Irresistible Greeks Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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being away from you now,’ he confided, lifting her out of the four-wheel drive he had taken her home in.
‘You’re not away half as much as you used to be.’
‘I can do a lot of my work at home.’ At the foot of the stairs he swung her up in his arms and insisted on carrying her the rest of the way in spite of her protests. ‘I know your feet are killing you, latria mou.’
She kicked her shoes off when he put her down, holding up the skirt of her gown so that she didn’t trip on the trailing hem. ‘But the shoes did look gorgeous,’ she pointed out.
Cristo framed her laughing face with tender hands. ‘You don’t need to suffer to look beautiful.’
‘Only a man could say that. I still can’t believe that you were born with eyebrows that stay in shape,’ Erin lamented. ‘It’s so unfair.’
‘I would love you even without all the waxing,’ Cristo intoned huskily.
Erin tried to imagine getting into bed with a pair of hairy legs and barely repressed a shudder. ‘The things you say.’
‘I’m trying to impress you with how crazy I am about you.’ Cristo sighed with a long-suffering look belied by the amusement dancing in his dark golden eyes. ‘It’s an uphill challenge.’
‘No, it’s not. I love you too, naturally perfect brows included,’ his wife informed him, gazing up at him with an appreciation she couldn’t hide. Mine, every natural instinct said and she adored the fact.
He bent his handsome dark head and kissed her softly with all the skill at his disposal, and her head swam and her knees wobbled and the glory of loving Cristo swept over her like a consuming tide, filled with happiness and acceptance and pure joy.
What the hell am I going to do about this?
The question hung in Athan’s head like a dead weight. He had to do something. That was inescapable. He had a responsibility to do so.
His thoughts circled back, homing in with his customary focus on identifying solutions to problems he’d ruthlessly analysed. Removing the woman who had so distracted his brother-in-law seemed the obvious move to make right now.
But what if—and now Athan could feel an idea start to germinate in his mind—a rival emerged for her attentions? Lured her away from his brother-in-law?
Dispassionately he made himself study the photo in front of him. As before, he felt his senses stirred by her heart-stopping loveliness.
Resolution filled him. Oh, yes, he could do it.
For one long moment Athan went on staring down at the image on his desk. Then, decisively, he flicked the folder shut. His mind had just made itself up.
It was a very simple, very obvious solution. And as the mental image of her lovely features flickered in his mind’s eye he knew it would be very enjoyable.
JULIA JAMES lives in England with her family. Harlequin Mills & Boon® were the first ‘grown-up’ books she read as a teenager, alongside Georgette Heyer and Daphne du Maurier, and she’s been reading them ever since. Julia adores the English and Celtic countryside, in all its seasons, and is fascinated by all things historical, from castles to cottages. She also has a special love for the Mediterranean—’The most perfect landscape after England!’—and considers both ideal settings for romance stories. In between writing she enjoys walking, gardening, needlework, baking extremely gooey cakes and trying to stay fit!
MARISA gave a soft gasp as the man opposite her opened the slim case he’d just taken out of his jacket pocket.
‘For you,’ the man said. There was a fond look in his eyes as he slid the case towards her. ‘I want you to have it.’
Marisa gazed at him, open pleasure in her expression.
She ran a finger lightly over the stones, which sparkled in the light from the candle on the table. ‘It’s beautiful!’ she breathed. Then a more troubled expression showed in her eyes. ‘But are you sure …?’
The man gave a decisive nod of his head. ‘Yes, quite sure.’
Marisa picked up the case, reluctantly shutting the lid, gazing across at the man who had given her such a wonderful token of what she meant to him. She dropped the jewellery case into her handbag—the beautiful, soft leather handbag with a designer logo that was yet another such token. Then she lifted her eyes to the man again. She had eyes only for him! Certainly not for the middle-aged man dining alone, a few tables away, engrossed in texting on his mobile phone, his face in shadow.
Now Ian was in her life Marisa had neither eyes nor thoughts for anyone else. From their first meeting to this precious moment he had transformed her life beyond all recognition, and the wonder of it still amazed her. She had had no idea—none at all—when she’d come to London those short months ago how totally her life would change. Oh, she’d had hopes, it was true, and ambitions and purpose—but that they had actually come about was still wonderful to her. And it was all embodied in the startlingly handsome man sitting opposite her, gazing at her with such devotion.
She bit her lip slightly. If only she didn’t have to hide in the corners of Ian’s life, be hidden away from a censorious world like a shameful secret. Yet that, she knew, was what she would be seen as. Someone who had to be hidden away, never acknowledged in public, to the world. That was why they could only meet like this, in places Ian did not usually frequent, where he was not known or recognised, where he could be sure he would not bump into someone who would question her dining with him—someone who knew both him and Eva.
Eva …
The name echoed in Marisa’s head, haunting her like a ghost that could not be exorcised. Emotion darted in her eyes. Oh, she thought in anguish, if only Eva were not who she was. The emotion deepened, and she gazed helplessly across the table at the handsome, smiling face opposite. If only Eva were not the woman who was Ian’s wife …
ATHAN Teodarkis’s eyes moved over the photographs spread out on his desk. His sculpted mouth tightened to a tight line like a whip, and anger speared him.
So it had started! Just what he’d feared right from the beginning. From the moment his sister Eva had told him who she was in love with …
He felt the anger stab at him again, and with deliberate control made himself release the tension steeling his shoulders, his spine. He contoured his back against the leather moulding of the executive chair he was sitting in behind the mahogany desk in his office. Across the wide expanse of expensive carpet the vista of the City, over which the lavish London HQ of Teodarkis International had a panoramic view, went unattended.
His hard gaze went on studying the photos. Though taken by a camera phone, and from half a dozen metres’ distance, their evidence was indisputable. They showed Ian Randall, his boyishly handsome face gazing devotedly, eagerly, at the woman opposite him.
With part of his mind Athan could see why.
She was blonde, like Ian, fair-skinned and heart-stoppingly lovely. Her pale hair fell like a waterfall either side of her face.