From the Torrid Past Read online

  FROM THE TORRID PAST

  Ann Cristy

  One reckless night in London had changed D'Arcy Kincaid's life forever...one star-crossed night of passion with a man she had never been able to forget.

  Now, incredibly, five years later, Keele Petrakis strides back into her life. D'Arcy is assigned to do a story on Keele's shipping firm, but as they travel together from the sun-drenched Greek isles to the glittering towers of Manhattan, she must hide the passion that rages inside her like a storm. For Keele must never find out the secret that she has hidden from him for five long years...

  Chapter 1

  D'Arcy Kincaid looked around her, still bemused and delighted to find herself in Greece. She leaned on the railing of the ferryboat carrying her to the island of Keros and tried to absorb all the sights and the sounds around her. Last night she had spent in Athens and although one night in that city could never be enough, she managed to see the Acropolis and the Erectheum. She promised herself that when she was through with this assignment she would take a few days to explore the beautiful city further before she returned to New York and her home. Home. That made her think of Sean and the only cloud there had been on this dream job, leaving him behind with Henry and Adelaide. Sean, at four years old, was a little man with his brown curling hair and tawny colored eyes with the deep brown ringing the unusually light irises. Sean of the stocky, sturdy body, large hands and feet for his age, who was the whole world to his mother, though he was the picture that his father must have been at that age. His father. D'Arcy moved restlessly against the rail, not wanting to think of Keele Petrakis. She had dreamed of him last night. That was disturbing enough. She would not think of him today. She tried to concentrate on a small flotilla of fishing boats on the port side of the ferry, but Keele's face kept intruding, at least the face he had had five years before. She hadn't seen him since the day of Rudy's funeral five years ago. She had left London the next day, flying to New York to Henry and Adelaide and safety. No, no she wouldn't think of the past, not when she was here basking in the hot Greek sunshine on her way to interview Anna Davos, the Greek matriarch who subtly and capably managed Apollo Shipping and Venus Airlines. She was not a woman who had given many interviews, but because of her money and prestige she was still an intriguing figure to the people who read DAY magazine. D'Arcy realized what a plum of an assignment she had. Though she could never wish her colleague, Lena Plantz, bad fortune, she had been elated that Gregson Timms, the editor, had to send her in Lena's place when the other woman fell getting out of a cab and sprained her ankle. Since Madame Davos refused to have a man interview her, the job had fallen to D'Arcy, a junior member of the staff even though she had had a few good bylines in the magazine.

  D'Arcy thought again how Sean would have loved to see the fishing boats and ride on the ferry. She sighed, missing her son.

  What would Keele do if ever he realized he had a son? That thought had plagued her the first year and a half she had spent in the States, but gradually she had come to realize he would never look for her.. .much less suppose she would have a son by him. To him she had just been a one night stand, one of many in the playboy social life of the ruthless business tycoon, Keele Petrakis.

  D'Arcy paced the deck of the slowly moving ferry, knowing that she had another four hours on board and that she would be a captive to her traitorous mind. She was in Greece. Keele was Greek, at least half Greek. The other half of him was heir to Keele Industries, of which he was Managing Director, both in Britain, the parent office, and in Canada and Australia, the subsidiaries. With shaking hand she pressed her forehead, beaded in moisture not just from the sun but from the heat of her memories, memories that she had successfully buried until she landed in Athens yesterday. Why had that started her thinking of him? It had all happened in London, not in Greece. With a groan, she sank into a disreputable deck chair as her mind flooded with yesterday.

  She and Rudy Alessio had met as undergraduate students at Hofstra University. Her guardians, her father's brother Henry Kincaid and his wife Adelaide, had not liked Rudy, dubbing him mercurial and unpredictable though they conceded he was quite bright. D'Arcy had been a very young and immature twenty-one to Rudy's twenty-two when they had graduated from Hofstra. Perhaps she would have gone on to law school as Henry wanted her to if Rudy hadn't received a fellowship to Cambridge. He urged D'Arcy to marry him and go with him for the two year span in England. Overriding all objections, she married Rudy and they went to England.

  D'Arcy covered her face with her hands as she remembered the early disillusionment with her husband, his bitter denunciation of her frigidity when she recoiled from his rough handling. She learned quickly that Rudy's love was a passing thing—if it had every really existed. More than once he had struck her, so that she had come to treat him with caution, to move warily, making sure that she did nothing to ignite his ferocious temper. Her knowledge that there were other women barely penetrated the cocoon of misery she called marriage. It was a relief when he gave tacit approval to her taking a course in photography. What was first a panacea became an absorbing interest. She and Rudy were almost leading separate lives eight months after their marriage.

  It was hardly of interest to her when Rudy gave up his fellowship and took a job with Keele Industries. But when D'Arcy suggested that she go back to the States and seek a divorce, Rudy was furious, disclosing that one of the reasons he had got the job was because he was married. She had to stay, at least until he settled on someone else, he had said, and laughed nastily. D'Arcy had the depressed feeling that Rudy wouldn't find someone else. He enjoyed his freewheeling life with the fast crowd he'd found in London. D'Arcy worked harder and harder at her photography and took part-time assignments with a small newspaper run by one of the teachers of the course.

  One evening, Rudy announced there was going to be a company party, the "brass" would be there, and she had to accompany him. "See if you can fix yourself up a little, D'Arce. Your hair looks awful. Too bad you're so tall. I like women Small and blond, not leggy and red-haired. Did you always have those freckles on your nose? God, maybe it's just as well you can't have kids. They might look like you..." Rudy's harsh laugh had a bite to it. D'Arcy knew it was because she no longer rose to the bait and fought back, that she just stared at him until his tirade was through. Of course, if he had a few drinks that didn't always save her from his hands, but she had also discovered his cowardice. He was more likely to back down if she didn't. Her first feeling was not to go, but then she discussed it with her friend and mentor, Harold Joyce. He suggested she take a few pictures for the fashion section of the paper, that it might help subscriptions if there were pictures on the social page.

  "All right, Harold, I'll take a camera and see what happens. If no one objects, I'll take a few pictures. Now tell me about this little dress shop your niece runs." D'Arcy had smiled at the older man. To her surprise, the shop was quite chic and Harold's niece quite knowledgeable on fashion.

  "That tall, red-haired look is all the rage and I have just the green pleated silk that will look smashing on you. Oh, don't look so scared. I'm not going to charge you the full price. I'll consider you my model. If anyone asks you where you bought the dress, tell them Amy's. You'll more than pay for the dress if I get the customers I think I will." Amy had stood back and looked at D'Arcy's slim figure in the peach colored undies. "What a figure! You have gorgeous high breasts, slim calves and thighs, small hips. God, you should model full time." She walked around a self-conscious D'Arcy who fidgeted under the other girl's stare. "Your hair. I'm going to send you to a friend of mine for a good cutting."

  "But I've never cut my hair," D'Arcy had gulped.

  "I know that," Amy had answered dryly. "With all that curl and h
eaviness you can't see its real beauty. Besides, all you do is pull it back and it doesn't enhance your fine bone structure, those lovely cheekbones, those almond shaped green eyes. You are a knockout, lady, who is totally underplayed. Now we begin." Amy had rubbed her hands together gleefully, making D'Arcy laugh.

  The D'Arcy who had looked back at her that evening from the mirror was a stranger. She was dumbfounded. Her hair was now not quite shoulder length and layered so that the burnished color seemed to gleam in the riot of curls all over her head. For the evening, Adele, hairdresser deluxe, had insisted that the back be swept upward and held by a comb, the other curls cascading forward. The watered silk dress was a hunter green that had a tight bodice held by spaghetti straps, with an inverted pleated skirt that looked like a tight sheath, until she moved and it flared softly about her body. She had never had such an haute couture gown. It gave her back a measure of confidence that had become sadly dented in the eight months of her marriage to Rudy. She flexed her toes in the peau de soie slippers. She knew Rudy would be angry that she was wearing such high heels since it made her taller than he, but she loved them and hadn't resisted when Amy insisted she wear the shoes in the matching color of her dress. And she was so relieved that Rudy wouldn't be coming home to get her! He'd told her in his offhand way that he would take his evening clothes with him and dress at work before going on to the hotel with some of his cronies.

  "Grab a cab, D'Arce. Don't be late and try not to look like too much of a drag." Rudy had thrown some bills and those words at her before he had left that morning.

  She had used the time during the cab ride to bolster her flagging courage. She told herself that she wouldn't let one thing that Rudy said to her spoil her evening. It had been a long time since she had been out to anything as dressy as a dinner dance. In fact it had been a long time since she had been in her husband's company for an evening. She didn't regret the loss of Rudy's company, but she felt a touch of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead.

  Once in the lobby, she had no idea of her destination, knowing that Rudy wouldn't bother to meet her. She decided to follow the swell of people moving down a corridor to a large ballroom. They had almost reached the doors of the ballroom when another door along the hall opened and disgorged a number of people. D'Arcy stepped back to let them precede her. She kept her eyes averted and thought them all passed when a large hand touched her elbow. She looked up, rather far, at a strong planed face, dominated by a nose, hawklike and strong. Leonine eyes narrowed on her, fascinating her by their gold color with the darker brown rim on the irises. His hair was a burnished chestnut, unlike his black eyebrows. His skin was dark, as though he spent long hours in the outdoors. His broad shoulders seemed to stretch the fine material of his black dinner jacket, as did his long legs pressing against the matching silk trousers.

  "You look lost. May I help?" The deep timbred voice didn't surprise her, but the frankly inviting look did.

  "No, thank you. I'm joining my husband. Perhaps you could tell me if this is the way to the Keele Industries party? My husband works there," she said. She swallowed hard and was angry at her nervousness. She looked away from that piercing stare, deciding the handsome stranger wasn't going to answer her. She tried to pull away from the hand holding her elbow.

  "Yes, this is the way. I'm going there myself. So, you're married to someone who works for the firm? Perhaps I know him." The tall dark man with the large body moved like a cat, his graceful movements belying his strength.

  D'Arcy couldn't pull free without making a scene so she allowed herself to be led toward the room where the sounds of conviviality were increasing in volume. "I doubt if you know my husband unless you work in his department. He's a new employee," D'Arcy replied stiffly, trying to keep as much distance as possible between her and the determined stranger. She looked up once, angry at his peremptory manner, to find those leonine eyes, laced with amusement, staring straight down into hers. It felt strange and weakening to look up at a man when she was generally at eye level. She had the feeling she was being dominated both mentally and physically.

  "Tell me your name," he ordered softly, guiding her through the doorway into mass confusion. One hand pressed the small of her back when she hesitated, unwilling to face the milling throng.

  "D'Arcy Alessio," she whispered, her eyes darting from face to face looking for Rudy. She hardly noticed the sudden cessation of noise, the growing murmur that was replacing the laughter. Then she became aware that people were staring her way. She wondered with a gasp of nervousness if her slip were showing.

  Then she saw Rudy making his way toward her, his curling dark hair still looking boyish though his hairline was receding. His face was flushed and there was a light lipstick smear near the comer of his mouth.

  D'Arcy's heart sank as she realized he had been drinking a great deal. Rudy had a tendency to be more insulting and surly when he drank. She drew a breath of relief watching his smile widen as he approached.

  "Hello, D'Arce. What kind of hot water have you gotten yourself into this time?" Without waiting for her to reply to his slyly amusing question, he turned to the man who was still holding D'Arcy by the elbow. "How do you do, sir? I'm Rudy Alessio and this is my wife, D'Arcy. I haven't been with the organization long so I'm pretty much of an unknown quantity." Rudy smiled with all his teeth, making D'Arcy remember how she had once thought that his smile was the most beautiful in the world. How ironic! She once thought she loved him too. Now she knew that she despised him. A shiver of distaste made her whole body tremble. She felt the man next to her turn to look at her, but she kept her eyes on Rudy. The man dropped his hand from her elbow but didn't move from her side. Rudy was looking back at her now. "How did you manage to meet Mr. Petrakis, D'Arce?" The words were spoken softly, but D'Arcy felt his menace and took a small step backward.

  "Mrs. Alessio didn't have time to catch my name," Petrakis interjected smoothly, his eyes going from D'Arcy to Rudy and back.

  D'Arcy braced herself when Rudy looked at her again, his glance seeming to tell her how stupid she was. She wished desperately that she had stayed at home.

  "Perhaps you'll allow me to get your wife and you a drink?" The question was put, but D'Arcy knew that the man called Petrakis had just given them an order.

  Rudy accepted quickly, no longer looking at D'Arcy, but gazing around the room to catch the glances of his cronies. Mr. Petrakis had taken her arm again, but she was able to see the diminutive brunette who was pouting at Rudy as he spoke to her in urgent tones. D'Arcy noted, with indifference, how the crowd parted like the Red Sea as they made their way to one of the bars scattered around the perimeter of the ballroom.

  "What will you have, Mrs. Alessio?" He leaned toward her, his rich timbred voice making her jump. She watched those deep golden eyes narrow on her, as though he had just taken her apart, section by section, analyzed her, and assembled her again in milliseconds.

  She studied the gold-chased studs in his shirt, swallowing to moisten her dry throat. "I'd like a Perrier and lime, please."

  Rudy was there behind her, his fingers digging into her side, making her body arch in a defensive position. She watched Mr. Petrakis's eyes narrow even more on her, then flick to Rudy.

  "Pay no attention to my wife, Mr. Petrakis. She'll have a gin and lime. I'll have the same." Rudy's tone was hearty, but his pinching fingers were telling her that he didn't like her actions. No doubt he wanted her to fit the mold of his crowd, D'Arcy thought with bitterness.

  When the barman inclined his head toward them, Mr. Petrakis ordered one gin and lime, one Perrier and lime, and an Irish for himself. He looked back at Rudy, staring at him for a long moment, then his eyes dropped to the hand that Rudy had on D'Arcy's waist. The hand fell away.

  When the drinks came, D'Arcy took hers and stepped to one side, looking down into the liquid, holding it close to her but not drinking. She couldn't help thinking of later tonight when she was alone with Rudy. She wouldn't allow him to hit her
again. She didn't know exactly what she was going to do, but she wouldn't let him touch her.

  "Mrs. Alessio?" The low voice was at her side.

  She turned with a start to find Mr. Petrakis looking down at her, a rather irritated smile on his face. She looked past him to find Rudy but could see him nowhere. "Yes? I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

  "I'm fully aware of that," he intoned, sarcasm threading his voice.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Petrakis. Perhaps I'd better find my husband." D'Arcy began moving away from him. A strong hand clamped onto her arm and stilled her.

  "Don't go, and for God's sake call me Keele." He spoke in harsh tones, surprising her.

  Her eyes widened on him, trying to read the closed look on his hard planed face. His classic Greek good looks were flawed by the hawklike nose and the small scar lifting the corner of his mouth, she thought dispassionately. "My husband will be looking for me, Mr. Petrakis." She tried to speak in a cool voice so that her own mounting temper wouldn't show. She didn't give a damn how offended he would be. She was sick and tired of being pushed around by men.

  "Your husband is busy trying to get the typing pool into bed," he said cruelly, watching her swallow painfully.

  She turned her back to him, looking for an exit. She wasn't going to stay.

  "Wait." He had hold of her arm again in that firm grip. "We started wrong." He turned her slowly, seemingly unaware of the curious eyes on them or the people who were edging closer to them who wanted either to speak to the director of the firm or listen to what he was saying.

  D'Arcy felt an acute embarrassment as she realized that her name was probably flying around the room from mouth to mouth because she was standing with him.

  "Look, Mr. Petrakis..."

  "Call me Keele... please." He gave her a smile that rocked her, the white teeth flashing in that tanned face, the eyes glittering gold. "We're starting again. Remember?" He put one finger on her lip.