Looking at him, she remembered the feel of hard, wiry muscles. He was standing easily, hands thrust into the pockets of jeans. The aura of command fit him perfectly. His smile didn't disguise it, nor did his casual stance. d.a.m.n pirates, she thought, feeling a quick twinge. Only lunatics find them attractive.

Because she felt vulnerable, Morgan countered with bravado. "Wouldn't you?"

She lifted her chin and walked back to him.

"No," he answered mildly. "But perhaps, unlike me, you look for complications.

I'm a simple man." He took a long, searching look of her face. This is not, he decided instantly, a simple woman. Though in his mind he cursed her, he went on conversational y. "Questions, reports to fil out, hours wasted on red tape. And then, even if you had my name"-he shrugged and flashed the grin again-"no one would believe you, Aphrodite. No one."

She didn't trust that grin-or the sultry way he cal ed her by the G.o.ddess's name.

She didn't trust the sudden warmth in her blood. "I wouldn't be so sure,"

Morgan began, but he cut her off, closing the slight distance between them.

"And I didn't rape you." Slowly, he ran his hands down her hair until they rested on her shoulders. His fingers didn't bite into her flesh now, but skimmed lazily.

She had the eyes of a witch, he thought, and the face of a G.o.ddess. His time was short, but the moment was not to be missed. "Until now, I haven't even given in to the urge to do this." His mouth closed over hers, hot and stunningly sweet. She hadn't been prepared for it. She pushed against him, but it was strictly out of reflex and lacked strength. He was a man who knew a woman's weakness. Deliberately, he brought her close, using style rather than force.

The scent of the sea rose to surround her, and heat-such a furnace heat that seemed to come from within and without at the same time. Almost leisurely, he explored her mouth until her heart thudded wildly against the quick, steady beat of his. His hands were clever, sliding beneath the wide sleeves of her robe to tease and caress the length of her arms, the slope of her shoulders.

When her struggles ceased, he nibbled at her lips as if he would draw out more taste. Slow, easy. His tongue tempted hers then retreated, then slipped through her parted lips again to torment and savor. For a moment, Morgan feared she would faint for a second time in his arms.

"One kiss," he murmured against her lips, "is hardly a criminal offense." She was sweeter than he had imagined and, he realized as desire stirred hotly, deadlier. "I could take another with little more risk."

"No." Coming abruptly to her senses, Morgan pushed away from him. "You're mad. And you're madder stil if you think I'm going to let this go. I 'm going-"

She broke off as her hand lifted to her throat in a nervous gesture. The chain which always hung there was missing. Morgan glanced down, then brought her eyes back to his, furious, glowing.

"What have you done with my medal?" she demanded. "Give it back to me." "I'm afraid I don't have it, Aphrodite."

"I want it back." Bravado wasn't a pose this time; she was livid. She stepped closer until they were toe to toe. "It's not worth anything to you. You won't be able to get more than a few drachmas for it."

His eyes narrowed. "I didn't take your medal. I'm not a thief." The temper in his voice was cold, coated with control. "If I were going to steal something from you, I would have found something more interesting than a medal."

Her eyes fil ed in a rush, and she swung out her hand to slap him. He caught her wrist, adding frustration to fury. "It appears the medal is important," he said softly, but his hand was no longer gentle. "A token from a lover?"

"A gift from someone I love," Morgan countered. "I wouldn't expect a man like you to understand its value." With a jerk, she pul ed her wrist from his hold. "I won't forget you," she promised, then turned and flew up the stairs.

He watched her until she was swal owed by the darkness. After a moment he turned back to the beach.

Chapter Two

The sun was a white flash of light. Its diamonds skimmed the water's surface.

With the gentle movement of the yacht, Morgan found herself half- dozing.

Could the moonlit beach and the man have been a dream? she wondered hazily.

Knives and rough hands and sudden draining kisses from strangers had no place in the real world. They belonged in one of those strange, half-remembered dreams she had when the rush and demands of work and the city threatened to become too much for her. She'd always considered them her personal release valve. Harmless, but absolutely secret-something she'd never considered tel ing Jack or any of her co-workers.

If it hadn't been for the absence of her medal, and the light trail of bruises on her arms, Morgan could have believed the entire incident had been the product of an overworked imagination.

Sighing, she shifted her back to the sun, pil owing her head on her hands. Her skin, slick with oil, glistened. Why was she keeping the whole crazy business from Liz and Alex? Grimacing, she flexed her shoulders. They'd be horrified if she told them she'd been a.s.saulted. Morgan could al but see Alex placing her under armed guard for the rest of her stay on Lesbos. He'd make certain there was an investigation-complicated, time- consuming, and in al probability fruitless.

Morgan could work up a strong hate for the dark man for being right.

And what, if she decided to pursue it, could she tel the police? She hadn't been hurt or s.e.xual y a.s.saulted. There'd been no verbal threat she could pin down, not even the slimmest motivation for what had happened. And what had happened?

she demanded of herself. A man had dragged her into the bushes, held her there for no clear reason, then had let her go without harming her.

The Greek police wouldn't see the kiss as a criminal offense. She hadn't been robbed. There was no way on earth to prove the man had taken her medal.

And d.a.m.n it, she added with a sigh, as much as she'd like to a.s.sign al sorts of evil attributes to him, he just didn't fit the role of a petty thief. Petty anything, she thought grudgingly. Whatever he did, she was certain he did big ... and did wel .

So what was she going to do about it? True, he'd frightened and infuriated her- the second was probably a direct result of the first-but what else was there?

If and when they caught him, it would be his word against hers. Somehow, Morgan thought his word would carry more weight.

So I was frightened-my pride took a lump. She shrugged and shifted her head on her hands. It's not worth upsetting Liz and Alex. Midnight madness, she mused.

Another strange adventure in the life and times of Morgan James. File it and forget it.

Hearing Alex mount the steps to the sun deck, Morgan rested her chin on her hands and smiled at him. On the lounger beside her, Liz stirred and slept on.

"So, the sun has put her to sleep." Alex mounted the last of the steps, then settled into the chair beside his wife.

"I nearly dozed off myself." With a yawn, Morgan stretched luxuriously before she rol ed over to adjust the lounger to a sitting position. "But I didn't want to miss anything." Gazing over the water, she studied the clump of land in the distance.

The island seemed to float, as insubstantial as a mist.

"Chios," Alex told her, fol owing her gaze. "And"-he gestured, waiting for her eyes to shift in the direction of his-"the coast of Turkey." "So close," Morgan mused. "It seems as though I could swim to it."

"At sea, the distance can be deceiving." He flicked a lighter at the end of a black cigarette. The fragrance that rose from it was faintly sweet and exotic.

"You'd have to be a hardy swimmer. Easy enough with a boat, though. There are some who find the proximity profitable." At Morgan's blank expression, Alex laughed. "Smuggling, innocence. It's stil popular even though the punishment is severe."

"Smuggling," she murmured, intrigued. Then the word put her in mind of pirates again and her curious expression turned into a frown. A nasty business, she reminded herself, and not romantic at al .

"The coast," Alex made another gesture, sweeping, with the elegant cigarette held between two long fingers. "The many bays and peninsulas, offsh.o.r.e islands, inlets.

There's simple access from the sea to the interior."

She nodded. Yes, a nasty business-they weren't talking about French brandy or Spanish lace. "Opium?" "Among other things."

"But Alex." His careless acceptance caused her frown to deepen. Once she'd sorted it through, Morgan's own sense of right and wrong had little middle ground. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Bother me?" he repeated, taking a long, slow drag on the cigarette. "Why?"

Fl.u.s.tered with the question, she sat up straighter. "Aren't you concerned about that sort of thing going on so close to your own home?" "Morgan." Alex spread his hands in an acceptance of fate. The thick chunk of gold on his left pinky gleamed dul y in the sunlight. "My concern would hardly stop what's been going on for centuries."

"But stil , with crime practical y in your own backyard ..." She broke off, thinking about the streets of Manhattan. Perhaps she was the pot cal ing the kettle black. "I supposed I'd thought you'd be annoyed," she finished.

His eyes lit with a touch of amus.e.m.e.nt before he shrugged. "I leave the matter-and the annoyance-to the patrols and authorities. Tel me, are you enjoying your stay so far?"

Morgan started to speak again, then consciously smoothed away the frown. Alex was old world enough not to want to discuss unpleasantries with a guest.

"It's wonderful here, Alex. I can see why Liz loves it."

He flashed her a grin before he drew in strong tobacco. "You know Liz wants you to stay.

She's missed you. At times, I feel very guilty because we don't get to America to see you often enough."

"You don't have to feel guilty, Alex." Morgan pushed on sungla.s.ses and relaxed again. After al , she reflected, smuggling had nothing to do with her. "Liz is happy."

"She'd be happier with you here."