CHAPTER THREE
Jacy sang as she rushed around the small apartment making sure everything was perfect for the intimate dinner for two she had planned. A quick look in the oven ... yes, the fillet of lamb was almost cooked to perfection. Straightening, she glanced out of the window; it was already dark but even at night the view was spectacular. The apartment was one of a block of four perched halfway up the hill-side above the bay of Paleokastritsa, and the twinkling lights below, the moon on the water, all added to her sense of wonder at the paradise she had found herself in—and the man who had made it all perfect...
Leo would be arriving any minute, she thought happily as she walked back into the living-room. It was a simple room: white-washed walls and one or two pictures of the island added for a bit of colour. A large, comfortable sofa-bed, a couple of chairs and a coffee-table—the minimum of furniture needed to equip an apartment to be rented to tourists, but still she loved it.
The past three days had been magical; from the afternoon on Leo's boat when he had made her his, she had been living in a rosy glow of love. A soft, reminiscent smile curved her full lips. It had been night by the time they'd finally upped anchor and made for the harbour, after spending hours making love. Leo was everything she had ever dreamed of. A tender, sensitive lover and an expert teacher.
By the time they had finally reached the harbour, Jacy, confident in his love, had jumped from the boat and following his instructions had helped him tie it up. Unthinkingly she remarked, I think I will make a great fisherman's wife,' and his laughing reply, 'I'm sure you will, Jacy,' had only confirmed her happiness.
Jacy frowned slightly; the only cloud on her horizon was her mother. She had rung England earlier today and spoken to her. There were only four days of her holiday left, and it had seemed only fair to tell her mother that the chances were she would not be returning home, or going to university in September—because of Leo. Unfortunately, her mother's reaction had not been enthusiastic. She had responded by telling Jacy that her father was at present in England, and she'd better get home and discuss the future with both of them before doing anything rash. Jacy hadn't quite had the nerve to confess that she was already committed body and soul to her Greek fisherman.
The banging of a car door wiped the frown from her forehead, and with a leap of her pulse she dashed to open the door. 'Leo.' She said his name, her eyes drinking in the sight of his tall, hard body that was dressed casually in cream pleated trousers and a cream polo-shirt. He lounged elegantly against the door-frame, and in one hand he carried a bottle of champagne, in the other a bunch of gorgeous yellow roses.
'Golden flowers for a golden girl.' Leo smiled down at her, then, bending his head, he brushed his lips lightly across hers.
Her breath caught in her throat. He was so handsome and somehow different from the laughing fisherman she had fallen in love with: more mature, sophisticated. If she hadn't known better she could have quite easily mistaken him for a debonair man-about-town. She shook her head, her long golden hair shimmering in the half-light. She was being fanciful; it was her Leo, and tonight she was sure would be a milestone in their relationship.
Her feminine intuition was working overtime: surely tonight he would formally propose? She took the flowers he offered and, suddenly inexplicably shy, buried her face in the sweet-scented blooms.
'Thank you, they're beautiful,' she murmured huskily.
Putting his arm around her shoulders, Leo chuckled. 'Be careful, sweetheart. Don't forget the thorns. I would hate to see your lovely face spoilt.'
Lifting her head, she beamed up at him. 'So you only love me for my looks?' she teased. In the security of his embrace, she felt the most treasured, the most loved girl alive.
'Well, maybe not just your looks—-your body has an awful lot to do with it,' he drawled with a lascivious grin.
Their joined laughter set the tone for the evening. They ate in the kitchen, by candlelight; two lovers in a world of their own, joking and laughing in between eating the typically English meal that she'd prepared: roast lamb, mint-sauce, and roast potatoes with Yorkshire pudding plus a selection of vegetables.
'What are you trying to do to me?' Leo groaned, a lazy smile twitching the corners of his sensuous mouth as he laid down his spoon, having finished the final scrap of cold summer-pudding. 'Get at my heart through my stomach?'
She grinned back. 'Would you mind?'
'No.' He looked surprised. 'No, I don't think I would.' He was silent for a moment, his dark eyes narrowed assessingly on her young face before, with an impatient gesture, he pushed back his chair and jumped up. 'Come on, let's finish this bottle in the living-room.'
Jacy had an uneasy feeling that something had upset him, so she meekly picked up the two glasses and followed him through into the other room. But she quickly dismissed her fears as Leo, reclining on the sofa with his long legs stretched out in front of him, beckoned her into his waiting arms. She placed the glasses on the coffee-table and curled up beside him, welcoming the warmth of his arm around her naked shoulders. Tonight she had worn the only dress that she had with her: a slim blue fine jersey sheath that tied with a draw-string between her breasts—more a beach dress than anything else, but when one's only luggage was a haversack there was no room for fancy clothes.
'You're quiet, sweetheart—something wrong?' Leo murmured, nuzzling her ear.
'No,' she sighed. 'I was just wishing I had a wardrobe of beautiful clothes to beguile you with.' She chuckled, lazily running her small hand over his broad chest. 'All you've seen me in so far is a bikini, or shorts and trousers, and...'
'My darling girl-' his mouth slid down over the soft curve of her neck, and lower '—I don't care what you wear—in fact I prefer you naked any time.' His teeth pulled at the draw-string bow between the soft curves of her breasts.
Jacy looked down at his dark head resting on her breast and, lifting her hand, stroked her fingers through the thick black curling hair of his head, delighting in the silky feel, the subtle scent of him, all male... and all hers. 'Time is an
other problem,' she murmured faintly.
Leo raised his head. 'A problem?'
'Yes.' And, taking her courage in both hands, she told him, 'The girls will be back any day now, and my ticket back to England is for Friday, in three days' time.' The thought of leaving Corfu and Leo terrified her. 'I don't want to leave you,' she blurted. With one slender finger she traced the outline of his eyebrow, the strong line of his nose, and around the generous curve of his mouth that could delight her in ways she had never thought possible. She loved him with all her heart, mind and body, and, leaning forward, she pressed her mouth to his, her tongue darting between his strong teeth. She wanted him; God, how she wanted him...
Leo allowed her to take the initiative for a moment before folding her tight in his arms, his tongue meeting and moving with hers as the kiss deepened into a flaring of passion so intense that liquid heat flooded Jacy's body and she burned with need. Her hands curved around his neck, her fingers tangling in the night-black hair of his head while Leo lifted her legs across his lap and laid her back against the sofa.
'Don't go, then,' he muttered thickly as he broke the kiss, his strong hand stroking down over her breast, taking the bodice of her dress with it. 'Stay here with me.' His fingers found her tender nipple and rolled it between thumb and forefinger. His brown eyes, gleaming with growing desire, captured hers. 'You want to. You want me,' he said hardly. 'You know you do.'
His hand at her breast, the darkening glitter in his eyes, and the heat of his hard body against her promised everything. It was what she had been longing to hear. He wanted to marry her.
'Oh, yes, Leo. Yes. I want to spend my life with you.' She felt the tremor through his huge body at her words; his hand fell from her breast and, as if in slow motion, he leant back to stare down at her flushed, beautiful face.