Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

A bald-headed man dressed in plaid slacks and Hawaiian sport shirt came up to her. “I’ll bet you get tired of people telling you you’re beautiful, honey.”

Eve rewarded him with a warm smile. “I never get tired of that, Mr.—?”

“Peterson. Call me Dan. You should be a Hollywood star.”

“I’m afraid I have no talent for acting.”

“I’ll bet you’ve got a lot of other talents, though.”

Eve smiled enigmatically. “You never know until you try, do you, Dan?”

He wet his lips. “You down here alone?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got my yacht anchored in the bay. Maybe you and I could take a little cruise tomorrow?”

“That sounds lovely,” Eve said.

He grinned. “I don’t know why we’ve never met before. I’ve known your grandmother, Kate, for years.”

The smile stayed on Eve’s face, but it took a great effort. “Gran’s a darling,” Eve said. “I think we’d better join the others.”

“Sure, honey.” He winked. “Remember tomorrow.”

 

 

From that moment on, he was unable to get Eve alone again. She avoided him at lunch, and after lunch she borrowed one of the automobiles kept in the garage for guests and drove into town. She drove past Blackbeard’s Tower and the lovely Ardastra Gardens where the colorful flamingos were on parade. She stopped at the waterfront to watch the fishing boats unload their catch of giant turtles, enormous lobsters, tropical fish and a brilliantly colored variety of conch shells, which would be polished and sold to the tourists.

The bay was smooth, and the sea sparkled like diamonds. Across the water Eve could see the crescent curve of Paradise Island Beach. A motorboat was leaving the dock at the beach, and as it picked up speed, the figure of a man suddenly rose into the sky, trailing behind the boat. It was a startling sight. He appeared to be hanging on to a metal bar fastened to a blue sail, his long, lean body stretched against the wind. Para-sailing. Eve watched, fascinated, as the motorboat roared toward the harbor, and the airborne figure swept closer. The boat approached the dock and made a sharp turn, and for an instant Eve caught a glimpse of the dark, handsome face of the man in the air, and then he was gone.

 

 

He walked into Nita Ludwig’s drawing room five hours later, and Eve felt as though she had willed him there. She had known he would appear. Up close he was even more handsome. He was six foot three, with perfectly sculptured, tanned features, black eyes and a trim, athletic body. When he smiled, he revealed white, even teeth. He smiled down at Eve as Nita introduced him.

“This is George Mellis. Eve Blackwell.”

“My God, you belong in the Louvre,” George Mellis said. His voice was deep and husky, with the trace of an indefinable accent.

“Come along, darling,” Nita commanded. “I’ll introduce you to the other guests.”

He waved her away. “Don’t bother. I just met everybody.”

Nita looked at the two of them thoughtfully. “I see. Well, if I can do anything, call me.” She walked away.

“Weren’t you a little rude to her?” Eve asked.

He grinned. “I’m not responsible for what I say or do. I’m in love.”

Eve laughed.

“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I was thinking the same about you.”

Eve did not care whether this man had money or not. She was fascinated by him. It was more than his looks. There was a magnetism, a sense of power that excited her. No man had ever affected her this way before. “Who are you?” Eve asked.

“Nita told you. George Mellis.”

“Who are you?” she repeated.

“Ah, you mean in the philosophical sense. The real me. Nothing colorful to tell, I’m afraid. I’m Greek. My family grows olives and other things.”

That Mellis! The Mellis food brands could be found in every corner grocery store and supermarket in America.

“Are you married?” Eve asked.

He grinned. “Are you always this direct?”

“No.”

“I’m not married.”

The answer gave her an unexpected feeling of pleasure. Just looking at him made Eve want to possess him, to be possessed. “Why did you miss dinner?”

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