“So why straighten it?”

She shrugged. “That was the fashion then.”

“And you always do as fashion dictates, do you, Gemma?” Suddenly there was an edge in his voice. An edge she didn’t understand.

“Excuse me?”

But his attention had returned to the frame cupped in his hands. “Are these your parents?”

“Yes.” Gemma moved closer until she could also see the three figures in the photo. Dad was staring sideways at Mandy, while Mum smiled into the camera.

“Your mother’s pretty. I can see her resemblance to you-and where the red hair comes from.”

“Her name is Beth. She’s really easygoing, despite the red hair.” Yet despite Mum’s normal placidity she’d been vocal in her opposition to Gemma coming back to Strathmos to confront Angelo. Mum had been worried, had begged Gemma to leave the past behind. But Gemma couldn’t. She had to know…

“And your father looks so proud of you. Who’s your mother smiling at?”

Gemma closed her eyes as a sharp burst of memory slivered through her of that sunny day in her parents’ suburban garden against the foot of Pigeon Mountain in Auckland. She could remember the scent of the damask roses. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back. She could remember Mandy laughing-

“I don’t remember,” she said tonelessly.

Something in her eyes must have alerted him to her confusion and pain because he came swiftly towards her. “Hell, of course you don’t. And I’m a stupid idiot to ask such questions.”

He was so close that Gemma could smell the scent of his skin overlaid with a tangy aftershave. A hint of amber, of musk…and something else.

Arousal.

A chill shot through her. No! She scuttled backward and collided with a chair jutting out from under the bench top and would have tripped if Angelo’s hand hadn’t shot out and stopped her from falling.

“Hey!” He yanked her upright. “Are you okay?”

His eyes were a rich turquoise, the colour of the sunlit sea with no hint of black or grey. The thick brows above were pulled into a frown and Gemma read concern.

She could almost believe-

Damn! She broke free with a sharp twist. She recognized the sensation that unexpectedly flooded her. Recognized its warmth, its seductive danger-and it scared her spitless.

She swallowed, her mouth dry.

She’d been convinced that her hatred would fortify her against this attraction, like a talisman against evil. So how was she supposed to deal with an Angelo she was beginning to like? Underneath the playboy exterior lay a complex man who was so much more than the media portrayed. She was even starting to doubt that he was the selfish manipulative lover Mandy had described.

“Are you okay?” he repeated.

“I’m fine,” she said, and gave an elaborate yawn. “Just tired.”

He got the hint but after he’d left, she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.

Gemma was surprised when she looked out into the audience on Saturday night to see Angelo seated with a crowd of people at a table in the front of the Electra Theatre. Three women, all beautiful, and two men.

None of them were eating.

They must be here only for the show. She almost stumbled over her next line, recovered and then sang on, trying very hard not to look in their direction again.

She made it through the show without another stumble. By the time she got to the dressing room, Angelo was waiting.

“Come, there are people I want you to meet.”

“I’m tired.” It was an excuse. A lie. She was too wired to sleep.

In the end she convinced Angelo to let her shower and change and agreed to meet him at his penthouse-a huge space with black leather furniture and modern artwork and an endless expanse of glass that Gemma realised must showcase fabulous seaviews in the daytime.

The crowd turned out to be Angelo’s cousins Zac Kyriakos and Tariq bin Rachid al Zayed and three women; Zac’s new wife, Pandora, and Zac’s sister, Katy, and their cousin, Stacy.

“We thought we’d surprise Angelo,” Zac explained. “His birthday needed celebrating.”

“You should feel honoured, Angelo,” Pandora said darkly, “I braved a helicopter flight for you.”

Angelo gave her a hug. “Thank you for coming. All of you.”

A late-night meal had been arranged buffet-style on the sideboard. Grilled calamari, prawns on long elegant skewers and oysters on the shell. Spears of asparagus, slivers of capsicum, sticks of cucumber and sliced fruit added colour beside the seafood.

“Help yourself,” Angelo told Gemma, setting down a glass of white wine on the low table beside the sofa on which she sat.

“I will.” She threw him a smile and he surprised her by leaning over and brushing a kiss across her brow.

“A toast.” Zac raised his wineglass. “To Angelo and many more birthdays.”

They all echoed it and Angelo reciprocated by lazily raising his glass and proposing a toast to Pandora and Zac. Which led to Pandora suggesting that it was time for another wedding. A horrible silence followed.

“Don’t look at me,” Tariq grated. “I’m no advertisement for marriage.”

Gemma assessed him. He stared back. She detected suspicion in his golden gaze. He was gorgeous in a stern, hawk-eyed kind of way and wore a long, flowing thobe-although his head was bare-that suited his air of command. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened with his wife.

After dinner there was a large marzipan-iced cake, with candles for Angelo to blow out. Gemma grinned at him and decided to spare him another rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

“Speech, speech,” called Pandora. “Zac, agapi mou, come and sit.” Pandora patted the cushion beside her. She was blonde and beautiful in a wistful kind of way.

Zac landed beside her and, pulling her onto his lap, he growled. “Don’t call me my love in that fake way.”

“Phony was what I said. Not fake.” Pandora started to giggle and gave him a look brimming with love and humour, telling Gemma this was a very private joke.

“Ignore them,” Katy advised, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. Gemma noticed that Katy had lines of strain around her eyes. “Pandora is the only person I’ve ever met who can put my overbearing brother in his place.” Katy looked around with a frown. “Now, where is Angelo? Ah, getting out of making his speech and catching up with Tariq in the kitchen. Look at them, they must be talking about women.”

Gemma noticed how close the men stood, both serious, their heads together. “I take it Tariq’s marriage is unhappy,” she murmured softly.

“They’re separated. I think the experience totally put him off women,” Katy confided.

Gemma started to wonder what these forthright women would say about her later.

Katy seemed to read her mind. “Relax, we like you. Almost as much as Angelo does. Otherwise you wouldn’t be getting the inside gossip.”

“Angelo doesn’t like me,” Gemma protested.

“Mmm…maybe like isn’t a strong enough word. We’re not going to ask what happened between the two of you in the past-”

Pandora clambered off Zac’s lap and came to stand beside Gemma. “Except that we hope you had a damn good reason for two-timing-”

“Hush. We agreed that was none of our business.”

“It is none of your business,” Stacy said, entering the conversation. She glared at the other two women.

Gemma stared at the three of them, bemused.

And then Angelo was beside her. “Are you okay?”

She turned her head. “Shouldn’t I be?”

He perched beside her and slung an arm around her shoulder. “My family can be a little overwhelming at times.”

Pandora and Katy started to laugh. “Come,” said Stacy, “give them a break.”

Later Angelo saw her back to her unit. The night was cool but there was no rain. The fact that the wind had died down meant that they could hear the hiss of the sea. “I think your family may have the wrong impression about us…me,” Gemma said.

The lamps that edged the walkway shed enough light for her to see his eyebrows jerk up. “Why?”

“They seem to think that we’re an item. And Katy didn’t even seem worried that we’d broken off in the past. Although, I did detect some reserve from Tariq.”

“He thinks I’d be mad to take up with you again.”

“Oh?” The image of their heads close together in the kitchen came back to her. “You talked about me?”

“Tariq talked. He thinks you’ll betray me again. Break my heart.”

Gemma wanted to object. To deny that she’d ever do such a thing. Just in time she remembered that he thought she was Mandy. And Mandy had always been a flirt, a heartbreaker. So she drew a deep, steadying breath and asked, “So what did you say?”

In the shadows she could feel the force of his regard. “That I never loved you, so you never broke my heart. And it won’t happen this time around, either.”

Seven

Angelo and his family all left Strathmos on Sunday. Gemma heard the beat of the blades of the helicopter departing just after noon, but didn’t realise that Angelo had gone until she found the note in the backstage pigeon hole where her mail was delivered.

Back next Sunday. See you then.

That was all. He hadn’t even signed it. But she knew without doubt who had sent it.

Later she heard that he’d gone to Athens, that he’d be flying on to the resort at Kalos for a series of hush-hush meetings about a new opportunity he was investigating. Gemma had expected to feel relief at his absence, a cessation of the tension that twisted within her. But instead there was only an unfamiliar emptiness inside her.

Gemma suspected she was headed for heartbreak. Angelo had made it clear last night that there was no chance that he would ever love her. So she’d better take care to guard her hollow heart.

Gemma took one of the bicycles that the resort made available to the staff and guests and cycled down to Nexos, the small fishing village or xorio, not far from the resort.