The Greek Bridegroom. HELEN BIANCHIN
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artist’s eye admired the blooms’ beauty. Just for a moment she felt a twinge of remorse.
No man had gifted her anything in a while. And never flowers.
‘Who does Jace Dimitriades think he is?’ It was a question that required no answer, and she banked down a further tirade as a customer entered the boutique.
Rebekah was glad of the interruption, although she seethed in silence for the rest of the day. A number of scenarios as to how she’d deal with him crossed her mind. Some of which, should she put them into effect, would be sure to get her arrested for causing grievous bodily harm.
‘Do you have a number where I can contact him?’
It was late afternoon, and Ana was about to leave.
‘Jace?’
‘Of course, Jace.’
Ana’s features assumed a thoughtful expression.
‘It’s been two years since your divorce. Don’t you think it’s time you emerged into the real world again?’
‘You’re advocating I have an affair?’
‘Who are you afraid of?’ Ana queried gently. ‘Jace or yourself?’ She walked to the door, paused and turned to give her sister a warm smile. ‘Think about it.’
Rebekah opened her mouth, then closed it again.
As an exit line, it was without equal.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS after six when Rebekah eased the MG into the underground car park and rode the lift to the seventh floor.
Indecisiveness was not one of her traits, yet for the past hour she’d changed her mind at least a dozen times.
On entering her apartment she crossed to the phone, looked up the number for Jace’s hotel, punched in the digits, only to replace the receiver minutes later. Jace Dimitriades didn’t appear to be in his room, and a request for his cellphone number was politely declined.
Damn. Failure to contact him meant she had little option but to shower and dress in record time. Or stand him up.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, she chided silently. A few hours, good food, pleasant conversation… What did she have to lose?
Her sanity, she conceded half an hour later as she replaced the in-house phone, gathered up her evening purse, car keys, then rode the lift down to the lobby.
He stood tall, the image of masculine strength, emanating a sense of power only those totally at ease with themselves were able to exude.
Rebekah met his probing gaze, caught his warm smile, and felt her stomach execute a slow somersault.
Any mental assurance she could survive the evening began to dissipate. Was it too late to change her mind? Way too late, an inner voice mocked with derision.
Jace watched the fleeting emotions evident, defined each and every one of them, and felt a sense of male satisfaction in knowing he affected her.
‘Rebekah.’ He moved forward, appreciating the cut and style of her clothes. The slim black skirt and matching jacket highlighted the creamy texture of her skin, and her make-up was minimal. A touch of gold at her ears and her throat added a pleasing addition. Her hair was drawn into a smooth twist, and his fingers itched to remove the pins and let it fall free.
What would she do if he drew her into his arms and covered that pretty mouth with his own? Undoubtedly she’d react like a frightened gazelle, he decided grimly.
What damage had her ex-husband done to kill her natural spontaneity? Something hardened inside him at the array of possibilities, resulting in a surge of anger against a man he’d never met.
‘We’ll take my car.’
‘I’ve hired a vehicle for the duration of my stay,’ Jace said smoothly, and glimpsed her faint disconcerted glance before it was quickly masked.
She wanted to retain control. It made her feel secure, and she suppressed the momentary uneasiness at Jace’s increasing ability to undermine her confidence.
Together they walked through the entrance doors, and Jace led her towards a gleaming Jaguar, unlocked the passenger door and saw her seated, then he crossed in front of the car and slid in behind the wheel.
Rebekah’s awareness of him became more pronounced within the close confines of the car, and she banked down the onset of nervous tension. Difficult, when her pulse had already increased its beat and she could feel the thud of her heart.
This was madness. She should have said an emphatic no, and, failing that, not left it until the last minute to rescind his invitation.
Except on reflection, his inaccessibility hadn’t really given her much choice.
In the restaurant, Jace deferred to her preference in wine, ordered, then requested the menu.
Rebekah wasn’t sure she could eat a thing, for her digestive system seemed to be in a mildly chaotic state. And it wasn’t just her digestive system!
Oh, move along, an inner voice prompted. You’re here with him. At least try to enjoy the evening. Pretend. Surely it can’t be too difficult. You managed OK last night.
Yes, but then Luc and Ana had been present. Now she was on her own, and she’d been out of the social scene for too long. It was two years since she’d exercised her social skills to any great degree. One date soon after her divorce had proven to be disastrous, and at the time she’d vowed not to repeat it.
‘Tell me what made you choose to be a florist.’
She took a sip of superb chardonnay, and replaced the goblet onto the table. Blooms and Bouquets…she could do shop-talk. ‘The perfection of professionally grown blooms, their textures, colours and scents. The skill in assembling them together so the image conveys something special to the person to whom they’re gifted.’
Jace watched her features become animated, her blue eyes deepen and gleam like blue topaz as she elaborated on her craft. Did she know how attractive she was? Or how deeply she appealed to him?
On every level, not just the physical.
‘The pleasure, comfort and solace they provide for every occasion,’ she continued, smiling in reflection of the many memories she’d shared where warmth and the sheer joy of making someone’s day a little brighter became paramount.
‘One imagines there’s a downside?’ he probed, and watched as she wrinkled her nose.
‘Early starts, long days on your feet, dish-pan hands from having them constantly in and out of water.’ She offered him a wry smile. ‘Difficult customers who are impossible to please. The rush to get orders out on time. Incorrect addresses, mistakes made with deliveries by the courier.’ She effected a negligible shrug. ‘Like any business, there are the accompanying problems.’
The waiter delivered their starters, and they each began eating. The prawn cocktail was succulent with a delicate sauce on a bed of shredded lettuce, and Jace forked his with evident enjoyment.
Did he enjoy women as much as he enjoyed food? She almost choked at the thought. Where had that come from?
She lifted her goblet and took a sip of wine. ‘Your turn, I think.’
He set his empty dish aside and regarded her with a thoughtful gaze. ‘New York-born to Greek immigrant parents. Graduated from university with a degree in business management.’
Rebekah held his gaze and attempted to define what lay beneath his composed exterior. ‘The condensed version,’ she acknowledged. ‘Business management covers a broad spectrum.’
‘I specialise in takeovers and buy-outs.’
‘Large companies with their backs against the wall?’
‘Something