‘Do I like...what?’ Her voice sounded so thick and hoarse. She cleared her throat but knew it wouldn’t help.
‘The yacht.’
‘Oh.’ She nodded. ‘Yes.’
His grin showed white teeth. She jerked her head away, but it didn’t help. His image was seared into her eyeballs. His proximity made her pulse go haywire.
‘Are you going swimming?’ The question sounded so prim! She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could be effortlessly cool and unimpressed.
‘If you’ll join me.’
She glanced down at the dark ocean. It was a warm day but the idea of jumping off the back of the boat didn’t appeal to her. He lightly pressed a finger to her elbow then ran it down her forearm, teasing her flesh before taking hold of her wrist and lifting it, pointing towards the top of the yacht.
‘Up there.’
Closer inspection showed that the top of the yacht had deck chairs, and she could only surmise a pool at its centre.
‘You don’t think we should be getting back?’ They’d been on board for half an hour. ‘Just to see the city from a distance.’
‘Max is fine. Francesca’s with him.’
Dimitrios was right; Annie knew that. Her desire to return to the safety and space of his house had nothing to do with Max and everything to do with the fact she was finding it almost impossible not to obey her body’s increasingly demanding needs.
‘I don’t have any bathers.’
‘There are plenty in the bedroom. Come. I’ll show you.’ He caught her hand once more, pulling on it gently so she collided with his naked chest. Her breath burst from her lips. She stared up at him, her pulse hammering hard, his eyes boring down into hers speculatively.
‘Or you could swim without.’ The words were said low and deep, a husky invitation that had her knees quivering.
She swallowed a groan, but found she couldn’t deny how tempted she was. Apparently, he took her silence as a rebuke, because he squeezed her hand. ‘Relax, Annabelle. It was a joke.’
Disappointment seared her. She wanted to tell him she was fine with going naked, that it was no big deal to strip out of her clothes and let him see her as she was, but something held her back.
‘How come you call me Annabelle?’ She blurted out the question instead, causing him to frown.
‘It’s your name, right?’
‘I mean, when everyone else calls me Annie.’
He lifted one shoulder. ‘Maybe I don’t like to be the same as everyone else.’
Fat chance, she thought with a smile. Dimitrios Papandreo could never be like anyone else on earth, ever.
He began to walk across the deck and into a window-filled corridor, and she fell into step beside him. A bedroom came off it to one side, but not like any bedroom she might have expected to see, had she put any thought into such matters. No, this room was spacious and decorated more like a bedroom in a five-star hotel than on a boat. An enormous king-size bed sat at its centre, a huge mirror framed in pale timber hung behind it, and there was cream-coloured carpet underfoot. The furniture was Scandinavian in style, and a huge wardrobe boasted a selection of clothes—male and female. A wisp of jealousy breathed through her, unmistakable and sharp. Who were the clothes for? Who’d worn them?
‘I had a selection sent here after your shopping trip in Sydney,’ he said, as though he could read her thoughts. She moved closer and saw that, as with the wardrobe selection then, these had their tags still attached.
It was so thoughtful and unexpected, though it shouldn’t have been. If she knew anything about Dimitrios, it was that he was prepared for anything.
‘I like to have stuff at each of my places,’ he explained. ‘Saves having to pack much when I travel.’
She reached for one of the dresses, feeling the silk fabric beneath her fingertips, her lips twisting in a smile that was bittersweet. ‘Exactly how many homes do you have?’
‘Singapore is my home,’ he said, surprising her by coming to stand right behind her. ‘But I have properties around the world, mainly in the places we do the most business—London, Madrid, Tokyo, New York, Paris, Dubai, Sydney.’
Her head was spinning.
‘Did you come back to Sydney often after—’ She forced herself to finish the question, though she wasn’t sure where it had come from. ‘After that night?’