The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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he was looking at her intensified, until heat crept into her cheeks.
“You must know all the places, so where would you choose to get married?”
“I didn’t know this one,” she pointed out. “I have you to thank for that.”
His smile stretched, lighting his eyes with a warm, intimate glow. “I cheated. It’s only been open for a couple of years. Before that it was a private estate. You couldn’t have known about it. You were up in Northland when it opened. Now tell me about your dream wedding.”
“My dream wedding?” She stared at him, bemused.
“You used to successfully plan everyone else’s—” he grinned “—dream occasions. What would you do for yourself?”
She laughed. “I blew it. Aaron and I had a civil wedding. No big deal.” Aaron had wanted to get married the instant she’d said yes. There hadn’t even been time to think, much less plan an elaborate A-list wedding.
Something moved in his blue eyes. “Okay, then fantasize. Tell me what you wish you’d done.”
“My fantasy wedding…” Rebecca paused a moment, looking away from the beautiful blue gaze to gather her thoughts. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t need all this.” She gestured to the high sash windows, the rich country-house decor. “I’d want something simple, just a ceremony and some time afterward with the man I married—the man I loved.” She threw him a quick glance. “Too often weddings are tense occasions, and the bride is stressed half to death. I’d want time with the man I love to reflect on the solemn importance of the vows we’d just taken. I’d want them to be very, very permanent.”
She could see she’d surprised him with her outburst. He looked startled. She’d revealed more about herself than she’d ever intended. For a moment she thought he was about to argue with her. To lighten the mood, she gave a light laugh and a shrug. “A fantasy is all it is. I won’t be getting married.”
“Why not?” He was frowning now, his eyes a clear, cool blue.
“I’ve already been married.”
The blue clouded over. “That’s a good reason not to marry again?”
She didn’t want to talk about her marriage. Not to Damon. She shrugged again. “So what other reason is there? Children, I suppose. I’ve already got T.J.”
“That’s not the only reason people marry. There are things like companionship, understanding, love—”
“Oh, don’t tell me you believe in all that fairy-tale stuff, Damon?” Rebecca interrupted, her smile sharp as she struggled not to let irony creep through.
“That’s why Savvas and Demetra are getting married.” He sat back, stirring his coffee.
“Yes, but they aren’t like us. We’re realists. We’ve seen the grittier side of life. Marriage is a financial deal, exchanging wealth for fidelity, the promise of children, isn’t it?” It hurt to play devil’s advocate, but it was nothing more than what Damon believed.
“God, you are cynical.” He glared at her. “But even if you believe that, there’s still sex. That’s another reason people like you and me—” he drawled the words “—marry.”
“Sex?” That one word was all it took. Her heartbeat took off, thundering inside her rib cage, her breathing shallow.
“Yes, hot sweaty sex. Body rubbing against body—”
“Oh, that kind of sex,” she interrupted with a dismissive flutter of her hand, determined to put a stop to this before she started to pant, before he saw what he was doing to her. “But, Damon, I don’t need to marry, I simply need to take a lover for that kind of sex.”
Damon went rigid, his face a tight mask.
“And there have been many lovers?”
If he only knew!
She fluttered her eyelashes. “I never kiss and tell.”
“No, of course you don’t!” Disbelief underscored his derogatory words. “But you do kiss?”
“Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly. “I can kiss.”
The next thing she knew, he was out of his chair, beside her, leaning over. And then his mouth slanted across hers.
And she went up in flames.
There was no tenderness. It was a kiss that burned with hunger, desperation and need. He tasted of coffee, of cream, of everything she’d ever desired.
When he finally pulled away, he said slowly, “Oh, yes, you can kiss, all right.”
There were betraying flags of heat across his cheekbones, his breath came in rapid bursts and his eyes glittered.
“Perhaps it is time you took a lover,” he said darkly.
“Perhaps,” she replied, bravely holding his gaze. “I’ll need to start looking around.”
“Oh no!” He was shaking his head, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “No, koukla, you will look no farther than me. I am going to be your lover.”
Six
Hours later Rebecca still couldn’t believe that she hadn’t told Damon to go to blazes. Instead she’d retreated into a dazed silence, illicit excitement fluttering deep inside her belly. On the way home, Rebecca sank back into the rich butter-coloured leather seat and closed her eyes. She felt the touch of Damon’s glance from time to time, but he didn’t speak. An oppressive, sweltering awareness filled the Mercedes.
The moment the car swept into the drive of the Asteriades mansion, Rebecca sat up, muttered her thanks and, before they’d come to a standstill, bolted from the car. Hurrying to her room, she spent the next couple of hours—until Demetra and T.J. came home—making lists of what would be needed for the wedding, calls that needed to be made about bridesmaids’ dresses, flowers, catering. Anything to keep busy and stop herself thinking about Damon’s outrageous proposition. Anything to keep her as far away from him as possible.
I am going to be your lover.
The arrogant statement still rang in her ears that evening as she helped T.J. into the bath. Contrarily, she was almost disappointed that Damon hadn’t followed up, hadn’t battered down the door to find out where she’d hidden herself all afternoon.
He was messing with her head. Why hadn’t he sought her out?
Why had he made such a passionate proclamation in the first place?
He hated her.
But he’d said he’d actually come to like her. Rebecca closed her eyes to block out the confusion that whirled round and round inside her head. Without end. When she opened them again, T.J. was staring at her, holding out a soapy sponge. She took it and started to wash him.
“Mummy,” T.J.’s piping voice cut into her dilemma. “Demetra’s going to get big, fat fish with shiny—” he hesitated “—skin.”
“Scales,” Rebecca corrected automatically. T.J. had returned from his day with Demetra happy, tired and covered in mud, showing no sign that he’d missed her at all. Rebecca had heard all about the ducks in the park pond and about the fishpond he’d helped the workmen dig out at Demetra’s soon-to-be home.
Her mind slid back into the rut it couldn’t get out of. How could Damon change from hate to something as insipid as like? And how dare she be so grateful that he actually liked her, that he wanted to get to know her better. How could she be tempted to settle for that?
Damon said he wanted to be her lover. Why?
Yet, deep in the throbbing darkness of her womb, she knew. Chemistry. This thing between them that would never rest until it was sated. Liking her,