Falling For Dr Dimitriou

About the Author

ANNE FRASER always loved reading and never imagined that one day she would be writing for a living. She started life as a nurse and helpfully, for a writer of medical romances, is married to a hospital doctor! Anne and husband have lived and worked all over the world, including South Africa, Canada and Australia and many of their experiences as well as the settings find their way into her books. Anne lives in Glasgow with her husband and two children.

Falling For Dr Dimitriou

Anne Fraser

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-472-04560-7

FALLING FOR DR DIMITRIOU

© 2014 Anne Fraser

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 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.

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

To Rachel and Stewart – my personal on-call doctors – and to Megan Haslam my supportive, patient and all round fabulous editor.

PROLOGUE

IT WAS THAT moment before dawn, before the sky had begun to lighten and the moon seemed at its brightest, when Alexander saw her for the first time. On his way to the bay where he kept his boat, his attention was caught by a woman emerging like Aphrodite from the sea.

She paused, the waves lapping around her thighs, to squeeze the water from her tangled hair. As the sun rose, it bathed her in light adding to the mystical scene. He held his breath. He’d heard about her—in a village this size it would have been surprising if the arrival of a stranger wasn’t commented on—and they hadn’t exaggerated when they’d said she was beautiful.

The bay where she’d been swimming was below him, just beyond the wall that bordered the village square. If she looked up she would see him. But she didn’t. She waded towards the shore, droplets clinging to her golden skin, her long hair still streaming with water. If the village hadn’t been full of gossip about the woman who’d come to stay in the villa overlooking the bay, he could almost let himself believe that she was a mythical creature rising from the sea.

Almost. If he were a fanciful man. Which he wasn’t.

CHAPTER ONE

KATHERINE PLACED HER pen on the table and leaned back in her chair. She picked up her glass of water, took a long sip and grimaced. It was tepid. Although she’d only poured it a short while ago, the ice cubes had already melted in the relentless midday Greek sun.

As it had done throughout the morning, her gaze drifted to the bay almost immediately below her veranda. The man was back. Over the last few evenings he’d come down to the little bay around five and stayed there, working on his boat until the sun began to set. He always worked with intense concentration, scraping away paint and sanding, stopping every so often to step back and evaluate his progress. But today, Saturday, he’d been there since early morning.

He was wearing jeans rolled up above his ankles and a white T-shirt that emphasised his golden skin, broad shoulders and well-developed biceps. She couldn’t make out the colour of his eyes, but he had dark hair, curling on his forehead and slightly over his neckline. Despite what he was wearing, she couldn’t help thinking of a Greek warrior—although there was nothing but gentleness in the way he treated his boat.

Who was he? she wondered idly. If her friend Sally were here she would have found out everything about him, down to his star sign. Unfortunately Katherine wasn’t as gorgeous as Sally, to whom men responded like flies around a honey pot and who had always had some man on the go—at least until she’d met Tom. Now, insanely happily married to him, her friend had made it her mission in life to find someone for Katherine. So far her efforts had been in vain. Katherine had had her share of romances—well, two apart from Ben—but the only fizz in those had been when they’d fizzled out, and she’d given up on finding Mr Right a long time ago. Besides, men like the one she was watching were always attached to some beautiful woman.

He must have felt her eyes on him because he glanced up and looked directly at her. She scraped her chair back a little so that it was in the shadows, hoping that the dark glasses she was wearing meant he couldn’t be sure she had been staring at him.

Not that she was at all interested in him, she told herself. It was just that he was a diversion from the work she was doing on her thesis—albeit a very pleasing-to-the-eye diversion.

Everything about Greece was a feast for the senses. It was exactly as her mother had described it—blindingly white beaches, grey-green mountains and a translucent sea that changed colour depending on the tide and the time of day. She could fully grasp, now, why her mother had spoken of the country of her birth so often and with such longing.

Katherine’s heart squeezed. Was it already four weeks since Mum had died? It felt like only yesterday. The month had passed in a haze of grief and Katherine had worked even longer hours in an attempt to keep herself from thinking too much, until Tim, her boss, had pulled her aside and told her gently, but firmly, that she needed to take time off—especially as she hadn’t had a holiday in years. Although she’d protested, he’d dug his heels in. Six weeks, he’d told her, and if he saw her in the office during that time, he’d call Security. One look at his face had told her he meant it.

Then when a work colleague had told her that the Greek parents of a friend of hers were going to America for the birth of their first grandchild and needed someone to stay in their home while they were away—someone who would care for their cherished cat and water the garden—Katherine knew it was serendipity; her thesis had been put to one side when Mum had been ill, and despite what Tim said about taking a complete rest, this would be the perfect time to finish it.

It would also be a chance to fulfil the promise she’d made to her mother.

The little whitewashed house was built on the edge of the village, tucked against the side of a mountain. It had a tiny open-plan kitchen and sitting room, with stone steps hewn out of the rock snaking up to the south-facing balcony that overlooked the bay. The main bedroom was downstairs, its door leading onto a small terrace that, in turn, led directly onto the beach. The garden was filled with pomegranate, fig and ancient, gnarled olive trees that provided much-needed shade. Masses of red bougainvillea, jasmine and honeysuckle clung to the wall, scenting the air.

The cat, Hercules, was no problem to look after. Most of the time he lay sunbathing on the patio and all she had to do was make sure he had plenty of water and feed him. She’d developed a fondness for him and he for her. He’d taken to sleeping on her bed and while she knew it was a habit she shouldn’t encourage, there was something comforting about the sound of his purring and the warmth of his body curled up next to hers. And with that thought, her gaze strayed once more to the man working on the boat.

He’d resumed his paint scraping. He had to be hot down there where there was no shade. She wondered about offering him a drink. It would be the neighbourly, the polite thing to do. But she wasn’t here to get to know the neighbours, she was here to see some of her mother’s country and, while keeping her boss happy, to finish her thesis. Habits of a lifetime were too hard to break, though, and four days into her six-week holiday she hadn’t actually seen very much of Greece, apart from a brief visit to the village her mother had lived as a child. Still, there was plenty of time and if she kept up this pace, her thesis would be ready to submit within the month and then she’d take time off to relax and sightsee.

However, the heat was making it difficult to concentrate. She should give herself a break and it wouldn’t take her a moment to fetch him a drink. As it was likely he came from the village, he probably couldn’t speak English very well anyway. That would definitely curtail any attempt to strike up a conversation.

Just as she stood to move towards the kitchen, a little girl, around five or six, appeared from around the corner of the cliff. She was wearing a pair of frayed denim shorts and a bright red T-shirt. Her long, blonde hair, tied up in a ponytail, bobbed as she skipped towards the man. A small spaniel, ears flapping, chased after her, barking excitedly.

‘Baba!’ she cried, squealing with delight, her arms waving like the blades of a windmill.

An unexpected and unwelcome pang of disappointment washed over Katherine. So he was married.

He stopped what he was doing and grinned, his teeth white against his skin.

‘Crystal!’ he said, holding his arms wide for the little girl to jump into them. Katherine could only make out enough of the rest of the conversation to know it was in Greek.

He placed the little girl down as a woman, slim with short blonde hair, loped towards them. This had to be the wife. She was carrying a wicker basket, which she laid on the sand, and said something to the man that made him grin.

The child, the cocker spaniel close on her heels, ran around in circles, her laughter ringing through the still air.

There was something about the small family, their utter enjoyment of each other, the tableau they made, that looked so perfect it made Katherine’s heart contract. This was what family life should be—might have been—but would likely never be. At least, not for her.

Which wasn’t to say that she didn’t love the life she did have. It was interesting, totally absorbing and worthwhile. Public health wasn’t regarded as the sexiest speciality, but in terms of saving lives most other doctors agreed it was public-health doctors and preventive medicine that made the greatest difference. One only had to think about the Broad Street pump, for example. No one had been able to stop the spread of cholera that had raged through London in the 1800s until they’d found its source.

When she next looked up the woman had gone but the detritus of a picnic still remained on the blanket. The man was leaning against a rock, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the child, dwarfed by his size, snuggled into his side, gazing up at him with a rapt expression on her face as he read to her from a story book.

It was no use, she couldn’t concentrate out here. Gathering up her papers, she went back inside. She’d work for another hour before stopping for lunch. Perhaps then she’d explore the village properly. Apart from the short trip to Mum’s village—and what a disappointment that had turned out to be—she’d been too absorbed in her thesis to do more than go for a swim or a walk along the beach before breakfast and last thing at night. Besides, she needed to stock up on more provisions.

She’d been to the shop on the village square once to buy some tomatoes and milk and had had to endure the undisguised curiosity of the shopkeeper and her customers and she regretted not having learnt Greek properly when she’d had the chance to do so. Her mother had been a native Greek speaker but she had never spoken it at home and consequently Katherine knew little of the language.

However, she hated the way some tourists expected the locals to speak English, regardless of what country they found themselves in, and had made sure she’d learnt enough to ask for what she needed—at the very least, to say please, thank you and to greet people. In the store, she’d managed to ask for what she wanted through a combination of hand signals and her few words of Greek—the latter causing no small amount of amusement.

She glanced at her papers and pushed them away with a sigh. The warm family scene she’d witnessed had unsettled her, bringing back the familiar ache of loneliness and longing. Since her concentration was ruined, she may as well go to the village now. A quick freshen-up and then she’d be good to go. Walking into her bedroom, she hesitated. She crossed over to her bedside drawer and removed the photograph album she always kept with her. She flicked through the pages until she found a couple of photos of Poppy when she was six—around the same age as the little girl in the bay.

This particular one had been taken on the beach—Brighton, if she remembered correctly. Poppy was kneeling in the sand, a bucket and spade next to her, a deep frown knotting her forehead as she sculpted what looked like a very wobbly sandcastle. She was in a bright one-piece costume, her hair tied up in bunches on either side of her head. Another, taken the same day, was of Poppy in Liz’s arms, the remains of an ice cream still evident on her face, her head thrown back as if she’d been snapped right in the middle of a fit of giggles. Katherine could see the gap in the front of her mouth where her baby teeth had fallen out, yet to be replaced with permanent ones. She appeared happy, blissfully so. As happy as the child she’d seen earlier.

She closed the album, unable to bear looking further. Hadn’t she told herself that it was useless to dwell on what might have been? Work. That was what always stopped her dwelling on the past. The trip to the village could wait.

Immersed in her writing, Katherine was startled by a small voice behind her.

‘Yiássas.’

Katherine spun around in her chair. She hadn’t heard anyone coming up the rock steps but she instantly recognised the little girl from the bay. ‘Oh, hello.’ What was she doing here? And on her own? ‘You gave me a bit of a fright,’ she added in English.

The child giggled. ‘I did, didn’t I? I saw you earlier when I was with Baba. You were on the balcony.’ She pointed to it. ‘I don’t think you have any friends so I thought you might want a visitor. Me!’ Her English was almost perfect, although heavily accented.

Katherine laughed but it didn’t sound quite as carefree as she hoped. ‘Some adults like their own company.’ She gestured to the papers in front of her. ‘Besides, I have lots of work to do while I’m here.’

The girl studied her doubtfully for a few moments. ‘But you wouldn’t mind if I come and see you sometimes?’

What could she say to that? ‘No, of course not. But I’m afraid you wouldn’t find me very good company. I’m not used to entertaining little girls.’

The child looked astounded. ‘But you must have been a little girl once! Before you got old.’

This time Katherine’s laugh was wholehearted. ‘Exactly. I’m old. No fun. Should you be here? Your family might be worried about you.’

The child’s eyes widened. ‘Why?’

‘Well, because you’re very small still and most of the time parents like to know where their children are and what they’re up to.’ She winced inwardly, aware of the irony of what she’d said.

‘But they do know where I am, silly. I’m in the village! Hello, Hercules.’ The girl knelt and stroked the cat. Suddenly pandemonium broke out. It seemed her spaniel had come to look for her. He ran into the room and spotting the cat made a beeline for it. With a furious yowl Hercules leapt up and onto Katherine’s desk, scattering her papers, pens and pencils onto the floor. She grabbed and held on to the struggling cat as the dog jumped up against her legs, barking excitedly.

‘Kato! Galen! Kato!’ A stern male voice cut through the chaos. It was the child’s father—the boat man. God, how many other people and animals were going to appear uninvited in her living room?

The spaniel obediently ran over to the man and lay down at his feet, tail wagging and panting happily. Now the father’s censorious gaze rested on his little girl. After speaking a few words in Greek, he turned to Katherine. ‘I apologise for my daughter’s intrusion. She knows she shouldn’t wander off without letting me know first. I didn’t notice she’d gone until I saw her footprints headed this way.’ His English was impeccable with only a trace of an attractive accent. ‘Please, let us help you gather your papers.’

Close up he was overwhelmingly good-looking, with thick-lashed sepia eyes, a straight nose, curving sensual mouth and sharp cheekbones. Katherine felt another stab of envy for the blonde-haired woman. She lowered the still protesting Hercules to the floor. With a final malevolent glance at the spaniel, he disappeared outside.

‘Please, there’s no need…’

But he was already picking up some of the strewn papers. ‘It’s the least we can do.’

Katherine darted forward and placed a hand on his arm. To her dismay, her fingertips tingled where they touched his warm skin and she quickly snatched it away. ‘I’d rather you didn’t—they might get even more muddled up.’

He straightened and studied her for a moment from beneath dark brows. He was so close she could smell his soap and almost feel waves of energy pulsating from him. Every nerve cell in her body seemed to be on alert, each small hair on her body standing to attention. Dear God, that she should be reacting like this to a married man! What the hell was wrong with her? She needed to get a grip. ‘Accidents happen, there is no need for you to do anything, thank you,’ she said. Thankfully her voice sounded normal.

‘Yes, Baba! Accidents happen!’ the little girl piped up in English.

His response to his daughter, although spoken softly in Greek, had her lowering her head again, but when he turned back to Katherine a smile lighted his eyes and played around the corners of his mouth. He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Again I must apologise for my daughter. I’m afraid Crystal is too used to going in and out of all the villagers’ homes here and doesn’t quite understand that some people prefer to offer invitations.’

Crystal looked so woebegone that Katherine found herself smiling back at them. ‘It’s fine—I needed a break. So now I’m having one—a little earlier than planned, but that’s okay.’

‘In which case we’ll leave you to enjoy it in peace.’ He glanced at her ringless fingers. ‘Miss…?’

‘Burns. Katherine Burns.’

‘Katherine.’ The way he rolled her name around his mouth made it sound exotic. ‘And I am Alexander Dimitriou. I’ve noticed you watching from your balcony.’

‘Excuse me! I wasn’t watching you! I was working on my laptop and you just happened to be directly in my line of sight whenever I lifted my head.’ The arrogance of the man! To take it for granted that she’d been watching him—even if she had.

When he grinned she realised she’d let him know that she had noticed him. The way he was looking at her was disturbing. It was simply not right for a married man to look at a woman who wasn’t his wife that way.

‘Perhaps,’ he continued, ‘you’ll consider joining my family one day for lunch, to make up for disrupting your day?’

She wasn’t here to hang around divine-looking Greek men—particularly married ones! ‘Thank you,’ she responded tersely. ‘I did say to Crystal that she could come and visit me again some time,’ she added as she walked father and daughter outside, ‘but perhaps you should remind her to let you know before she does?’

She stood on the balcony, watching as they ambled hand in hand across the beach towards the village square, Crystal chattering and swinging on her father’s arm. Even from this distance she could hear his laughter. With a sigh she turned around and went back inside.

Later that evening, after Crystal was in bed, Alexander’s thoughts returned to Katherine, as they had over the last few days—ever since the morning he’d seen her come out of the water. It was just his luck that the villa she was staying in overlooked the bay where he was working on his boat.

He couldn’t help glancing her way as she sat on her balcony, her head bent over her laptop as she typed, pausing only to push stray locks from her eyes—and to watch him.

And she had been watching him. He’d looked up more than once to catch her looking in his direction. She’d caused quite a stir in the village, arriving here by herself. The villagers, his grandmother and cousin Helen included, continued to be fascinated by this woman who’d landed in their midst and who kept herself to herself, seldom venturing from her temporary home unless it was to have a quick dip in the sea or shop for groceries at the village store. They couldn’t understand anyone coming on holiday by themselves and had speculated wildly about her.

To their disappointment she hadn’t stopped for a coffee or a glass of wine in the village square or to try some of Maria’s—the owner of only taverna in the village—home-cooked food so there had been no opportunity to find out more about her. Helen especially would have loved to know more about her—his cousin was always on at him to start dating again.

But, despite the fact Katherine was undeniably gorgeous, he wasn’t interested in long-term relationships and he had the distinct impression that Miss Burns didn’t do short-term ones.

However, there was something about this particular woman that drew him. Perhaps, he thought, because he recognised the same sadness in her that was in him. All the more reason, then, for him to keep his distance.