SHE would have to go back to the hotel and face Derek sooner or later, Chloe acknowledged grimacing slightly. At this early hour she had the beach to herself, but soon it would start to fill up with other holidaymakers. They had chosen this particular island deliberately because it was so small. There they would find the time and tranquillity to develop their relationship, Derek had told her, but she hadn’t realised then that the developments he had in mind entailed her sharing his bed. Oh, she wasn’t naïUve; their friendship couldn’t have remained platonic for ever, but she had never given Derek the slightest indication that by coming on holiday with him she was willing for them to be lovers. It only went to show how little one really knew about people one saw every day, Chloe reflected. She and Derek had worked together for eighteen months, and she had been drawn to him by his air of solid dependability, his conversation’s lack of sexual innuendo. Their friendship had developed slowly over the months they had known one another, and Chloe had felt no qualms or inner warnings at all when Derek had suggested they spend their summer holiday together. A mistake, as she now acknowledged. She had been a little concerned when he suggested Greece, but had stifled her fear by reminding herself that she couldn’t go on refusing to visit such a beautiful part of the world simply because of something which was over and done with for good.

She lifted her head, unaware of the attractive picture she made in her brief white shorts and thin cotton top. Her skin was already faintly tanned, the warm colour emphasising the silver fairness of hair which reached well below her shoulders in a heavy cascade. She lifted one slender arm to push her hair out of her eyes, unconscious grace in the simple movement. Normally for the office she wore her hair up. Perhaps she was to blame for Derek’s behaviour after all, she reflected with a touch of wry humour. Wasn’t there something in the Bible about the dangerous enticement of unbound hair? Just another example of the male sex’s ability to blame women for their own failings!

One or two people stopped to greet her as she walked leisurely back towards the hotel complex. Although she and Derek had only arrived the previous day, Chloe’s graceful carriage and strikingly attractive features made her instantly recognisable—something she had become accustomed to during the days she had worked as a model for a Paris fashion house. Not that Monsieur René would employ her now, she thought ruefully. It was true that her legs and waist were still as slender as ever, but maturity had brought a seductive swell to the breasts and hips which at eighteen had been almost unnoticeable.

In the hotel foyer overhead fans reminiscent of a turn-of-the-century film setting cooled the air. The hotel was one of the most luxurious Chloe had ever stayed in. Derek had chosen it, and although for herself she would have preferred something a little simpler she had made no demur, agreeing with him that for privacy one had to pay, and Thos island certainly guaranteed that. The hotel was the only one on the small Aegean island, and since, by modern standards, it was not a huge, soulless mass of sprawling concrete, but a tastefully designed and carefully laid out complex containing everything the discerning holidaymaker could want for his comfort, it was obviously proving very popular. A lucrative venture for whoever had financed it, Chloe reflected absently as she asked for her key, and debated the advisability of telephoning Derek from her own room, or going straight to his to see if he was up. By nature she was inclined to say what she thought and act accordingly and was inclined to expect others to do the same—an error she had fallen into too often. She ought to have made it abundantly clear to Derek before they came away that holidaying together, while it might further their friendship and enable them to get to know one another better, was not an invitation to him to share her bed.

Last night had been an eye-opener in more ways than one. He had sulked like a small child when she told him that they weren’t going to become lovers. Her soft mouth compressed in a firm, straight line as she remembered some of his remarks.

‘It isn’t as if you were a virgin!’ he had thrown furiously at her—as though that fact in itself by some unwritten law conferred a right on every man she met to sleep with her as and when the fancy took him. The young Greek boy behind the reception desk watched her in covert admiration. Her hair was the colour of the fine pale grains of sand on the beach, and her eyes as deeply amethyst as the sea just before sunset. Chloe glanced up and saw the way his eyes lingered on her breasts before he looked away, and her mouth compressed a little more. Damn Derek! Damn all men, especially…. Like a well trained animal her mind veered away seeking other channels. For her the old adage ‘What can’t be cured must be endured’ held a wealth of meaning, and when she had found it impossible to endure she had simply built a wall and locked away behind it the uncurable and the unendurable.

She would ring Derek from reception, she decided, reaching for the courtesy telephone. She was in no mood to endure another lengthy tirade, to hear him last night anyone would have thought that she was reneging on a bargain. She should have listened to Hilary, her flatmate, she acknowledged grimly. Hilary had warned her that there was more to Derek’s suggestion than met the eye, but Chloe had blithely ignored her. Because she hadn’t wanted to believe her, she admitted now. She had wanted this holiday, wanted and needed it. Her job in the public relations firm where Derek was an accountant was an arduous one and she had been reluctant to go away alone. As she had learned from bitter experience, a woman alone was like game in the open season where some men were concerned—men who simply refused to believe that a woman would go away alone simply to be alone. The simple truth was that she had agreed to go with Derek because he represented protection, ignoring Hilary when she pointed out that she might find that Derek might have ideas of his own. They were just good friends, she had stressed, ignoring Hilary’s unkind hoot of laughter. If Hilary hadn’t been planning her wedding the two of them might have been able to go away together. At twenty-three Chloe was beginning to find that the majority of her girlfriends were no longer single, while she herself….

Her fingers trembled as she dialled Derek’s room number. Oh God, what was happening to her? She mustn’t think of that now. She had put it all behind her and that was where it was going to stay. Where it had to stay for the sake of her sanity.

There was no reply from Derek’s room. Puzzled, Chloe hung up. Perhaps he had already come down for breakfast? They had arrived at the hotel only the previous afternoon by boat from Piraeus and Derek had suggested that they have an early night. That had been when the quarrel started as Chloe remembered it.

‘The kyria is worried? Something is wrong?’ the young Greek asked her hesitantly.

He was good-looking as only young Greek boys can be, small and slim with liquid dark eyes and white

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Island of the Dawn Penny Jordan

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

Island of the Dawn

Penny Jordan