The Greek Tycoon's Pregnant Wife Page 13

  She’d found a plaster and, after discovering he was still watching her, she offered him a tight smile. ‘I’m always getting paper cuts,’ she said, peeling off the protective covering and attempting to apply the plaster to her finger. ‘I sometimes think I should wear rubber gloves.’

  ‘And hide those pretty hands?’ Demetri shook his head and then, risking another rebuke, he took the plaster from her. ‘Etho, let me,’ he said softly, using both hands to accomplish his task. He smoothed the plaster around her finger and smiled in satisfaction. ‘Poli kalitera. Much better, no?’

  Jane looked down at their joined hands and then gave a helpless little shrug. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She blew out a nervous breath. ‘Now, if you’ll let me go, I’ll get your package.’

  Demetri’s eyes held hers for a long, loaded moment before his hand fell to his side. ‘If that’s what you want, of course.’

  Her lips parted. ‘It’s what you want, isn’t it?’

  Demetri’s lips twisted. ‘Oh, you have no idea what I want, Ms Lang.’

  She sucked in a breath. Then, as if waking from a dream, she whirled away, shoving her bag into the filing cabinet and turning quickly back to the desk.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BUT almost against her will it seemed, her eyes were drawn back to his. ‘What do you want, Mr Souvakis?’ she asked a faint tremor evident in her voice. ‘If you’re looking for a one-night stand, I should tell you: I don’t sleep around.’

  Demetri couldn’t help but admire her candour even if an involuntary exclamation spilled from his lips at her words. ‘Nor do I, thespinis,’ he said with mild indignation. ‘And have I asked you to sleep with me? Forgive me, I do not recall making any such request.’

  Her face flamed with hot colour now and he regretted being so blunt. Besides, if he was honest he’d admit that he had played with the idea of seducing her. More than played with the idea, dammit. He’d actually been anticipating it. That was really why he resented her perception.

  ‘So—so long as we understand one another, Mr Souvakis,’ she murmured primly, returning her gaze to her task, and Demetri knew an almost uncontrollable urge to prove to her how wrong she was.

  But he made no response and after a few moments she apparently located the missing receipt. ‘I knew I had it!’ she exclaimed triumphantly, and Demetri, who wasn’t at all interested in documentation that his assistant could collect just as easily, gave a mocking smile.

  ‘I’ll try and contain my excitement,’ he remarked drily, and when she looked at him he saw her flush had deepened.

  ‘It may not be important to you, Mr Souvakis,’ she declared stiffly. ‘But it’s my job to see that each transaction is satisfactorily concluded. I’m sure your father wouldn’t be happy without the necessary certificate of provenance for the sculpture.’

  Demetri shrugged. ‘I’m sure you’re correct, Ms Lang. My father cares about such things, as you say.’ He paused. ‘Regrettably, I do not.’

  ‘Then why did you offer to come and collect it?’ she asked helplessly, and Demetri could no longer resist the urge to touch her.

  ‘Because I wanted to see you again,’ he admitted, acknowledging something that up till then he would have denied, vigorously. He ran his knuckles over the downy heat of her cheek. ‘Apalos. So soft.’

  ‘But you said—’ She jerked her face aside but she didn’t move away. ‘You said you didn’t want to sleep with me.’

  Demetri arched a lazy brow. ‘Men and women do many other things besides sleep together, thespinis. Haven’t you ever had a boyfriend?’

  Her lips pursed. ‘Of course I’ve had boyfriends.’ She gave him a scornful look. ‘I hope you’re not going to pretend you want to be my boyfriend!’

  ‘No.’ He conceded the point. Then he grimaced. ‘I do not consider myself a boy any longer.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘Must I spell it out for you? I’d like to get to know you better. And then, if we find we are compatible, perhaps we will sleep together. Who knows?’

  ‘I knew it!’ She put some space between them and then turned to face him with scornful eyes. ‘That’s all you’re really interested in, isn’t it? Why don’t you admit it?’

  ‘Because it’s not true,’ he retorted, his own anger sparking, and was amazed to find he meant it. ‘Hell, do I seem like such a womaniser to you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know you, Mr Souvakis.’

  ‘Precisely. So before you start throwing insults around, perhaps you should give yourself a chance to find out.’

  ‘I don’t want to find out!’ she exclaimed childishly, and Demetri felt his control slipping dangerously low.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ he demanded, and, giving in to his baser instincts, he caught her wrist and hauled her against him. His arm wrapped around her waist and he looked down into her startled face with an unfathomable gaze. ‘Are you really sure?’

  For a moment she couldn’t look away, but then, with a struggle, she managed to get a hand between them. Her fingers pressed insistently against his chest. ‘Let go of me!’

  ‘And if I don’t?’ Her slim bare legs duelling with his were a constant distraction. ‘What will you do? You’re alone here. You’ve virtually admitted as much.’

  Her eyes darkened. ‘Are you threatening me, Mr Souvakis?’

  ‘No!’ He was disgusted with himself for creating this situation. ‘Poli kala.’ He released her. ‘I suggest you give me the sculpture and I’ll leave. As that seems to be what you want.’

  ‘Yes.’

  She agreed, though he thought there was a faint lack of conviction in her tone. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. She’d certainly not given him any reason to believe she was having second thoughts.

  The parcel containing the sculpture proved to be bigger than he’d expected. ‘It’s all the packing,’ she said ruefully, seeing his surprise. ‘Can you manage?’

  Demetri’s lips twisted. ‘Why? Are you offering to help me?’

  Jane hesitated. ‘If you wanted me to. I’m used to handling awkward packages.’

  ‘And awkward customers, too,’ he commented drily, and she linked her hands together at her waist and gazed at him with troubled eyes.

  ‘I’ve offended you, haven’t I?’

  ‘Hristo!’ Demetri swore. ‘Why should it matter to you if I’m offended? You’ll probably never see me again.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t like your father to think I’d been rude to his son.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Demetri gave a short laugh. ‘That’s what all this is about, is it? You’re afraid my father will take his custom elsewhere.’

  Her shoulders lifted. ‘I’m just an employee here, Mr Souvakis.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry.’ Demetri grunted. ‘My father would probably applaud your success in putting me in my place. He thinks I’m far too—what would you say?—arrogant as it is.’

  Her lips twitched. ‘You are.’

  Demetri grimaced. ‘Your humility didn’t last long.’

  She smiled. ‘Perhaps that’s because I like you better this way.’

  ‘Making a fool of myself, you mean?’

  She caught her breath. ‘You couldn’t make a fool of yourself if you tried.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not even if I told you I wanted to kiss you right this minute?’

  She stepped back from him. ‘You wouldn’t.’

  Demetri shook his head and bent to pick up the box containing the sculpture. ‘No, I guess this is where we go our separate ways.’ He straightened, pulling a face at the weight of the package. ‘D’you want to open the door for me? My car’s just outside.’

  ‘Oh—sure.’ She hurried ahead of him through the darkened gallery and pulled open the glass door. ‘You’ll probably find a parking ticket on your windscreen. The attendants are pretty sharp around here.’

  ‘I’ll survive,’ he remarked drily, turning sideways to negotiate the door and g
oing down the steps to where a huge four-wheel-drive vehicle was parked at the kerb. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

  ‘Oh…’ Jane followed him down the steps, going round the car to pull the pink slip from under the wipers. She looked at it impatiently. ‘I’ll ask Olga to handle this.’

  Demetri had the boot open now and was pushing the heavy box inside, but he turned to say, ‘Forget it. I will.’

  ‘But you can’t—’

  ‘Want to bet?’

  Jane bit her lip. ‘This might not have happened if you hadn’t helped me to carry those bags out and then—and then me cutting my finger…’ She shook her head as he slammed the boot closed and came round the car to where she was standing. ‘It’s really my fault.’

  ‘Eh, then pirazi. It doesn’t matter.’ He snatched the slip of paper out of her hand, screwed it up and tossed it into the nearest refuse bin. ‘Oristeh. I’ve dealt with it.’

  She looked amazed. ‘Is that what you do with all your parking tickets?’

  ‘No. Only those I get by helping beautiful women,’ he said mockingly, making her laugh. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘You’re—so—so—’

  ‘Bad?’ he suggested, checking the boot was locked and coming back to her. ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say that,’ she protested. ‘I don’t think you’re bad!’

  ‘But you don’t like me.’

  A look of confusion crossed her face and he realised she wasn’t half as confident as she’d like to appear. And it would be so easy to take advantage of her here. The tree-lined avenue where the gallery was situated was quiet and shady, the sun rapidly sinking behind the buildings across the street.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t about to destroy the fragile understanding that seemed to be developing between them and he was totally stunned when she suddenly put her hands on his shoulders and reached up to brush her mouth against his. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like you,’ she said huskily, and Demetri could only slump back against the side of the car, too astonished to do anything else.

  The kiss was brief, almost impersonal, but he knew she’d shocked herself, too. A look of consternation crossed her face and, although she hadn’t yet turned to seek refuge in the gallery, he knew it was only a matter of time before she did so. Her eyes sought his in mute denial of what had just happened and Demetri arched an enquiring brow.

  ‘I guess I did something right at last,’ he remarked lazily, and she took a shuddering breath.

  ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she murmured and Demetri knew a kinder man might allow her to get away with that.

  But he’d spent the last hour in a state of semi-arousal and her innocent appeal was the last straw. What did she think he was made of? Ice? Leaning towards her, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her against him. ‘I do,’ he told her, his voice thickening. ‘Let me show you.’

  He didn’t give her time to protest. He kissed her as he’d been wanting to kiss her ever since he’d entered the gallery and seen her again. With one hand behind her head, he took possession of her lips, rubbing his mouth back and forward until the sweet scent of her breath showed her mouth was open and vulnerable.

  To begin with, she tried to retain some control by bracing herself with a hand on the car at either side of him. But when he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth, she couldn’t hold out any longer. With a little moan of acquiescence, she gave in. She sank against him, and he was sure she must be able to feel his erection pressing against her belly.

  It was heaven and it was hell: heaven, because he wanted her so badly; hell, because, however eager she might be, he couldn’t take her here in the street. Yet the urge to push her skirt up to her hips and bury himself in her soft heat was compelling, and, when she put a hand between them to stroke his throbbing arousal, he uttered an anguished groan.

  ‘Theos,’ he choked, aware that, despite the fairly explicit images he’d entertained himself with earlier, nothing had prepared him for this reality. It was just as well she was leaning against him, he thought. Her fingers were driving him insane.

  But that was just part of it. The feel of her, the taste of her, the sensual delight in feeling her nipples peaking against his chest. She was so fiery, so responsive. All he could think about was getting naked with her, flesh against flesh, skin against skin.

  That wasn’t going to happen. No matter how adventurous she was out here, there was always the knowledge of the occasional passer-by to rescue her should it be necessary. Inviting her to accompany him back to an hotel room, however, was another matter entirely.

  Yet once again it was Jane who amazed him. ‘Let’s go back inside,’ she invited breathlessly. ‘It’s time I closed the gallery and Olga’s got a half-decent sofa in her office…’

  * * *

  That had been the start of their affair, recalled Demetri grimly. And, despite her impulsive behaviour, he’d soon discovered that Jane had only slept with one other man. She was still hopelessly naïve, but hopelessly eager, deliciously inexperienced. She’d never had a true orgasm before, she’d confessed. Until then she’d believed that having sex was vastly overrated.

  He’d soon corrected that error, he remembered a little smugly. The first time they’d made love—the first time he’d thrust into her hot, tight sheath—he’d had to silence her cries with his mouth. It had been one hell of an experience for both of them and he hadn’t been able to wait before seeing her again.

  Of course, there’d been obstacles. Both her mother and his hadn’t approved. His own mother had been appalled when he’d told her he was falling in love with an English girl, and Jane’s mother had never trusted him from the start.

  But they’d overcome all objections, and, although he’d known Jane had been bewildered at the speed with which he’d made her his wife, she’d been too much in love with him to care. They’d honeymooned in the Caribbean, he reminisced painfully; long days and even longer nights on their own island, where all they’d done was eat, swim and make love. There hadn’t been a lot of sleeping, he recalled, the memory as sharp and raw as ever. Dear God, how he’d loved her. He caught a breath. How he loved her still.

  ‘Are you all right, Demetri?’

  It was his father who spoke and Demetri realised he’d been staring out into the darkness beyond his windows for heaven knew how long. He’d been so lost in thought he’d forgotten that his father was waiting for him to make some response.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning from the windows and pouring himself another drink. He needed the fortification, he thought, if he was going to get through this. ‘I was just thinking, that’s all.’

  ‘About Jane?’

  Demetri gazed at the older man with exasperated eyes. ‘Can’t I think about anything else?’

  ‘I don’t know. Can you?’

  Demetri scowled. ‘Leave it, Pa. If we go on with this, we’re going to have words, and I don’t want that.’

  ‘Why? Because you think I can’t be told the truth?’ His father stared at him. ‘Be honest, Demetri, why did you agree to divorce Jane and marry Ariadne? Was it only because you thought I was so desperate for a grandchild?’

  Demetri sighed. ‘Pa—’

  ‘Answer me, dammit!’

  ‘All right.’ Demetri blew out a weary breath. ‘All right. Maybe that was—a factor.’

  ‘Your mother told you that, I suppose. Just as she told me that you and Ariadne had fallen in love, and Stefan that I would never recognise any child he and Phillippe might have as my own flesh and blood.’

  ‘Stefan and Phillippe?’

  ‘Yes.’ Leo shook his head and held out his empty glass. ‘Get me another drink, Demetri. You and I have things to say to one another, whether your mother likes it or not.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JANE was alone in the gallery when Alex Hunter walked through the door.

  For a moment she thought it was Demetri, and her heart leapt. She�
�d heard nothing from him since her return from Greece six weeks ago, and, although she’d told herself that was to be expected, she couldn’t help wishing it wasn’t so. She’d even tried to ring the villa on Kalithi, to assure herself he hadn’t been hurt, but she’d never been able to get past Angelena.

  She was sure Demetri’s mother must have ordered the housekeeper to block her calls and, after a couple of knock-backs, Jane had given up. Besides, there’d been no further coverage in the Press, so she could only assume that both Demetri and his brother had returned from the fire unscathed.

  She hadn’t seen Alex since her return either, and that had been her decision. But, although she’d told him she didn’t want to see him again, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Lately, he’d accused her of making a fool of him, for letting him think they had a future together, when all she’d really wanted was to make her husband jealous. Which was patently untrue. But Jane had decided that, if that was what he wanted to believe, it might be for the best anyway.

  If she’d expected he’d stop calling her, she’d been disappointed, however. Her hopes that their relationship might go back to the way it had been when he’d first come to the gallery to audit Olga’s books seemed doomed to failure. Now he was here. He had no appointment with Olga today, so he couldn’t make that his excuse. In fact, her employer had left over an hour ago, complaining of a headache and saying she was going home to go to bed.

  She wished she’d taken Olga’s advice and closed the gallery early. ‘You work too hard for a woman in your condition,’ Olga had said, regarding the distinct swell of Jane’s stomach with a reproving eye. Ever since she’d learned her assistant was pregnant, she’d been wonderfully supportive. Even if, like Jane’s mother, she didn’t approve of her keeping the news of the baby from the father.

  Jane had intended to close the gallery, as Olga had suggested. But then the crates that had arrived that morning had caught her eye. The carrier had opened the crates and left them to be catalogued, and Jane had decided to spend another hour with the canvases before closing up.