Miss Prim's Greek Island Fling

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!

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 sixties and seventies vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website: michelle-douglas.com.

Also by Michelle Douglas

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Reunited by a Baby Secret

A Deal to Mend Their Marriage

An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire

The Spanish Tycoon’s Takeover

Sarah and the Secret Sheikh

A Baby in His In-Tray

The Million Pound Marriage Deal

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Miss Prim’s Greek Island Fling

Michelle Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09107-7

MISS PRIM’S GREEK ISLAND FLING

© 2019 Michelle Douglas

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

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. Think! 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 alone.’

‘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.

But pale, vulnerable and afraid? No.

‘That bastard really did a number on you, didn’t he, Squirt?’

Her head reared back and he could’ve bitten his tongue out. ‘Not quite as big a number as that mountain did on you, from all reports.’

She glanced pointedly at his shoulder and with a start he realised he’d been massaging it. He waved her words away. ‘A temporary setback.’

She pushed out her chin. ‘Ditto.’

The fire had receded from her eyes and this time it was he who had to suffer beneath their merciless ice-blue scrutiny. And that was when he realised that all she wore was a pair of thin cotton pyjama bottoms and a singlet top that moulded itself to her form. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

The problem with Audra was that she was exactly the kind of woman he went after. If he had a type it was the buttoned-up, repressed librarian type, and normally Audra embodied that to a tee. But at the moment she was about as far from that as you could get. She was all blonde sleep-tousled temptation and his skin prickled with an awareness that was both familiar and unfamiliar.

He had to remind himself that a guy didn’t mess with his best friend’s sister.

‘Did the police hurt you?’

‘Absolutely not.’ He was admitting nothing.

She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Finn, it’s obvious you’re in pain.’

He shrugged and then wished he hadn’t when pain blazed through his shoulder. ‘The cast only came off yesterday.’

Her gaze moved to his left arm. ‘And instead of resting it, no doubt as your doctors suggested, you jumped on the first plane for Athens, caught the last ferry to Kyanós, grabbed a late dinner in the village and trekked the eight kilometres to the villa.’

‘Bingo.’ He’d relished the fresh air and the freedom. For the first two kilometres.

‘While carrying a rucksack.’

Eight weeks ago he’d have been able to carry twice the weight for ten kilometres without breaking a sweat.

She picked up his glass of half-finished Scotch and strode into the kitchen. As she reached up into a kitchen cupboard her singlet hiked up to expose a band of perfect pale skin that had his gut clenching. She pulled out a packet of aspirin and sent it flying in a perfect arc towards him—he barely needed to move to catch it. And then she lifted his glass to her lips and drained it and stars burst behind his eyelids. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

She filled it with tap water and set it in front of him. ‘Take two.’

He did as she ordered because it was easier than arguing with her. And because he hurt all over and it seemed too much trouble to find the heavy-duty painkillers his doctor had prescribed for him and which were currently rolling around in the bottom of his backpack somewhere.

‘Which room do you usually use?’

‘The one at the top of the stairs.’

‘You’re out of luck, buddy.’ She stuck out a hip, and he gulped down more water. ‘That’s the one I’m using.’

He feigned outrage. ‘But that one has the best view!’ Which was a lie. All the upstairs bedrooms had spectacular views.

She smirked. ‘I know. First in and all that.’

He choked down a laugh. That was one of the things he’d always liked about Audra. She’d play along with him...all in the name of one-upmanship, of course.

‘Right, which bedroom do you want? There are another three upstairs to choose from.’ She strode around and lifted his bag. She grunted and had to use both hands. ‘Yeah, right—light as a feather.’

He glanced at her arms. While the rucksack wasn’t exactly light, it wasn’t that heavy. She’d never been a weakling. She’d lost condition. He tried to recall the last time he’d seen her.

‘Earth to Finn.’

He started. ‘I’ll take the one on the ground floor.’ The one behind the kitchen. The only bedroom in the house that didn’t have a sea view. The bedroom furthest away from Audra’s. They wouldn’t even have to share a bathroom if he stayed down here. Which would be for the best.

He glanced at that singlet top and nodded. Definitely for the best.

Especially when her eyes softened with spring-rain warmth. ‘Damn, Finn. Do you still hurt that much?’

He realised then that she thought he didn’t want to tackle the stairs.

‘I—’ He pulled in a breath. He didn’t want to tackle the stairs. He’d overdone it today. He didn’t want her to keep looking at him like that either, though. ‘It’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.’

Without another word, she strode to the room behind the kitchen and lifted his bag up onto the desk in there. So he wouldn’t have to lift it himself later. Her thoughtfulness touched him. She could be prickly, and she could be mouthy, but she’d never been unkind.

Which was the reason, if he ever ran into Thomas Farquhar, he’d wring the mongrel’s neck.