The Greek Millionaire's Mistress. Catherine Spencer
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accident, some thirty years ago.”
That figures, Gina thought bitterly. What does family matter, compared to the amassing of more wealth? “And you admire such a man?”
“I respect him, I’m grateful to him, and yes, I’m fond of him. Deeply so. I might not always agree with him or the choices he makes, but I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for Angelo Tyros.”
Nor would my mother!
How she kept the words from flying out of her mouth, she’d never know, but something of her contempt must have shown on her face because Mikos tilted his head to one side, the better to observe her. She’d noticed earlier that his eyes were not the dark brown she’d have expected of a man so classically Greek in every other respect, but a light, clear green. Framed by thick, black lashes, they made an arresting statement in a face already blessed with more than its fair share of masculine beauty. But more than that, they were sharply observant and full of keen intelligence. He wouldn’t be easily fooled.
She’d do well to remember that, she thought, glancing away before she lost herself in the depths of that alluring gaze. If she played her cards right, this man could introduce her to Angelo Tyros, but not if she gave him reason to be suspicious of her motives. Without his help, a journalistic nonentity like herself hadn’t a chance of getting within spitting distance of the old brute. His army of sycophants would see to that, as she’d realized the moment she set foot in the ballroom.
Interpreting her silence as disapproval, Mikos said, “If I’ve given the impression that he’s cold and unfeeling, and more concerned with power than people, let me balance that by saying with absolute sincerity that he’s also capable of great generosity and kindness.”
“I’ll try to remember that when I write my article.”
His voice sank lower, rolling over her skin with the soft abrasion of velvet dragged against the nap to bring every nerve ending in her body to tingling life. “And I will never forget this night, or this moment.”
“Why’s that?” she whispered haltingly.
Again, he brought his hands to her shoulders, but this time ran them up her neck and along the underside of her jaw until they cradled her face. “We both know why, calli mou.”
Well, she didn’t. Not really. Oh, she knew he was going to kiss her. Had known it from the moment they’d stepped out onto the deserted roof garden, just as she’d known she was going to let him because, quite apart from any other consideration, he happened to be handsome as the proverbial Greek god, and so charming that his smile alone was enough to set her entire body vibrating right down to her toes, and it had been such a long time since she’d felt desirable. But in no way did any of that answer the real question, why?
The ballroom had been overflowing with beautiful women clad in the very latest, most sumptuous designer fashions. She had on a dress she’d last worn five years ago, and even in its prime, it hadn’t exactly qualified as being on the cutting edge of haute couture.
Those other women had diamonds threaded through their hair, and draped around their necks and wrists, and swinging from their ears. Her only adornment consisted of a piece of costume jewelry—a big old purple-colored pendant, studded around the perimeter with grimy crystals, which she used to wear when she played dress-up as a little girl. Although its chain had long since been lost or broken, she’d scrubbed its paste gems in ammonia until they sparkled, then attached it to a wide band of black velvet, which she now wore at her throat. It was a pretty enough bauble to suit the occasion, especially in the subdued light of the ballroom, but it didn’t compare to the real thing.
Which brought her back full circle to her original question: Why had Mikos Christopoulos singled out her, a social nobody from Canada, with neither pedigree, position nor money to make her stand out from the crowd?
Grabbing at the remnants of her vanishing sanity, she stammered, “That hardly answers my question, Mikos.”
“No? Then perhaps this does,” he murmured, and lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that redefined the meaning of the word, at least as it applied to her experience.
She clutched at him, then, because it was either that or slither to the ground in a heap of molten hormones. How was it possible for fire to torch her senses, yet leave behind no scar? How could a man turn the most elementary tool of seduction into an instrument of such exquisite sensory torture that spasms of pleasure shot to the pit of her stomach and left her most secret flesh humming and aching and drenched?
Oh, this was madness! But telling herself so did nothing to stop an inarticulate moan from rising in her throat. Or keep her hands where they properly belonged, planted firmly at his shoulders to ward him off. Instead she wilted against him and wound her arms around his neck, and tunneled her fingers through his smooth, dense hair, and opened her lips to his persuasive tongue and let him do as he pleased with her mouth, and just generally behaved like a trollop.
Remember why you’re here! the dim voice of reason beseeched. You didn’t have to travel all the way to Greece, if all you wanted was sex!
Not even if this is sex transformed into something rare and wonderful? her other, shameless self inquired.
Not even then, you idiot! What kind of woman abandons her cause, the moment a handsome foreigner spares her a second glance?
But this is about more than exotic good looks. It’s about chemistry—alchemy, even. It’s about looking into a man’s eyes and seeing my future written there. It’s about trusting my instincts and recognizing destiny when it comes calling.
Tell that to the mother you left in the care of strangers!
The words slapped her in the face like a dash of cold water.
“Mmm…oh!” She tore her mouth free. Forced her hands to stop their exploration of his hair and pushed them hard against his chest. “I can’t do this! It isn’t right!”
His eyes smoldered in the gloom, primitive green fire warring with civilized restraint. “How can it be wrong, agapiti mou, when I find you so irresistible? We are free to follow our hearts, are we not—or is yours promised to someone else?”
“Of course it isn’t!” she responded heatedly. “If I were involved with another man, I would never cheat on him. But this…what we’re getting into here, well, it’s…!”
She floundered into silence, knowing she could not confide in him. Although he didn’t realize it, he was on the enemy’s side, and when he discovered her true reason for coming to Athens, he’d become her enemy, too. He wouldn’t find her quite so irresistible then.
“Moving too quickly. I understand. We met less than an hour ago, and have tomorrow and as many days after that as you are willing to spend with me, before we must say adio. There is no need to rush so pleasurable a prospect.”
His voice caressed her. Soothed her uneasy conscience. He was neither making nor demanding promises for anything beyond what either was willing to give. The way he saw it, the most they had to offer each other was a week or two of their otherwise separate lives. After that, he would move on to his next conquest and she would return home, possibly a little heart sore, but definitely more fulfilled as a woman than she had been when she left—and hopefully having achieved her covert objective. One of those win-win situations, in other words.
Pack your bags and get on that aircraft, Sam Irving, her doctor, had ordered when he learned she was following his advice after all, even if it wasn’t entirely for the reasons he thought. You’re a young woman in her prime, Gina, and it’s long past time you had a little fun. Discover Greece, have a fling and leave me to take care of things on the homefront.
Good advice, Sam, she decided, a little bubble of happiness erupting inside her.
Smiling at Mikos, she said, “No need at all. I’m enjoying just being up here with you, although I’m surprised we have the place to ourselves. I didn’t think Athenians ever went to bed before dawn.”
“You’re