Breaking the Greek's Rules. Anne McAllister
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Alex pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and poked it in front of her face. “He said I should talk to his friend Daisy the matchmaker.”
Yes, there it was—her name, address and phone number—in Lukas’s spiky handwriting. But she was more arrested by his words than what he was waving in front of her face. “You’re looking for a matchmaker? You?”
Alex shrugged. “No doubt you’re amazed,” he said easily. “Thinking I’ve changed my mind.”
She didn’t know what to think.
“I haven’t,” he said firmly. “I’m not looking for hearts and flowers, kindred spirits, the melding of two souls any more than I ever was.”
She wondered if he was being so adamant in case she decided to propose. No fear of that, she wanted to tell him. Instead she pressed her lips into a tight line.
“I want a marriage of convenience,” Alex went on. “A woman with her own life, doing her own thing. She’ll go her way, I’ll go mine. But someone who will turn up if a business engagement calls for it. And who’s there … at night.”
“A sex buddy?” Daisy said drily.
Was that a line of color creeping above his shirt collar? “Friends,” he said firmly. “We’ll be friends. It’s not just about sex.”
“Hire a mistress.”
“I don’t want a mistress. That is just about sex.”
“Whatever. I can’t help you,” she said flatly.
“Why not? You’re a matchmaker.”
“Yes, but I’m a matchmaker who does believe in hearts and flowers, kindred spirits, the melding of two souls.” She echoed his words with a saccharine smile. “I believe in real marriages. Love matches. Soul mates. The kind you don’t believe in.” She met his gaze steadily, refusing to look away from those beautiful pale green eyes that she’d once hoped to drown in forever.
Alex’s jaw tightened. “I believe in them,” he said harshly. “I just don’t want one.”
“Right. So I repeat, I can’t help you.” She said the words again, meant them unequivocally. But even as she spoke in a calm steady tone, her heart was hammering so hard she could hear it.
Their gazes met. Locked. And with everything in her, Daisy resisted the magnetic pull that was still there. But even as she fought it, she felt the rise of desire within her, knew the feelings once more that she’d turned her back on the day he’d walked out of her life. It wasn’t love, she told herself. It was something else—something as powerful and perverse and demanding as anything she’d ever felt.
But she was stronger now, and no longer an innocent. She had a life—and a love in it—that was worth resisting Alex Antonides.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said, holding his gaze. “It was nice to see you again.”
It was, she hoped, a clear dismissal. It was also a blatant lie. She could have gone the rest of her life without seeing Alex again and died a happy woman. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupidest thirty hours of her life. But in another way, she was aware of owing him her unending gratitude.
That single day had forever changed her life.
“Was it?” he asked. His words were as speculative as his gaze. He smiled. And resist as she would, she saw in that smile the man who once upon a time had melted her bones, her resolve, every shred of her common sense, then broken her heart.
She turned away. “Goodbye, Alex.”
“Daisy.” His voice stopped her.
She glanced back. “What?”
The smile grew rueful, crooked, far too appealing. “Have dinner with me.”
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT? No!” She looked panic-stricken. Horrified.
Not at all like the Daisy he remembered. And yet she was so much the Daisy he remembered that Alex couldn’t just turn and walk away. Not now. Not when he’d finally found her again. “Why not?”
“Because … because I don’t want to!” Her cheeks had grown red in the throes of passion. Her whole body had blushed when he’d made love to her. His body—right now—was already contemplating doing the same thing again.
Which was a profoundly stupid idea, considering what he wanted, what she wanted, considering the present—and their past.
“Do you hate me?” he asked. He remembered the way they had parted. She’d looked devastated, about to cry. Thank God she hadn’t. But what she’d wanted—the hope of a lifetime of love—was his worst nightmare. It brought back memories that he’d turned his back on years ago. What had begun happening between them that weekend was something he wasn’t ready for. Would never be ready for.
So there was no point in making her hope in vain. He regretted having hurt her when he’d left her. But he could never bring himself to regret that weekend. It was one of the best memories of his life.
“Of course I don’t hate you,” she said briskly now. “I don’t care at all about you.”
Her words were a slap in the face. But he supposed he had it coming. And it was just as well, wasn’t it, that she didn’t care? It meant he hadn’t hurt her badly after all.
“Well, then,” he suggested easily, “let’s share a meal.” He gave her his best engaging grin. “For old times’ sake,” he added when he could see the word no forming on her lips.
“We don’t have old times.”
“We have one old time,” he reminded her softly.
Her cheeks grew brighter yet. “That was a long, long time ago. Years. Five or six at least.”
“Five,” he said. “And a half.” He remembered clearly. It was right after that weekend that he’d made up his mind to stay in Europe, to buy a place in Paris.
It made sense businesswise, he’d told himself at the time. But it wasn’t only business that had made him dig in across the pond. It was smarter to put an ocean between himself and the temptation that was Daisy.
She was still tempting. But a dinner he could handle. “It’s just a meal, Daisy. I promise I won’t sweep you off to bed.” Not that he wouldn’t like to.
“You couldn’t,” she said flatly.
He thought he could, but emotions would get involved. So he wouldn’t go there, as tempting as it was. Still, he wasn’t willing to walk away, either. “We have a lot to catch up on,” he cajoled.
But Daisy shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her smile was brittle. He saw none of the sunny sincerity he’d always associated with his memories of her. Interesting.
He studied her now, wondering what her life had been like over the past five years. He’d always imagined she’d found the true love she’d been seeking, had found a man who’d made her happy. And if the thought occasionally had made him grind his teeth, he told himself a guy couldn’t have everything. He had what he wanted.
Now he wondered if Daisy had got what she wanted. Suddenly he wanted to know.
“Another time then,” he suggested.
“Thank you, but no.”
He knew he was going to get “no” if he asked a hundred times. And the knowledge annoyed him. “Once upon a time we had a lot to say to each other,” he reminded her.
“Once upon a time is for fairy tales, Alex. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
“Let’s,” he said readily. “I’ll walk with you.”