Wife For A Night Read online

  The envelope was plain, of good quality and addressed simply to 'Katarina'.

  As she tore it open a small wad of banknotes and a single folded sheet of paper dropped on to the blanket. Baffled, she put the money aside and unfolded the letter. It said simply,

  Sorry to rush off. Urgent business in Thessaloniki.

  Road open, bill already paid and your car repairs organised. Left you cash for emergencies. Philip.

  A wave of disappointment swept through her. Well, what did you expect?

  she asked herself savagely. A proposal of marriage? No, not that, she admitted, but something. Some indication that he too had felt that powerful current of attraction and understanding between them, just as she had. An

  invitation to dinner, a request for her address at the dig. Something. But it hadn't happened.

  'You're on your own now, Kate Walsh,' she said aloud. 'And don't you forget it.'

  Three days later Kate was moping on the terrace of a house in Nyssa. All around her was the controlled chaos typical of the headquarters of an archaeological site. Four of the local Greek women were washing potsherds in large plastic bowls of soapy water, a couple of Australian girls were sorting pottery fragments on a wire- mesh table, and a lanky young man was balanced on top of a ladder, struggling to tie a plastic canopy over the vine-clad pergola. Kate herself was half-heartedly drawing a large pottery bead, but her thoughts kept straying. Now that the photos were finished there was really no reason for her to stay on any longer. She simply must make a decision either to look for another job or go home to Australia.

  Philip Andronikos had gone out of her life as abruptly as he had entered it, and she knew perfectly well that she would never see him again. So why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

  'Kate!'

  'Yes?'

  Kate looked up idly as one of the other team members called her. Naomi had tired of sorting pottery and was flicking through a glossy American magazine.

  'What did you say was the name of that Greek chap who rescued you on the mountain?'

  'Philip. Philip Andronikos.'

  Strange how even saying his name should send that odd thrill of excitement through her!

  'Is this him? Look, there's a photo here of some filthy rich Greek hotel developer, and the name is exactly the same. I suppose it's just a coincidence, but wouldn't it be funny if it was the same guy?' 'Let me see.'

  Naomi lounged across the terrace and set the magazine down on the table.

  For a moment the world seemed to stand still. With a shock of pleasure and recognition Kate saw Philip's dark eyes glaring back at her from the photo, as if the photographer's intrusion had enraged him. Then shock of a different kind assaulted her. For Philip's hand was resting on the arm of a glamorous, dark-haired siren of a woman, and underneath the photo was a casual but devastating caption.

  Hotel magnate Philip Andronikos and his beautiful fiancee Irene Marmara enjoy Sunday brunch at the Athens Hilton hotel. Rumour has it that Andronikos, who recently completed a new luxury hotel in the Halkidiki region, has plans for even greater expansion after his marriage. He is believed to be on the brink of venturing into a complex project involving vineyards, agricultural estates and tourist units in the Sithonia peninsula...

  For an instant Kate stood perfectly still. There was a roaring noise in her ears, and the chatter of the Greek women seemed to recede into the distance.

  So that was it, she thought. A fiancee tucked away in the background. No wonder he vanished over the horizon before I even woke up! And now I'll never see him again. She wanted to cry, rage, scream. But to her amazement she heard her voice, light and careless, answering Naomi's question.

  'Yes, that's him,' she agreed. 'How amazing. I really had no idea that I was mixing with the rich and famous.''Do you want to keep the magazine as a souvenir?' asked Naomi.

  Kate looked at it as if she had been offered a tarantula. Then she rose to her feet and strode across the terrace, conscious only of an urgent need to escape before she burst into tears.

  'No, you keep it,' she said in a muffled voice. 'After all, Philip Andronikos means nothing to me and I'll be moving on pretty soon. I want to travel as light as I can.'

  As she neared the door of the house she collided with the archaeology student Andrew Cameron, who was just descending from his ladder. His bony hands shot out to steady her, and his narrow freckled face creased into an expression of concern.

  'Careful, Kate,' he urged. 'Hey, are you all right? You look awfully pale.'

  'Just a slight headache,' lied Kate.

  'Are you sure? Well, could you hold the ladder steady for me while I tie the next section of plastic down? If we get another downpour like we had last week the pottery will be soaked.'

  'All right,' agreed Kate.

  She was gripping the rickety metal ladder firmly when Andrew suddenly gave a low whistle.

  'There's another poor fool who's taken a wrong turning,' he said, craning his long neck out from the edge of the grape arbour. 'You'd better go and flag him down, Katey. Tell him it's a cul de sac and he'd better turn around here while he can. Nice car, too.'

  Kate opened the gate obediently and jogged down the path. Heading off unwary tourists who became lost in the mazj of Nyssa's back alleys was all part of the day's work, and it was better than sitting around brooding. But, as she reached the bottom of the path and began to wave at the oncoming car, her legs suddenly turned to jelly. For there was something ominously familiar about that glossy white vehicle. Not to mention the man who was now climbing out of it. He stood still for a moment, tossing his car keys thoughtfully between cupped palms, and gazed at her with a hungry, appraising look. Then he strode along the rocky verge of the roadside and came to a halt in front of her. Reaching out his hand, he tidied a straggling auburn curl back from Kate's cheek and smiled down at her.

  'So how's my wife?' he asked teasingly.

  'Don't joke about it!'

  Kate was surprised to hear the angry, ragged edge to her voice. Philip's eyebrows drew together in a frown.

  'I thought you'd be pleased to see me,' he said reproachfully. 'Perhaps I'm wrong, but I thought there was a special closeness between us on Sunday night. Didn't you feel it too?'

  Kate sensed hysteria mounting in herself. She clenched her hands so hard that the nails dug into her palms, and gave a short, brittle laugh.

  'Yes, well, I believe that's quite common for disaster victims,' she said coolly. 'It's something to do with being thrown in at the deep end together, I suppose. But the disaster's over now, isn't it?'

  'I see.'

  His voice was suddenly cold and almost hostile. Instinctively Kate moved back a step, but with a swift movement he came towards her and seized her by the shoulders.

  'What are you playing at, Katarina?' he asked softly.

  She glanced up and saw a knot of interested watchers on the terrace. Naomi, Marion and Andrew. Too far away to hear what was said, but close enough to be avid onlookers.

  'Philip,' she begged shakily, 'please don't make a scene about it. Yes, there was something special between us, but there's no future in it. You know that as well as 1 do.' Do I?' he demanded sardonically, tightening his grip on her shoulders. 'What do you think I came here for, then, Katarina?'

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andrew leave the group on the terrace and come loping down the path. Her throat constricted as she felt Philip's urgent fingers pressing into her flesh and saw his dark eyes blazing down at her with an unreadable expression.

  'Oh, Philip, I don't know!' she exclaimed desperately.

  'Don't you?' he insisted.

  He looked down at her with an expression of such intense yearning that her bones seemed to melt inside her. For one insane moment she was tempted to fling herself into his arms, fiancee or no fiancee. But somehow she stayed calm enough to shake off his hold and step back. She looked at him out of cool green eyes and shook her head mutely.

  'I came because I couldn't g
et you out of my mind,' said Philip urgently.

  'There is something so fresh and lovely about you, Katarina. I hated to think I might never see you again. Can't we at least have dinner together and talk?'

  Kate hardened her heart against the naked warmth in Philip's brown eyes and a slow rage began to mount inside her. How dared he say such things to her when he was engaged to another woman?

  'No, Philip. There's no possible future in it,' she said curtly.

  'Why not?'

  She wanted to say 'Because you're marrying another woman', but the words stuck in her throat. She knew she would burst into tears if she uttered them.

  Then suddenly Andrew was beside her. Tall, brown-haired, good- natured Andrew, whom she had known since she was six years old. Andrew, who was like a second brother to her.

  'Is everything all right, Katey?' he asked, laying a bony hand on her shoulder.

  His gaze darted searchingly from Philip's angry, brooding face to her pale, distressed one. Then suddenly, to his astonishment, Kate put her arm firmly around his waist.

  'Andrew, I was just explaining to Philip that I can't have dinner with him because you're my boyfriend,' she babbled nervously.

  Andrew caught the imploring note in her voice and his arm tightened round her shoulder.

  'Oh—er—yes, of course,' he said. 'Still, I appreciate all you've done for her, Mr Andronikos. My name's Cameron, by the way. Andrew Cameron. We were all worried sick about Kate when the earthquake hit. It was good of you to look after her so well.'

  Andrew put out his hand. For an instant Philip regarded it with a hostile frown. Then, slowly and reluctantly, he put out his own. Kate felt an obscure pain as she watched the two men shake hands, overcome by a sudden vivid memory of Philip's deft fingers caressing her face and lifting her mouth to his. Frantically she broke into speech again.

  'Yes, well, it was nice of you to call and see how I was getting on, Mr Andronikos, but, as you can see, I'm just fine,' she said hastily. 'So if there's nothing else...'

  Her voice trailed away under the intent stare of those smouldering brown eyes.

  'Oh, but there is something else, Miss Walsh,' rejoined Philip. 'I have a business proposition that I want to discuss with you.'

  'Business proposition?' echoed Kate in bewilderment.

  He inclined his head briefly, without ever taking his eyes off her face. She began to feel like a small bird trapped in the hypnotic gaze of a cobra. The word 'proposition' rang loudly in her head like the clang of a cash register.

  'What kind of a proposition?' she asked nervously.

  A gleam of amusement lit his angry features.

  'I want you to take some photos for me. If you'd like to dine with me this evening I'll explain it all to you,' he promised.

  Kate felt a pang of yearning, followed by an even sharper pang of apprehension. What sort of game was Philip Andronikos playing at? Did he see her as a gullible foreign tourist, who might be lured into a brief affair

  with him? Worse still, would he offer to set her up in a luxurious flat as his mistress? Was that how the jet-set behaved?

  'I-I'm sorry,' she stammered breathlessly. 'I...I'm having dinner with Andy tonight.'

  Philip shrugged indifferently.

  'I'm sure Mr Cameron will excuse you for once,' he countered. 'Shall we say eight o'clock?'

  He was already turning his back and striding down the hill, so that Kate had to run after him, her feet slipping and sliding in the tiny stones on the edge of the path.

  'But I said no!' she exclaimed indignantly.

  Philip turned back, his features composed into the resolute mask of a man used to getting his own way.

  'Oh, but I won't take no for an answer,' he said softly. 'Mr Cameron, see that she comes tonight, won't you? I think she'll find the assignment congenial, and my terms are very generous.'

  Ten seconds later he was behind the wheel of his gleaming white Saab, manoeuvring smoothly out of a tight corner and away down the road.

  'Phew! What was all that about?' demanded Andrew, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair.

  'Don't ask!' retorted Kate savagely. 'Honestly, I could choke that man!'

  Andrew grinned. 'That was obvious,' he agreed. 'Now how about explaining it all to an innocent bystander?'

  'Oh, Andrew, you don't want to know!' groaned Kate. 'Anyway, I'm not going tonight. I'd rather have dinner with a Bengal tiger!'

  'Hey, now wait a minute,' said Andrew in a puzzled voice. 'I don't understand this. I've known you since we were six years old, Kate. And, right from grade one, you always wanted to be a photographer. Even when your family gave you all that flak about getting a steady job, you still stuck to your guns and did what you wanted. Now a chance comes up which might be the biggest break you're ever likely to get and you're telling me you won't take it? Why the hell not?'

  Kate twisted her hands together and shrugged.

  'I can't explain,' she said miserably.

  'Is it because you don't think your work will be good enough?' asked Andrew.

  Kate swallowed, feeling her throat tighten.

  'Not exactly,' she said despairingly. 'Although it probably won't.'

  Andrew seized her by the shoulders.

  'Kate, you've got to stop this nonsense,' he urged. 'You're always putting yourself down. I know it's because your family always made you feel that you were no good unless you became a lawyer and earned pots of money or at least got a steady job of some kind. But the truth is that you're terrific at what you do. You're a really talented photographer, but it's tough being a freelancer and you have to take every opportunity you get. So, if you're worrying that this Andronikos chap won't like your photos, then take it from me: he'll love them.'

  'It's not really that,' admitted Kate with a ragged sigh. 'It's something... a bit more personal.'

  'Did he make a pass at you the night of the earthquake?' demanded Andrew.'Not exactly,' replied Kate. 'But I'm afraid he might try it on tonight.

  And he's engaged to somebody else, Andy!'

  'Oh, for heaven's sake!' cried Andrew. 'Of all the pathetic excuses! If he didn't have his wicked way with you when you were alone on a mountainside you ought to be pretty safe in a restaurant surrounded by dozens of other people. Now come on, Katey, pull yourself together and get ready. You're going!'

  'You really think I should?' asked Kate uncertainly.

  'Of course you should. You'd be mad if you didn't!'

  'I suppose you're right,' admitted Kate reluctantly.

  Well, the only question now is what do I wear?'

  By the time Philip arrived at eight o'clock Kate was as well-dressed as her limited resources allowed. Feminine to the core, she did not want to appear in the same jade-green skirt and blouse that she had worn on the evening of the earthquake. Even if she had no intention of allowing Philip Andronikos to seduce her, she wanted him to realise what he was missing out on. Feeling that the honour of the dig was at stake, the other women rallied around to produce a very presentable outfit. Not an easy task in a place where formal dress meant jeans without paint-stains and an army shirt without holes! But somehow they achieved it. Dark-haired Naomi, who was as slim as Kate, produced a cherry-red cocktail dress with a frilled hem and a low-cut neckline. Charlotte contributed an opal pendant on a gold chain, Marion combed up her hair and Silvana did her make-up. When at last Philip's firm, confident knock sounded at the front door Kate was sure she looked her best. Yet somehow her heart was beating a frenzied tattoo as she unlocked the heavy front door.

  'Hello,' she said huskily.

  Philip was silent for a moment, staring back at her with an elusive smile playing around his lips. Although he wore an impeccably tailored dinner suit, she was still conscious of a hint of wildness about him. Somehow the powerful shoulders seemed to strain against the dark fabric of his jacket, while his alert, watchful stance suggested the grace of a jungle cat. He might be masquerading as a conventional businessman, thought Kate wit
h a

  tremor of excitement, but underneath he's completely primitive. The kind of man who will do and say whatever he likes.

  'I've missed you,' said Philip frankly.

  Kate flushed.

  'Since this afternoon?' she demanded with deliberate lightness.

  'No. Since we spent the night together,' he replied.

  'Philip, please don't!' she begged.

  'As you wish, Katarina. But sooner or later we will have to discuss it. Is this your shawl on the hall-stand? I thought we'd eat at Porto Carras, if that suits you.'

  'Yes, of course,' said Kate stiffly.

  Porto Carras was a luxury tourist complex on the west side of the Sithonia peninsula. Kate had driven past it on several occasions, but had never expected to set foot inside it. In other circumstances she would have enjoyed the drive to Porto Carras. It was a fine, cool night, and the moon was spilling its milky radiance across the dark waters of the Kolpos Kassandras. But, after their opening skirmish, Philip Andronikos seemed to feel no need to engage in meaningless small talk, and Kate's few attempts at conversation soon petered out. On the whole it was a relief when the journey came to an end and they saw the lights of the luxury hotel at Porto Carras loom out of the darkness on their left.

  'It looks like an ocean liner, doesn't it?' commented Kate.

  'Exactly,' agreed Philip. 'Even more so in the daylight with that enormous superstructure. Personally I prefer the lower, more traditional style of Greek building. But the concept behind this place is excellent. It's not just a tourist complex, but a whole miniature economy for the people of this region.

  Vineyards, olive groves, fishing, you name it. And I think you'll find the restaurant and the views are excellent too.'

  He was right on both counts. An impeccably groomed waiter showed them to a table overlooking the sea, and Kate gazed round her in awe. Huge gilt mirrors flanked the dining-room, the dance-floor had been polished till it shone like glass, the musicians were resplendent in traditional Greek costume and the table was a work of art. Candles flickered on either side of an arrangement of white iceberg roses, and their glowing light was reflected from crystal goblets, heavy silver cutlery and Wedgwood china. And, although they had an excellent view of the dance-floor, a screen of potted Kentia palms shielded them from the gaze of other diners. Philip seemed to accept all this luxury as his natural ambience, and he sat back in his chair with the air of a man who was completely at home.