his grandson so that your sister won’t have to face the type of man she married?”
“The boy isn’t Creon’s son, and you know it!”
Ginny sighed, suddenly feeling tired to the point of numbness. “This conversation is getting us nowhere. My business is with Damon’s grandfather. Please take me to him.”
“Not until you agree to my proposal.”
“What proposal?” she snapped. “So far all I’ve heard is you pontificating about things you know nothing about.”
“Jason and I have discussed this, and we’ve agreed that we will say that you’ve brought the boy to Greece to see me.”
“You!” Ginny’s eyes widened as a powerful flood of tangled emotions twisted through her. Pretend that she had been Philip Lysander’s lover? That she had lain against his naked body? That he had kissed her and... Ginny swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth.
“That way people will assume that the boy—”
“Damon,” Ginny corrected. “His name is Damon.”
Philip ignored her. “...is mine, and Lydia will be protected from gossip.”
“No!” Ginny’s instinctive denial seemed to echo around them. She didn’t want to be close to this man. To even pretend to be close. He made her feel very unlike herself, and until she was absolutely certain that her unusual reaction to him was caused by tiredness and worry about Damon and Beth, she didn’t want to risk further exposure to him.
“No,” she repeated in a level tone of voice.
“Then I won’t take you to see Jason.” Philip gave her a smug look that made her want to smack him—hard—and that worried her almost as much as her body’s strange response to him. She was not a violent person. She had nothing but contempt for people who thought that violence was an acceptable form of self-expression.
But thinking about hitting him was not the same thing as doing it, she rationalized. Thinking about it was nothing more than a safety valve for explosive feelings.
Making a valiant attempt to block Philip out of her mind, Ginny stared down at the floor at her feet and tried to think. Despite her best efforts back in New York, she had been unable to locate Jason Papas’s home address. Even Beth had had to send her letter to his company’s headquarters here in Athens. And while she could visit his company, she very much doubted that his employees would be willing to tell her, without his consent, where to find him.
So if she refused to go along with Philip’s charade, then her chances of locating Jason weren’t good. And her trip to Greece would have been a waste of time. Ginny winced at the thought of having to go back to Beth and tell her that she hadn’t even been able to speak to Jason.
Having come so far, she couldn’t fail Beth now. And it wasn’t as if she were some young, naive fool to be overawed by a sophisticated man of the world like Philip Lysander obviously was. She was a highly intelligent, experienced, professional woman of thirty-two. She could cope with him. Even if her weird reaction to him didn’t fade after a good night’s sleep, she could still cope.
“Very well.” Ginny got to her feet. “I will allow the masquerade to stand, but I refuse to tell a direct lie to anyone about who Damon’s father is.”
Philip gave her a scathing look. “Spare me the claim to ethics.”
“I’d just as soon spare you, period! Having anything to do with you wasn’t my idea.”
To Ginny’s shock, Philip suddenly grabbed her and yanked her up against him. She hit his chest with a thump. It was like hitting a wall—hard, with no give whatsoever. Ginny took a deep breath to ask him just what he thought he was doing, but it proved to be a mistake. Her lungs were immediately inundated with the subtle scent of a men’s cologne that made her think of soldiers and horses and...
“Stop it,” she muttered, not sure if she was talking to her own wayward body or to him. Both of them ignored her.
His arms tightened around her, molding her slender frame to his hard curves and making her excruciatingly aware of the basic differences between their bodies.
Ginny looked up at him, and he quickly took advantage of her movement to capture her mouth. His lips were warm and pliable as they pressed against hers. His tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip, and Ginny shivered violently at the sensation.
The urge to open her mouth was overwhelming, but it was the very intensity of her reaction that set off alarm bells deep in her mind. Shoving her hands between them, she tried to push him back, but he didn’t budge. She tried to wiggle out of his arms, but the sharp prickles of pleasure that tore through her as her breasts scraped across his chest distracted her, and he took advantage of her hesitation to bind her even closer to him.
Ginny could see lights flickering behind her closed eyelids as if her exploding emotions were finding a physical release. Lights that... Flashbulbs! She suddenly identified the lights. Someone was taking pictures.
Her eyes shot open, and she found herself staring into Philip’s gleaming black eyes. Wrenching her gaze away, she saw a thin man with a large, professional-looking camera hurrying away from them.
“Who was that, and why did you kiss me?” she demanded, operating under the old adage that a good offense is the best defense.
“One of the paparazzi who hang around the airport and take pictures they hope to sell to the scandal sheets.”
And he’d kissed her to give added weight to the lie that he was her lover and Damon’s father, Ginny realized in dismay. What had she gotten herself into?
Suddenly realizing that she was still pressed up against Philip’s warm body, Ginny hastily stepped back and stumbled over her purse, which was sitting on the floor.
Philip grabbed her, steadying her for a moment against his hard frame. It was long enough for her body to react with a growing sense of urgency.
Desperately, Ginny tore herself out of his grip.
“I’m tired after that long flight.” She muttered the first excuse that came to mind.
“Next time, pick a victim a little closer to home!” Philip snapped as he bent to pick up Damon’s car seat.
As he lifted it, the blanket that had been partially obscuring the child’s face fell back, and an uneasy feeling washed over Philip as he got his first clear look at the child. The boy had the same inky black hair and dark complexion that Creon had had. As he did himself, Philip reminded himself. There were millions of men with dark hair and dark complexions in Greece. That didn’t prove anything.
“Come on,” he flung at Ginny as he headed toward the doors.
“What about my luggage?” Ginny hurried to match his long stride. “And don’t swing that car seat around.” Her voice sharpened. “I don’t want Damon to wake up.”
“I had a porter fetch your luggage and put it in my car.”
So she’d been right. He had deliberately left her waiting, Ginny thought in annoyance.
Knowing that nothing she could say about his unconscionable behavior would bother him, she wisely said nothing, contenting herself with glaring at his broad back as he marched out the door.
She wasn’t the least bit surprised to find his car parked in a no-parking zone. Nor was she surprised to find that no one had done anything about it. Philip was clearly the type of man it wasn’t safe to cross. But someone should have done so long ago, she thought grimly. He’d have developed into a much nicer person if he’d been thwarted occasionally.
Well, it was never too late for him to learn and, while it wasn’t a job Ginny would have normally chosen, she was fast coming to the conclusion that she would be doing her fellow man a distinct service if she were to teach Philip that the whole world didn’t dance to his piping.
Ginny