Claire watched out the window of the BMW as it sped out of the congested city and into the Grecian countryside. The road wound up dry hills, past vineyards and olive orchards. All too soon, Antonio turned into a wrought iron gate, and everything changed.

Carefully groomed grounds rolled past. Flowering plants rioted under olive trees. She’d never been to the estate, but she couldn’t pull her attention away from the gorgeous man sitting beside her and the way his hands had rested lightly on the steering wheel of his luxury car.

He parked in front of a sprawling mansion that looked to have at least three floors. Columns bracketed both sides of the double front doors and balconies opened up from the upper floors. She glanced up, a little overwhelmed, and got out. Water splashed behind her in a fountain and the fragrance of flowers carried to her.

Antonio got out of the car and strode to the trunk that he’d popped open. “You have your choice from ten bedrooms—well, eight if you leave out my sister’s rooms. We have two swimming pools—one indoor, one outside—a tennis court, stables, and the staff will see to anything you wish.”

She glanced at him. She hated to ask, but she had to. “And your room?”

“I live in the city.”

She reached for her luggage. He did as well. Their fingers touched and a shiver chased over her skin. She pulled back and tucked her hands under her arms. Glancing at Antonio, she watched him lift out her luggage. Under his white shirt, his shoulders worked, muscles flexing. Her mouth dried.

Turning from him, she looked at the house. “Seems a big place.”

“My father has…had bigger. He loved houses. They were his hobby. This one was a bombed out nightmare that he restored.”

Claire looked at him. She pulled her purse higher up onto her shoulder. Her head was spinning slightly and little dark spots floated across her vision. Before she knew it, Antonio had hold of her elbow. She tried to wave him off. “It’s just jet lag.”

He gave a nod. “Come on. I’ll get you settled. You have time for a nap, but no more. You want to switch to our time as soon as possible so I’ll have a maid wake you for dinner.”

She stiffened and resisted his tug. “There you go again, giving orders.”

Antonio frowned but he let go of her. “Will you please grace us with your company for dinner?”

“Us?”

“My sisters will be home this evening.” He ran up the steps and opened the front door. She followed him and stepped into a massive foyer. A pink marble floor stretched out to a curving staircase. Marble columns reached to the second story. Flowers stood in a massive vase on a round rosewood table.

“Gaia?” Antonio called out.

An older woman—Gaia obviously—came out from a side hall. Gray streaked her black hair, which she wore pulled back. She wore a conservative, black dress, and she gave Claire a measuring look from shrewd, black eyes.

“Gaia, this is Claire Bennett. She’ll be staying with us.”

Eyes narrowing, Gaia offered a tiny smile. Claire had the feeling Gaia had heard of her. She gave a nod, and Gaia turned to Antonio. “She should have the blue room. Your father would have put her there.”

“Dad would have put me outside the front gate,” Claire muttered.

Gaia gave no sign she had heard. She clapped her hands and two strapping young men appeared. Both wore black T-shirts and black trousers. One took Claire’s luggage and the other headed to the front to the car.

Antonio waved him away. “I’m going back to the city, but we’ll be eating in tonight.”

“Very good. Will your sisters be in as well?” Gaia asked.

“They should be.”

“No worries.” Gaia started up the stairs. Claire didn’t see any choice but to follow. She started up, but glanced back down to see Antonio watching her. She stopped and met his stare. What was he thinking?

“I’ll be back by six.” Antonio gave her a smile and strode out of the house.

Claire heard the car engine roar and then fade away. She shivered. She really was tired, but why shouldn’t she get at least a little enjoyment out of this trip. She followed Gaia upstairs to a bedroom painted in pale blue and hung with darker blue drapery. The windows opened out onto the garden, and Claire glimpsed the pool, sparkling in the sunlight.

“Will you take lunch?” Gaia asked.

“No. No. We ate in the city.” She winced. That sounded like she was on good terms with Antonio. Gaia put Claire's bag on the bed and started to open it, but Claire stepped forward. “Please, I can do that.”

Gaia straightened. “And, please, you must allow us to provide for you—that is our job. We have had few guest of late—Mr. Rosso was ill for so long.”

Seeing a chance to get some information, Claire asked, “Was he?”

“Cancer.” Gaia unzipped the bag and began to unpack. Claire was glad for once that she’d packed light—and carefully. “A terrible thing. He hid it from the family for as long as he could, but all the staff knew he was not well.”

Claire sat on one of the overstuffed chairs. She rubbed her neck, and asked, “Antonio mentioned a pool—well, two pools. Do you think I could nap by one? A swim would loosen my muscles, too.”

Gaia turned, hands folded in front of her. “Of course, miss.”

“Call me Claire, please. I take it you’ve been with the Rosso family a long time?”

“Years. I came with Mrs. Rosso when she married. Ah, such a lovely woman. She died too young. A car accident. The girls look very like her, but Antonio is more like her personality.”

“Stubborn? Bossy?” Claire put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. My mouth always gets away from me when I’m tired.”

Gaia smiled. “No, that is just what Mrs. Rosso was like, too. Also, very persistent. She was the only one who could wear down Mr. Rosso—she won every argument. Now I will lay out a towel for you at the poolside. If you go back to the main floor, go left and down the hall. The French doors at the end open to the pool. I will bring you some tea, yes?”

“That would be great.”

Fifteen minutes later, Claire had changed into her black one-piece suit. She slipped her feet into sandals and headed downstairs. The pool stood in the middle of a garden area, partly shaded by tall cypress. Three cabanas also provided shade and seating. A towel and a silver tea set with both hot and iced tea had been placed in one of the cabanas. Toeing off her sandals, she headed for the pool and dove in. The cold water took her breath. She surfaced, sluiced the water from her hair, and smiling up into the sunshine. After a few laps, she climbed out of the pool and headed for the cabana. She dragged a chair into the sun and stretched out.

Gaia stepped out from the house with a tray of food. “This is fourta ke yaourti—a Greek fruit salad for you—to keep up your energy.”

“Gaia, it looks wonderful.”

“Efkharisto.” Gaia put down the tray and folded her hands in front of her. “Do you stay long in Greece?”

Claire shook her head. She probably shouldn’t gossip, but she had wanted to get information from Gaia, so an exchange seemed only fair. “No, I don’t plan to.”

She debated about telling the woman how Antonio had tricked her into—there was something about the older woman that invited confidences. Maybe it was just that she seemed interested, with her dark eyes and easy smile.

“Antonio said you would be dining in—do you have any special requests for dinner?”

Claire shook her head. “Nothing fancy. Whatever you were planning to cook is fine with me.”

“You will swim some more?” Gaia asked. She glanced at Claire and gestured to her arms. “You will need to be cautious, or you will be getting sunburned. You are not accustomed to our sun.” With a nod, Gaia headed inside.

Claire ate some of the fruit and then retreated to a lounge chair inside the cabana. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift, but Antonio kept coming to mind.

She’d met him years ago, in the Athens airport—she’d literally had fallen into his arms. Her sandals had been new and the soles slick, causing her to slide across the floor. She’d landed in a heap of arms—Antonio’s arms. He’d held her—the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes upon, his hands strong on her, his eyes as blue as the Aegean Sea. She’d gasped in shock, her skin tingling—but she hadn’t wanted to let go of him.

She gave a sigh. All that had changed—he’d been the man she’d never forgotten. But now that he was back in her life, she didn’t know what to do with him, or with his marriage proposal. Why couldn’t life ever be simple?

* * *

“Claire?” Antonio was calling to her. His voice rough and full of need.

She smiled and shifted. They’d been walking along the white sand beaches of Elafonissi on Crete, and Antonio had dragged her to the sand with him. He’d covered her mouth with his, his hands roaming over her body. He’d stripped away her swimsuit—or it had vanished somehow, and his skin pressed against hers, hot and wet. He slipped into her with ease and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. She gave a small moan.

“Claire?”

His voice had sharpened, but why was he calling for her if she was next to him? She reached for him, but suddenly he wasn’t there. And she could hear the harsh echoes of Matthias Rosso’ mocking laughter.

Sitting up, she knocked Antonio’s hands loose from her shoulders. She blinked and put a hand to her head. She had been dreaming.

Dreaming about making love on the beach with Antonio.

He stood over her, smiling. She almost wanted to put a hand over her swimsuit, but it wasn’t like it was a skimpy one-piece. It was, however, wet between her thighs. She could smell her own arousal—and she hoped he thought it was tanning lotion. He was eyeing her as if she had nothing on—and as if he knew of her dreams. “I came home early, and Gaia told me you were out here. She figured you had probably gotten enough sun for one day.”

Claire blinked. She pulled her towel around her waist. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long. Do I have time for a shower before dinner?”

“Take all the time you want. I’ll meet you in the drawing room for drinks.”

Tugging her towel tighter, she ran for her room. Inside, she leaned on the door and closed her eyes. That dream had been so real—so…so wonderful. She had remembered how strong Antonio had felt with his body covering hers—how skilled he’d been at making love.

Opening her eyes, she shook her head. “You are not falling for him,” she said, but she didn’t know if she could keep to that. And she didn’t add the word—again.

She showered and changed into a pale-blue cotton dress. She brushed out her hair and left it loose and long, and dabbed on some makeup. She pulled a face at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t doing this for Antonio—no, she just wanted to look good in case his sisters were at dinner. And that was it.

Heading downstairs, it took a couple of tries to find the drawing room. She poked her head into a library first, then a study which tempted her since it looked a masculine refuge and she thought it might be Antonio’s room. Finally, she found him in a large, gracious room with cream walls and gold drapery. French doors opened onto a terrace that overlooked the garden. Large, comfortable chairs in floral patterned upholstery dotted the room, and two portraits hung next to each other opposite the French doors.

Antonio stood near the paintings, mixing drinks at a bar. He glanced up when she entered. “Gin and tonic?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You remembered.”

“Of course.” He handed her a drink.

She took a sip—mixed perfect, with just the right amount of lime—and gestured to the portraits. “I recognize your father. Is that your mother?”

Antonio picked up his own drink—a martini, judging by the triangular shaped glass—and nodded. “She died when I was very young. The girls don’t even remember her.”

“She was beautiful.”

“Yes, she was. My father—I don’t think he ever got over her death.”

Claire stared up at the portrait. He looked both younger and less harsh in the painting—much more like Antonio. She glanced at Antonio. “I don’t really know what your relationship was like with him before he died, but I’m sure everything he did in his life was intended to be for the best.”

“And it so rarely turned out that way. We are the perfect example of that.” Antonio was silent for a moment, and then he trailed the fingertips of one hand down her arm lightly. “I know Matthias believed that if I fell in love with you and married you, he would end up losing me and he couldn’t let that happen. He wanted me to do as he wanted…and he was horrible to you. I am sorry for that.”

“We were both pretty young back then.”

“You were pretty—I was just young.”

Smiling, Claire glanced at the portraits again and moved a step away. She had to—Antonio’s touch was driving her nuts. She wondered if Matthias would have been a different man if his wife had lived. A happier one, and perhaps less controlling? She looked at Antonio. “But that doesn’t really forgive him for what he did. What a mess he’s left you!”

Antonio put down his drink and took her hand. “Right now, I don’t want to think about him, or talk about him.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I want to kiss you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you walked into that conference room.”

“That’s a really bad idea.”

“Why so bad? There is no one to tell us no.” Antonio held her gaze. He leaned closer. He smelled of warm musk and sandalwood. He skimmed his hand down her throat. Dipping his head, he covered her lips with his and nibbled on her bottom lip.

Claire tried not to respond, but she might as well have asked her heart to stop beating. The touch of his lips against hers had her clenching her hand around her drink glass. She shouldn’t…but oh, he tasted so good.

She parted her lips, and that seemed to break the dam. Antonio wrapped a hand in her hair and deepened the kiss. He explored the depths of her mouth with his tongue. His free hand caught her by the waist.

The ice in her drink rattled and that woke her from the waves of pleasure stealing her senses. She stepped back and told him, “I can’t do this. I—”

Antonio put a finger on her lips. “I’ll keep my distance if that is what you want. For now, let us eat.”