Page 209 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

The platter landed on the island bench with a dull clunk as Dido spun around, face burning and belly clenching.

Panos stood in the doorway, shoulders almost filling the space, wearing the same clothes as this morning. She took in his rumpled hair and shadowed jaw. The open V of his shirt, and below his board shorts, powerfully muscled legs and bare feet.

He looked…untamed, elemental and potently masculine.

Memory slammed her. Of him emerging, bare-chested from the surf, walking with that loose-hipped saunter, shoulders back as he flicked water from his eyes. Then he’d seen her waiting for him and his dark eyes had glittered, his face splitting in a slow grin that made her toes curl and her womb contract. He’d opened his arms and she’d run, throwing herself at him, knowing he’d catch her. Her arms had wound around his neck and her legs around his waist and he’d held her as if he’d never let her go.

Her throat contracted.

How many nights had she woken, imagining the taste of sea salt and Panos on her tongue? How often had she felt the phantom caress of his bristled jaw on her flesh as she snuggled against her lonely pillow?

She’d told herself it was over but it wasn’t. This craving was—

‘Dido, what’s wrong? Is it Athena?’

‘No.’ Her voice sounded strangled and she turned away, planting her palms on the marble benchtop for support. ‘She’s fine. Worn out from an afternoon on the beach. She almost fell asleep in the bath.’

Silence but for the pulse pounding in her ears. Pushing her shoulders back she straightened and turned, only to find he’d padded across the tiled floor and stood less than an arm’s length away. A snatched breath brought a hint of his unique scent. Her nipples peaked against her bra and internal muscles tightened.

‘Then what is it?’

She bit her lip rather than blurt the truth. That despite his mistrust and her pride, despite his actions, she wanted him. Craved him.

‘Nothing. You just surprised me.’

He frowned. Not that disapproving scowl he’d directed at her in Tahiti and London. Instead he looked perplexed, even concerned. He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand in tufts and leaving him deliciously dishevelled. Like the surfer she’d fallen for three years ago. The surfer who turned out to be a billionaire.

Don’t go there! No matter how much you want him.

She moved towards the refrigerator, needing to do something with her hands, but he flung out an arm and she stopped.

He said her name. Just that, in a voice of gravel that abraded her senses and brought every nerve ending into pulsing life.

She backed up a step, not trusting herself.

His gaze held hers, searching, his expression serious. Something unexpected glinted in those narrowed eyes. She saw his pulse pound at the base of his throat and his nostrils flare on a deep inhale, his chest rising.

Dido told herself he couldn’t know what she felt. Except she was wet between the legs. Could he possibly detect the scent of arousal? She pressed her thighs together and lifted her chin.

‘You’re tense,’ he said slowly as if weighing his words.

His gaze slid to the food she’d begun to assemble. But her appetite had vanished. She hadn’t been hungry to start with, just going through the motions to keep herself busy.

His eyes were on her again and she watched his pupils widen, turning his eyes almost black. The way they looked when they’d made love.

She shifted, shuffling back as she cleared her throat. She prided herself on her communication skills. Those and her ability to think on her feet were key parts of her work. Yet those skills deserted her. No words came.

‘I’m not hungry.’ His voice was low and soft, curling around her and drawing her skin tight. She shivered and tightened her hands into fists at her sides. Did he move nearer? That dark gaze seemed mere inches away. ‘Not for food, at least.’

Dido stared, his words sinking in. ‘I…’

Panos moved, obliterating the space between them. They stood almost touching as he tilted his head and pinioned her with that dark-as-midnight stare. ‘I’m hungry for you, Dido.’

Her mouth sagged. She wanted to protest that he didn’t trust her, didn’t like her. Instead her mind kept replaying his voice, and it felt like suede smoothing over sensitised skin.

Hungry for you.

And he was. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the surge of power throbbing between them. Her own need fizzed in her blood.