A shudder shook her slender frame in the realisation that she’d taken everything he’d chosen to give, and given nothing in return. It had been her pleasure, her climactic orgasm that had been all-important, the desperate need to have him continue arousing those spiralling sensations until she felt almost driven by a wholly consuming desire.
In the night he stirred and reached for her, settling her into the curve of his body, and she woke late to find an empty space beside her and a scrawled note on the adjoining pillow, which read, ‘Dinner tonight my apartment—I’ll cook. Georg.’
Lexi showered, then, dressed in casual clothes, she drove to the supermarket, battling against weary mothers with young children and middle-aged matrons in an effort to traverse the numerous aisles and fill her trolley with necessary groceries. She visited Jonathan in hospital, then she returned home to tidy up before driving back to the hospital mid-afteroon.
It was almost six-thirty when she buzzed Georg’s apartment from the lobby, and within minutes the lift descended to transport her to the uppermost floor.
She had elected to dress casually, choosing a straight black skirt and white knit top, and her hair was caught up at her nape with a fashionable black bow.
‘Mmm, smells heavenly,’ Lexi greeted him as soon as Georg opened the door, and she almost melted at the warmth reflected in his eyes.
‘Tonight you will sample a selection of traditional Greek cuisine.’
‘And afterwards can we watch the carol-singing on television?’ she ventured, wriggling her nose at him as he slanted her a quizzical glance. ‘It’s Christmas Eve.’
He, too, was in casual attire: dressed in designer jeans and a cotton-knit shirt, he projected a raw virility that was arresting.
For a starter he served vine-wrapped parcels of minced lamb accompanied by a delicate sauce, which he followed with moussaka. Dessert was baklava, and afterwards they dispensed with the dishes before taking their coffee through to the lounge, where they watched a number of artists, accompanied by a choir, sing a variety of carols, recorded live from a large city park.
‘I must go,’ Lexi intimated when the programme came to a close.
‘Why must you?’ Georg drawled.
‘Tomorrow is Christmas Day,’ she said helplessly as he reached forward and undid the bow fastening her hair. ‘I’m visiting Jonathan in the morning, and meeting David at the house at midday. After lunch we’ll both go to the hospital, and—’
‘Stay with me,’ he interceded. ‘And in the morning we will visit Jonathan together.’
She looked at him carefully, then opened her mouth to speak, only to have him press her lips closed.
‘Indulge me. I cannot think of a nicer Christmas present than to wake and find you in my bed.’
A long time afterwards she wondered why she hadn’t protested, but by then it was far too late to rationalise her decision.
Christmas Day was filled with love and laughter, the joy of gifts and giving, family. Hers, his. And Jonathan was progressing with such speed that it seemed there was little cause to doubt his ability to recover fully from surgery.
The days leading up to New Year passed all too quickly. Lexi spent each morning and afternoon visiting Jonathan, and the nights were spent with Georg, at his apartment or her own. Sometimes they ate out, dining with Samantha and Alex, or with Mrs Nicolaos, and when they stayed home they took it in turns to prepare the evening meal.
‘I’ll cook tonight,’ Lexi declared as she followed him to the door of his apartment a few days before she was due to fly north for the photographic shoot at the Port Douglas Mirage Resort. She had something special in mind, and teased lightly as he moved towards the lift, ‘Will you mind if I use your kitchen?’
‘Carla is due to arrive about nine,’ he warned as he pressed the call-button.
His housekeeper was Spanish, matronly, and came in two days a week to clean, stock up the pantry and refrigerator from Georg’s list, and take care of the laundry. She was a delight, voluble, and possessed of a wicked sense of humour.
Lexi retreated into the kitchen and poured herself a second cup of coffee, then planned a menu and checked ingredients before making out a list of what she needed.
At ten she visited Jonathan, then went on to complete her shopping, and most of the afternoon was spent preparing food.
Carla left at five, and Lexi hurriedly changed into white evening culottes and a patterned top before returning to the kitchen to anxiously oversee the various dishes alternately simmering atop the elements and the oven. Then she was able to centre her attention on setting an elegant table in the dining-room.
When Georg arrived shortly after six everything was ready, and she felt inordinately pleased with the result.
‘Hmm, is this is a sample of what I can look forward to in the future?’ he drawled as he caught her close, and she returned his kiss with such fervour it left her slightly breathless.
‘I felt like surprising you,’ she said simply, and her bones seemed to melt at the warmth reflected in his eyes.
‘Mental telepathy, perhaps?’ Georg slanted as he moved across to the cabinet to pour them both a drink. ‘I have decided to surprise you by having an agent line up a few properties for us to inspect tomorrow.’
Her expressive features portrayed a gamut of emotions. ‘You intend buying a house?’
‘Yes, Lexi. Ours.’
She took the slim crystal flute from his hand and sipped the contents. ‘I assumed if we married that we’d live here.’
His gaze probed hers. ‘When, not if. And we shall live here until such time as the redecorating and refurbishing of the house is completed.’
The breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she was lost for words. ‘I barely become accustomed to one concept when you confront me with another,’ she managed shakily.
He reached out and tilted her chin. ‘I thought I had managed to dispense with all your doubts.’
She gave a light shrugging gesture. ‘Most of them.’
Gently he bent his head down to hers and trailed his lips over her cheek. ‘Could it be that you need reassurance?’
‘The kind of reassurance you have in mind will mean we get to miss dinner,’ she reproved him with a helpless smile, and he laughed softly.
‘Tonight you have gone to too much trouble for that, hmm?’ His kiss was hard and brief, then he stepped back and caught hold of her hand. ‘Let us eat.’
If not exactly of cordon bleu standard, the meal was a complete success, and Lexi basked in the glow of Georg’s praise as he sampled one course after another before sitting back, replete, with a glass of superb port.
Together they dispensed with the dishes, and after a leisurely coffee Georg simply swung her into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom.
CHAPTER TEN
THERE WAS NO doubt which house held the most appeal. Lexi fell in love with its Federation-style architecture and multi-coloured leaded windows, the many rooms with wide glass doors opening on to a magnificent terrace, and the panoramic view of the harbour. Possessed of an air of tranquillity, it seemed far removed from the city’s hustle and bustle, and with its gardens pruned and replanted it would soon be restored to its former glory.
‘This is it?’ Georg queried, smiling at her enthusiasm.
‘It has so much potential,’ she breathed. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’ll contact the agent this afternoon.’
‘I have a few things to do,’ Lexi declared as Georg headed the Ferrari towards Double Bay. ‘Shopping.’ She really could not leave selecting a suitable gown for the wedding any longer, and she knew of just the boutique where she might find exactly what she had in mind. ‘And I’ll call into the hospital to see Jonathan, then head back to my apartment.’
‘Don’t forget we’re dining out tonight,’ he reminded her. ‘I’ll collect you at six.’
It was after four when Lexi entered her apartment, and she moved through to the kitchen to retrieve a co
ol drink from the refrigerator. As much as she adored shopping, to do so in the heat of sub-tropical summer proved an enervating experience.
The insistent burr of the telephone sounded loud in the stillness of the apartment, and she quickly crossed the room and picked up the receiver.
‘Lexi?’
The sound of Paul’s voice was totally unexpected, and her fingers tightened until the knuckles showed white.
‘You must know I have nothing whatsoever to say to you,’ she reiterated hardily.
‘You don’t need to, darling. Just listen is all I ask.’
‘Hurry up and get it over with, Paul. I haven’t much spare time.’
‘Jonathan’s precious deal has gone through. Although I guess you know that. And I’ve been paid off,’ he drawled. ‘Not as handsomely as I’d like, but adequately enough.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Don’t hang up, Lexi. This conversation is entirely for your benefit.’
She gave a heavy sigh. ‘I find that almost impossible to believe.’
‘Ah, but you see, darling,’ Paul informed her hatefully, ‘what you fail to comprehend is that the ultimate joke in this entire débâcle is on you. Yes, my sweet—’ he paused to give his words sufficient emphasis ‘—a masterly scheme, conveniently compounded by my coincidental involvement, for, after your initial disastrous foray into matrimony with me, it became essential such an error was not repeated. Your dear father and brother, in cohorts with Georg, conspired to utilise Jonathan’s forthcoming surgery as a reason to arrange an eminently suitable marriage for you—with none other than Georg Nicolaos.’ His laugh was totally without humour. ‘And you, in your innocence, played right into their hands.’
She felt sickened, almost to the point of being physically ill. It took considerable effort to keep her voice calm, but she managed it—just.
‘I don’t have to listen to any of this.’ She had surpassed anger, and was fast approaching a numbed state of limbo.
‘Check it out with David,’ Paul exhorted cynically. ‘I doubt he’ll deny it.’ Lexi didn’t bother to comment, and he continued in a hateful voice, ‘Will you think me facetious if I wish you happiness in your second marriage? Such a pity its basis is no more to do with love than your first,’ he accorded, and there was a slight click as he hung up.
Lexi stood where she was for several long seconds, then she depressed the call-button and punched out a succession of digits.
‘David Harrison,’ she requested as soon as the receptionist answered. ‘Lexi Harrison speaking.’
‘Mr Harrison is engaged with a client. Can I get him to call you?’
‘It’s urgent,’ Lexi insisted, and seconds later David came on the line. ‘Paul rang to tell me he’d been paid off,’ she began without preamble. ‘He insists Jonathan deliberately conspired with you and Georg to trap me into marriage. Is it true?’
There was an imperceptible silence, and her stomach gave a sickening lurch.
‘Your happiness has always been Jonathan’s prime concern,’ David responded cautiously.
‘Don’t play the courtroom tactician with me, David,’ she said tightly. ‘At least have the decency to confirm or deny it.’
‘It’s clearly evident you and Georg are happy together.’
‘Damn you!’ she cursed. ‘That doesn’t excuse anything!’
‘I’ll call Georg—’
‘Don’t interfere,’ she warned fiercely. ‘If you do I’ll never speak to you again!’
She replaced the receiver and almost immediately the telephone burred an insistent summons. For all of ten seconds she determined not to answer, and only the thought that it might be Jonathan motivated her to pick up the receiver.
‘Lexi?’ Georg’s deep faintly accented voice sounded so close he could have been in the same room. ‘I’ll be delayed by about half an hour.’
Oh, heavens, they were supposed to be dining out! She closed her eyes, then slowly reopened them. ‘I was just about to ring you,’ she declared, inventing with no scruple whatsoever. ‘I can’t make it tonight. Jacques needs me. One of the models reported in sick.’
She closed her eyes momentarily against the slight throbbing that began in the region of her right temple.
‘Where is the assignment? I’ll meet you there.’
An inner voice screamed out in silent rejection. She couldn’t face seeing him tonight. If she did she’d never contain the anger that was seething deep inside. ‘No, Georg.’ Time enough tomorrow to face a confrontation. By then she might have gathered sufficient courage to be able to adopt a cool rationale. ‘I have to go. I’m running late.’ She replaced the receiver before he had a chance to comment. Crossing into the bedroom, she stripped off her outer clothes, then selected designer jeans and a loose cotton top at random from her wardrobe. Dressed, she caught her hair into a loose knot, picked up her bag, and made her way out of the apartment.
Quite where she was heading she wasn’t sure. Anywhere would do, as long as she had some time alone in which to think. Somewhere where no one could contact her.
In the car she slotted a compact disc into the music system, then sent the Mercedes up to street level. Taking a left turn, she simply drove, uncaring of her direction or destination.
Sheer driving skill and instinct kept her within the speed limit and observant of the road rules. Either that or divine guidance, she decided wryly as she finally brought the car to a halt on the side of the road.
She had no idea where she was, for how long or how far she’d travelled, and she rested her forehead on the steering-wheel in a gesture of infinite weariness.
Perhaps there was a motel somewhere nearby where she could book in for the night. It was either that or face a long drive back to her apartment.
A strange light-headedness assailed her, and she wound down the window to let in some fresh air. Now that she thought about it, the last time she’d eaten was at midday, and then it had only been a light salad.
A glance at her watch revealed that it was nine o’clock. She’d been driving for more than three hours.
It was hardly likely that anything would be open at this time of night, although she vaguely remembered passing a petrol station a short while ago. Maybe they ran a fast-food outlet where she could pick up hot coffee and a filled roll.
Without further thought she switched on the ignition and fired the engine, swinging the car in a semi-circle on to the northbound highway.
Half an hour later, suitably revived by two cups of strong coffee and a surprisingly wholesome meal, she made the decision to drive home.
It was almost one o’clock when she took the lift up to her apartment. As the doors slid open she stifled a yawn, weary almost beyond belief.
At first she didn’t see the tall figure leaning against the wall outside her apartment door. It wasn’t until a slight movement caught her attention that his presence registered, and she faltered mid-step, then froze as Georg’s muscular frame unfolded.
Shock, resentment, anger—all those emotions seemed to register at once, and her tiredness vanished.
‘What are you doing here?’
One eyebrow slanted in silent query. ‘Whatever happened to “hello”?’ His gaze was dark and infinitely formidable beneath its steady appraisal. ‘I contacted Jacques, only to be told that, if there was a fashion parade on in the city tonight, he certainly wasn’t running it.’ His eyes seemed to mesmerise hers. ‘If you didn’t want to dine out you had only to say so.’
Lexi didn’t blink. ‘You would have asked questions and demanded answers.’
His silence accelerated her nervous tension to a point where she was sure he must see the pulse thudding at the base of her throat. ‘Do you consider it so strange that I feel I have a right to know if something bothers you?’
His drawled query seemed like the last straw! Her anger snapped, and she could feel it erupt inside her like a volcano. ‘Right?’ she exploded. ‘You have no rights where I’m concerned!’
&
nbsp; His gaze narrowed, and a muscle tensed along the edge of his jaw. ‘The hallway is hardly the place for a slanging match. Where are your keys?’
Ignoring her protest, he took her bag and searched inside it until he discovered her keyring, then he calmly put an arm around her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.
‘Put me down, you fiend!’ She tried to kick him and one of her shoes fell to the carpeted floor. ‘Let me go, damn you!’
There was nothing she could do to stop him unlocking the front door, and, once inside, he closed it with an almost silent click before allowing her to slide down to her feet.
His eyes held hers, dark and incredibly watchful. ‘Now, suppose you explain?’ he demanded in a voice that was dangerously soft.
‘Explain?’ she vented, furious almost beyond belief. ‘You thought you were very clever, didn’t you? Together with Jonathan and David, you played both ends against the middle and manufactured a conspiracy in which you were not only a perpetrator, but a willing participant.’ Her eyes gleamed with a fine rage. ‘You conniving, uncaring, diabolical bastard! Who do you think you are, attempting to play God?’ She took a step forward and began railing him with her fists, hitting him anywhere she could connect—his chest, his arms, his shoulders…beating him with an anger that brought tears streaming down her cheeks until hard hands caught hold of her own, stilling their actions with galling ease.
‘That’s enough.’
‘I hate you!’ she stormed vehemently. ‘Hate you, do you understand?’
His hands tightened their grasp on her wrists, and she struggled powerlessly against him as he drew her close. Effortlessly he caught both her hands together, then slid his hand through the length of her hair, exerting sufficient pressure until there was no other option but for her to meet his gaze.
Lexi was aware of every muscle in the taut length of his body, and she wanted to scream and rage against him.
Broken dreams, a cynical inner voice taunted; the destruction of the hope that Georg could possibly feel about her the way she felt about him, that such a tenuous, precious emotion as love might be shared.
The Greek's Bride of Convenience Page 13
