Chapter One #3
But somewhere between the certainty he’d felt a few weeks ago and his arrival here, his subconscious had begun to question his decision.
Chiara wasn’t perfect but nor was he. The words high maintenance came to mind.
But if he didn’t have the resources to indulge her, who did?
Besides, he admired her work ethic. She, like he, had been born to privilege, but she’d worked hard, primarily as a model then as an entrepreneur, to build her own enviable corporate success.
She even met his criteria for blue-eyed blonde beauty.
More importantly, she was completely honest and upfront. She wanted a family and a partner she could trust and respect, to build a life with.
She was exactly what he wanted according to every measure.
Releasing his breath in a huff of exasperation, he peeled off the last of his clothes. He was dining with her tonight and refused to meet his bride-to-be in this mood.
He’d get in some exercise first. That always helped him clear his mind, or at least clarify the issues bothering him.
Satisfied with his plan, he slid open a vast glass door and headed for the sea.
He didn’t bother with swim shorts or a towel.
The island was deserted and he’d sluice off in the outdoor shower he’d seen from the bedroom.
* * *
Panos stopped for a breather, feeling the warmth of well-used muscles and the deep even beat of his pulse. He flicked water off his face as he straightened to tread water.
From here the island looked improbably beautiful.
Palm trees curved out over the pale strip of sand, in a fantasy of an island paradise.
Further along the beach a few lights glowed in what he assumed was the main building with its renowned restaurant.
The centre of the island rose sharply to a dark hill that made it more exotic than a flat sand atoll.
There were no motor boats. No engines. He heard birds in the verdant greenery, calling as they settled to sleep, and the soft lap of waves on sand.
He breathed deeply, feeling calm surround him. Even the caress of the silky water soothed. As for his concerns about Chiara, they’d lessened as he swam.
Perhaps it was just a case of nerves, given Panos’ determination to get this right and not repeat past mistakes.
Satisfied, he was about to swim to shore when he saw someone move further down the beach.
She’d been sitting in shadow at the base of some palms. He was close enough to know it was a woman but not near enough to see her features. She bent to towel her long hair before tossing it over her shoulder.
Panos was turning away when something about the movement caught him square in the ribs. He heard air rush into his mouth in a hiss that ended in a splutter as he forgot to keep moving his feet, his mouth sinking below the waterline.
The woman must work at the resort. Her dark hair could mean she was local.
But something about her made him stare. Already her hair was drying in riotous curls.
And there was something about the way she held herself, tall and confident, her skin gleaming in the last of the light, that seemed familiar.
His heart thudded as recognition feathered his skin, burrowing deep inside and making his stomach curdle.
Impossible. It couldn’t be her.
She’d never worked in a resort. It was a far cry from her previous job.
The woman was too far away and the light was dim.
He was imagining things, probably because he’d been mulling over past errors of judgement and second-guessing his choice of Chiara.
That was it. His imagination was working overtime, turning a stranger into the ghost of someone he’d once known.
His mouth twisted.
But you didn’t know her, did you? You thought you did but you were wrong. She had you eating out of her hand. You weren’t thinking with your brain or anything like logic.
Relief filled him. The explanation was simple and rational. He’d had her on his mind. She was the salutary lesson that had set him on his current course.
Seeing another woman with dark curly hair, lush curves and a narrow waist, it wasn’t surprising he’d think of her.
Yet as she slung her towel over one shoulder and turned, the undulating sway of her body as she walked through the soft sand dried his mouth. His brain buzzed in what felt like recognition.
Then she was gone, disappearing into trees.
Panos was swimming to the shore before he’d even thought about it, covering the distance in a sprint. As he strode out of the shallows, his chest heaved. He told himself it was due to exertion, nothing else.
Yet as he felt sugar-fine sand beneath his feet he halted.
He was naked. Did he intend to follow the woman and accost her? Scare the life out of a chambermaid or chef?
Panos Diamandis didn’t act rashly. He didn’t let his imagination run away with him and he certainly didn’t chase after strangers. He was logical, calm, in control.
He was also due to have dinner with his fiancée.
Slowly he turned to walk back to his accommodation. He’d see Chiara and the last of his doubts would disappear. And with them the illusion that the ghost of his past had reappeared.