“Rhachel.” Rafe spooned the last of the garbanzo bean and chard salad onto his knife. “Why don’t you tell the family about Filip’s recent triumph in football.”

  His sister’s oldest child, even at eight, was a rising athletic star, and his mother was his most enthusiastic fan. After shooting him a quick look, Rhachel launched into a recital of the last game.

  He leaned back in the padded oak chair. Pretending to listen to his sister, he watched Tamsin as she whispered into Isaák’s ear. The boy’s frown eased off his face and he chuckled at something she said.

  A peacemaker. Just like his mother.

  Yet not like his mother at all.

  From beneath his lashes, he let his gaze slip down. Tamsin wore a simple white cotton blouse of a dress. Classic, crisply contained. The night air had blown the edge open, though, leaving behind a glimpse of delicate collarbone and pearly skin.

  The beginning of cleavage.

  The lust flamed, unwanted. He’d managed to contain any thoughts of her kiss or her scent or her touch by focusing on the boys and his relatives during the last eleven days. The most important thing was to bind this family together. Still, the lust for her was always there, lurking inside, clutching at his groin when he least expected it.

  The time when he’d literally run into her as she came out of her bedroom and felt the plush weight of her breast on his arm.

  The time when he’d caught her laughing with the boys as they ran across the green lawn, her face alive with love.

  The time he’d heard her slurred, lilting voice while she talked with his mother about the twins.

  “There’s no doubt,” Rhouth’s excited voice cut through his thoughts. “Filip will be a superstar.”

  His other sister laughed as she leaned over to cover her son’s red ears. “Not in front of him, please. He already has a big enough ego.”

  “Not as big as his uncle’s, so there’s still room to grow.” Fydor, Rhachel’s husband, shot him a quick grin. An aunt twittered while an uncle guffawed. The last lingering tension eased out of the gathering.

  He loved his family. Every one of them. Even Rhouth at her most irritating. Even Fydor at his most obnoxious. Yet, all at once, he wanted to leave, run from the expectations surrounding him. The assumptions laid upon him during the past ten years. He wanted to leap from his chair at the head of the table and escape to his home in Sparti.

  Taking only the boys.

  And Tamsin.

  The knowledge sifted inside. The spike of yearning was so sharp, he took in a deep breath, almost a gasp.

  An echoed breath reached him. He turned to find Tamsin staring at him. Her green eyes were dark, mysterious pools in the candlelight. Behind the mystery he thought he saw concern and compassion.

  He didn’t need her concern or compassion.

  He only needed her under him. For one time. To stop this need building inside him for something more than sex. Something beyond the joining of his body with hers.

  “Rafe.” Rhouth’s voice grated on his hyper-sensitive nerves.

  “Nai?” He forced himself to glance away from the woman he lusted for and into amber eyes blazing with anger.

  Rhouth had seen. Seen him gazing at Tamsin. Seen something he refused to define.

  “You’re going to work tomorrow, right?”

  He scowled. What was this? This almost demand from his sister? True, he’d spent less time at work than usual. Other than the one day he’d taken the boys and Tamsin to see his office, he’d only spent one other day there. But he was always in contact with his staff. “Why do you ask?”

  His youngest sister flashed a glare at her ex-best friend. As if Tamsin had anything to do with his work.

  A clutch of remembered emotion coiled in his stomach. The memory of her curious questions, the way she’d taken in his business, his creation. How she’d examined each room and examined him as he talked. The way she’d looked at him before she’d walked away.

  As if…as if…he’d failed.

  Anger surged and behind it, much to Rafe’s disgust, swelled bewilderment and hurt.

  “Because it’s clear the boys have settled in here.” Rhouth kept glaring. “They don’t need you around all the time. They have us.”

  A howl of denial swelled in his throat. With one swift slice, his plan to leave the twins in his mother’s and sisters’ care while he went back to the business collapsed. “No.”

  Rhouth jerked back in her chair. “What do you mean? You said yourself this was the plan.”

  “Not anymore.” He looked at the boys and their sister. “We’re going to Sparti.”

  An aunt murmured into her napkin. An uncle coughed.

  “What do you mean, Raphael?” His mother smoothed a hand along the table edge, the flash of her marriage diamond sparkling in the light.

  “We?” Rhachel bent forward, her expression filled with curiosity. “Are we finally getting an invitation to this place of yours?”

  “I’m sorry, Rhach. Not this time.” He took another deep breath and plunged. “I want Aarōn and Isaák to come. And Tamsin.”

  “No.” The heated word shot from Rhouth’s mouth.

  “No.” At the exact same time, the same word came from his green-eyed tormentor sitting across the table from him.

  The hot pain of rejection jerked him upright. Not his sister’s.

  Tamsin’s.

  “The boys are going to Sparti with me,” he said to her, the words cold and clipped. “You can come or not.”

  “But…but…” She grimaced. “I accepted a job today.”

  “Woot!” Aarōn leapt from his chair and hugged her. “I knew you could do it.”

  Rafe didn’t want her to have a job. He wanted her to depend on him. He wanted her to have no way to be independent. He wanted her—

  “Well, this is wonderful news.” Nephele beamed her smile across the table. “Tell us, what is the job?”

  “An assistant manager. He said, the manager, he said I have possibilities.” She stuttered to a stop when she met Rafe’s glare. “So I’ll start as an assistant manager of a hotel for now.”

  Possibilities. He’d lay a bet on what kind of possibilities the man was talking about. He’d continued to have her followed. The fear of her meeting Haimon had subsided, yet she was still under his protection and Athens was not a particularly safe city. However, somehow, his security had not heard about this job offer.

  “That’s fantastic, Tammy.” Isaák gave her a grin. “I know how much you wanted this.”

  “Fantastic,” Rafe inserted. “But fruitless.”

  She gazed at him, her eyes troubled.

  “The boys and I are going to Sparti,” he continued. “Are you?”

  * * *

  Tamsin wrapped a hand around her wrist and squeezed. The dull pain did nothing to alleviate the sharp pain in her heart.

  The house stood right where they had planned.

  “This place isn’t as big as your other house,” Aarōn said as he rolled down the limo window to get a better look.

  “I like it more.” Isaák leaned forward, his head tilted in contemplation. “It’s got a nicer atmosphere.”

  “Idiot.” His brother snorted. “What do you know about atmosphere?”

  The crunch of wheels on gravel echoed in Tam’s head as the car turned into the short driveway leading to the limestone house. Well, actually it was a castle. A miniature castle with a tower at one end.

  Exactly like she’d described to her love years ago.

  “What I mean,” Isaák grumbled. “Is that it’s way cooler.”

  “It’s not hot?” His twin grinned at him.

  His brother responded with a punch.

  “Boys.” Tam turned away from the house of her dreams to focus on her brothers. This was why she was here. Isaák and Aarōn. She was not here to moon about a house she had nothing to do with or obsess over why he built this house, this house they’d dreamed of together.

  The limo stopped at the simple stone steps leading up to the wooden door, painted a burnt red color.

  Exactly as she’d described.

  The vehicle’s door opened and the twins tumbled out, as if they’d been released from a cage. They scrambled down the graveled lane running around to the back of the house, whooping and hollering.

  “Aarōn and Isaák,” she called.

  “Let them be.” Rafe eased back in the leathered seat. “They need to let off some steam after the two-hour drive. They are completely safe here.”

  The driver looked in and saw something. Maybe he noticed the tense atmosphere the boys had missed as they drove toward Sparti. Or perhaps he saw the way her hands were twisting in her lap. Or it could have been he caught the shine of tears in her eyes. Whatever the reason, the driver abruptly turned and walked away, leaving only the quiet sound of the wind filling the silence.

  She breathed in, trying to stuff every one of her emotions and questions down. The scent of oranges filled her nostrils and it hit her—he must have planted an orange grove somewhere near.

  Precisely as they’d planned.

  “Why?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

  His long finger tapped once on his jeans-clad knee. His dark gaze was trained on her face, but gave her nothing. “Why?”

  “This.” She gestured toward the house. “This house is exactly—”

  “Exactly.” Before she could respond, he got out of the car and stood. “Why don’t you come in and see.”

  He acted so blasé. He acted as if the fact he’d replicated her every word about her dream house was only a coincidence, nothing to comment on. Yet it couldn’t be so, could it? Tam squeezed her eyes shut, trying to understand.

  He’d taken her here once, mere weeks before she’d split with him. To the land of his ancestors, he’d told her. The land where his grandfather had once grown olives and grapes. They’d hiked Mount Taygetus, up past the tree line. She needed to see everything, he’d told her as she strode beside him.

  Coming to the crest, they’d gazed down at the valley. Down at the entire town of Sparti. That’s when he’d laid out the blanket and they’d eaten their picnic. And he’d told her all of his plans. All of his hopes and dreams and passions. All of it wrapped around her.

  “Eláte.” His voice came through her memories, from the past into the present.

  She’d come with him through all of it, he’d stated. She’d be with him as he trained to be a doctor. She’d move with him to this town to start a practice. He wanted the small-town life, he’d said. He wanted her by his side. He wanted her to have his children.

  “Tamsin?” A hint of impatience was now in his voice.

  Tam opened her eyes to find, once again, a long-fingered hand in front of her. Just as before, she reached out and slipped her hand into his.

  He pulled her into the Greek sunshine. Up here, in the foothills of the mountain, the air was cooler than down in the valley. However, it had been even hotter when they’d left Athens. When they’d left the rest of the Vounó clan. Well, almost every one of them.

  Nephele had smiled and hugged each one of them including Tamsin. Rhachel had laughed as she ruffled the twins’ hair. The aunts and uncles and cousins had tutted and chuckled around them.

  Rhouth had been absent. Along with her husband and children.

  That had hurt. Not for the rejection of her, she’d come to expect this, but that it had hurt Rafe and so, it had hurt her. Tam had noticed his frequent glances toward Rhouth’s house and how he’d grimaced at the end of the farewell. Without meaning to, her arrival had caused a rift in the family. Even when this was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Come on.” He tugged at her hand now, his mouth no longer firm and tight. She wouldn’t say he smiled, but there was an ease about him now. Almost an eagerness.

  To show her this dream house? Why?

  She followed him to the simple stairs. Dropping her hand, he slid a key out of his pocket. An old-fashioned iron key some long ago prince would have used to open a fairy-tale castle.

  “No security?”

  He glanced at her as he slid the key into the door. “On the perimeters. Not here.”

  Gazing back down the lane, she didn’t notice any guards or elaborate fencing. Who knew though? She was certainly not an expert on security.

  The bright-red door opened and he stepped back. “Welcome.” He waved her in, his eyes still opaque and telling her nothing.

  Tam tiptoed into the foyer. The open floor plan was precisely as she’d described to him that long ago day on the top of the mountain. An arch of cypress wood led into the family room. Floor to ceiling doors with white cotton drapes framed a terrace leading to the pool. Wicker chairs with cream padding mixed in with antique wooden tables laden with candles and books.

  Her throat filled with tears.

  Rafe sauntered into the main room, as if nothing monumental was happening. As if there was no significance in the fact that this house was her house. “The kitchen is to the left. The bedrooms are to the right.”

  “I know,” she said to his back.

  The muscles on his shoulders went taut. Why? He had to know. He had to remember.

  “Aarōn will be glad to know he doesn’t have to share a room with his brother.” Padding to the first terrace door, he opened it. The floor-length, wispy curtains lifted in the slight breeze.

  Tam forced herself to walk across to the fireplace. The red-brick hearth glowed rich in contrast to the background of whitewashed limestone. On the mantel were a smattering of pictures—Nephele holding a baby in her grasp, laughing at the camera; Rhachel and Rhouth standing by a pool, arms around each other; a picture of the entire family, sitting at the long wooden table they’d eaten at many times during the last ten days.

  “Does your family come here often?”

  “No.” The stark word cut through the room, his voice crisp and curt. “Never.”

  Remembering Rhachel’s comment at dinner last night, she turned to look at him. He still had that damned opaque stare. “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “I like it quiet here.”

  Isaák popped his head around the open terrace door. “The pool is cool.”

  Rafe smiled, a tight smile. “Glad you like it.”

  “Tam, let’s swim.” Aarōn bumped against his brother.

  She didn’t want to swim in the cool pool. What she wanted to do was swim in a sea of her tears. Because she didn’t understand what all of this meant. Confusion mixed with sorrow threatened to overwhelm her. Was he baiting her by showing her this house? Was he pressing her nose into the fact she’d walked away from her dream? Or was there something more here? Something she couldn’t quite grasp? Because he wasn’t gloating or sneering.

  He stared at her suddenly, the opaque now gone from his eyes.

  Still, she couldn’t understand what replaced it. Fear? Hope?

  “Your sister might be tired.”

  “Come on,” Aarōn scoffed. “It’s not even noon.”

  “I am tired.” Exhausted. Fatigued to the bone trying to figure out this man and his mixed messages. Drained by the effort to keep these boys well, keep herself together, keep everything and everyone happy and safe.

  “Then let me show you to your bedroom.”

  “How long are we going to be here?” Isaák’s demand stopped his uncle from moving down the long hallway leading off from the family room.

  Turning, he looked at the boys. “All summer.”

  “Woot!” Aarōn crowed.

  “Wow!” Isaák jumped up and down.

  “What?” She froze. “But I told my new boss I’d be able to start later this month.”

  “Too bad.” Rafe’s gaze frosted. “Call him and tell him you’ll have to decline the opportunity altogether.”

  “Now wait a min—”

  “I thought we were going to summer school,” Aarōn cut in on the beginning of her tirade. “I thought we needed to learn Greek before starting school.”

  “You’ll learn Greek from me.” Propping himself on the wall, he appeared casual and nonchalant. “Much more fun.”

  Isaák grinned. “Do I have to call you Teach?”

  His uncle chuckled. “Rafe will do.”

  “I can’t stay here all summer.” Her nails cut into her palms. “I need to work.”

  “Fine.” He didn’t even look her way. Instead, he stared out at the pool, his whole demeanor one of complete disinterest. “There will be plenty of work to do around here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is no great army of servants here.” His gaze still didn’t meet hers. “I only have one woman, Aspasia, who comes in once a week to clean.”

  “Totally diff compared to your other place,” Isaák chirped.

  “Correct.” His uncle finally glanced at her, but gave nothing away in his expression. “So there will be plenty of work to do. Cleaning. Cooking.”

  A fire of anger leapt into her blood. “So you want me to be your unpaid housekeeper?”

  Rafe’s mouth curved into a sardonic smile. “You said you wanted—”

  “It’s no different than what you did before with us, Tam.” Aarōn frowned in confusion. “Except there’s a big pool and other stuff to enjoy.”

  Tam scowled at her brothers and then at the man who had the gall to smile even wider. She was out-flanked and overruled. Anger bit into her and she wanted to scream. Again, she was asked to take it, to make it work. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Sure you have a choice.” He kept his negligent pose on the whitewashed wall as if oblivious to her bitterness and frustration. Yet there was something in his black eyes that told her different. “You could do nothing. We’d have to fend for ourselves in the kitchen, keep the place clean, and do our own laundry.”

  Both Aarōn and Isaák appeared horrified.

  Reality hit her. She’d babied them. Rafe was right. She’d done everything for them throughout their lives because she wanted to be needed and loved. She was sorely tempted to tell them that for once, she wasn’t going to come to the rescue, that yes, this time she was going to go on strike—

  “Of course,” he mulled. “It’s not as if I haven’t done this before. I spend quite a bit of time here and manage not to starve and also have clean clothes when I need them.”