One Night with a Gorgeous Greek: Doukakis's Apprentice / Not Just the Greek's Wife / After the Greek Affair. Sarah Morgan
Читать онлайн книгу.
back to that day at the school when Polly had stuck out her chin and resolutely refused to explain her outrageous behaviour to anyone. Strong-minded was a polite description. ‘Why did she discharge herself?’
‘She said she had too much to do, but what she should be doing is lying down and resting. She’s had a nasty bang on the head.’ Clearly annoyed, the doctor slipped her stethoscope back into her pocket. ‘She mentioned a trip to Paris and a meeting with an important client. We couldn’t get her to let go of her phone. It was welded to her hand right the way through my examination.’ The doctor relented. ‘I have to admit her dedication impressed me.’
Struggling to reconcile the word ‘dedication’ with Polly, Damon wondered if he and the doctor were talking about the same person. ‘So you’re saying that you advised her to stay in, but she walked out?’
‘That’s right. She’ll probably be all right at home as long as she isn’t on her own. Just make sure you know what to look out for and you can bring her back in if anything about her condition unsettles you.’
Damon didn’t waste time correcting the doctor’s assumption that he’d be spending the night with Polly. Instead he scanned the exits. ‘Which way did she go?’
‘She went out of the ambulance entrance. She said she had a lift home.’ Puzzled, the doctor looked at him. ‘I assumed that was why you were here?’
But Damon was already on his way out of the door, his phone in his hand as he instructed his driver to bring the car round. ‘Have you seen Polly Prince?’
‘No.’
Damon swore fluently and then looked around him. Even this late in the evening the hospital was buzzing with activity. There was no sign of Polly. ‘Which is the nearest underground station?’
‘I believe it’s Monument, boss.’
Following a hunch, Damon slid into the car. ‘Let’s go. Take the most obvious pedestrian route.’
Within two minutes he saw her, walking with her head down and her shoulders hunched, looking as though she were going to collapse at any minute.
‘Pull over.’ Damon sprang from the car and was next to her in three strides. ‘Theé mou, do you have a death wish? First you leave the office when I warn you about the mob, and then you discharge yourself from hospital against doctor’s orders. What is wrong with you? Why do you have this urge to do the opposite of what you’re told?’
‘Damon?’ Bemused, she turned her head and he saw the bloody streaks in her blonde hair and the purple shadow darkening one side of her face.
‘Maledizione. They hit you?’
Looking distinctly disorientated, she glanced from him to the limousine and then back again. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were on a date.’
‘I was told you’d had an accident.’
‘But what is that to do with you?’
‘Naturally I immediately went to the hospital.’
‘Why “naturally”? Why would you even care that I was in hospital? You’re not my next of kin.’
Frustrated that she would question what had been a natural decision to him, Damon raked his hand through his hair. ‘Your father is absent and clearly you couldn’t be left to cope with something like that alone.’
‘I deal with things on my own all the time. And, frankly, from the way you’ve been speaking to me all day I was under the distinct impression that given half a chance you’d put me in the hospital yourself. Are you telling me that you abandoned your date because you heard I was hurt?’
‘I didn’t “abandon” her,’ Damon breathed. ‘I arranged for her to be driven home.’
‘But you deprived her of the pleasure of your company and the promise of bedroom athletics. Wow.’ Her mouth tilted into a crooked smile. ‘Poor her.’
Ignoring her flippant tone, Damon lifted a hand and touched the side of her head. ‘What the hell happened?’
‘They jostled me and I lost my balance and fell into a camera. It had hard edges. But I’m fine. It was kind of you to check on me, but I can get myself home.’ She tried to dodge past him and he caught her arms in tight grip. Her body brushed against his and the subtle scent of her perfume wound itself around his senses.
He gritted his teeth, wondering why control was such an effort when he was with her. ‘You cannot travel on the underground and you’re not supposed to be sleeping alone tonight.’
‘Are you volunteering to sleep with me?’ She gave an awkward laugh. ‘I wish you could see your face. Relax. I know you’d rather cuddle up with a bed bug than have me in your sheets.’
Damon, who had a disturbingly clear idea of what he’d do to her if she were in his sheets, ignored that comment. ‘Why did you discharge yourself?’
‘I have to go to Paris tomorrow and I still have some ideas to finish off.’
‘Obviously you won’t now be going to Paris in the morning.’ Damon drew her towards him as a group of passers-by jostled them.
‘Yes, I will.’
‘If your father were here, he’d stop you going.’
She didn’t look at him. ‘No, he wouldn’t. I make my own decisions about what I do, and I’m going to Paris.’ Twisting herself out of his grip, she turned and carried on walking towards the underground station.
Never having encountered anyone quite as stubborn as Polly, Damon stood for a moment, his emotions veering between exasperation and concern. Clearly she wasn’t prepared to listen to reason so what was he supposed to do? Fling her over his shoulder?
Noticing two men staring hard at her legs, Damon decided that wasn’t a bad idea. In four strides he caught up with her. ‘Why is it so important that you get to Paris tomorrow? Are you sleeping with the client or something?’
A choked sound came from her throat and she stopped dead. ‘You really do have a high opinion of me, don’t you?’
Heat crawled up the back of his neck. ‘I know Gérard. Like most Frenchmen, he appreciates a beautiful woman. And you are arriving nine hours before your meeting.’
‘Which naturally means I’m leaving plenty of time for afternoon sex before we move from bedroom to boardroom, is that it?’ Ignoring the flow of people around them, she fixed those blue eyes on him. ‘Make up your mind. This morning you told me I looked like a flamingo and now you think I’ve turned into a femme fatale? Or does a bruised head suddenly make you feel all protective and macho or something?’
He wasn’t sure what he was feeling and Damon certainly didn’t need her to question behaviour that he was already questioning himself. ‘I’m just asking myself what makes this meeting so important that you’d discharge yourself from hospital against medical advice.’
‘Everybody’s jobs are under threat. He’s a new client and I work in the service industry!’ Hauling her bag more firmly onto her shoulder, she glared at a man who brushed past her. ‘And before you make another insensitive remark, not that sort of service industry.’ She turned away again but this time Damon shot out a hand and halted her escape.
‘You are intentionally misunderstanding everything I say to you.’
‘There is another interpretation for the phrase “you look like a flamingo”?’
‘I was commenting on the inappropriateness of your dress. I never said you weren’t beautiful.’ The words launched themselves from some unidentified part of his brain and his own shock mirrored the confusion he saw in her eyes. He released her immediately, disconcerted by the lethal sexual charge that seemed to power every contact, no matter how small. ‘Look—you can’t be on your own tonight