Irresistible Greeks Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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said afterwards, really no decision to make, for by that time they had fallen hopelessly in love with the little girl and she with them. They named her Sofia after his beloved grandmother.
Now almost four, Sofia was almost exactly the same age as their niece, Ianthe, and the reason for the rare lie-in was because Xenon’s sister had brought her family over for a week’s holiday. Kyra and Nikola had taken Sofia and her cousin for a walk in Regent’s Park and afterwards they were having a trip to the famous zoo.
‘Which leaves me all morning to make slow and delicious love to you,’ Xenon murmured.
He drifted his mouth over her breast and she bit her lip in delighted response. Skin touched skin. Gasps punctured the air. Lexi lifted her hips to meet him, a shaft of intense pleasure coursing through her as he filled her completely.
Afterwards she kissed him, long and lazy kisses. ‘What did I ever do to deserve you?’ she said, her words muffled by the pressure of his lips.
‘That’s my question.’ His voice was sleepy. ‘And you already know the answer. Don’t analyse. Just be grateful.’
And she was. Oh, she was.
Despite the joys and commitment of motherhood, she had continued to make her quirky jewellery on a part-time basis and soon it began to feature in magazines. Before long she was having to take on two workers to help craft Gibson Gems. Anyone who was anyone had a pair of her dangly earrings, or one of her distinctively chunky bangles. Her client base included three members of the English royal family, as well as most of Hollywood. But Lexi never forgot the people of Devon who’d been so kind to her when she’d been starting out, and every year she travelled down to sell her jewellery at the village’s Christmas fayre.
Jason married his Greek girlfriend and Xenon went on to appoint him CEO of the Kanellis wine industry. Within the year, Lexi’s other brother, Jake, flew from Australia to join the company, which meant that Lexi could see much more of them. Both brothers became fluent in Greek and, after much nagging, persuaded Lexi to take lessons. She didn’t find it easy but she was determined—and she loved the look of shock on her husband’s face the first time she answered him fluently in his mother tongue.
After much persuasion on Xenon’s part—because he seemed to be determined to make a statement to the world—Lexi agreed to a renewal of their wedding vows, in a ceremony which took place in the beautiful Greek cathedral in Bayswater, London. Afterwards they held a huge party held in the ballroom at the Granchester Hotel. Security was tight and the place was mobbed because Roxy and Justina—the other two Lollipops—were on the guest list. It was unexpectedly moving to see her ex-bandmates again and there had been quite a few tears when all three women had taken part in a group hug while ‘Come Right Back’ played over the sound system.
Xenon had bought her a new wedding ring for the occasion, though—as Lexi had pointed out—she was probably the only woman in the world who owned three wedding rings, all given to her by the same man.
‘Ah, but this time it’s different, moli mou,’ he had murmured. ‘This time it’s for ever.’
Their favourite photo was not of that day, nor indeed any of those taken on their original wedding day. It was an image captured the night when Lexi had flown to Hollywood to tell Xenon how much she loved him and he’d taken her downtown, to a fancy reception to mark his Oscar-winning film.
There was Xenon, tall and magnificent in an immaculate tuxedo, with Lexi beside him in jeans and a T-shirt still crumpled from her long, transatlantic flight.
But you didn’t really notice the discrepancy in what they were wearing, or the fact that Lexi’s hair looked as if it could have done with a good brushing. All you saw was the light which shone from their eyes, which even the most cynical observers had remarked was brighter than all the flashes from the assembled cameras.
That light was love.
* * * * *
“Where are you running off to?” he asked.
“Nowhere,” she said, turning to face him. Her expression—her eyes wide, her lips parted slightly, full and inviting—drew him in closer. “I just needed some air.”
“Dancing with Bastian had such a strong effect on you?” he asked, advancing further.
She turned her head, casting her face into shadow. Her expression was obscured. “No. It had no effect on me. As usual. But it was more disturbing this time since the date of my official engagement is set now. And he’s very likely the one I’ll be engaged to. If his bid is high enough. I’ve been too cowardly to ask what the price is on my head—or hand, as the case may be.”
“You want to feel attraction for him?”
“I want something. Anything.”
Makhail stopped right in front of her, noticed a shimmer in her dark eyes, pale moonlight reflected there, betraying the depth of her emotion. He put his hand on her face. Just to offer comfort, just for a moment. There was no harm in that.
The feel of her smooth skin beneath his palm sent a shock of desire through him. Strong. Foreign. Intense. It was almost enough simply to feel that need. To revel in it. The desire of a man for a woman. Almost.
MAISEY YATES was an avid Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance reader before she began to write them. She still can’t quite believe she’s lucky enough to get to create her very own sexy alpha heroes and feisty heroines. Seeing her name on one of those lovely covers is a dream come true.
Maisey lives with her handsome, wonderful, diaper-changing husband and three small children across the street from her extremely supportive parents and the home she grew up in, in the wilds of Southern Oregon, USA. She enjoys the contrast of living in a place where you might wake up to find a bear on your back porch and then heading into the home office to write stories that take place in exotic urban locales.
To Megan Crane and Paula Graves. It was our
Twitter conversation that inspired me to write Mak.
And to my fabulous editor Megan Haslam,
who always helps bring out the best in me.
THE scandalous princess had done it again. Evangelina Drakos had slipped away from yet another one of his top security guards. It was inexcusable. It was something that should never happen. And yet, it had. Three times in as many weeks.
Makhail Nabatov did not tolerate mistakes. Mistakes, no matter how small—from losing the princess one was meant to be guarding, down to the simple act of spilling hot coffee on yourself while driving—could be disastrous.
He slammed his car door and rolled his shoulders forward, trying to ease the tension that had every muscle in his body bound into knots as solid as stone. He didn’t believe in letting anything affect him like this. Yet another way Princess Evangelina seemed to be messing with the carefully well-ordered life he maintained.
When he’d met her for the first time, all glossy brown curls, dark, glittering eyes and golden skin, she had seemed every inch the demure princess. Nothing like the bold, vivacious party girl who was making tabloid headlines with increasing frequency. He had wondered if the media had exaggerated her image.
Over the past six months he’d discovered that the tabloids were right, and