and Charlie Galvin, the police commissioner. Roman and I seemed to be the only ones romantically unaffected by the events of that weekend.

Aunt Cass drew me over to the couch. While she poured tea, she said, “You’re hurting.”

“Yes.” I took the cup she handed me and set it down. “But I don’t want to be. I hate the fact that I am.”

“This is about Roman.”

I glanced at the crystals, then at Aunt Cass. “You know.”

She nodded as she sipped tea from her cup. “All wounds heal.”

I opened my mouth and then shut it. If anyone had the experience of that, Aunt Cass did. She’d lost her husband, Demetrius, the one true love of her life, nineteen years ago. And her son, Dino, had been gone for two years serving in the navy.

“Okay. I can accept that. But I want to hurry the healing along. I can’t concentrate. I mixed up two dinner reservations at the Poseidon last night. And this morning I couldn’t focus when Mrs. Trumble brought her cat, Esmerelda, in to see Dr. Wilson. Neither she nor Esmerelda were happy campers when they left, and Dr. Wilson had already told me that I seem distracted lately. I want to get Roman Oliver out of my system and get on with my life.”

With a smile, Aunt Cass studied me. “Of all Penelope’s children, you’ve always been the most impatient. Have you told Roman how you feel about him?”

“Yes. A month ago, I told him I wanted to make love with him.”

“Of course you did,” Aunt Cass murmured. “You’re always so decisive.”

I looked at her then and for the first time I saw a trace of uncertainty in her eyes. Aunt Cass never seemed to be uncertain. “What is it? Do you think I did the wrong thing?”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about you. I was thinking that I wish I could make decisions and act on them as easily as you do.”

“This is about Mason Leone and Charlie Galvin, isn’t it?”

Cass sighed. “I can’t keep juggling them forever—it’s not fair. And I can’t seem to see anything in the crystals.”

I studied my aunt with interest. She was blushing, and she actually looked flustered. I took both of her hands in mine. “I don’t think you should pressure yourself. You haven’t dated anyone since Uncle Demetrius died. Take your time. Enjoy both of them. I’ll bet that’s why you’re not seeing anything in the crystals. When the time is right, you will.”

Cass leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Thank you. Now tell me more about Roman. What did he say when you told him you wanted to make love with him?”

Temper and frustration streamed through me as it did whenever I let myself recall what had happened in Roman’s hospital room that day. Rising, I strode to a space near one of the long, narrow windows where I could pace. “He said that his feelings for me were brotherly. And even if they weren’t, we couldn’t have a…sexual relationship because I’m Kit’s sister—or something stupid like that. He didn’t want to hurt me.”

“It sounds like he cares a great deal for you.”

I turned and strode back to the sofa. “He cares for me the way he cares for his sisters. And I know what they mean to him. Sadie and Juliana have told me how he stepped in and tried to fill their parents’ shoes after their mother died. They hardly ever saw their father, but Roman was always there for them. The problem is that my feelings for him aren’t sisterly at all. They never have been. And I refuse to be the kind of woman who spends her life pining away for a man who doesn’t want her. Stuff that.”

Aunt Cass picked up her tea and took a sip. “So what’s your plan?”

For the first time since I’d entered the room, I felt some of my tension ease. Of course, Aunt Cass would know I had a plan. I sat back down on the couch next to her. “I’ve decided to go to Greece and have a fling with a sexy Greek man.”

Aunt Cass didn’t bat an eye. “Why Greece?”

I leaned forward. “Because that’s where you and mom found Uncle Demetrius and Dad. It was love at first sight. And that’s where Dad met Helena, so there must be something magical about Greece when it comes to our family. I figure that if anything can get me out of this rut I’ve fallen into with Roman, a trip to Greece will do it.”

Cass took another sip of tea, and this time I joined her.

“So you want to go to Greece to find your true love.”

I frowned. “No way. I just want to find someone very sexy to have a fling with so that I can forget Roman Oliver. I spoke with a travel agent today and she’s looking for a cheap flight. The sooner I get this taken care of, the better.”



CASS ANGELIS LEANED back and once again studied her niece. How wonderful that Philly’s plan coincided so perfectly with her own. A little vacation, a trip to Greece, was just what she’d seen in her crystals last night. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t I call your father’s cousin Miranda? She operates a little hotel—the Villa Prospero—along the coastline of Corfu.”

Philly’s eyes lit up. “Isn’t that the place that Dad and Helena just visited on their honeymoon?”

Cass nodded. “I’m sure she’d love to have you.” And being family, Cass knew that Miranda would look out for Philly. Her niece had a tendency to rush headlong into things. And Philly’s father and brothers would feel better about the trip if she visited family.

“How soon can I leave?”

Cass shook her head and smiled. “You never were one to let the grass grow under your feet. As soon as I check with Miranda, you can book your flight.”

Philly wrapped her arms around Cass and hugged her hard. “Thanks, Aunt Cass.”

Once her niece had left, Cass picked up a few of the crystals that had been sitting on the table. She could only hope that she hadn’t made a mistake in suggesting the Villa Prospero to Philly. At midnight, she’d seen in the crystals Philly standing on a white sand beach. But she’d also seen blood and sensed danger —much the same things she’d seen a month ago for her nephews.

But Cass had also sensed very strongly that Philly was meant to go to Corfu. In the mists that had pulsed and eddied in the depths of the crystals, she’d glimpsed other images—a white bird soaring into a blue sky, and a man she’d recognized immediately. She suspected that he was the one Philly was fated for. But both of them would have to decide if they would accept what the Fates were offering.

Tears pricked at the back of Cass’s eyes. If they did, Philly would find her true love in Greece just as she and Penelope had.



WITH A FRUSTRATED SIGH, Roman dropped the papers on his desk. This was the third time he’d tried to read through Gianni Stassis’s business plan and the third time he’d drifted off in his mind.

He’d been out of the hospital for a month and physically, he was almost back to normal. There’d been no permanent nerve damage from the fall, and the doctors were amazed at how quickly his body had responded to therapy. In another month or two, he’d be able to beat his sister Sadie at tennis again. In the interim, she was thoroughly enjoying each one of her victories, and the exercise was good for him.

The problem was, his mental recovery seemed to be lagging behind his physical recovery. He couldn’t concentrate. Running his hands through his hair, Roman leaned back in his chair.

Working with his father and eventually running Oliver Enterprises had always been his dream. The company dealt primarily in commercial real-estate development and before his accident, he’d been pouring every spare minute of his time into the project that Stassis, a Greek entrepreneur, had proposed to him. Even though he’d been working with his father almost 24/7 to close a deal for a prime strip of land in Orange County, he’d found time for the Stassis proposal. It involved Oliver Enterprises and Stassis Ltd. acquiring a stake in a select number of small independently operated Greek hotels. They would help them modernize and then share in a percentage of the profits. Within five years, they hoped to own a string of small exclusive hotels throughout the Greek Islands.

If he and Stassis could come to terms, this would be the first time that Oliver Enterprises would be operating outside of the United States. Roman’s goal had been to take the company global for some time, and the project had been his baby. He didn’t just want to run the company his father had founded, he wanted to expand it.

He’d been excited about the project with Gianni Stassis, confident of its success, and now, when it was close to coming together, he couldn’t seem to drum up the same level of enthusiasm he’d had before.

Roman picked up a paperweight, tossed it into the air and caught it. Letting out a frustrated breath, he stifled the urge to throw it at the wall. It wasn’t his damn fall that was to blame for his current situation. It was Philly Angelis.

A month had passed and he couldn’t get her words out of his mind. What had possessed her to walk into his hospital room that day and tell him that she wanted to make love with him?

Before that, he’d been able to convince himself that she was too young, that having her was out of the question. Before she’d spoken those words, he’d been able to find happiness and total satisfaction in his work. He glanced around his office. For as long as he could remember, this was where he’d wanted to be. Now he was restless, having trouble focusing, and nothing he’d tried so far had seemed to help.

His gaze shifted involuntarily to the group of photos he had on his desk. There were various shots of his family and the Angelis family. He’d removed the one snapshot he’d always had there of Philly. Out of sight, out of mind had been his thought.

That hadn’t worked. Staying away from her family’s restaurant hadn’t worked, either. Except for the celebration that Spiro and Helena had thrown when they’d returned from their honeymoon, he hadn’t been to the Poseidon. Philly frequently filled in as hostess, and there was no telling when she might be there. Dammit, he missed it—the laughter, the music, the opportunity to hang out with Kit and his brothers.

Be honest. You miss the chance of running into Philly, too.

It wasn’t as though he could hang out with his sisters, either. Sadie was spending her days with Theo Angelis, and Juliana spent as much time as she could with her fiancé, Paulo Carlucci. Roman went home each night to an empty apartment and tried to bury himself in work that he couldn’t find the same satisfaction in that he did before.

He’d even thought of calling another woman. Though he’d never dated anyone seriously, there were several women who would be more than willing to share drinks or dinner followed by some satisfying and uncomplicated sex. The problem was that he couldn’t work up the enthusiasm for that, either.

The bigger problem was that he couldn’t get Philly’s proposition out of his mind. Nor could he get rid of the image of her standing there—those wide brown eyes, that dark hair. It had curled when she was younger, but now she wore it in one of those sleek, chin-length cuts that made a man want to run his hands through it. There was a passion in her that lurked so near the surface, threatening at any moment to break through. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to be there when it finally did?

Roman glanced at the paperweight again and gave serious thought to throwing it. Or perhaps the better solution to his frustration was to simply take Philly up on her offer. Maybe if he made love to her once, he could get her out of his system. He’d almost convinced himself that that was a reasonable alternative—perhaps the only one—when there was a knock on his door, and Kit Angelis strolled in.

“Long time, no see.”

Roman watched Kit settle himself in a chair and felt like the worst kind of heel. They had been fast friends ever since Kit had also strolled into their dorm room that first day of college. And a month ago, when he’d taken that fall at Saint Peter’s Church and had also fallen under suspicion of murder and kidnapping, Kit and his brothers had worked nonstop to clear his name and protect his family. He owed Kit. He owed Nik and Theo too. And having a one-night stand with their little sister was no way to repay what he owed.

“Nik and Theo and I were thinking that you might have had a relapse, but you look fit enough to me.”

“I am.” Roman willed himself to relax. Kit couldn’t possibly know just what he’d been thinking. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Good. But just the same, I’m here on a search-and-rescue mission. My brothers and I are planning a fishing weekend—men only—at my grandfather’s fishing cabin. We may even talk Dad into joining us. Interested?”

Roman smiled. “Absolutely.” It might be just the ticket to get him back on track. It certainly appealed more than spending the weekend at the office or in his empty apartment. “How are you getting away from your women?” Each of the Angelis brothers now had a special woman in their lives, and from the looks of it, a permanent one. They’d all met their significant others during the weekend when they’d literally saved his family.

“Easy.” Kit shot him a grin. “They have a wedding to shop for. J.C. and Nik are tying the knot on Thanksgiving weekend. According to Drew, that doesn’t give them nearly enough time to register for gifts and decide on flowers.”

It had been so long since he’d dropped in at the Poseidon that Roman hadn’t given much thought to Nik’s upcoming wedding. He didn’t suppose it would be long before Kit would give Drew a ring. And Theo and his sister Sadie would probably follow their lead. He’d never in his life seen men fall so hard and fast as the Angelis men had and all in the space of one weekend.

“When Philly heard about the girls-only shopping weekend, she nearly postponed her trip.”

Every muscle in Roman’s body tightened. “Her trip?”

Kit pointed a finger at him. “See? You really are out of touch. Philly’s going to Greece.”

Roman frowned. “Why?”

“That’s what we all asked her.” Chuckling, Kit leaned back in his chair. “You know the story about how my mom and dad and my aunt Cass and uncle Demetrius met on a beach in Greece and fell in love at first sight?”

Roman nodded. The story had become a sort of legend in the Angelis family. Spiro and Demetrius had left Greece and followed Cass and Penelope back to San Francisco.

“My dad met Helena in Greece, too.”

He’d met her at the five-star restaurant where she’d been the head chef, Roman recalled. Spiro Angelis had persuaded her to come back by promising to open a similar restaurant on the top floor of the more casual Poseidon.

“So Philly has this idea that it’s high time she followed in the family tradition. She’s cut her hair, splurged on a new wardrobe, and she’s off to Greece to find her true love.”

“That’s crazy!” Roman quickly rose to his feet. “Aren’t you going to stop her?”

Kit shot him a quizzical look. “Trying to stop Philly once she’s made up her mind is a bit like trying to stop a runaway train. But you can relax. Aunt Cass has the situation under control. She’s arranged for Philly to stay at a small hotel on Corfu that’s run by my dad’s cousin Miranda Kostas. Philly will be perfectly safe. Helena says that Miranda is a very traditional Greek woman. Her own marriage was even arranged. She’s not likely to let Philly stray too far to the wild side.”

Right, Roman thought as he sat down in his chair. He was overreacting. But in his mind he saw Philly walking up to some handsome Greek and saying, “I want to make love with you.”


2

THE MOMENT I STEPPED OUT of the taxi onto the crunchy white gravel path that wound its way to the Villa Prospero, I knew that I had made the right decision in coming to Greece.

My driver made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You’ll see the villa as soon as you walk around that curve.”

I tried to be patient as he opened the trunk and began to unload my luggage. Now that I was here, I wanted to get started on the rest of my life—the part that I’d named Post Roman. I’d cut my hair and my brother Kit’s fiancée, Drew, who was a dress designer, had helped me select a new sexy wardrobe. I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror.

I’d also done my homework and discovered that Corfu was believed by many to be the setting of Shakespeare’s The Tempest—hence, the name of Miranda Kostas’s hotel. The island was located off the west coast of Greece on the Ionian Sea.

I’d flown into Corfu Town, which was in the middle of the island across from the mainland of Greece. To reach the Villa Prospero, I’d hired a driver to take me to the other side of the island where the rugged coastline bordered the Ionian Sea.

My driver was an endless source of information, most of it gossip about the Castello Corli, which sat atop a cliff about two miles away from the Villa Prospero. Venetians had built the castle in the fourteenth century—thus, the Italian name. Below the fortresslike walls, there were a series of caves that were reputed to have been used by smugglers for hundreds of years. However, according to my very talkative driver, what the Castello Corli was famous for now were the extravagant biannual parties that its billionaire owner, Andre Magellan, threw. One of his famous soirees was due to take place in three days.

“You may actually meet some movie stars walking along the beach,” my mustachioed driver had said to me. “Or a member of royalty. When Andre Magellan throws one of his parties, the Castello Corli becomes a destination for the rich and the famous.”

Magellan’s family had supposedly been bankers in Rome for centuries. But local rumor had it that Andre was a spoiled playboy who expended all of his energy on living an opulent lifestyle and only visited his family’s banks to make withdrawals.

By the time my driver had unloaded my luggage and I’d paid him, thanking him again for a very informative ride, I was itching to get to the villa and begin my Grecian adventure. I hurried along the narrow lane, then stopped short as soon as I went around that first curve. Just as the driver had promised, the Villa Prospero had come into view to my right. Color was everywhere—from the ivy and roses that draped over pink stucco to the riot of flowers that edged the path to the front of the small hotel.

The building itself was two-storied and tucked into a hillside. Parked right in front of the entrance was a sporty red convertible. The terrain to my left was rugged, thick with cypresses and fell away steeply. Through the trees, I spotted a serpentine trail that wound its way to a brilliant expanse of turquoise-blue sea. As colorful as the villa was, it was the sea that pulled at me.

I stood for a moment torn between following my impulse to take that winding path down to the beach and checking in with my cousin Miranda. In the end, family obligation won. After all, she was expecting me. I couldn’t let her worry.

The ground floor was bordered by a wide terrace with several porticoes opening into the lobby. I crossed to one of them. At first I thought the lobby was deserted; there was no one behind the small reception desk. But then I heard the angry voice.

“I demand to speak with your son Alexi.”

“He’s not here right now, Mr. Magellan.”

Peeking through the open portico, I could see two figures to my right. I recognized my cousin Miranda from the photos Helena had shown me. Her voice was calm, pleasant, professional, but the tension in her body contrasted sharply with her tone. Miranda had the kind of face that medieval artists had captured in their portrayals of the Madonna. She wore a tailored white blouse, a black skirt and sensible shoes. Her hair was pulled back in a ballerina’s knot and gold hoops winked at her ears. She was average height, but the way Mr. Magellan was towering over her made her seem tiny.

I had no doubt that I was also getting an up-close-and-personal view of the rich, flamboyant playboy that my driver had described to me in such great detail. Magellan’s red print shirt and matching red slacks were made even more dramatic by the way he stood in front of my cousin, his hands fisted at his sides. Diamonds glittered from his watch and a ring on his pinkie.

“Of course he’s not here. Even as we speak, he’s probably trespassing on my land again. It has to stop. I’ve warned him more than once. And I don’t want him poking around in the caves, either. They’re dangerous—that’s why they’re posted. I should think as his mother, you’d see to it that he doesn’t go there.”

“You don’t understand. One of Alexi’s cats is missing—Caliban. Alexi just wants to—”

“I don’t give a damn about his cats or his fixation on them.” Magellan’s voice had grown shrill with temper. “I’ve warned him. If either of those cats are seen anywhere on the grounds of the Castello Corli, my men have orders to shoot them.”

“No, please, don’t hurt them.” Miranda pressed a hand to her chest. “I’ll speak to Alexi.”

“I’m filing a complaint with the police. If your son trespasses one more time, I’ll have him arrested.”

Anger flared inside me at the callous way he spoke of Alexi and the cats. I knew from Helena and my dad that my cousin Alexi was eighteen and had always been a bit slow in school. But since his father had died three years ago, he’d become quite good at helping his mother run the hotel.

Fueled by my temper, I was about to move into the lobby and give Mr. Andre Magellan a piece of my mind when he whirled and strode out through the main entrance. He vaulted over the door into the sporty red car. An instant later, tires squealed and gravel sprayed as he raced away.

The lobby was empty when I turned back. To my left, doors opened onto a sunny terrace where lunch was being served, and every table was filled. Helena had raved about the cuisine at the Villa Prospero, and it seemed that the current guests were in agreement. Miranda was now serving dishes from a loaded tray. I hated to interrupt her, so I wandered around the large, airy room. There was a small gift shop that opened off the lobby, and through its open door I caught a glimpse of glass cases as well as racks of T-shirts and wide-brimmed hats.

A young woman entered from yet another door. She, too, carried a loaded tray. The moment she saw me she paused and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Her English was heavily accented, but she meant what she said. She returned to the lobby just as soon as she’d served a table of four.

“Sorry. You have a reservation?”

“I believe so. I’m Philly Angelis.” Her name tag said that she was Demetria.

“Oh, Ms. Angelis.” A smile warmed her whole face. “Welcome to the Villa Prospero. Mrs. Kostas is expecting you.

Over her shoulder, I could see Miranda chatting with the guests at a table for two as she cleared plates and cups.

“I’ll get her,” Demetria said.

“No, I can see she’s busy. And you’re busy, too. Why don’t I just leave my luggage here and go for a walk until things settle a bit.”

Relief swam in her eyes. “Are you sure? We’re shorthanded today because Alexi hasn’t shown up yet.”

I smiled at the young girl. “I’m positive. The sea is calling me. I thought I saw a path down to the beach.”

“Yes. Just go to the end of the gravel drive and turn right.”

With a final smile, I turned and after stopping briefly to get my camera out of my suitcase, I hurried out of the lobby. I believed in following my impulses, and something was pulling me to the beach, in much the same way that something had drawn me to Greece.

Of course, sometimes my acting on impulse had gotten me into trouble. A prime example was the day Roman had saved me from drowning. I was sixteen and decided I had to go for a sail. Right then. It had been a boring, rainy day at my grandfather’s fishing cabin. My brothers and Roman and my dad had been whiling away the hours with a game of poker. Roman had been winning, of course. The moment the sun had come out, I’d announced my intention to take Nik’s boat out. Then I’d hurried down to the dock before anyone could object.

I’d wanted to sail alone, but Roman followed and asked if he could join me.

Before that, I’d always thought of Roman as just an additional brother, but everything changed once the storm came up. It was so sudden and so severe that the boat had capsized almost immediately. Once in the water, I’d felt a huge wave pick me up and toss me. I’d barely had time to catch a breath before I was pulled under. Dizzy and disoriented, I wasn’t sure which way to swim to get to the surface. Panic had streamed through me, and I’d felt my lungs begin to burn. Then a pair of strong hands had gripped me, and seconds later Roman and I broke the surface. The water was rough and another wave had crashed over us. When we’d surfaced again, his voice had been calm as he told me to put my arms around his neck and lie on top of his back. I did, and he’d struck out toward shore. Though waves had tossed us and dragged us both under several times before we finally reached the beach, I’d never once doubted that we would both make it.

When I felt the now-familiar band of pain tighten around my heart, I stopped in my tracks and swore under my breath. I had not come to Greece to think about Roman Oliver. I had come to solve my “Roman problem” once and for all. And I would. I knew it in the same way that I often “knew” things about the animals I worked with.

The path to the sea was narrow and sloped gently as it zigged and zagged its way down the steep hill. I’d only been walking for a short time before I realized that it was going to take a while to reach my destination. I was tempted to just forget the path and strike out on a more direct route through the trees. But it wouldn’t do to get lost on my first day in Corfu.

Then I rounded a sharp corner and caught sight of a wide, crescent-shaped beach and the vast stretch of the crystalline blue Ionian Sea. There was no sound other than the breeze rustling through the trees and the distant push of waves against rocks.

I raised my camera and focused the lens. The deserted stretch of white sand was tucked snugly between two rocky promontories that stretched far out into the water. Waves broke frothy and white against the rocks. I took a few shots. Beyond the far promontory, the terrain changed abruptly from wooded hillside to a cliff face of solid rock that shot straight up to form a fortress wall and two towers. It had to be the Castello Corli.

As I snapped more photos, I felt transported to a much earlier time, and I thought fancifully of the castle that Princess Aurora slept in for one hundred years after she’d pricked her finger. Because of its location between Italy and the Greek mainland, Corfu had always had strategic importance. I recalled what my driver had said about the Castello Corli being built in the fourteenth century when the Venetians had ruled the island, and I could see the Italian influence in the design of the towers. My driver had said that the estate’s current villa dated from the turn of the century and had been renovated ten years ago by Andre Magellan’s parents, and then presented to him on his birthday. I zoomed in with my telephoto lens, but even then, I could see nothing past the towers.

Suddenly my attention was caught by a large white bird that flew out of one of the towers and soared upward in wide circles. I had no idea what its species was, but an odd mix of fear and excitement moved through me. Perhaps I was still being influenced by the enchanted appearance of the Castello, but the white bird made me think of the numerous calls to adventure that populated so many fairy tales.

Silly, I said to myself. But I knew better. Hadn’t I known all along that I was meant to come to Greece? More than ever I was convinced that the Fates had brought me here.

Once the bird had disappeared inland, I lowered my camera and continued to follow the frustrating, snakelike path. Gradually, the vegetation thinned. Cypresses and pines were replaced by boulders and rocks. As I rounded yet another sharp curve, I caught another glimpse of the crescent-shaped beach. It was no longer deserted. There were two men standing near the far promontory near the Castello.

Curious, I raised my camera and focused the lens. It was only as I zoomed in that I spotted the cat. It was so pale in color that it nearly blended into the white sand, and it was circling the two men. Not happy, I thought. And female. The cat had to be seriously agitated for me to be able to sense so much over such a distance. She reminded me a bit of Pretzels. What was the source of her worry?

I shifted my attention back to the two men. They were deep in conversation, and from the gestures the younger man was making, it appeared to be a heated one. He looked to be in his late teens. The older man pointed to the cell phone he had in his hand. Both men were of medium height and wearing sunglasses and shorts, and both carried backpacks, but that’s where the resemblance stopped. The older man had a more portly build. He wore a T-shirt, hiking boots and a wide-brimmed hat that cast his face in shadow. A pair of binoculars was slung over one shoulder.

He turned and took a few steps in my direction, but the other man grabbed his arm and stopped him. The younger man had an athletically toned body, and sun glinted off a medal he wore around his neck.

The cat was circling them now, growing more agitated. The younger man squatted, and when she went to him, he stroked her. But she backed away. It wasn’t soothing that she was after.

The man in the hat was hurrying along the beach now in my direction. The other man rose, ran after him, then grabbed his arm and jerked him around. The argument escalated, and suddenly, the younger man shoved the older man to the ground. When he fell, he missed the cat by inches.

Concern for the animal filled me, and lowering my camera, I gave up on the path and began to make my way down the rugged hillside in a more direct route to the beach. By the time I reached it, my view of the two men and the cat was blocked by the rocks that bordered the little cove on the Villa Prospero’s side.

I felt the cat before she appeared around a boulder. Her emotions slammed into me with enough force to stop me in my tracks. The agitation I’d sensed earlier in her had given way to terror, urgency. In my head I saw a bright red color. I squatted, tried to calm my mind and waited for her to come to me. She did, pausing when she was only a few feet away.

Slowly, I held out my hand. I’m Philly. I’m a friend.

Most often when I communicated with animals, I did it mentally. I thought what I wanted them to know—sometimes in words, other times in images, depending on the initial way the animal communicated with me.

She was a beauty—nearly pure white, and her eyes a pearly mix of gray and green. Without coming any closer, she studied me in much the same way I was studying her. The emotions rolling through her were chaotic, and I couldn’t get a clear image.

What’s your name?

Ariel.

I’d heard the word in my mind as clearly as if she’d said it aloud. With a name like Ariel, I bet she was one of Alexi’s cats. I recalled Miranda had mentioned the name of the other—the one that was missing. Caliban.

Help.

This time I caught an image. A white cat lying still in a shadowy place. Bigger than Ariel, I thought. I caught the gleam of his eyes before everything went red.

Ariel turned and raced back toward the boulders.

When she paused to glance back, I was already on my feet and heading after her. She had an easier time of climbing down the rocks than I did. After slipping for the second time, I thought, Slow down.

Ariel paused and waited for me. The moment I joined her, she began to run again, and I followed her lead. I was beginning to feel the same overpowering sense of urgency and fear that I was getting from her. The two men who’d been with her at the far end of the beach were gone. It wasn’t until I reached the center of the crescent that I realized I was wrong. One of them was still there—lying on the sand. I broke into a sprint.

I was out of breath when I finally reached the man. As I dropped to my knees, my mind registered details. He was the older of the two men I’d seen. His wide-brimmed hat had fallen off, and he was lying faceup, the backpack and binoculars at his side. But my eyes were riveted to the hole in the side of his head, and the large red stain on the white sand. My heart was racing and not from the run. I wasn’t a forensic scientist, but it looked like a bullet hole to me. Wouldn’t I have heard the shot?

My stomach was in free fall, my hand shaking as I did what I’d seen people do on countless TV shows. I put two fingers to the side of his neck and felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

I felt myself going numb. When an insect hummed past my cheek, I brushed at it absently. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ariel, standing, watching me. Waiting. Worrying.

Help.

This was no time to go numb. I can’t help him. He’s dead.

Once again an image flashed into my mind—the white cat. There were fewer shadows this time because of dappled sunlight, so I caught more details. Next to the cat was what appeared to be the remains of a small animal. A bird? And I made out a puddle of water. Even as the image faded, questions poured into my mind. What was Ariel trying to tell me? Was the other cat the one that was missing? And what was her relationship to the dead man? Had she witnessed what had happened to him? Where was the younger man who’d stroked her and shoved this man to the ground?

The list of questions would have gone on if I hadn’t heard another insect hum by. This time I also heard a ping and I glanced in the direction of a nearby boulder. Then I heard yet another hum and saw sand erupt inches away from Ariel.

Shock threatened to numb me again. Someone was shooting at us. He had to be using a silencer. That was why I hadn’t heard a shot.

Run.

Ariel took off first, racing toward the foot of the hill. A second later she’d leaped across rocks and disappeared into the trees. I was about three beats behind her and not quite as fleet of foot. But that gave me time to spot the flash of reflected sunlight from the woods bordering the Castello Corli.

Ariel! Wait. I scrambled over the rocks and raced after her into the cypresses.



CASS ANGELIS STOPPED pacing the moment the knock sounded on her door. When she opened it and saw Kit, some of her tension eased.

He hugged her soundly, then moved to the tea tray she’d set up near the couches. He never drank the tea, but he’d already popped one of the finger sandwiches into his mouth. “Mission accomplished,” he mumbled around it. “Roman’s plane should be touching down in Corfu Town as we speak.”

“Good.”

He glanced at Cass, studying her for a moment. Then he sat down on one of the couches and gestured for her to join him. “Everything’s going just the way we planned. Philly’s in Corfu, and Roman has followed her. What’s worrying you?”

Of all of her nephews, Kit was the one who could always read her the most clearly. She sat next to him and picked up one of her crystals. “This morning I was out at the pond.” Kit knew that she usually went there at sunrise—visions often formed for her in the water. “I saw more—Philly and Roman standing on white sand and there was a castle in the distance. I saw a white cat, and there was blood on the sand. It’s the second time I’ve seen blood.”

Kit frowned. “Philly’s or Roman’s?”

Cass shook her head. “No. But they’re headed into danger. I sensed that before. And that cat—if there’s an animal in the middle of it, your sister is going to get involved.”

Kit took one of her hands. “Maybe an adventure is just what the two of them need. Look at Nik and J.C., Theo and Sadie, Drew and me—we were all in a lot of danger the weekend we fell in love. You keep reading the crystals, and I’ll keep in touch with Roman. If things get serious, I’ll go over and give them some backup.”

Cass smiled at her nephew. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

He leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Funny—you have the same effect on me.” Then he grabbed another sandwich. “Mason said to give you his best.”

Cass’s heart skipped a beat. “You saw him?”

“He was at the Poseidon last night. I think he was hoping to run into you.”

Cass felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She’d been attending a fund-raiser for the mayor with Charlie Galvin.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to decide between those two men.”

“I can’t. I can see that Roman and Philly are meant to be together. And I knew the moment I saw Demetrius that he was the one for me. But with Charlie and Mason, I can’t tell—I like them both. They’re very different. Charlie is so outgoing while Mason is reserved. Philly says to give it time and I’ll know. But maybe I’m not meant to be with either of them.”

Kit squeezed his aunt’s hand. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”


3

ROMAN STEPPED OUT of the car he’d hired in Corfu Town. A sense of urgency had been growing in him ever since his plane had touched down. His decision to come to Greece had been made shortly after Kit had left his office two days ago. The trip was business related. Meeting personally with Gianni Stassis in Athens would allow him to finalize the details of their project. Oliver–Stassis Ltd. would be officially launched, and his dream of taking Oliver Enterprises into the global market would be realized. But Roman wasn’t a man who liked to lie to himself. He’d also come to Greece to check on Philly.

If his plane had been on time, he would have landed at the Corfu airport before Philly. His plan had been to have a reasonable talk with her and persuade her to go back to San Francisco. Or if that didn’t suit her, he’d take her with him to Athens for his business meeting with Stassis. At least he could keep an eye on her there.

Exactly what he was going to say to her still hadn’t come to him yet, even though he’d had plenty of time to think about it on the long flight. But he was a first-rate negotiator. Surely he could make Philly see the risk in coming to Greece to make love with a perfect stranger. And he had no doubt that was what she intended to do. A mix of fear and frustration streamed through him. She might be propositioning someone right now.

When his flight had been delayed, he’d had to reschedule his meeting with Gianni Stassis and switch to plan B—follow Philly to the Villa Prospero. The driver he’d hired had promised in broken and minimal English that he knew exactly where it was. Now, after a two-hour drive, the hotel was nowhere in sight.

Tamping down his temper and his growing sense that Philly had already gotten into some kind of trouble, Roman paid the driver, tipping him generously, and asked, “The villa?”

For a moment, the driver looked puzzled.

Roman made a sweeping gesture with one hand and repeated the question.

This time the driver shot him a beaming smile, motioned for Roman to follow and then grabbed his carry-on and led the way up the white-graveled driveway. Around the first curve, Roman spotted the small hotel and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe his luck was turning. Nodding his thanks to the driver, he shouldered his bag and strode up the drive.

Once inside the lobby, he let his gaze sweep the room. It was a pleasant airy space, with doors opening onto a sunny terrace where people were enjoying food and drinks. In the distance he caught a glimpse of an incredibly blue sea.

He turned his attention to a young girl behind the registration desk and read her name tag. He prayed that Demetria’s English was better than his driver’s. When he smiled at her, she responded by directing a worried glance at his bag.

“Welcome to the Villa Prospero. Do you have a reservation?”

He hadn’t made one because he’d expected to settle things with Philly in Corfu Town. Setting his bag down, he turned up the wattage on his smile. “No, I’m sorry—my plans changed at the last moment. I’m afraid I was depending on luck to get a room. I’ve heard so many good things about the Villa Prospero.”

Concern filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry, but we’re full. There’s a huge party going on at the Castello Corli the day after tomorrow, and we’ve taken in the overflow. I could try to find you a room in the village.”

When she reached for the phone, Roman stopped her. “That won’t be necessary. I actually came to surprise someone—Ms. Philly Angelis. Is she here?”

“No.”

Roman frowned. “She should have arrived by now.”

“She has, about an hour ago. Mrs. Kostas and I were in the middle of serving lunch, so Ms. Angelis went for a walk on the beach.”

Just the word beach had an image forming in his mind of Philly rolling around in the sand with some strange man. “How do I get there?”

For the first time, Demetria smiled. “Just follow the path at the end of the driveway. You can’t miss it.”

He almost did miss the path, and even though he was at the Villa Prospero and it was only a matter of minutes before he would see Philly, Roman found himself growing more and more anxious. Like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, he felt that he was late for a very important date. He didn’t possess any of the Angelis psychic powers, but his instincts seldom failed him in business. Right now his gut was telling him that Philly was in some kind of trouble. Was he too late?

In spite of the rugged terrain, the question had him stepping up his pace. He nearly stumbled when he saw the white cat burst out of the woods and streak across his path. Philly appeared next. There were pine needles in her hair and fear in her eyes. He barely had time to absorb those details before she crashed into him, threw her arms around him and held on for dear life.

At last. Roman threaded his fingers through her hair and pressed her close against him. For the first time since he’d landed on Corfu, he felt his anxiety ease. For a few seconds, there was only the sound of Philly’s ragged breathing and the rustle of the wind in the trees. He’d never held her like this before, never felt that slender, firm body pressed to his. She fit perfectly.

“There’s…a man,” Philly said, her breath hitching.

“Did he hurt you?” Roman drew her away so that he could study her face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m…” Her breath hitched again. “…fine. He’s on the beach. He’s…”

“Shh,” he murmured. She wasn’t hurt, he told himself. Frightened, yes. Fury at whatever—or whoever—had scared her threatened to rise up, but he tamped it down. Something had happened on that beach, and as soon as she settled he’d get it out of her. Then he’d handle it. But for now, she was safe. She was here. For the first time he noticed that she’d cut her hair very short. The curls and even that straight sophisticated bob were gone. In the dappled light, filtering through the trees, she made him think of one of Shakespeare’s more ethereal woodland creatures.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, but Roman felt the air around them grow thick and charged. Desire sprang from the same place the fury had a moment ago, and he couldn’t block it. Or he didn’t want to.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

For this. Unable to stop himself, Roman lowered his mouth to hers.

Her lips parted. In surprise? In acceptance? Roman couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t care. Kissing her was a mistake, and there would be consequences. But he’d waited forever to really taste her. Just this once, he told himself. But once her flavor flooded his mouth, he knew that was a lie. And he could have sworn that the rocky ground beneath his feet shifted.

She was sweeter than he’d imagined, but there was a bite beneath the sweetness. As he took the kiss deeper, he discovered a dark richness that he’d never experienced before. Then her scent wrapped around him and it wasn’t sweet at all. It was exotic, erotic, and it made him think of the Sirens who’d lured sailors to their deaths. For the first time, Roman understood why they would have gone willingly.



AT LAST. That was the only coherent thought that formed in my mind once Roman pressed his mouth to mine. I felt as if I’d come home. Then he nipped at my bottom lip, changed the angle of the kiss, and I felt as if I’d just entered a brave, new world.

The sound of the sea, so muted before, grew louder. The breeze so gentle just seconds ago whipped around us, a storm seemed to be brewing.

I could feel everything so acutely. One of my hands was trapped against his chest and his heart hammered frantically against my palm. His taste—I’d imagined it so often, but it was so…potent. His touch burned my skin and sent thrill after thrill rippling through me. But it was his mouth I craved more of. It was so tempting that I took and took and took.

Still, I wanted more. I strained closer. As if answering my demand, he slipped one hand between us and covered my breast. Pleasure so sharp that it bordered on pain arrowed through me.

His other hand gripped my hip and lifted. Wrapping arms and legs around him, I scooted up until we were pressed center to center, heat to heat. It still wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get close enough. My heart was beating so hard, so fast that I was surprised it didn’t burst right out of me.

Then suddenly, abruptly, he set me down on the path. I cried out in protest, but he took a quick step back.

“No. I can’t. We can’t.”

“What?” I gave my head a shake, trying to clear it. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I never should have—” He broke off to run a hand through his hair. The other one was clenched at his side.

Anger shot through me, and some of my brain cells clicked on. He was apologizing! Again! Suddenly I wasn’t just mad, I was furious. “You never should have what? Followed me here to Greece? Looked at me as if you wanted to eat me whole? Kissed me?”

“It was a mistake.”

This time it was pain that shot through me. But I pushed it away, fisted my hands on my hips and sent him a killing look. “A mistake?”

Roman said nothing. He was staring at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. But I was seeing red. Over the years, I’d worked on controlling my temper, but at times it slipped away from me. Usually right after I saw red.

I lunged at him and shoved him hard enough to make him fall on his butt. “What you are, Roman Oliver, is a big fat liar.”

I wanted to jump him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his head rattled. But if I went near him again, even for a moment, I was afraid that I would simply beg him to finish what he’d started.

I summoned up all the pride I could muster and pointed a finger at him instead. “Maybe you think it was a mistake to kiss me. Your loss. And you can stuff your apology. But don’t you ever try to tell me that you think of me just as a sister.”

I wanted to leave then. But my dramatic exit was impeded by the fact that Roman was blocking my path. His eyes never left mine as he rose and brushed off his pants. “Tell me about the man on the beach.”

My anger drained away as all the terror and panic I’d felt ever since I’d seen the bullet send up that telltale spray of sand came flooding back. “He’s dead.” I glanced around, looking for Ariel, but there was no sign of her. And I couldn’t feel her, either. I had to hope she’d headed for the Villa Prospero and safety.

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a dead man on the beach?”

I lifted my chin. “I’ll show you.” Then, whirling, I started through the woods, retracing the route that the cat and I had taken up the hill. So I was able to execute my dramatic exit after all.



TEN MINUTES LATER, I stood next to Roman on the white sand, exactly where the man in the wide-brimmed hat had been lying when Ariel had led me to him. Only he wasn’t there. The red stain caused by his blood was gone, too. There wasn’t even a depression in the sand where his body had been. Roman and I hadn’t spoken on the climb down the hill—not even when I’d slipped and fallen and he’d helped me up—but as much as I hated to admit it, I was glad that he was here. I felt a lot less spooked than I would have otherwise.

“He’s gone,” I said, stating the all too obvious.

“You’re sure this is the spot?”

Since it was a legitimate question and there was no trace of skepticism in his tone, I kept the annoyance out of mine. “I’m positive.”

“Any chance that there’s another little cove similar to this one and we angled down the wrong way?”

I’d already asked myself that question. I pointed at the Castello. “There’s only one cove that’s flanked by a fourteenth-century fortress.”

Roman glanced up at the towers. “Good point. And the man was lying right here?”

I squatted. “His feet were about here, and he was medium height.”

“Could you tell how he’d died?”

I drew in a deep breath as the image of the man’s body filled my mind. “He had a bullet hole in the side of his head.” I tapped a finger against my left temple. Then I pointed to the spot on the hillside where I’d seen the flash of light. “I think the killer shot from up there just below the Castello.”

“You actually spotted him?”

I shook my head. “I just saw a flash of reflected sunlight when I was racing after Ariel.”

Roman frowned. “Ariel?”

“The white cat.”

“The same one I saw dash out of the woods just before I bumped into you?”

I nodded. “She was the one who led me to the body—she was very upset. I’m assuming because of the name that she belongs to my cousin Alexi. He has two cats and one of them, Caliban, is missing. I’m hoping that Ariel is back safe at the Villa Prospero.”

Roman stared out at the sea, then walked in a wide circle around the area I’d indicated. “Can you tell if the tide’s coming in?”

I glanced at the waves and noted that they were closer than they’d been before. The base of the boulder that one of the bullets had ricocheted off of was wet now. “It’s coming in. That boulder was totally dry before.” Then I saw light reflect off metal. Moving to the boulder, I leaned down and retrieved a cell phone. “It could be the victim’s. He had one in his hand when I first saw him.”

“That will help the police identify him,” Roman said.

I tucked it into my pocket.

Roman studied the water. “How much time has passed since you first saw the body?”

I’d completely lost track of time since I’d realized I was being shot at, so I glanced at my watch, then considered briefly. It was nearly one-thirty and my driver dropped me off at noon. “A half hour to forty-five minutes.”

“So the body couldn’t have been carried off by the tide.”

“No.”

Turning, Roman met my eyes directly. I could read nothing in his expression, I had no way of telling whether he believed me or not. Even with the cell phone, I wasn’t sure I would have believed myself.

Finally, he said, “The killer must have come back and cleaned up after himself.”

Relief streamed through me. Then I glanced around. “Maybe not entirely.” I rose and walked over to the spot where I’d seen the sand spurt up near the white cat. The image was indelibly imprinted on my mind. The sand was damp now. Squatting, I began to dig with my fingers. On the fifth scoop I found the bullet and held it up for Roman to see. “He missed this.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed as he strode toward me. “How did you know that was there?”

“He shot at the cat, too. One of them ricocheted off the rock. Then I saw the sand spurt up.”

Roman glanced up at the Castello, then grabbed my free hand and urged me toward the trees at the foot of the hill. Once we were in their shelter, he told me to sit down and then he sat down beside me. “Start at the beginning, Philly. And tell me everything.”


4

BY THE TIME we finally reached the Villa Prospero, my initial adrenaline rush at finding the body had faded, and I was beginning to react to the reality of the situation. Telling Roman what had happened had brought all the details vividly to my mind. Since we hadn’t talked on the climb back up to the villa, I’d had time to dwell on them.

A man was dead. And someone had disposed of his body. A bone-deep chill moved through me, and I shivered.

Roman turned to me immediately and took my arm. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Just a bit of a delayed reaction, I think.”

“You’re going to have to repeat the whole thing to the police.”

“I can do that.” I squared my shoulders in reaction to the concern I heard in his voice. “I’m a big girl, Roman.”

Miranda was at the registration desk and she looked up with a polite smile when we walked into the lobby. I noted again the combination of neatness and elegance in her appearance.

I knew from Aunt Cass and my father that Miranda was only in her early forties, but she looked even younger. She’d married early to Sandro Kostas, a man her parents had chosen for her so that she would have help running the hotel after they passed away. Kostas had left her a widow three years ago. Before his death, she’d spent most of her time seeing to the cuisine and keeping the books. Sandro had played the host. But it seemed to me as though Miranda was doing well as a hostess—she looked far more assured than she’d been earlier when Mr. Magellan had confronted her.

“Philly?” Her face brightened as she moved toward me and took both of my hands in hers. “Spiro’s daughter. You’re even prettier than your pictures. Welcome, welcome. It’s such a pleasure to have you here. I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you properly when you arrived. Demetria should have told me.”

“Don’t blame her—I told her not to. I wanted to walk on the beach and I ran into a white cat. Did she come back here?”

As she shook her head, a faint frown appeared on Miranda’s forehead. “That might have been Ariel. But I haven’t seen her at all today. She may have gone to look for my son, Alexi.”

Miranda turned to Roman then. “Demetria told me that you know my cousin Philly?”

Roman smiled at her. “I know her very well. I’m her brother Kit Angelis.” He held out a hand, and Miranda grasped it warmly, her face a mixture of surprise and delight.

I simply stood there and stared at him. Later, I would tell myself that my mental state had been approaching shock. That had to have been why I said nothing.

“Welcome! I was only expecting Philly. This is such a wonderful surprise—to have two of Spiro’s children visit.”

I’m sure my mouth was hanging open, but neither of them was paying me any heed. I felt as if I were watching a play.

Roman squeezed Miranda’s hands. “You must forgive me for not calling ahead. But my plans changed at the last minute, and I wanted to surprise my sister. My father and Helena so enjoyed their visit here and I can see why.” He paused to glance around the room. “You have a lovely place.”

I wanted to surprise my sister? Never in my life had I knowingly watched anyone lie so smoothly.

Miranda said something in reply, but I missed it because Roman chose that moment to meet my eyes. There was a challenge in his—almost as if he was daring me to expose his lie. I told myself I had to say something, to put a stop to his little masquerade before it went any further, but my lips just wouldn’t form the words.

He shifted his gaze back to Miranda. “And you’re not to worry. Demetria has already told me that you’re completely booked, but I can bunk in with Philly. All I need is a cot.”

“Of course you’ll stay here,” Miranda said. “And you won’t need a cot. The sofa in the suite converts to a bed. As soon as my son returns, I’ll have him make it up. In the meantime, you must go out to the terrace. I’ll bring you coffee and pastries. We’re through serving lunch, but I can have Demetria fix some sandwiches.”

I finally had my mouth open to say something when Roman preempted me. “Before we sit down, we have to contact the police.”

Miranda turned back at that, surprise and worry in her eyes. “The police?”

“Philly found a dead body on the beach.”

“A dead body?”

Fear flashed into her eyes, and I sensed she might be worried about Alexi. “A man—medium height and stocky. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat—like the ones you sell in your gift shop—and he was carrying a backpack and binoculars.”

“Does he sound familiar?” Roman asked.

Miranda frowned thoughtfully, then shook her head.“There are so many visitors on the island right now because of the party at the Castello Corli the day after tomorrow. Andre Magellan throws these parties at least twice a year. His guests number in the hundreds. He can accommodate most of them at the Castello—it’s reputed to have close to one hundred guest rooms—but we take the overflow here.” She shifted her gaze to Roman. “How did the man die?”

“We believe he was shot by someone up on the cliff near the Castello,” Roman explained. “Philly was on her way back here when she ran into me. By the time we returned to the beach, the body was gone.”

“Gone?”

“The killer may not have wanted it found,” Roman explained.

“When I first spotted the man, there was someone with him—a younger man he seemed to be arguing with,” I said. “He was about the same height with dark curly hair. My guess is that he’s still in his teens, and he was wearing some kind of medal around his neck.”

Miranda shook her head, but I didn’t miss the slight stiffening of her body. My description had made her think of someone, I was sure of it.

“That was where I first saw the white cat,” I said. “She led me to the body.”

“Ariel,” Miranda breathed and then clasped her hands together. “It must have been Ariel. Her twin brother, Caliban, has been missing for two days. Alexi has been very upset. He and those cats have been inseparable since his father gave them to him. He’s spent the last two days searching along the coastline.” Dropping her hands to her sides, she gave us a flustered glance. “Please forgive me for rambling on. Come out to the terrace. You’ll have something to drink while I call the police.”

Miranda seated us at a table in the shade of some pines and poured us each a glass of pale gold wine before she hurried back to the lobby.

The moment she was out of earshot, Roman said, “Take a sip of that. You’re still looking a little shaky. I have to make a couple of calls.”

I didn’t argue. I was barely able to keep my hand from trembling as I lifted the glass. The wine was cool, but it helped to take the edge off of the chill that was settling over me.

Demetria appeared and set a pot of coffee and a tray of pastries on the table. I smiled and nodded my thanks and then returned my gaze to Roman. He was talking on his cell to a man he called Gianni. Or rather listening. The man on the other end seemed to be doing most of the talking. From what I could gather, they were discussing something about hotels.

Sitting there in the dappled sunlight, Roman was at his ease, the picture of self-containment and confidence. Having him here was helping. This man seated across from me was the Roman I was familiar with—cool, competent.

“I’ll be delayed longer than I originally thought,” Roman said. “A day or two.”

The man who’d told Miranda that he was my brother Kit was a bit of a stranger. So was the man who’d kissed me on the hillside path. There’d been nothing cool about that kiss. I’d tasted a desperation that had matched my own. These new aspects of Roman intrigued me.

At the same time his ability to return to normal mode so quickly annoyed me. He was calmly conducting business while my mind was still spinning. I wasn’t even at the point where I could sort out my thoughts.

And I couldn’t blame it totally on a delayed reaction to finding a dead man on the beach.

I tried to focus by concentrating on one thing. There was the cat, Ariel. I’d sensed a bone-deep, almost frantic, fear in her. Ariel had reminded me a bit of Pretzels, and I wondered if it was part of her nature to react in a very dramatic way. Not that she didn’t have a perfect right to be afraid. It was very possible that she’d seen a man get shot. But she’d been distressed even when the man in the wide-brimmed hat was still alive.

Worry and concern about her brother may very well have been the source of the chaotic emotions I’d first sensed in Ariel. I recalled the image of the white cat lying in darkness. Could that have been Caliban? The picture hadn’t been clear, but it did look as though he was alive and he had a supply of food and water. I wished that Ariel hadn’t disappeared when I’d kissed Roman on the path.

I’d been trying to avoid thinking about that kiss. As lust curled snakelike in my stomach, I reached for my wine and took a long swallow. For a moment I sat there simply studying Roman. He was seated with his back to the marvelous view of the sea beyond. He’d angled his chair slightly so that he wasn’t facing me, and that meant he didn’t notice that I was staring.

I thought of how often I’d dreamed of kissing him. The first fantasies had been the innocent ones of a sixteen-year-old, but as I’d entered college and gained some experience with men, my fantasies had become more detailed. Still, nothing, actual or imagined, had prepared me for the reality of Roman’s callused palms or his clever, demanding mouth. I’d never before felt my will drain so completely away. He could have asked anything of me, and I would have given it. Gladly.

Another moment and we would have made love right there on the path. But he’d pulled away. And then he’d had the nerve to apologize. Again. The anger I’d felt earlier came surging back. I started to sip my wine once more, then decided on coffee instead. I needed to keep a clear head if I was going to deal with the man sitting across from me. And I was going to have to figure out how to deal with him since he’d clearly decided to hang around for the next day or two.

The coffee was strong and bitter, just the way my father brewed it at his restaurant, and it immediately began to counteract the wine I’d had. I decided the question I most needed the answer to was why Roman had told Miranda that he was Kit. Had it been to emphasize to me that he thought of me only as a brother?

I narrowed my eyes on him. Fat chance he was going to get away with that story twice. I was beginning to think that I’d been a fool to believe it the first time he’d told it.

Demetria stepped out onto the terrace and hurried toward our table. “Mrs. Kostas sends her apologies. She’s busy with some of the other guests. She said to tell you that Inspector Ionescu is on his way. Can I get you anything else?”

I smiled at her, assured her that we were fine, and she hurried away again. Through the open doors of the terrace, I could see several guests lined up to talk to Miranda. At least two of the men were wearing hats similar to the one I’d seen on the dead man.

I turned my gaze back to Roman. Maybe I was asking the wrong question. What did it matter why Roman had lied to Miranda? The question I ought to be asking was what was I going to do about the fact that Roman and I were going to be sharing a room?

Roman closed his cell and turned his chair so that he was facing me. “Your cousin lied to us about not knowing the younger man on the beach.”

He was definitely in normal mode, I thought. I quickly gathered my thoughts so that I would appear to be also. “Yes, I agree. I think it might have been Alexi I saw. And she was worried at first that he might be the dead man. Alexi must be in some kind of trouble.” I told Roman about my initial arrival at the Villa Prospero and the scene I’d witnessed between Miranda and Andre Magellan.

Roman poured himself a cup of coffee. “How old is Alexi?”

“Eighteen. According to my father and Helena, he was always a little behind in school. Not retarded, but a little slow developmentally.”

“That might explain his single-minded determination to find his missing cat and the way he’s ignoring Magellan’s warnings and neglecting his duties here.”

I lifted my chin. “I can understand his concern. If Pretzels or Peanuts were missing, I might neglect a few of my duties also.”

“Point taken. What else can you tell me about Alexi?”

“Dad told me that since Miranda’s husband died three years ago, she’s depended on Alexi to help her run the place.”

“He would have been fifteen. That’s a lot of responsibility for a young man.” Roman sipped coffee and leaned back in his chair. “I was a little older than that when I started to take an active role at Oliver Enterprises. After my mother died, my dad…well, he wasn’t himself for a while. I had to take on more responsibility in the company—more than he would have given me under other circumstances.”

“You handled it.” I couldn’t imagine Roman not being able to handle anything.

His lips curved slightly. “Actually, I loved it. Working at Oliver Enterprises, expanding our business has always been my goal. So much so that I didn’t want to go to college. My dad insisted. Good thing or I never would have ended up being Kit’s roommate.” He sipped more coffee. “Alexi may not be as enthusiastic about running this hotel. Miranda must have asked him not to hang around the Castello. He may be acting out a bit in rebellion.”

I studied him. It occurred to me that Roman and I had never sat like this before—just the two of us talking. Thinking about it, I realized that we’d always been with my family or his—except for those two times in his hospital room. It was at that moment that I caught a glimpse of that white bird again spiraling upward in the blue sky above the sea. The same feelings I’d experienced on the cliff path moved through me. And I knew—the same way that I often sensed things with animals—that this was where I was meant to be and that Roman was meant to be here with me. Whatever adventure lay ahead of me on this island, Roman was fated to be a part of it.

“There’s another problem.” Roman paused, then said, “Philly?”

“Sorry.” I gathered my thoughts and met his eyes. “You were saying there’s a problem.”

“Inspector Ionescu may have some trouble investigating a murder with no body. The only evidence we have to show him is that shell casing. The cell phone will help with identification, but it doesn’t prove a homicide.”

“I know what I saw.”

“And I believe you.” Roman topped off the coffee in our cups. “But I’m trying to look at the situation from your brother Nik’s point of view.”

I saw where he was going. Nik would see everything through a cop’s skeptical eyes.

“There’s very little for the police to work with. If you wanted to tell them that you think it might have been your cousin arguing with the man just before he was shot, Alexi could at least corroborate your story about seeing them on the beach.”

“I don’t want to say that yet. I can’t be positive that it was Alexi. I’ve never even met him.”

“Are you worried that Alexi could be the shooter?” Roman asked.

“No.” I shook my head vehemently. “The man arguing with the victim wouldn’t have had time to get all the way up the cliff to where I think the shooter was.”

“Good point.” Roman sipped more coffee, studying me over the rim of his cup.

“It’s too bad that Inspector Ionescu can’t question Ariel.”

Roman’s brows shot up. “The cat?”

I nodded. “She may have witnessed the murder.”

“Could you question her?”

I glanced around. “I’d like to. I’m worried about her. The sniper shot twice at her.”

“Do you think she can tell you who he is?”

I studied him for a moment. It occurred to me that he’d not once questioned anything I’d told him about my communication with Ariel. He seemed to accept my ability to connect with animals with the same ease that my family did. “I don’t know if she saw who it was. If the killing shot came from where the other shots came from, the shooter was too far up the cliff side.”

“But he may have been closer to the beach when he fired that shot.”

I frowned. Neither of us said anything, but that possibility meant that the man we were beginning to believe was Alexi could have shot the older man.

“I’ll ask her the next time I see her.”

“Just how do you do it—communicate with animals, I mean?”

“You’re very accepting of my ability.”

“I’ve listened to Kit brag about you for years. But he’s never shared the specifics of how it works. Do they talk to you?”

“Sometimes I hear actual words in my head. But other times it’s all images and sometimes colors. With Ariel, I saw red.” I clasped my hands tightly in front of me. “It was all that blood on the white sand.” When I’d described what had happened to Roman, I’d summarized my communication with Ariel, but I’d left out most of the specifics. “When I first saw her through my camera lens, I sensed emotions—fear, frustration and a huge sense of urgency. She wanted something and she wasn’t about to be soothed. After the younger man leaned over to pet her, she backed away.”

“Isn’t it odd that she would back away if the younger man was Alexi?”

I thought about it for a moment. Once again talking to Roman was helping me to clarify everything. “She wanted something—help, I think. That was the first thing she said to me when she appeared around the rocks. When I found the body, I assumed she wanted help for him. But I think she was looking for help even before the man in the hat was shot. That’s why she wouldn’t let the younger man pet her for long. She was on a mission.”

“Any ideas about why she ran toward you for help after the man in the hat was killed?”

I hadn’t considered that. “When I first felt a connection with her, the feelings were so intense. Perhaps she sensed me, too. She also sent me an image. I didn’t mention it earlier because it didn’t seem to be connected to the murder. I saw a white cat lying motionless in a dark place.”

“Her brother?”

“That’s what I’m wondering. I have a lot of questions that I think she could answer. And I have a few for Alexi, too.”

“You’re not going to keep out of this, are you?”

I leaned toward him. “How can I? I found that body on the beach. And Ariel asked for help. When she comes back I want to try and find a way to help her.”

Roman was about to say something else, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Look, if you’re going to try to persuade me to leave, you’re wasting your time. From the moment I stepped out of the taxi, I’ve been certain that I’m meant to be here.”

“Fate?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

It wasn’t skepticism I heard in his voice. If it had been, I probably would have kept my mouth shut. But the thing I was discovering about Roman was that he was a patient listener, down on the beach and again right now. He was an easy man to talk to. And sometimes truth was the most effective weapon.

Aunt Cass was always saying that the Fates only offered a choice. It was always up to the person to grab on to what was offered.

“I’m sure that Kit has told you that my family has a history of finding their soul mates here in Greece—first my mother and Aunt Cass and most recently my dad. So after you turned down my proposition at the hospital, I decided that I’d try my luck over here. Not that I’m looking for my true love—exactly. I’d settle for a really hot fling. But life is nothing if not ironic. Instead of finding a lover on the beach, I found a dead man.”

When Roman said nothing, I hurried on. “I’m convinced he’s just the beginning of the adventure. I know that the Fates have brought me here, and I’m not going to leave until I find out all that they have in store for me.”

There was a sort of nonplussed expression on Roman’s face that I’d never seen before. It gave me the courage to say, “Now that I’ve bared my soul to you, turnabout’s fair play. Why did you lie to Miranda and tell her you were Kit?”



I WISH THE HELL I knew. Roman had been pondering that very question ever since the lie had slipped so easily out of his mouth. He knew how to guard his tongue. He’d cultivated the skill in countless business negotiations. Still, he’d told Miranda he was Kit without missing a beat.

Why?

The surface answer was easy enough. “I’d already heard from Demetria that they had no rooms available. She offered to get me a room in the nearest village. There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone until this matter is sorted out.”

Her chin lifted in just the way he’d known it would. “I don’t need a big brother. I can handle myself.”

“You weren’t doing so well when I ran into you on the cliff path.”

“That was only because you were there. If you hadn’t been, I would have been fine.”

Roman didn’t doubt that for a moment. Still he was glad that he’d been there. He thought of what she’d looked like right after he’d apologized for kissing her and she’d knocked him flat on his ass. She’d reminded him of Aphrodite—beautiful, powerful and furious. A goddess you wouldn’t want to mess with. And he’d wanted her mindlessly. God help him, he still did.

And that was the other reason he’d lied to Miranda.

But what he said was, “You believe the sniper was shooting at the cat. Who’s to say his next shot wouldn’t have been aimed at you?”

She swallowed hard. “He missed the cat. Twice. Maybe he was just trying to scare us away so he could get rid of the body.”

Roman nodded. “That’s possible. But once we report all this to the inspector, and the shooter finds out you’re still here at the villa—not only here, but asking questions—he might decide you saw too much.”

“If you’re trying to frighten me—”

“I am.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Neither am I.”

There was a beat. Then Philly leaned forward and there was a glint in her eye he couldn’t recall seeing before. “Fine. But if we’re going to share the same room, I want to lay down some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” What in hell was coming next?

“You’re a businessperson. You must be familiar with the concept.” She lifted her wineglass and sipped. “The next time you kiss me—no pulling back, no apologies. You’d better be prepared to finish what you start.”

The challenge was clear in her voice, in her eyes. But he was saved from a direct reply when Miranda ushered a thin, wiry man of medium height and sharp, intelligent eyes onto the terrace.

“Philly, Kit, this is Inspector Ionescu,” Miranda said. “Inspector, these are my cousins from San Francisco.”


5

DURING THE TWO HOURS Roman and I had spent in the company of Inspector Ionescu, I’d learned he was a very professional and thorough man. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’d expected someone who was a bit more of a hick—or at the least someone more rumpled or cranky. The inspector was none of the above.

He sat across a table from me in a shaded and isolated part of the terrace flipping through a small notebook. The first word that had popped into my mind from the moment I’d seen him was dapper. He reminded me a bit of the actor who’d starred as Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot in the British television series. His build was thin and wiry. He wore neatly pressed khaki trousers, a short-sleeved shirt and tie and sturdy boots that had served him well when he’d accompanied Roman and me to the crescent-shaped beach where I’d last seen the body. I was hoping that I might catch a glimpse of Ariel on the way down, but I hadn’t.

Before we’d climbed down the cliff path, Ionescu had questioned Roman and me separately in Miranda’s office. Once we returned to the villa, he’d separated us again. Roman now sat several tables away, sipping coffee and chatting with Demetria.

Ionescu closed his notebook and glanced up at me. “Is there anything else you can tell me, Ms. Angelis?”

I pretended to think for a moment, and then I said, “No.”

Ionescu said nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Roman was perfectly at his ease while my stomach was knotted with nerves. I’d been lying to the inspector for two hours.

“You don’t have any idea of the identity of the young man you saw talking with the victim?”

“No.”

He was looking right into my eyes, and I prayed that he couldn’t read my mind. Because I did have an idea of who the younger man was. Still, I didn’t know for sure that it had been my cousin Alexi.

“Is there anything about what you’ve told me that you’d like to change?”

“No.” That was a lie also. Because I wanted very badly to tell him that Roman wasn’t my brother Kit. Roman and I had argued about that point on the beach while Ionescu had been some distance away searching the promontory of rocks near the Castello. I’d pointed out that the inspector was going to discover that Roman was lying anyway. He was definitely going to check our passports. Or he could privately Google Kit’s name if he didn’t want us to know he was curious about us. My brother Kit had two different Web sites—one for his P.I. business and the other for his novels. His picture was prominently displayed on both. All Roman had said was that he’d handle that when the time came.

Somehow I didn’t think Ionescu was going to approve of Roman’s timing.

When Ionescu slipped the small notebook into his pocket and rose, Roman walked to the table to join us. “All finished, Inspector?”

“For the moment. Have you thought of anything else I should know, Mr. Angelis?”

“No—I believe we’ve covered it all. What will you do next?”

“I’ll trace the owner of the cell phone Ms. Angelis found. Then we’ll have a name. Whether or not it belongs to the victim is another question. By tomorrow, I may have a report of a missing person, either from here or the Castello Corli. I’d like the two of you to keep yourselves available.” He handed Roman his card. “And if you think of anything else I need to know, please call me at once.”

After nodding at me, Ionescu moved toward the lobby. Roman and I watched him stop and speak to Miranda. To my surprise, he reached out and touched her arm in a gesture that spoke of comfort.

I murmured to Roman, “They know each other more than professionally.”

“If that’s true, then he knows Alexi also.”

“And probably recognized him from the description I gave of the younger man on the beach.” I rose from the table. “I’m worried about Ariel and Caliban.”

“I spoke to Demetria about the cats. She says that ever since Caliban went missing, Ariel disappears for long periods of time. She may be with Alexi.”

I thought of the image of the white cat lying in the shadowy place. He was awake, just not moving. Maybe he couldn’t. “Perhaps she goes to her brother. That would make sense especially if she’s a worrier like my Pretzels is.” I recalled the remains of the small animal. “She may be bringing him food. And I saw water.”

“There’s nothing you can do right now. Not until Ariel returns.”

When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that Ionescu was still talking to Miranda. “The inspector suspects we’re lying about something. You should have told him you’re not Kit.”

“Miranda wouldn’t approve of my staying in your room if she learned the truth right now. I’m sure she feels that while you’re at the Villa Prospero, she’s standing in for your father. I wouldn’t want to add to the stress she’s under by insisting that I stay in your room as Roman Oliver.”

I met his eyes steadily. “I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions about who stays or does not stay in my room.”

Though his expression didn’t change I could tell he was amused. “That doesn’t alter the way your brothers would feel if they knew we were sharing a room. I know what I’d feel about my sisters.”

My brows shot up. “Theo is sharing a room with your sister Sadie on a pretty regular basis.”

“That’s different. There’s a commitment between Theo and Sadie.” All trace of amusement disappeared from his eyes. “I’m not a man who can make that kind of commitment, Philly. Running Oliver Enterprises is much more than a full-time job to me. It’s something I’ve worked for all of my life. I’ve watched my father try to juggle the responsibilities of business and family and now he’s heading for his third divorce. I decided some time ago that it wouldn’t be fair to ask someone to share my life when I would have so little time to devote to the relationship.”

With my temper surging, I closed the distance between us and poked a finger into his chest. “Let’s clear something up right now. I’ve never mentioned the C or the M word. I told you in your hospital room exactly what I wanted. I want to make love with you. Period.” Warming to my theme, I poked him again. “For two cents—”

Just in time, I reined in my anger and clamped my teeth together. I’d nearly threatened to expose his identity to Miranda and insist that she find him a room in the village. Thank heavens my more rational side prevailed. Because I didn’t want Roman staying someplace in the village. I wanted him in my room tonight. I was going to take what the Fates were offering me. I was going to take Roman Oliver.

Roman was looking at me as if he was seeing something he hadn’t seen before. “For two cents, you’d what?” he asked.

“Knock you on your ass again,” I said.

He chuckled then, and the sound had the rest of my temper draining away.

“C’mon.” He took my arm and led me toward the lobby. “Demetria said that our room is ready, and we’ll want to freshen up. Drinks are served at seven, dinner at eight.”

It was almost six. I figured that would give me plenty of time to implement stage one of my plan.



HANDLING PHILLY was going to be a problem. Roman knew it in the same gut way that he always knew when a business deal threatened to go south. He stood on the small balcony that opened off the living room of Philly’s suite. The rooms were small but well appointed, and the view of the sea below was one of the best that the villa had to offer. The sun was lowering in the sky and the scent of lemons filled the air.

But it was Philly’s scent that lingered in his mind. It had been haunting him ever since he’d kissed her. She’d used the shower first, so when it was his turn, each breath he’d inhaled had filled his mind with images of how it might feel to have her standing in the shower with him. He’d imagined running his hands over that slender body that he’d just begun to explore on the cliff path. Of molding her slick with soap against him. Hardness to softness. Heat to heat.

Spinning the fantasy out in his head, he’d lifted her and once she’d wrapped her legs around him, he’d pressed her against the wall and entered her slowly, drawing out the pleasure for them both until her wet heat totally engulfed him.

He’d very nearly come just thinking about it.

Turning, he glanced at the closed door to the bedroom. She’d been throwing him one curveball after another ever since she’d walked into his hospital room and propositioned him. And he could admit now that it had been a mistake to follow her here—the result of acting on impulse—something he rarely did. And now he felt trapped. How could he leave her? She was in trouble, and so, however distant the connection might be, was her family.

Someone had been murdered. Ionescu was a good man, competent. But there was no way to tell how successful the investigation would be or how long it would take. In the meantime, Philly had planted herself firmly in the middle of whatever was going on. If the young man she’d seen arguing with the dead man turned out to be her cousin, Ionescu would have a lot of questions for him. Then there were the cats.

Though he’d done his best to calm her worries about them earlier, there was no way she’d butt out until she was sure that both of them were safe. There was no way she’d butt out, period. The one thing he’d noticed about Philly was that once she set her sights on a goal, she always achieved it. Since she’d finished her degree in psychology, she’d slowly but surely built up her pet-psychic business while juggling part-time jobs at a veterinary hospital and filling in as hostess at her family’s restaurant. Kit bragged to him about each new client she got.

He glanced at his watch—a little after seven. She’d been getting dressed for over half an hour. He turned his attention back to the view. While Philly had been talking to Ionescu, Demetria had filled him in on the local legend that there was a kind of magic on the island that people could tap into. What you wished for could come true.

Standing on the balcony and watching the sun lower in the sky, Roman could almost believe the legend was real. Demetria’s English was more enthusiastic than clear, but from what he’d pieced together it was based on the belief held by many that Corfu had been the inspiration for the setting of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Perhaps some of Prospero’s magic still lingered and that was why he was feeling so bewitched.

Philly had made it pretty clear what she’d come to the island wishing for. Sex with a stranger. Recalling how she’d talked so casually of making love with some man she hadn’t even met yet, jealousy once again sliced through Roman with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. He was getting tired of the sensation and damn tired of wanting someone he’d told himself he couldn’t have.

He turned when the door opened and watched Philly step into the room. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe and his mind emptied. The one stray thought that tumbled into the void was that this wasn’t the Philly he’d known for years. Either it was the new haircut or she’d done something to her eyes that made them look larger. And her lips were a siren red. But it was the dress—or the lack of it—that had his throat going dry. The silky material that dropped from thin straps at her shoulders to stop well above her knees and hugged every curve of her body.

He had to work to keep from staring at her legs. Then she turned around and he gave up the battle. The dress was backless, and the combination of white skin and black dress had him thinking of magic again.

“What do you think?” she asked. “The saleslady guaranteed this dress was male bait.”

His only thought was that he would have to fight each and every one of those men off.

“Well?” Philly prodded, turning in another circle. As she did, the dress flared and revealed more leg.

“The saleswoman was right.” Roman was surprised that he’d actually formed words. “Shall we?” He gestured toward the door and gave her a wide berth as he led the way. If he stayed in this room one second longer, the fantasy he’d indulged in earlier during his shower would become a reality. Once in the hall, he drew in a deep breath and stifled an impulse to run. As they made their way down the hall, he hoped that the drinks on the terrace would include something much stronger than wine.



“I THINK THIS PLACE is a magical spot, don’t you?” Roman and I were seated on the terrace, lingering over a final glass of wine and some pastries. The sun was sinking into the sea and the sky was streaked with shades of blue and rose.

“The cuisine certainly is,” Roman said.

I was sure that the food was excellent, but I’d hardly tasted any of it. Our conversation had passed the time pleasantly enough. We’d avoided the topics of the dead man and the sniper and my still-missing cousin Alexi. And talking to Roman earlier about the cats had eased my mind—I was convinced that Ariel was with her brother just as Pretzels would be with Peanuts if she were injured and in need of help.

Instead Roman and I had talked about our work. I’d learned that he was on his way to Athens where he was negotiating a deal with a Greek millionaire and entrepreneur, Gianni Stassis, to buy into select privately owned hotels in Greece. The Villa Prospero was a prime example of the type of place they would approach with their offer.

My contribution to the dinner conversation had been to describe some of the more eccentric animals and owners that I worked with. But all the time what I really wanted was dessert, and he was sitting directly across from me.

Nerves jittered in my stomach, but I was determined to overcome them. I was just not going to let myself waste this opportunity. I ran my finger around the top of my wineglass, just the way I’d seen Linda Hamilton do it in a made-for-TV movie called Sex & Mrs. X. After dipping my finger into the glass, I raised it to my mouth and licked the wine off. In the film, Linda was a journalist who was writing a story on the most famous madam in Paris, and she’d picked up several tricks on how to attract and seduce a man. This particular one seemed to be working on Roman.

Sexy seductress was not my usual role, but I was beginning to think that I might have a knack for it. The dress was helping. I’d never before worn anything quite like it, and the look right now in Roman’s eyes was anything but brotherly. However, the man seemed to have a talent for running hot one minute and cold the next. Prime example—the kiss on the cliff path. I was still annoyed with him for pulling back.

Tonight, I wasn’t about to leave anything up to chance. Roman Oliver was a businessman, so I’d decided that it might be a good idea to offer him a deal.

Leaning forward, I said, “I’ve been thinking. As I told you earlier, I came here to Greece to have a fling. But I haven’t changed my mind about wanting to make love with you.”

He didn’t reply, but the look in his eyes could have liquefied my bones.

“Clearly, your story about your feelings for me being brotherly—well, that was an out-and-out lie. The way you kissed me on the cliff path wasn’t brotherly.”

He didn’t deny it. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all.

Encouraged, I took a sip of wine and went on. “It occurred to me at some point during our individual sessions with Inspector Ionescu that any reservations you might have about having a sexual relationship with me because of my family don’t apply here.”

His eyes narrowed then. “They sure as hell do.”

I raised a hand, palm out. “On the contrary. My father and brothers are back in San Francisco. We’re thousands of miles away on a magical Greek island. They’ll never have to know. And you’ve told my cousin that you’re my brother. So all we have to do is be discreet in public.”

“Philly—”

I ran a finger down the back of his hand (another Sex &Mrs. X tip). Not only did the gesture shut him up, but he turned his hand over and gripped mine. My throat went dry, and I felt the heat streak right to my center. Roman Oliver was going to be some dessert all right.

“You’re a businessman, so I’m going to make you a deal. We’ll have an affair, but it will only last as long as we’re here on Corfu. And it will remain our secret. No one ever has to know. When we meet again in San Francisco, we’ll go back to our old relationship—big brother, little sister.”

He still said nothing. He merely looked at me. But the hunger in his eyes had my toes curling. I debated. I could just stand and take him with me to the room. But I wanted to nail down the deal first.

“Why don’t we pretend we’re strangers? We’ve just met for the first time tonight. I want you and you want me, and for the time we’re here at the Villa Prospero, we’ll enjoy each other. No strings. And no holds barred. Deal?”

There were three beats of silence and each one seemed like a mini-eternity. Finally Roman released my hand and rose. “I want to kiss you, and we can’t do that here.”

I couldn’t feel my legs as we started back to the room.

“I hope that you don’t regret this, Philly.”

I wasn’t sure about the regrets part, but I would worry about that later. What I had to concentrate on now was making sure that Roman would never forget me.


6

ONCE INSIDE THE ROOM, Roman moved fast, using his hands and body to trap me against the door. He threaded his fingers through my hair, then merely studied me. The light was dimming, but I had no trouble seeing his eyes. The heat had my breath catching, my body trembling.

He slid his hands to my shoulders, then down my arms. Flames licked along my nerve endings.

“Second thoughts?”

“No.” Saying the word aloud only heightened my certainty that this was what I wanted. He was what I wanted. The need that had been building inside of me all through dinner was bordering on pain. “Touch me.”

Settling his hands at my hips, he moved in closer. “I’ve been waiting all evening to do this.” He traced a finger up my spine. I trembled. Then he spread his palms against my bare back and slowly ran them down to my waist. Fire shot through my veins. His eyes stayed on mine as he moved his hands again, faster this time, sliding up my sides until his palms pressed against the sides of my breasts. I was throbbing at every point a pulse could beat.

“Last chance, Philly.” His voice had roughened. He was trying to be a gentleman, but I wasn’t in the mood for one tonight.

“I’m not Philly, and you’re not Roman, remember?”

I locked my arms around his neck and dragged his mouth to mine. It was hard and hot and I tasted barely leashed hunger. The flavor was so unique that I had to have more. His tongue took possession of my mouth, his teeth scraped my bottom lip, and the kiss teetered toward pain. And all the while those clever hands raced over me, tracing the curve of my throat, cupping my breasts, digging into my hips. The speed had my head spinning. Sensations swamped me as he lowered the zipper on the back of my dress and stripped me out of it.

I struggled with the buttons on his shirt. The sound of one dropping to the floor only made me more desperate. Finally, I ran my hands up that damp smooth skin, absorbing the hard ridge of muscles on his back.

He nipped at my bottom lip, then deepened the kiss until I felt as if I were drowning—sinking fast into someplace where the air was too thick to breathe. Wild fists of need battered at me, and the heat building inside me grew brutal. There was only one answer. I dragged my mouth from his. “Now. Right now.”

I cried out in protest when he set me against the door and stepped away. But then he took his gaze on a searing journey over my body. He’d never looked at me that way before, and every muscle in me quivered with fresh delight. When he met my eyes again, I saw a simmering violence. Still, it wasn’t fear or even apprehension I felt. It was a wild, hot thrill.



HE HAD TO GET a grip. Catch his breath. Think. This was Philly. She deserved gentleness, seduction. That had been his intention, but it had evaporated the instant she’d exploded in his arms. Even now that he wasn’t touching her, tasting her, he couldn’t get his head clear. The experience was unprecedented.

He prided himself on being a gentle, considerate lover, and he’d been about to mindlessly pound himself into her against a door. He still wanted to.

Stepping away from her wasn’t doing a damn thing to cool his blood. The dress had been bewitching enough, but what she was wearing under it was designed to bring a man to his knees. All Roman could do was stare. Hopefully, his mouth hadn’t dropped open and his tongue wasn’t hanging out.

He was going to have to turn and walk away if he wanted to regain control. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t—any more than he could prevent himself from reaching out to run a finger over the black lace that topped one thigh-high stocking.

Meeting her eyes, Roman watched them darken as he trailed a finger up to the hint of a thong that barely covered her. Never would he have imagined Philly wearing anything like this. As he lingered there, barely touching her, the sound of her breathing—or was it his own?—grew ragged.

“Very nice.” Still using a featherlight touch and keeping his gaze locked on hers, he moved his finger over her abdomen and up her midriff to hook it beneath the swatch of lace that barely covered her breasts. She was trembling now, and those brown eyes had misted over. He could see his own image reflected there and knew that she thought only of him.

Triumph raced through him along with a ferocious surge of need. To hell with seduction. He had to have her. The whispery sound of lace ripping only added fuel to the flash fire threatening to consume him. Lifting her, he took his mouth on a desperate journey from her breasts down the path his finger had traced. Her skin was damp, hot, her flavor so…necessary. But there was no time to savor, not when his blood pounded with such overwhelming greed. Lace tore again as he straightened and pressed her back against the wall. Then he found her center and pierced her with two fingers.

Here was a heat that matched his own. He felt her inner muscles tighten around his fingers and watched her eyelids lower.

“No,” he said. “Look at me when I make you come.”

Then he absorbed each separate sensation—each tremor, each hitch of her breath as he shot her up, watched her ride the crest and shudder down. Her eyes blurred and went glassy. His name was a whispered moan that sent a fresh wave of heat slamming into him. He nearly came right then.

“Again.” He didn’t know who said the word as her fingers tore at his belt.

“This time…I want you inside me.”

“Yes…” He wasn’t sure he could survive another ten seconds if he wasn’t inside of her. With whatever thin grip he had on his control, Roman managed to retrieve a condom from his pocket before his pants and belt hit the floor.

Her arms locked around his neck, her teeth sank into his shoulder. Then she whispered into his ear, “Make me come again.”

Roman’s head reeled.

“Protection,” he said in a desperate attempt to keep his focus. His fingers shook as he sheathed himself.

“You’d better hurry.” She nipped his earlobe, then pulled his mouth to hers. “I want you now.”

“Right now.” Gripping her hips, he hitched her up and drove into her where they stood. The door slammed hard into the jamb, and he was certain he heard his control snap in the same instant. Then her taste exploded inside of him, and he knew that he might never get enough. Of it. Of her.

His body took over, moving faster and faster. Hers kept pace, meeting him thrust for thrust until he knew nothing else, wanted nothing else but Philly. When she tightened around him like a slick, hot fist, he lost himself in her.



WHEN MY BRAIN CELLS clicked on again, I was straddling Roman’s lap, my head on his shoulder. Bright moonlight streamed through the open balcony door. I had no idea how long we’d been sitting there like that. But I didn’t want to move. Gradually, more details filtered through the sensual fog that still held me in its grip. I could see Roman’s slacks pooled on the floor beside us. His back was against the door, his arms were around me…and he was still inside of me.

As my brain alerted my body to that fact, I felt my inner muscles tighten around him. Incredibly, fresh desire rippled through me.

He slipped a finger under my chin and drew my face up until our eyes met. I read concern in his.

“Are you all right, Philly?”

I smiled at him. “I keep telling you I’m not Philly.” And I didn’t feel like Philly anymore. It was as if my decision to seduce Roman and then finally making love with him had changed me. “But I am fabulous.”

His gaze remained intent on mine. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Positive.” I trailed a finger down his throat to his shoulder. “But I left teeth marks on you.”

He smiled then. “Feel free—anytime.”

Maybe it was the fact that he’d never smiled at me in quite that way before—a mixture of friendliness and intimacy. Or perhaps it was because he moved his hand until his fingers were spread against my cheek—but something stirred in me then. A knowledge, a certainty that I usually only experienced when I was communicating with animals.

This is the one.

An alarm sounded at the back of my mind. How often had Aunt Cass used just those words to describe what she’d felt, what she’d known the first time she’d seen my uncle Demetrius?

No. Roman Oliver wasn’t the one. Panic bubbled in my stomach. That was something the old Philly had dreamed of for seven long years. I was not about to fall into that trap again. Roman and I were going to have a torrid affair, and I was going to get him out of my system. When we returned to San Francisco, we were going to go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.

More than that, I wasn’t going to waste a moment of our time on Corfu worrying about silly childhood fantasies. Not when I could spend the time having incredible sex with Roman.

I traced my fingers over the bite mark. Then I lowered my mouth and bit him in the exact spot on his other shoulder. I felt him harden inside of me.

“Philly.” He gripped my waist to lift me, but I clamped my legs on his thighs as I nibbled my way to his neck.

“You told me to feel free.”

His fingers flexed at my waist. “If you keep that up, my plan to seduce you is going to be postponed again.”

“Speaking totally for myself, I think your first plan worked out fine.”

The laugh that vibrated from his throat sent a quick shiver through me. Straightening, I met his eyes. “I think it’s my turn to seduce you. Only there’s a rule. You can’t touch me until I tell you to.”

He raised his brows at that.

Since he was still wearing his shirt, I pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms, trapping them. “No cheating.”

I bit into his lower lip, and his shudder had new flames igniting inside of me. Unable to resist, I crushed his mouth with mine, and my tongue tangled with his. This time, I had control of the kiss, and I tried to take my time, savoring his dark rich flavor.

But I wanted more—my body craved more—so I lifted my hips and lowered myself onto him again. I hadn’t thought it possible for him to grow harder or larger, but he did both. And the flames inside of me threatened to turn into a wildfire.

With a moan, Roman dragged his mouth away from mine. “We need a new condom.”

“Yes.” I glanced around.

“In my pants pocket.”

I lifted my hips, nearly groaning in disappointment when he was no longer inside of me. While I located the condom and removed it from the package, Roman, in spite of his “shackles,” managed to dispose of the old one.

I sheathed him then, treating myself to the feel of the hard length of him as I did. There was a part of me that wanted to linger—to taste, to savor. But there was an aching emptiness inside of me, driving me. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I straddled him and slowly sank onto him. Each second of my descent was a delicious torture until he completely filled me. Our mouths met then, hot and wet and hungry. And my hips began to piston up and down.

I heard the rip of his shirt, and suddenly I was beneath him. We rolled across the floor, into thin streams of moonlight and out. I was as desperate as he, my hands as greedy. If it was a battle, we were both winning. Finally, trying to keep a grip on my sanity, I rose over him again. His fingers dug into my hips as we found that perfect speed and rhythm. My vision grayed, but his eyes were locked on mine as the madness took us.


7

I STOOD ALONE in the open doorway of my balcony. In the distance, the Ionian Sea gleamed bright blue in the morning sunshine, but my thoughts were still trapped in memories of the night Roman and I had spent together. Just thinking about what we’d done to each other was enough to heat my skin and melt parts of my body.

The word insatiable had taken on a new meaning for me. I’d learned things about myself and about my appetites that had shocked me. And driven me to learn more.

Together, we’d been like greedy children gorging ourselves on forbidden treats. The sky had been turning light and birds had been chirping when we’d finally fallen asleep. My last thought was that I fully understood Shakespeare’s Juliet when she’d cursed the lark that heralded the dawn.

I’d taken some time in the bathroom to study myself in the mirror. The seeds of change I’d sensed in myself when I’d decided to proposition Roman for the second time at dinner had come to fruition during the night. I wasn’t the same Philly I’d been before I’d come to Corfu. Something about being here on this island had made me…what? Stop dithering and decide to grab what the Fates were offering. My lips curved. That’s exactly the way my aunt Cass would put it.

I realized now that I’d given up way too easily when I’d visited Roman’s hospital room a month ago. I’d believed his lie and run away. Maybe I’d still been running by coming here to Greece. But I wasn’t going to run anymore. I’d found exactly what I wanted.

I heard the sound of the tap stop and knew that Roman had finished shaving. I very nearly sighed. In a matter of minutes we’d leave the world we’d created during the night and have to deal with the day.

As if on cue, the young man from the beach suddenly stepped out of the woods and began to cut a diagonal path toward the villa. The white cat—Ariel—followed him. She was still very worried. And tired.

She seemed to sense my presence and glanced up at me. I calmed my mind, and once again the image of the white cat lying in the dark place filled it.

Caliban? I asked her.

Yes.

Then she disappeared from my sight beneath the balcony.

I sensed Roman’s presence even before he touched my shoulder and ran his hand down my arm to link it with mine. I tried very hard not to let the casual intimacy of the gesture soften something deep inside of me.

“Your cousin returns,” he murmured.

“Looks like.”

Alexi—if it was him—looked tired and even younger than he’d appeared to be through my camera lens. He was wearing a T-shirt and what seemed to be the same shorts he’d worn on the beach the day before. He’d covered half the distance to the hotel when Miranda rushed across the lawn to meet him.

“You can’t come in.” Her tone was hushed, urgent.

Roman drew me back from the edge of the balcony so that we were out of sight, but we continued to eavesdrop.

“Why not?” Alexi asked.

“Inspector Ionescu is here looking for you. I told him you hadn’t returned. His men are searching your room right now. And Mr. Delos’s room. It was just luck that I saw you from the kitchen window. Go.”

Alexi ran a hand through his hair. “Has Magellan filed another complaint that I’ve been hanging around his precious castello and poking around his caves? Delos was hanging out in those caves more than I was. And Magellan can’t press charges against me for trespassing on his precious estate. I haven’t been able to get past the gate. Only Ariel slips through. She’s trying to lead me to Caliban. I know it. But the guards won’t let me in.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Mr. Magellan. It’s about the man you were arguing with on the beach yesterday.”

“Delos?”

“Then it was you?” Miranda began to wring her hands. “I knew it.”

“So I argued with Delos. That’s not a crime.”

“He was shot. Killed. That’s why the police are searching his room.”

Alexi seemed stunned into silence—but only for a moment. “Well, I didn’t shoot him.”

“You were there. Your cousin Philly Angelis saw you through the lens of her camera. She says you shoved him, knocked him down. And you didn’t come home last night.”

“I spent the night looking for Caliban.”

“Inspector Ionescu must suspect you had something to do with Mr. Delos’s death.” Miranda sounded panicked.

“Mom, I didn’t shoot Mr. Delos.” Alexi’s tone had gentled and he placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “Sure, I argued with him. He told me he’d seen Caliban in one of those caves beneath the Castello, but he wouldn’t show me which one. He said he had to get back here and make a call because his cell wouldn’t work. I was angry. Furious. But I didn’t shoot him. C’mon, we’ll go inside and I’ll talk to the inspector. It’s going to be all right.”

The moment I heard the door to the villa close, I turned to Roman. “Miranda knew who the dead man was all along.”

“Yes.” Roman’s tone was thoughtful. “But she’s worried about her son and perhaps a bit overprotective now that he’s all she has left of her family. And Alexi evidently has a temper.”

Whatever else Roman might have said was interrupted when Ariel suddenly appeared on our balcony railing. Again I calmed my mind and opened it. At first, I felt only her emotions. Frustration and anxiety were foremost.

Help.

Caliban is injured?

The image flashed into my mind of the barrel of a gun smashing down on a white cat’s leg. “I think her brother’s leg is broken. That’s why he’s lying so still and he can’t get home,” I murmured to Roman.

Ariel sat very still on the balcony watching us both.

“She told you that?” Roman asked softly.

“Not in words. I saw him getting hit by the barrel of a gun. Whoever did it must have left him in one of the caves. And you heard Alexi say that Delos had seen him there—and just left him.” I felt a wave of empathy for my cousin and a wave of anger at the indifference of Delos. “No wonder Alexi shoved Delos to the ground. I might have done the same myself.”

Ariel was sending more images now. In some of them the light was better. It seemed to be coming from above. Once again I saw the white cat lying very still in dappled sunlight. In most of them Ariel was sitting beside him. In one she had a small animal in her mouth. As far as I could make out they were on some kind of ledge.

“She’s bringing him food, and there’s water there,” I said softly to Roman. “He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.”

Help.

“But she’s worried.”

A knock sounded at the door. Releasing my hand, Roman went to open it. “Good morning, Demetria.”

Over my shoulder, I saw Demetria beam a smile at him. “Mr. Angelis, Mrs. Kostas said to fetch you. Inspector Ionescu is here. He wants to talk with you.”

“We’ll be right there.”

I turned back to Ariel. I can’t come right now. I felt her frustration and disappointment so strongly that I nearly took a step back.

I tried to reassure her. I’ll come as soon as I can. I’ll lookfor you on the beach where we were yesterday. I pictured the crescent-shaped stretch of sand as clearly as I could in my mind. I hoped that she understood as she leaped to the branches of a nearby cypress tree and then disappeared.



AS IT TURNED OUT, Roman and I had to wait our turn to talk to Inspector Ionescu. When Demetria led us out onto the terrace, he was seated at the same table he’d used yesterday. It was located at the far end, isolated from the other tables. This time Alexi sat across from him. There were two men in uniform standing behind my cousin.

I didn’t think that looked good and said as much to Roman once Demetria had served us coffee.

“I agree,” Roman said. “Alexi is most likely the last person to have seen Delos alive. Add to that the fact that you saw him shove the victim to the ground moments before he was shot, and that elevates your cousin to the prime suspect.”

My stomach twisted and I set down my coffee without tasting it. “He didn’t have a gun.”

“Not that you saw. But he was carrying a backpack.”

I frowned at him. “You sound like you’re building a case against him.”

“I’m just trying to think the way a policeman would.”

I glanced over at Alexi. The table was far enough away that it was impossible to overhear anything. The inspector seemed to be doing most of the talking.

“Ionescu’s a smart man,” Roman continued. “He has to know that Miranda recognized the description you gave of the younger man on the beach. He probably suspects that she recognized the description of Delos also. Policemen get annoyed when they’re lied to. He’s not going to be happy with us, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I imagine you were right on the money and he Googled Kit Angelis the moment he got back to his office. Your brother and I don’t look anything alike.”

“I told you to tell him the truth.”

“You could have ratted me out.”

But I hadn’t. Instead I’d backed up his lie. “Do you think he’ll arrest us?”

Roman reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze. “I hope not. I called Kit yesterday when Ionescu was questioning you and gave him a heads-up about what was going on here. I also called my father. I imagine the inspector knows exactly who I am by now.”

Just then the inspector joined us. “Mr. Oliver, Ms. Angelis.”

The jig was obviously up. The moment Ionescu sat down, Demetria placed his coffee in front of him. He sipped it, then met Roman’s eyes. “Why did you lie about who you were yesterday?”

“Mrs. Kostas didn’t have any rooms. She was going to put me up somewhere in the village. Since she’s related to Philly, and I understand she’s had a very traditional Greek upbringing, I thought she might have concerns about my sharing a room with her. But I wasn’t about to let Philly stay here alone after someone took a shot at her.”

Ionescu turned to me. “You went along with the lie Mr. Oliver told Mrs. Kostas.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I met his eyes squarely. “Because I wanted Roman to stay with me.”

“I see.” He sipped his coffee, then asked, “Is the young man seated in front of my men the same person you saw arguing with the man in the wide-brimmed hat on the beach?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t know it was your cousin Alexi?”

“I’d never met him before. We still haven’t been formally introduced.”

Inspector Ionescu studied me for a moment as if he was weighing the truth of my explanation. I could feel heat staining my cheeks—I’d given him good reason to doubt my honesty.

“You’ve found out the identity of the dead man?” Roman interrupted.

Ionescu shifted his gaze to Roman. “Antony Delos. He was a guest here at the Villa Prospero for the past five days. His body was recovered by a fisherman early this morning about three miles down the coast. But I had already tracked his identity through his cell.”

“What have you found out about him?”

Ionescu paused to take another sip of coffee. “I know you are an astute businessman, Mr. Oliver. I also know you have powerful contacts here in Greece. This morning, I received several phone calls—one from a Detective Nik Angelis with the San Francisco Police Department, and another from Gianni Stassis. Both gave you glowing character references.”

“You know of Stassis?” Roman asked.

Ionescu shrugged. “We’re not quite so isolated here as you might think. He’s one of the richest men in Greece and he’s politically well connected. I dare say there are very few people in my country who would not recognize the name. I’d like to make a deal with you.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Normally, I don’t share information about an ongoing investigation. But in this instance, I’ll fill you in on what I know so far about Antony Delos on the understanding that you’ll share any information you can gather through Stassis and your other contacts.”

For a moment, Roman said nothing. Mentally, I urged him to make the deal. If indeed my cousin Alexi was a prime suspect, then we needed as much information as possible to help him.

“You believe that through Stassis I can gather information that you can’t?”

“What I believe is that you can access it more quickly.” He glanced at Alexi, then turned his attention back to Roman. “And because you have a family connection, I’m sure you can see the advantage of that.”

“You can’t believe that Alexi had something to do with Antony Delos’s murder,” I said.

Ionescu’s eyes, when they met mine, had the same flat expression that my brother Nik’s eyes always had when he was in cop mode. “What I believe doesn’t matter, Ms. Angelis. I have to go with the evidence.”

I swallowed hard when I realized that I’d supplied much of the evidence.

“Deal,” Roman said. “What have you found out about Antony Delos?”

“He used to work for Interpol, mostly on high-profile gem thefts. Five years ago, he went private. He was still doing the same work, but for insurance companies and even more frequently for the well-heeled victims of the thefts. I did a little checking. The last call placed on his cell was to Carlo Ferrante, an Italian billionaire whose villa in Tuscany was robbed of a fortune in jewels six days ago. Five days ago, Delos checked into the Villa Prospero. I don’t believe in coincidences, do you, Mr. Oliver?”

Something tightened in my stomach. Inspector Ionescu couldn’t suspect that Alexi or Miranda had something to do with the theft? I glanced over at my cousin again. He looked young and scared, hardly the picture of an international jewel thief.

Roman seemed equally unconvinced. “I remember reading about that jewel heist. The Wall Street Journal did an article on it complete with photos.”

Ionescu nodded. “I don’t know how detailed the article was, but the jewels have been in the Ferrante family for centuries, and they have an interesting history. Reputedly, they were part of a dowry when a Ferrante son married a French aristocrat in the fifteenth century. They’ve been passed down to the male heirs ever since. And this is the second time they’ve been stolen from Carlo Ferrante.”

“I don’t recall reading that,” Roman said.

“The first time, they were snatched from a museum in Belgium. Ferrante had loaned them out as part of an exhibition of medieval jewelry. Six months later, they were miraculously and anonymously returned to him by the thief. Ferrante returned the small fortune he’d collected from the insurance company.”

“Any idea of how Delos tracked the jewels to Corfu?”

For the first time since he’d seated himself at our table, the inspector smiled. “I’m hoping you can find out, Mr. Oliver. I couldn’t get Mr. Ferrante to take my call. But he might take a call from Gianni Stassis. Perhaps, you might be able to expedite matters on that front?”

“What’s in it for me?”

I stared at Roman. My contacts with him had all been social—either at my family’s restaurant or at our fishing cabin. For the first time, I was catching a glimpse of the cool, ruthless businessman I’d heard Kit brag so often about.

The blunt question didn’t bother the inspector at all. In fact, his smile grew wider. “For starters, I won’t mention to Mrs. Kostas that you’re not Ms. Angelis’s brother. I agree with you that she shouldn’t be alone until this matter is cleared up.” Then his expression sobered. “And the sooner we find out who shot Antony Delos, the safer Ms. Angelis will be.”

I was getting a little tired of being left out of the conversation, but before I could say anything, two men in uniform strode onto the terrace and came directly to our table.

“Someone searched Mr. Delos’s room before we got there,” the taller one said.

The other one wore gloves and lifted the rifle he was carrying. “We found this in Mr. Kostas’s room.”

Ionescu rose and moved to the table where Alexi was still seated in front of the other two policemen.

“Alexi, you’ll have to come down to the station with me.”

Miranda rushed over to her son, and I sprang from my chair to join her.

“You can’t think that he shot Mr. Delos,” I said to the inspector. “The man with the rifle was high up on the cliff face, close to the Castello. I can testify to that.”

The inspector ignored my outburst and I stood staring, horrified as the two uniformed men assisted my cousin to his feet and escorted him off the terrace. All of the breakfast conversation had stopped. Everyone was watching as Inspector Ionescu followed Alexi out of sight. Miranda started to weep softly, and I didn’t know what to say, what to do. It was Roman who went to her and simply folded her into his arms.

I felt my heart take a little tumble and that alarm sounded in the back of my mind again.



IT WAS NEARLY an hour later that Roman finished making calls. I inferred from eavesdropping on his side of the conversation that he’d asked Stassis to recommend a local attorney to represent Alexi. When I’d passed on that information to Miranda, it had done a great deal to settle her. Roman had even thought to call Kit and ask him to do research on Carlo Ferrante and both thefts of his family’s jewels. The man thought of everything.

In the meantime, the only thing I’d done was to hold my cousin Miranda’s hand and try to reassure her that Alexi would be home soon. Something that I was not at all sure of myself. Ever since he’d been escorted out of the Villa Prospero, questions had been spinning through my mind. What had he been doing with that gun? Why hadn’t he returned home until this morning?

I turned to Miranda and asked the question that only she could answer. “Why did you lie to Inspector Ionescu yesterday? You knew from my descriptions that I’d seen Alexi and Mr. Delos arguing on the beach.”

She slipped her hand from mine and clasped hers together. “I was so worried about Alexi. He hasn’t been himself since Caliban went missing. He loves those cats so much. They were a gift from his father shortly before he died.” She turned to me and met my eyes. “Alexi’s all I have left.” Then she lifted her chin. “But he wouldn’t shoot anyone. He doesn’t even have a gun.”

What she said made sense to me. The young man I’d seen on the beach had acted impulsively out of anger. And from what I’d learned since then, with good reason. But whoever had shot Antony Delos had chosen a spot on the cliff side and taken careful aim.

Unless… Questions erupted in my mind again. What if Alexi’s absences from the Villa Prospero hadn’t had anything to do with the missing Caliban? What if he’d been involved in something else altogether? Guilt flooded through me. I hadn’t even formally met Alexi and I was suspecting him of somehow being involved in a major jewelry theft.

Seeing that Roman had finally repocketed his cell, I asked, “How long will it be before you hear back from Stassis?”

Roman shrugged. “Hard to tell. I asked for a private meeting with Carlo Ferrante.”

My eyes widened.

“Might as well ask for the moon. Ionescu wants to know why Delos came here the day after the robbery. I’d like to know that, too.” He shifted his gaze to Miranda. “What can you tell me about Antony Delos? What kind of a guest was he?”

A line appeared on Miranda’s forehead as she considered. “I thought of him as an ideal one. Quiet, kept to himself. He ate breakfast early, always requested a packed lunch, and he’d be gone for the whole day, exploring the island. When Caliban disappeared, Alexi asked him to keep an eye out for him. Mr. Delos agreed. I don’t understand why anyone would want to shoot him.”

“Did he ever mention why he came here? Why he chose the Villa Prospero?”

Miranda shook her head.

Roman looked at me. I noted that he hadn’t mentioned anything about the jewel theft to Miranda. But why do that if it wasn’t necessary? It would only make her worry more. Roman might be ruthless in his business dealings, but there was an innate kindness about him that had my admiration for him rising even higher.

“Ferrante might very well have some information about what brought Delos to the Villa Prospero,” Roman said. “But Stassis is going to have to call in some favors. Apparently, Ferrante’s eccentric and a bit of a recluse. It may take a while, and in the meantime, we wait.”

“Alexi is going to be so worried about the cats,” Miranda said. “He’s so sure that Caliban is still alive, that he’s trapped somehow in one of the caves beneath the Castello.”

“He is alive,” I said. “But his leg is injured. He can’t move, but Ariel has been bringing him food, and there’s water.”

Miranda blinked and stared at me. “How do you know?”

“Philly has a psychic gift with animals,” Roman explained. “She can communicate with them.”

“You talk to them?”

“Something like that,” I said. Miranda’s tone was skeptical, but I was used to that kind of reaction.

Then she frowned and pressed her fingers against her temples. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Your father and Helena told me how special powers ran in your mother’s family. He told me about your ability. But I’d forgotten all of this…”

When she dropped her hands to the table, I covered one of them with mine. Then I filled Miranda in on everything else that I’d learned from Ariel.

Miranda nodded when I’d finished. “Alexi says that she disappears through the gates of the Castello or over the wall. Some of the caves are reputed to have two entrances—one on the cliff side and another farther up the hill. He’s so frustrated that Mr. Magellan won’t let him onto the estate to look for the second entrance. And Mr. Magellan is furious with him.”

I recalled the scene I’d eavesdropped on when I’d first arrived at the Villa Prospero.

“He’s filed several complaints against Alexi,” Miranda continued. “He has all the caves posted with No Trespassing signs. They’re dangerous because when the tide comes in many of them fill with water and escape becomes impossible.”

“What was Mr. Delos’s relationship with the cats? Did they get along?” Roman asked.

A small line appeared on Miranda’s forehead as she considered. “Now that you mention it, he always took the time to talk to them.”

“Did they ever go off with him on his explorations?”

“They may have. I didn’t pay much attention.”

I turned to Roman. “I need to find Ariel. I promised that I would try to meet her on the beach where we were yesterday.”

This was something that I purposefully hadn’t mentioned to him earlier to give him less time to argue. I kept my eyes on Roman’s, trying to make my case. “It was about this time yesterday when she was down there with Mr. Delos, and they’d evidently been in the caves. If Miranda is right and there’s more than one entrance to the cave Caliban is trapped in, we should check it out.”

“I don’t like the idea of visiting the beach where someone tried to shoot you yesterday.”

“Why would the shooter expect me to come back? And if we don’t find Ariel, we’ll leave.”

“Until we know more about what’s going on, it’s too dangerous.”

I rose, meeting his eyes steadily. “I’m going to the beach. I promised Ariel I would come.”

Finally, Roman nodded, and I felt as if I’d just won a major negotiation.

Miranda rose as we did. “I’ll pack you something to eat just in case you miss lunch.”

I was about to tell her not to bother, but she was already hurrying away.

“She’s an innkeeper,” Roman murmured. “She’ll feel better if she makes us something. And she needs things to do to keep her mind off of Alexi being at the police station.”

I studied him for a moment. “Were you born with an innate knowledge of people or did you acquire it at Oliver Enterprises?”

His lips curved and he reached out to trail just the tips of his fingers down my arm. The touch was so gentle, nothing like the way he’d touched me during the night, but I felt the warmth right down to my toes. “A little of both, I suspect. You can’t stay in business very long if you don’t know people. Just as you couldn’t build your clientele if you didn’t know animals.”


8

ON THEIR FAST DESCENT to the beach, Roman decided that Philly wasn’t exactly the girl he thought he’d known for years. There were unexpected layers to her that he hadn’t noticed before. The temper for one thing. He found that he enjoyed watching her struggle to rein it in. And she had a steely determination that he’d evidently blinded himself to before. He’d seen it in her eyes when she’d told him she had to go to the beach—he’d known that she would have gone without him.

But he’d also experienced that single-minded determination up close and personal when she’d seduced him last night. He wasn’t sure how he’d allowed it to happen. He should have been able to keep his hands off of her—he’d had seven years of practice. Seven years to learn to live with the dull ache of always wanting her. Seven years of telling himself she was too young for him.





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