Read Online The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel by Lucy Gordon - Free Book Online

but now she had to be honest with herself. An evening spent talking, beginning to open their hearts, should have led to a night in each other’s arms, expressing their closeness in another way. And only now that it was being denied to her did she face how badly she wanted to make love with him.
    ‘Will you be here when I get back?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, I’m staying for a while.’
    ‘I’ll call you.’
    ‘We’d better go,’ she agreed. ‘You have to be on your way.’
    ‘I’m sorry—’
    ‘Don’t be,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’s been a long day. I was fighting to stay awake.’
    She wondered if he would actually believe that.
    When they reached the Lukas villa the great gates swung open for them, almost as though someone had been watching for their arrival. At the house he opened the car door and came up the steps with her. She looked up at him, curious about his next move.
    ‘Do you remember that night?’ he asked gently. ‘You were such an innocent that I made you go to bed and saw you to the door.’
    ‘And told me to lock it,’ she recalled.
    Neither of them mentioned the other thing he’d done, the kiss so soft that it had been barely a whisper against her lips—a kiss without passion, only gentle concern and tenderness. It had lingered with her long after that evening, through days and weeks, then through years. Since then she had known desire and love, but nothing had ever quite erased the memory of that moment. Looking at him now, she knew why, and when he bent his head she longed for it to be the same.
    He didn’t disappoint her. His lips lay against hers for the briefest possible time before retreating, almost as though he’d found something there that disconcerted him.
    ‘Goodnight,’ he said quietly.
    He left her before she could react, going down to the car and driving away without looking back, moving fast, as though making his escape.
    ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered.
    It was only when he was out of sight that she remembered she hadn’t asked him how he’d known her phone number.
     
    Petra soon found that her hours were full. Her reputation had gone before her, ensuring that several societies contacted her, asking her to join their excursions or talk to them. She accepted as many invitations as possible. They filled the hours that passed without a word from Lysandros.
    One invitation that particularly attracted her came from The Cave Society, a collection of English enthusiasts who were set on exploring an island in the Aegean Sea, about twenty miles out. It was a mass of caves, some of which were reputed to contain precious historical relics.
    Nikator was scathing about the idea, insisting that the legend had been rubbished years ago, but the idea of a day out in a boat attracted her.
    ‘Mind you, the place I’d really like to see is Priam House, on Corfu,’ she told him. ‘Is it true that Lysandros owns it?’
    He shrugged. ‘I think so.’
    She was mostly free of Nikator’s company. He spent much time away from home, leaving her free to explore Homer’s magnificent library. Sometimes she would take out a tiny photograph she kept in her bag and set it on the table to watch over her.
    ‘Like you watched over me when you were alive, Grandpa,’ she told the man in the picture, speaking in Greek.
    He was elderly, with a thin, kindly face and a hesitant smile. When he was alive that smile had always been there for her.
    He had told her about her father, which Estelle hadn’t been able to do very fully. And he’d shown her pictures, revealing her own facial likeness to the young man whose life had been cut short.
    But there had been another likeness.
    ‘He had a hasty temper,’ Grandpa had said sadly. ‘He didn’tmean to be unkind, but he spoke first and thought afterwards.’ He’d looked at her tenderly. ‘And you’re just the same.’
    It was true. She was naturally easy-going, but without warning a flash of temper would come streaking out of the darkness, making