Miss Prim's Greek Island Fling Read online

  An idyllic island retreat...

  ...with her Mr. Wrong!

  After a devastating betrayal, Audra Russel escapes to her brother’s Greek island to lick her wounds. Only she soon finds that her brother’s best friend, Finn Sullivan, is vacationing there, too! He may be recovering from a near-fatal accident, but the irresistible daredevil is intent on showing buttoned-up Audra how to have a good time. And now that she’s started, she doesn’t ever want to stop!

  “Your brother’s only dictum was to keep my love rays well and truly away from his little sister. All uttered in his most stern of tones.”

  She did her best not to choke on her toast and eggs. “Doesn’t Rupert know me at all?” She tossed the words back at him with what she hoped was a matching carelessness.

  “See? That’s what I told him. I said, ‘Audra’s too smart to fall for a guy like me.’”

  Fall for? Absolutely not!

  Sleep with... Maybe!

  What on earth... She frowned and shook the thought away. She didn’t think of Finn in those terms.

  Really?

  She rolled her shoulders. So what if she’d always thought him too good-looking for his own good? That didn’t mean anything. In idle moments she might find herself thinking he’d be an exciting lover. If she were the kind of person who had flings with devil-may-care men. But she wasn’t. And that didn’t mean anything, either.

  Dear Reader,

  I have a deep and abiding love for the beach, and I’m ridiculously lucky as I have a whole host of gorgeous beaches that are just a short drive from where I live. I find few things more relaxing than bobbing about in the ocean after a hard (?) day’s writing. The scent of the sea and the sound of the waves put me straight into my happy place.

  So when I toyed with the idea of setting a book on an idyllic Greek island my muse gave a resounding cheer...and that’s how the fictional island of Kyanós was born. I promptly fell in love with Kyanós, and over the course of the story so do Audra and Finn. It’s fun watching these seeming opposites learn to relax and unwind and find the courage to follow their hearts’ desires—and, seriously, where better to do that than on a Greek island, right?

  Writing this story made me so absolutely happy. Research included eating baklava and playing old ABBA albums, which were the perfect complements. So I can certainly suggest those during the reading of the book. :) I hope the story puts a smile on your face, too.

  Happy reading!

  Michelle x

  MISS PRIM’S GREEK ISLAND FLING

  Michelle Douglas

  www.millsandboon.com.au

  MICHELLE DOUGLAS has been writing for Mills & Boon since 2007 and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle on Australia’s east coast with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books and an eclectic collection of ’60s and ’70s vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website, michelle-douglas.com.

  To Pam, who is always happy to share a bottle of red and to talk into the wee hours of the night.

  Praise for

  Michelle Douglas

  “Captivatingly sweet...! Great characters, a heartwarming story line and just a whole lot of feel-good reading!”

  —Goodreads on The Spanish Tycoon’s Takeover

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from His Convenient Royal Bride by Cara Colter

  CHAPTER ONE

  IT WAS THE sound of shattering glass that woke her.

  Audra shot bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, praying that the sound had been a part of one of her frequent nightmares, but knowing deep down in her bones—in all the places where she knew such things were real—that it wasn’t.

  A thump followed. Something heavy being dropped to the floor. And then a low, jeering voice. The sound of cupboard doors opening and closing.

  She’d locked all the doors and windows downstairs! She’d been hyper-vigilant about such things ever since she’d arrived two days ago. She glanced at her bedroom window, at the curtain moving slowly on a draught of warm night air, and called herself a fool for leaving it open. Anyone could have climbed up onto the first-floor balcony and gained entry.

  Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her phone and held it pressed hard against her chest as she crept out into the hallway. As the only person in residence in Rupert’s Greek villa, she’d seen no reason to close her bedroom door, which at least meant she didn’t have to contend with the sound of it creaking open now.

  She’d chosen the bedroom at the top of the stairs and from this vantage point she could see a shadow bounce in and out of view from the downstairs living room. She heard Rupert’s liquor cabinet being opened and the sound of a glass bottle being set down. Thieves were stealing her brother’s much-loved single malt whisky?

  Someone downstairs muttered something in... French?

  She didn’t catch what was said.

  Someone answered back in Greek.

  She strained her ears, but could catch no other words. So...there were two of them? She refused to contemplate what would happen if they found her here—a lone woman. Swallowing down a hard knot of fear, she made her way silently down the hallway, away from the stairs, to the farthest room along—the master bedroom. The door made the softest of snicks as she eased it closed. In the moonlight she made out the walk-in wardrobe on the other side of the room and headed straight for it, closing that door behind her, fighting to breathe through the panic that weighed her chest down.

  She dialled the emergency number. ‘Please help me,’ she whispered in Greek. ‘Please. There are intruders in my house.’ She gave her name. She gave the address. The operator promised that someone was on the way and would be there in minutes. She spoke in reassuringly calm tones. She asked Audra where in the house she was, and if there was anywhere she could hide. She told Audra to stay on the line and that helped too.

  ‘I’m hiding in the walk-in wardrobe in the master bedroom.’ And that was when it hit her. She was all but locked in a closet. Again. It made no difference that this time she’d locked herself in. Panic clawed at her throat as she recalled the suffocating darkness and the way her body had started to cramp after hours spent confined in her tiny hall closet. When Thomas had not only locked her in, but had left and she hadn’t known if he would ever return to let her out again. And if he didn’t return, how long would it take for anyone to find her? How long before someone raised the alarm? She’d spent hours in a terrified limbo—after screaming herself hoarse for help—where she’d had to fight for every breath. ‘I can’t stay here.’

  ‘The police are almost there,’ the operator assured her.

  She closed her eyes. This wasn’t her horridly cramped hall closet, but a spacious walk-in robe. It didn’t smell of damp leather and fuggy cold. This smelled of...the sea. And she could stretch out her full length and not touch the other wall if she wanted to. Anger, cold and comforting, streaked through her then. Her eyes flew open. She would not be a victim again. Oh, she wasn’t going to march downstairs and confront those two villains ransacking her brother’s house, but she wasn’t going to stay here, a cornered quaking mess either.

  Her free hand clenched to a fist. Th
ink! If she were a thief, what would she steal?

  Electrical equipment—televisions, stereos and computers. Which were all downstairs. She grimaced. Except for the television on the wall in the master bedroom.

  She’d bet they’d look for jewellery too. And where was the most likely place to find that? The master bedroom.

  She needed to find a better hiding place—one that had an escape route if needed.

  And she needed a weapon. Just in case. She didn’t rate her chances against two burly men, but she could leave some bruises if they did try to attack her. She reminded herself that the police would be here soon.

  For the first time since arriving in this island idyll, Audra cursed the isolation of Rupert’s villa. It was the last property on a peninsula surrounded by azure seas. The glorious sea views, the scent of the ocean and gardens, the sound of lapping water combined with the humming of bees and the chattering of the birds had started to ease the burning in her soul. No media, no one hassling her for an interview, no flashing cameras whenever she strode outside her front door. The privacy had seemed like a godsend.

  Until now.

  Using the torch app on her phone, she scanned the wardrobe for something she could use to defend herself. Her fingers closed about a lacrosse stick. It must’ve been years since Rupert had played, and she had no idea what he was still doing with a stick now, but at the moment she didn’t care.

  Cracking open the wardrobe door, she listened for a full minute before edging across the room to the glass sliding door of the balcony. She winced at the click that seemed to echo throughout the room with a come-and-find-me din when she unlocked it, but thanked Rupert’s maintenance man when it slid open on its tracks as silent as the moon. She paused and listened again for another full minute before easing outside and closing the door behind her. Hugging the shadows of the wall, she moved to the end of the balcony and inserted herself between two giant pot plants. The only way anyone would see her was if they came right out onto the balcony and moved in this direction. She gripped the lacrosse stick so tightly her fingers started to ache.

  She closed her eyes and tried to get her breathing under control. The thieves would have no reason to come out onto the balcony. There was nothing to steal out here. And she doubted they’d be interested in admiring the view, regardless of how spectacular it might be. The tight band around her chest eased a fraction.

  The flashing lights from the police car that tore into the driveway a moment later eased the tightness even further. She counted as four armed men piled out of the vehicle and headed straight inside. She heard shouts downstairs.

  But still she didn’t move.

  After a moment she lifted the phone to her ear. ‘Is it...is it safe to come out yet?’ she whispered.

  ‘One of the men has been apprehended. The officers are searching for the second man.’ There was a pause. ‘The man they have in custody claims he’s on his own.’

  She’d definitely heard French and Greek.

  ‘He also says he’s known to your brother.’

  ‘Known?’ She choked back a snort. ‘I can assure you that my brother doesn’t associate with people who break into houses.’

  ‘He says his name is Finn Sullivan.’

  Audra closed her eyes. Scrap that. Her brother knew one person who broke into houses, and his name was Finn Sullivan.

  * * *

  Finn swore in French, and then in Greek for good measure, when he knocked the crystal tumbler from the bench to the kitchen tiles below, making a God-awful racket that reverberated through his head. It served him right for not switching on a light, but he knew Rupert’s house as well as he knew his own, and he’d wanted to try to keep the headache stretching behind his eyes from building into a full-blown migraine.

  Blowing out a breath, he dropped his rucksack to the floor and, muttering first in French and then in Greek, clicked on a light and retrieved the dustpan and brush to clean up the mess. For pity’s sake. Not only hadn’t Rupert’s last house guest washed, dried and put away the tumbler—leaving it for him to break—but they hadn’t taken out the garbage either! Whenever he stayed, Finn always made sure to leave the place exactly as he found it—spotlessly clean and tidy. He hated to think of his friend being taken advantage of.

  Helping himself to a glass of Rupert’s excellent whisky, Finn lowered himself into an armchair in the living room, more winded than he cared to admit. The cast had come off his arm yesterday and it ached like the blazes now. As did his entire left side and his left knee. Take it easy, the doctor had ordered. But he’d been taking it easy for eight long weeks. And Nice had started to feel like a prison.

  Rupert had given him a key to this place a couple of years ago, and had told him to treat it as his own. He’d ring Rupert tomorrow to let him know he was here. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Two thirty-seven a.m. was too late...or early...to call anyone. He rested his head back and closed his eyes, and tried to will the pain coursing through his body away.

  He woke with a start to flashing lights, and it took him a moment to realise they weren’t due to a migraine. He blinked, but the armed policemen—two of them and each with a gun trained on him—didn’t disappear. The clock said two forty-eight.

  He raised his hands in the universal gesture of non-aggression. ‘My name is Finn Sullivan,’ he said in Greek. ‘I am a friend of Rupert Russel, the owner of this villa.’

  ‘Where is your accomplice?’

  ‘Accomplice?’ He stood then, stung by the fuss and suspicion. ‘What accomplice?’

  He wished he’d remained seated when he found himself tackled to the floor, pain bursting like red-hot needles all the way down his left side, magnifying the blue-black ache that made him want to roar.

  He clamped the howls of pain behind his teeth and nodded towards his backpack as an officer rough-handled him to his feet after handcuffing him. ‘My identification is in there.’

  His words seemed to have no effect. One of the officers spoke into a phone. He was frogmarched into the grand foyer. Both policemen looked upwards expectantly, so he did too.

  ‘Audra!’

  Flanked by two more police officers, she pulled to a dead halt halfway down the stairs, her eyes widening—those too cool and very clear blue eyes. ‘Finn?’ Delicate nostrils flared. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  The glass on the sink, the litter in the kitchen bin made sudden sense. ‘You called the police?’

  ‘Of course I called the police!’

  ‘Of all the idiotic, overdramatic reactions! How daft can you get?’ He all but yelled the words at her, his physical pain needing an outlet. ‘Why the hell would you overreact like that?’

  ‘Daft? Daft!’ Her voice rose as she flew down the stairs. ‘And what do you call breaking and entering my brother’s villa at two thirty in the morning?’

  It was probably closer to three by now. He didn’t say that out loud. ‘I didn’t break in. I have a key.’

  He saw then that she clutched a lacrosse stick. She looked as if she wouldn’t mind cracking him over the head with it. With a force of effort he pulled in a breath. A woman alone in a deserted house...the sound of breaking glass... And after everything she’d been through recently...

  He bit back a curse. He’d genuinely frightened her.

  The pain in his head intensified. ‘I’m sorry, Squirt.’ The old nickname dropped from his lips. ‘If I’d known you were here I’d have rung to let you know I was coming. In the meantime, can you tell these guys who I am and call them off?’

  ‘Where’s your friend?’

  His shoulder ached like the blazes. He wanted to yell at her to get the police to release him. He bit the angry torrent back. Knowing Audra, she’d make him suffer as long as she could if he yelled at her again.

  And he was genuinely sorry he’d frightened her.

  ‘I came alon
e.’

  ‘But I heard two voices—one French, one Greek.’

  He shook his head. ‘You heard one voice and two languages.’ He demonstrated his earlier cussing fit, though he toned it down to make it more palatable for mixed company.

  For a moment the knuckles on her right hand whitened where it gripped the lacrosse stick, and then relaxed. She told the police officers in perfect Greek how sorry she was to have raised a false alarm, promised to bake them homemade lemon drizzle cakes and begged them very nicely to let him go as he was an old friend of her brother’s. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him grind his teeth.

  He groaned his relief when he was uncuffed, rubbing his wrists rather than his shoulder, though he was damned if he knew why. Except he didn’t want any of them to know how much he hurt. He was sick to death of his injuries.

  A part of him would be damned too before it let Audra see him as anything but hearty and hale. Her pity would...

  He pressed his lips together. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t want to become an object of it.

  Standing side by side in the circular drive, they waved the police off. He followed her inside, wincing when she slammed the door shut behind them. The fire in her eyes hadn’t subsided. ‘You want to yell at me some more?’

  He’d love to. It was what he and Audra did—they sniped at each other. They had ever since she’d been a gangly pre-teen. But he hurt too much to snipe properly. It was taking all his strength to control the nausea curdling his stomach. He glanced at her from beneath his shaggy fringe. Besides, it was no fun sniping at someone with the kind of shadows under their eyes that Audra had.

  He eased back to survey her properly. She was too pale and too thin. He wasn’t used to seeing her vulnerable and frightened.

  Frighteningly efficient? Yes.

  Unsmiling? Yes.

  Openly disapproving of his lifestyle choices? Double yes.