The Greek's Bride 0f Convenience (HQR Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

Almost as if he sensed her reserve, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’ll call for you at six-thirty.’

  She possessed a wardrobe filled with designer clothes, and she mentally reviewed them in an attempt to make an appropriate selection. ‘I imagine you require me to present a dazzling image?’

  ‘You look fantastic in anything.’

  ‘Now that’s what I call brotherly love,’ Lexi accepted with a contrived smile. Sparing her watch a quick glance, she rose to her feet and delved into her bag to extract a set of keys which she pressed into his hand. ‘Thanks for the loan of the Ferrari.’

  David tossed them down on to his desk and reached into a nearby drawer. ‘Here’s yours. It’s parked on level three, close to the lifts.’

  ‘Give me the bill,’ she insisted, ‘and I’ll write you a cheque.’

  He made no demur and merely extracted the itemised account, watching as she wrote in the amount and attached her signature with unaffected flair.

  Collecting her keys, she made her way towards the door. ‘I have a modelling assignment at eleven. Jacques will have a fit if I’m late.’

  The Mercedes sports car purred to life at the first turn of the key, and Lexi exited the car park, then headed towards the eastern suburbs.

  The address she’d been given was for a restaurant venue in Double Bay whose patron had generously donated to charity the cost of providing food for the seventy ticket-paying guests.

  It was, Jacques assured, a long-standing annual event for which the particular charity involved was dependently grateful.

  Parking was achieved with ease, and Lexi locked up, activating the car alarm before walking towards the main street.

  She located the discreet restaurant display-board without difficulty, and traversed a wide curving staircase to the main entrance, where an elegantly gowned hostess greeted and directed her to a makeshift changing-room.

  ‘Lexi, you’re late,’ a harassed voice announced the instant she entered the small room, and she checked her watch with a faintly raised eyebrow.

  ‘By less than a minute,’ she protested as she deftly began discarding her outer clothes. ‘The fashion parade isn’t due to begin for another half-hour.’

  ‘Time which must be spent perfecting the hair and make-up, oui?’

  The models were due to take to the catwalk at precisely eleven-thirty, displaying a variety of exclusive labels for an hour, after which lunch would be served, followed by customary speeches and the giving of a few token awards.

  Thank heaven today’s modelling assignment was being held indoors in air-conditioned comfort, Lexi consoled herself more than an hour later as she hurriedly discarded an elegantly tailored suit and reached for a superb evening gown, the final selection in a superb fashion range.

  Yesterday had involved a beach, searing sun, hot sand, and a gathering of ogling, wolf-whistling young men intent on upsetting her composure.

  Modelling was hard work, and often the antithesis of its projected glamorous image, Lexi mused as she took her cue and moved out on to the small makeshift stage. Her hazel-gold eyes were wide and clear, and she portrayed graceful dignity as she took to the catwalk, pausing momentarily as she executed a series of choreographed movements; then she returned to the stage to effect one final turn before slipping through the curtain to backstage.

  ‘The restaurateur has set a table aside for those of you who wish to eat,’ Jacques informed them as he carefully slid the last garment into its protective cover. ‘Of course, there is no obligation to stay.’

  The three other models opted to remain, while Lexi shook her head in silent negation. ‘I can’t. I have a dental appointment in half an hour.’

  He gave a typical Gallic shrug. ‘Tomorrow at three, Lexi,’ he reminded her, and she nodded in acquiescence as she cast her reflection a quick glance before collecting her bag.

  ‘I must fly, or I’ll be late.’

  Slipping out of the changing-room, Lexi quickly manoeuvred her way between tables, inadvertently bumping into a solid masculine frame which seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  Her hand clutched his arm in an instinctive attempt to steady herself, and a faint smile parted her lips accompanied by a few words in murmured apology.

  Words that froze in the back of her throat as she recognised the man with whom she’d shared a lift only a few hours earlier.

  This close she could see the fine lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, the deep groove slashing each cheek.

  He possessed an animalistic sense of power, as well as an indefinable sensual quality that was infinitely dangerous to any sensible woman’s peace of mind.

  There was a degree of mocking amusement evident in the depths of his gaze, and Lexi became aware that she was still clutching his arm.

  She snatched her hand away as if burned by fire, and her eyes flared to a brilliant gold as she regained the power of speech. ‘I’m sorry. Excuse me,’ she added in a huskily spoken afterthought as she made to move past him.

  ‘You are not staying?’

  His drawled query held the faintest accent, and the sound of it sent a tiny shiver of alarm scudding down the length of her spine.

  ‘No.’

  His gaze was steady, his brown eyes dark, inscrutable depths in which it would be all too easy to become lost, and there could be no doubt that he possessed sufficient sensual expertise to melt the hardest heart.

  But not hers, she assured herself silently. Definitely not hers. She’d travelled that particular road before, and there was no way she intended being hurt again. By any man.

  He made no comment, and merely inclined his head in silent mocking acceptance of her decision.

  The desperate need to get away from him surprised her, and she lifted a hand to push back the length of her hair in a gesture that was born from nervous tension.

  A fact that was unsettling, given her exclusive schooling, she acknowledged as she made her way towards the foyer. And after her disastrously short marriage to Paul she had managed to acquire a protective façade she considered virtually impregnable.

  It was after five when Lexi entered her luxurious Darling Point apartment, and her arms were laden with an assortment of brightly coloured carrier-bags that held Christmas gifts for Jonathan and David, as well as an exquisite new perfume she’d bought for herself.

  With a sigh of relief she closed the door behind her, eased off her shoes, then carried her purchases through to the spare bedroom. From there she made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a long cool drink of orange juice, then she drifted into the lounge and sank into one of several soft leather chairs.

  It had been an unsettling day, fraught with surprises, and she needed ten minutes in which to relax and think.

  Blind dating—if dining with Georg Nicolaos could be termed that—was something in which she’d never indulged, and she was reluctant to begin, even given such an essentially worthy cause.

  Any choice she might have in the matter was a mere fallacy, for there was no choice, she decided wryly. Somehow she had to endure being in the constant company of a man she’d never met for the next five weeks; to smile and laugh, and generally give the impression that she was relieved and delighted that their romance, which had supposedly been kept under wraps for months, was now out in the open.

  Without doubt it would tax her acting ability to the limit.

  With a sigh of resignation she stretched her arms above her head and flexed her shoulders, then rose to her feet and made her way into the bedroom, where she stripped, and took a shower in the adjoining en suite bathroom.

  Lexi was ready a few minutes before six-thirty, her long hair confined into a knot atop her head from which she deliberately teased free a few soft-curling tendrils. Make-up was deliberately understated, with the accent on subtle shadings of eyeshadow, a touch of blusher, and soft clear rose colouring her lips. The gown she’d chosen was black with a cleverly designed ruched bodice and figure-hugging skirt. It came with a stole which s
he casually draped across her shoulders, and her feet were encased in black Jourdan slender-heeled shoes.

  ‘Beautiful,’ David complimented warmly when she opened the door at his summons.

  ‘Thanks,’ she accepted without guile as she preceded him into the lounge. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘I told Georg we’d meet him at seven.’

  Lexi cast him a quick glance before collecting her evening-bag from a nearby mahogany table. ‘In that case, I guess we’d better not keep him waiting.’

  Double Bay was a popular ‘in’ place to eat, hosting a variety of exclusive restaurants, and it wasn’t until David led her to a familiar flight of stairs that she realised their destination.

  ‘I was here this morning on a modelling assignment.’

  ‘Really? Georg is known to favour a few worthy charity organisations.’

  A brief flicker of surprise lit her features. ‘Georg Nicolaos owns the restaurant?’

  ‘It belongs to the Nicolaos family,’ David corrected. ‘Georg assumed a personal interest in it after the death of his father. If you remember, Alex and I attended university together.’

  A darkly handsome figure sprang to mind, formidable and intensely Greek. ‘I seem to recollect hearing Alex had married.’ A faint gleam sparkled in the depths of her eyes. ‘His wife has my sympathy.’

  ‘Dear lord, why?’

  Lexi gave a husky laugh. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, David! Alex is one of the most frighteningly sexy men I’ve met. The woman who managed to snare him must be quite something.’

  ‘Samantha is charming,’ David allowed, before giving his name to the hostess at the desk.

  ‘Ah, yes, Mr Harrison.’ Her smile was practised, bright, and deferential. ‘Mr Nicolaos has instructed me to let him know the moment you arrive. If you’d care to follow me, I’ll direct you to your table. Mr Nicolaos will join you shortly.’

  ‘You seem to be very much in favour,’ Lexi teased minutes after they had taken their seats, and David effected a self-deprecatory shrug.

  ‘I’ve known the family a long time. Alex waited tables between college and university semesters in the days when his father headed the restaurant. As did Georg and Anna.’

  ‘I find it strange that, although I’ve met Alex on a number of occasions over the years, I have yet to meet his brother.’

  David leaned well back in his chair, a habit he unconsciously adopted whenever he was about to choose his words with care. Lexi wondered if he was aware of it, and why he should do so now.

  ‘Perhaps because Alex chooses to adopt a stand on certain political issues, and enjoys a prominent social existence.’

  ‘And Georg doesn’t?’ she queried idly.

  ‘Not to the same degree.’

  Her eyelids flicked wide. ‘Why? Is he a recluse? Or does he not enjoy the company of women?’

  David’s gleaming humour was somehow directed to a point somewhere beyond her left shoulder.

  ‘On the contrary,’ a deep slightly accented, vaguely familiar voice interjected in a silky drawl. ‘I very much enjoy the opposite sex.’

  Lexi turned slowly to find her worst fears were confirmed, and a silent scream of rejection rose against the irony of fate that Georg Nicolaos and the driver of the red Ferrari were one and same.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LEXI’S EYES FLARED briefly in silent resentment as David effected an introduction.

  ‘Mr Nicolaos,’ Lexi acknowledged, hating the way her stomach began to knot in sheer reaction to his presence.

  ‘Georg, please,’ he insisted, holding her gaze a few seconds longer than was necessary before switching his attention to the man seated opposite. ‘David.’

  A waiter appeared the instant Georg folded his lengthy frame into a chair, and he hovered with intent solicitude as his employer enquired about his guests’ choice of wine while Lexi sat stiffly upright as every last nerve-ending tingled alive in silent antipathy.

  Not even in her wildest imagination had she envisaged being placed in the invidious position of having to act out a charade with someone of Georg Nicolaos’s calibre.

  Part of her demanded an escape now, while she still had the courage to do so. Except that she was impossibly bound to remain, and she viewed him surreptitiously under the guise of perusing the menu.

  In his late thirties, he managed without effort to portray a dramatic mesh of blatant masculinity and elemental ruthlessness—a facet that was obviously a family trait, she decided uncharitably, recalling Alex’s formidable features.

  The menu was extensive, and she opted for a chicken consommé, followed it with a salad, and waived dessert in favour of the cheeseboard.

  ‘I can’t persuade you to sample even one dish from our selection of Greek cuisine?’

  Lexi met Georg’s dark gaze, and was unable to read anything from his expression. His faint smile held a degree of warmth and was doubtless aimed to put her at ease. Yet beneath the façade she detected a lurking cynicism, and it rankled.

  Her eyes held his with deliberately cool regard. ‘Thank you, but no,’ she refused quietly.

  ‘Another occasion, perhaps?’

  She wanted to tell him that there would be no other occasion, but the reality of the next few weeks emerged with vivid clarity.

  Lifting her glass to her lips, she savoured its excellent contents, then set it down on to the table, unconsciously tracing the patterned cloth with the tip of her elegantly shaped nail.

  Mockery appeared to be her only defence, and she utilised it mercilessly. ‘Do we each bring out our figurative engagement books, and consult?’

  A gleam of humour sharpened his dark eyes. ‘You have your engagement book with you?’

  It was crazy to feel so vulnerable, yet she was supremely conscious of every single breath, and it wasn’t a sensation she enjoyed.

  ‘Like the advertisement for a well-known credit card,’ she responded, ‘I never leave home without it.’

  ‘For tomorrow night,’ Georg drawled, ‘I have tickets for the opera.’

  Lexi shook her head. ‘I have a photographic modelling session tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Which is due to finish—when?’

  She effected a faint shrug. ‘Five, six,’ she hazarded. ‘Maybe later. Peter is a perfectionist. He’ll take as many shots as he needs to capture precisely the right image.’

  ‘Dinner is obviously out. I’ll collect you at seven-thirty.’

  She regarded him coolly. ‘I could have made other plans.’ She heard David’s audible intake of breath and registered his protest before he had the opportunity to voice the words.

  ‘Lexi—’

  ‘Perhaps you could check?’ Georg interceded in a deep, faintly accented drawl, and an icy chill feathered across the surface of her skin.

  Lexi knew she was behaving badly, yet she was unable to prevent herself from searching for her pocket diary and riffling through its pages until she reached the appropriate one. ‘Drinks with Elaine, seven o’clock,’ she read out, then spared him an apparently regretful glance. ‘Sorry. Not the opera.’ A shaft of remorse prompted her to offer a slight smile. ‘Unless I miss the first act and join you during the second?’

  ‘Alternatively, we could both miss the first act,’ Georg declared silkily.

  It was a clash of wills, and she was determined to win. ‘I wouldn’t dream of allowing you to make such a concession. If you let me have the ticket I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘Surely you could cancel Elaine?’ David intervened, shooting her a cautionary look that ordinarily she would have heeded.

  ‘Arrangements were made weeks ago for a number of friends to meet for a few pre-Christmas drinks,’ she explained. ‘If I opt out she’ll be hurt. Besides,’ she qualified, unable to prevent a faint tinge of bitterness entering her voice, ‘once my supposed romance with Georg hits the gossip columns there will be no peace at all. At least permit me another day of relative freedom.’

  ‘I should remind you that Georg is
under no obligation whatsoever,’ David declared heavily.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ she tempered sweetly. ‘Although, business-wise, I doubt if either Alex or Georg wants this particular deal to fall through. Therefore, Georg does have an interest. Am I not right?’ She spared her brother a winsome smile before switching her attention to his companion. ‘Unless, of course, he’s bored with life and not averse to a little subterfuge by way of adventure. Is that the reason you’ve agreed to act as a mythical knight in shining armour, Georg?’ She deliberately gave his name its correct phonetic pronunciation, so that it fell from her lips as ‘Jorj’.

  His eyes swept her features in raking assessment, then locked with hers for a brief instant before assuming an expression of bland inscrutability. ‘My life is far from boring,’ he acknowledged with velvet-smoothness, although only a fool would have failed to perceive the steel evident.

  ‘Yet you are willing to reorganise your social life to the extent of putting it entirely on hold for a month.’ She let her eyes travel at will over each and every one of his visible features in an appraisal that was meant to diffuse the sheer overwhelming presence of the man. ‘Your current—er—companion,’ she accorded with delicate emphasis, ‘must be extremely understanding.’

  Georg regarded her steadily until she almost felt impelled to wrench her gaze away from those fathomless dark eyes, then his eyelids lowered slightly, successfully masking his expression as he proffered a faintly mocking smile.

  ‘You’re a very attractive young woman,’ he drawled. ‘Being your escort for a few weeks in an attempt to perpetrate an illusion will provide no hardship at all.’

  It was as well the waiter arrived at that precise moment with their starter, and Lexi spooned the excellent chicken consommé with little appetite, and merely picked at her salad.

  The wine helped soothe her nerves, although she refused to allow her glass to be refilled and opted for chilled water throughout the remainder of the meal.

  It was almost ten when David indicated that they should leave, and Lexi experienced considerable relief that the evening was almost over.

  ‘Your ticket for the opera,’ Georg indicated as he withdrew a slim envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.