The Santorini Bride - Anne McAllister

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It was the truth, just not all of it. “Look,” she said wearily, “as much as I would love to stand here and chat with you, I’m really bushed. I don’t sleep well on planes and I’ve been up for over thirty-six hours. I need some sleep.”

      And without waiting for his approval—in fact, half expecting him to grab her by the arm and haul her downstairs—Martha turned her back on him and headed for her bed, falling into its welcome softness and breathing deeply in relief.

      Behind her there was silence.

      And more silence.

      And then finally Theo said, “Okay. You can sleep it off. Take a nap. I’m going out for a sail. But I’ll be back tonight, kiddo,” he warned. “And when I get here, you’d better be gone.”

      Theo muttered as he left the house. He muttered all the way down the hill and in the dinghy as he rowed out to his sailboat. He’d just begun to breathe easier in the last few days, relieved that no one on Santorini seemed to know about that damned article. Women still flirted with him, which was fine. But these at least hadn’t been peering in his windows and rubbing up against him in bars.

      He’d started to think he’d get his life back.

      And now this!

      He was overreacting, of course, and he knew it. But it had been a shock to hear the door open and discover his fortress had been breached.

      “Damn woman,” Theo muttered irritably now as he hoisted the mainsail, then cast off the mooring line.

      Damned attractive woman with her wind-blown tangle of hair and her flushed face and her wide brown eyes. His hormones had registered that, even as his brain had resisted.

      He wasn’t interested, and she wasn’t his type! Martha Antonides was too young. Too prickly. Too opinionated. Too wholesome. Too…irritating.

      He liked women—a lot—but he preferred to be the hunter, not the hunted. Since that article had been published he’d begun to feel like a deer on the first day of hunting season. The hordes of women who had dogged his steps for the past six months were not to be believed. He certainly wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand!

      He’d been confident the initial frenzy would wear off—a nine-day wonder, he’d assured himself. But he hadn’t counted on low hard news, and wire services hungry for something to spice up their pages.

      Especially when a couple of former girlfriends had decided it was in their best interests to gain publicity by kissing and telling.

      Of course it would blow over eventually. Who, after all, was really interested in his marriageability—besides his mother? Someone else he’d been avoiding.

      When he’d returned to New York long enough to win the sailboat race for his father, Theo had deliberately avoided going out to the family home on Long Island.

      He loved his mother, but he didn’t need her input into the mess that was his life. She was always ready to meddle.

      “Offer suggestions,” she called it.

      In this case he knew exactly what suggestion she’d offer. “Get married, Theo. End of problem.”

      But it wouldn’t end the problem, Theo knew. He’d been married once—not that his mother knew it. And it hadn’t ended his problems at all. It had simply created more.

      Now, older and wiser, Theo knew that marriage wasn’t his style. Relationships weren’t his metier. He was perfectly happy playing the field—as long as the field wasn’t overcrowded and the women understood the rules.

      He was glad he’d made sure Little Miss Jet Lag understood she wasn’t moving in. She might not have known about the article, she might not have come because of it, but he didn’t want her there getting ideas!

      He was sorry she’d come all this way for nothing. But there were lots of guest houses on Santorini. So what if the ones available at the last minute weren’t likely to be at quite the level of homey comfort she was used to. Too damn bad. If she didn’t like it, she could go back to wherever she’d come from.

      It was her problem, not his.

      The ferry from Crete was just coming into the harbor. Tourists hung over the railings and waved and shouted. Plenty of them were gorgeous, eager women. And not one of them, God willing, knew he was here.

      Breathing a sigh of relief, Theo cranked in the jib and smiled as the boat heeled away from the wind and picked up speed.

      Turning his back on the ferry, he headed out of the harbor and put everything else out of his mind.

      It was dusk when he got back. The tavernas were all lit up and music throbbed from half a dozen small nightclubs and cafés. The quay was crowded with holidaymakers, laughing and jostling and some even dancing. Two or three even wanted to dance with him.

      Theo smiled and shook his head. Equanimity restored, he could look at them dispassionately now. Sometime in the near future he might even take some lovely lady up on it.

      But chatting up some woman seemed more effort than it was worth tonight. He was tired and so he kept going, climbing the steps that led up the hillside, looking forward to a cold beer and a shower and a soft bed.

      He climbed the winding stairs to the front door—and stopped dead at the sight of Martha in the window, crossing from the living room toward the kitchen.

      Equanimity evaporating, Theo thundered up the last dozen steps, pushed open the front door and headed straight for the kitchen after her.

      “Listen, I thought I told you—”

      “Theo!” A sultry Scandinavian-accented voice came after him from the living room.

      Theo jerked around. A tall slender blonde woman—every man’s dream, he’d thought when he’d first met her—opened her arms wide as she glided toward him.

      “Agnetta?” It wasn’t really a question. And Agnetta was no longer a dream—she was a nightmare. If there was any woman he wanted to see in his living room less than he’d wanted to see Martha Antonides, it was Agnetta Carlsson.

      But before she could reply, another younger woman appeared as well. “Theo!” She ran across the room to throw her arms around him.

      Theo caught her before she could smother him with kisses and stared down at her, horrified. Whoever she was, she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to her. In fact, he didn’t have to.

      “Remember me? Cassandra,” she told him cheerfully. “You know, Cassie! Cassie Thelonikis. Your mother’s goddaughter!”

      Ye gods. Deliberately Theo held her at arm’s length, recognizing her now, and not at all happy with the recognition.

      “Your mother sent us over,” Cassie said happily, confirming his worst fear. “Isn’t that cool?”

      Cool was not the word Theo would have used to describe it. “Sent you here? Why?” He knew he sounded harsh. He couldn’t help it.

      But Cassie was immune. “She says you need some distraction. And protection,” she added. “She says you’re too focused on sailing and since you’re the world’s sexiest sailor you have too many women bothering you.”

      Which gave his mother full marks for perception. But why the hell had she thought sending more women would improve matters?

      And Agnetta Carlsson of all people! Theo grimaced inwardly. She didn’t even know Agnetta! Did she?

      Cassandra, who obviously could read minds, explained. “I’ve been modeling this past year, and I worked with Agnetta lots this spring. They seem to think it’s cool, her being so fair and me so dark.” She shrugged. “We got to be friends. And when I had lunch with your mother last week in the city, Agnetta came along. She wanted to meet your mom because you two were friends.”

      Was

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