The Greek's Convenient Wife

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Do you have a fireplace?’ Hope crept into her tone.

  ‘Sure I do.’ He struck another match along the side of the box and bent down to light the set fire in the hearth behind him.

  ‘I love fires,’ she said. ‘No one has fires any more.’

  ‘Central heating certainly has a lot to answer for,’ he agreed.

  Maddison couldn’t believe the sense of relief she felt as the flames started to dart about and take hold. She had to stop herself moving even closer to hold her hands to its warmth, even though by early spring standards the night wasn’t all that cold.

  ‘Keep your eye on that while I get us something to drink,’ he said, moving away.

  She was nothing short of assiduous in her attempts to keep the fire blazing, piling on wood until the towering pyre threatened to topple over and spill out on to the floor.

  ‘Careful,’ Demetrius cautioned as he handed her a glass of wine. ‘That’s all the wood we have until morning.’

  She stared at the leaping flames and wondered if she should take off the piece she’d just balanced on top.

  ‘Don’t you have a wood-pile outside?’

  ‘I chop it as I need it. I like the exercise.’

  It was certainly a side to him she hadn’t expected. Never had she imagined he would step outside his billionaire comfort zone to light his own fires and chop his own wood.

  It made her wonder if she had missed something somewhere. She was usually so good at reading people, working out who was genuine, who was not, but somehow he’d slipped past her usually meticulous assessment.

  ‘Is it safe to assume this rustic paradise of yours stretches itself to beds?’ she asked.

  His eyes met hers across the flickering glow of the fireplace.

  ‘It has one bed,’ he said. ‘Mine.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  MADDISON stared at him in alarm.

  ‘I’m not sleeping with you!’

  ‘Then where will you sleep?’ he asked. ‘Outside?’

  Her mouth dropped open in panic. ‘You can’t be serious! I can’t sleep outside—it’s dark and cold and—’

  ‘Then you’ll have to share my bed.’

  ‘I’d rather take my chances with the wildlife out there!’

  ‘I have it on good authority the life out there is pretty wild,’ he said smoothly.

  She snapped her teeth together in anger. He was goading her deliberately, she could tell. Surely he didn’t expect her to sleep with him?

  But…outside?

  She gave an inward shudder—scorpions, spiders, centipedes and mosquitoes ruled outside.

  She lifted her chin and faced him determinedly. ‘I suppose you think this is highly amusing, dragging me to this Godforsaken place to teach me some sort of lesson.’

  ‘What sort of lesson would that be?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘You tell me.’

  He took a leisurely sip of his wine.

  She examined his handsome face for some clue to what he was up to but he was as inscrutable as ever.

  ‘I can assure you, Maddison, I have no such goal in mind. I simply wanted to get us out of the city, away from prying eyes so we could adjust to our situation.’

  ‘We wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t insisted on your pound of flesh.’

  ‘We wouldn’t be in this situation if your brother hadn’t stuck a diving spear through the bottom of my yacht.’

  ‘Is that how he did it?’ she blurted without thinking. How in the world had Kyle got his hands on a diving spear?

  He must have seen the question in her eyes.

  ‘Not once, not twice, but three times,’ he said. ‘He was obviously very determined, which I observe seems to be somewhat of a family trait.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘Kyle can barely swim a length of a pool. How could he possibly be responsible for diving underneath your boat and doing that sort of damage?’

  ‘It’s amazing what people will do when suitably motivated.’

  ‘Yes, that is certainly something I’ve recently observed,’ she said wryly.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning: why did you insist on marrying me?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘I don’t believe you needed to escape the press so badly. You must have some other motive, although it beats me what it might actually be.’

  ‘I told you, you’re my insurance policy. I lost my boat but I got you instead.’

  ‘I don’t mean to take anything away from myself, but for one point five million dollars don’t you think you might have been a little short-changed?’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She eyeballed him. ‘You can’t mean to go back on your word?’

  ‘What word was that?’

  Her eyes widened in fear. ‘You promised this was a hands-off arrangement.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You know you did!’

  He took another contemplative sip of wine.

  Maddison clenched and unclenched her hands by her sides, agitation in every sharp angle of her slim body.

  ‘This is abduction, you know; you’ll go to prison.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  The confidence in his tone totally derailed her. She felt a bubble of hysteria rise in her throat and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  She turned away before he could catch sight of the glitter of tears in her eyes. She stared at the corrugated iron-clad wall in front of her and wondered what nightmare she’d inadvertently wandered into.

  She heard the chink of his glass as he set it down and then the sound of him stoking the fire, the up-shaft of sudden warmth reaching her across the room.

  She took a deep breath and turned back to face him. ‘I need to use the bathroom.’

  ‘Which one?’

  She looked at him blankly for a second or two. ‘You have two?’

  ‘There is a small shower behind that door there.’ He pointed to a shadowed corner of the room. ‘And out there behind the wood supply is the toilet.’

  Her eyes went out on stalks. ‘It’s outside?’

  ‘You can take the torch,’ he offered helpfully.

  She let out her breath in a rush and swung away in high agitation. ‘I can’t believe this! This is a nightmare!’

  ‘This is bush life.’ He spoke from behind her. ‘I admit it’s a little rustic, but I like it.’

  She turned back round to glare at him.

  ‘Rustic? It’s positively primitive! You can’t be seriously expecting me to…to…’ She gave the door leading outside a worried glance.

  ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ he chided. ‘People pay big money for this sort of alternative experience.’

  ‘I thought people paid big money to stay in plush hotels.’

  He gave a shrug of one broad shoulder. ‘A change is as good as a holiday.’

  ‘This is not my idea of a holiday,’ she spat. ‘Nor is it anywhere near what I would expect a honeymoon to be like.’

  ‘You were expecting a proper honeymoon?’ His eyes caught and held hers.

  ‘No! Of course not. I just meant…you know…we’re supposed to be pretending to…’

  ‘What better way to pretend wedded rapture than total seclusion in the wilderness?’ He passed. ‘Would you like me to come with you to the toilet?’

  ‘No! I would not!’ She snatched up the torch from the small table in the middle of the room and made her way to the door.

  ‘If you’re not back in ten minutes I’ll come and look for you.’

  She didn’t answer other than to slam the rickety door behind her.

  She stood outside the hut for a moment or two, trying to get her bearings. She shone the torch around in a wide arc and made out the shapes of the logs Demetrius had referred to as the wood supply.

  An axe was resting against one of the logs and she had a sudden vision
of him swinging it and slicing through the hard wood like a knife went through butter.

  She tore her eyes away to peer through the darkness to find the outhouse.

  It was where he’d said, right behind the wood heap, its roughly assembled corrugated iron façade looking as if a stiff breeze could easily reposition it to anywhere amongst the surrounding bush.

  She shone the torch at her feet as she negotiated the rough path. Once she got to the door she gingerly pushed it open and shone the beam around.

  So far, so good.

  No red-back spiders that she could see, just an old-fashioned bush toilet like the pioneers had used two hundred years before.

  In record time she came back out into the looming darkness and made her way back to the hut, where she could make out the flickering light of the candle and fireplace through the single window.

  She had to admit that it did have a sort of appeal if one had a taste for the unpretentious. The hut looked much more cosy and inviting from outside than it did inside, and certainly there was nothing wrong with the fresh air with its slight touch of wood smoke.

  Demetrius was stirring a pot of something which was balanced over the fireplace when she came back in.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘So you made it back alive.’

  She gave him a frosty look and made her way towards the bathroom door he’d pointed out earlier.

  She was relieved to find when she shone the torch inside that the bathroom actually had running water. The mirror above the cracked basin had a lot to answer for, however. She could barely make out her features in the speckled glass, the subdued lighting from the now fading torch giving her a sort of ghostly appearance.

  She washed her hands and face and looked around for a towel. She couldn’t help thinking there was a certain irony in finding two Papasakis Park View Tower Hotel towels folded side by side on a timber dowel against the wall.

  She took one and, after drying her hands, buried her head in the soft fabric and breathed in the cleanly laundered fragrance, trying to convince herself that when she opened her eyes she would find herself back in the penthouse and not in the middle of nowhere.

  No such luck.

  She made her way back to what could only be loosely described as the sitting room for, as far as she could make out, apart from one rickety-looking chair there was nowhere else to sit.

  ‘Would you like something to eat?’ Demetrius asked as she came into the room.

  ‘I’m finding myself somewhat hesitant to ask what it is you’re actually offering from that cauldron you’re stirring,’ she said tightly.

  His smile looked a hundred times sexier than it should, which she immediately blamed on the flickering candlelight.

  ‘It’s certainly not haute cuisine, but edible enough for all that.’ He spooned some of the stew on to a tin plate and handed it to her.

  It smelt surprisingly good, she had to admit, as she bent her head to inspect it.

  ‘There’s cutlery over there.’ He pointed to the drawer of the old table in the middle of the room. ‘And you can have the chair.’

  ‘I really don’t know how to thank you.’ Her tone was liberally laced with sarcasm.

  The sexy smile was back and she looked away. She had to watch her step with him. He knew all the seduction tricks and a bone-melting smile was trick number one.

  She took a tentative mouthful of the food and was relieved to find it tasted delicious, a rich tomato-based meat and vegetable stew with garlic and thyme.

  ‘Some wine?’ He handed her the glass she’d abandoned earlier.

  She took a sip and watched him take his plate and glass over to the fireplace, where he sat down, leaning his back against one side of the rough mantle, his long legs stretched out in front of him with his ankles crossed causally.

  He looked totally at home, she thought—a man who looked as if nothing would faze him, a man who had control no matter what the circumstances. His shadowed jawline only added to his masculine appeal. She could almost feel the rasp of his skin against hers, could imagine the firm mouth seeking hers, the thrust of his tongue into the warmth of her mouth an imitation of what his hard male lower body had in store.

  She wrenched her eyes away and took a generous sip of wine.

  ‘How long have you had this place?’ She addressed her question to a tiny sprig of thyme on her plate rather than meet his dark gaze across the flickering firelight.

  ‘A few years.’

  ‘I take it you’re not much of a handyman.’ She gave the room an all-encompassing glance.

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. ‘I can use an axe and a hammer if I need to but I like things the way they are.’

  ‘Not very progressive of you.’

  ‘Progression has its price.’

  She let the silence between them stretch, listening instead to the spit and crackle of the fire in the hearth.

  It seemed such an anomaly to her that a man of his wealthy standing would seek such primitive solitude when his money could buy him anything he wanted. No creature comfort was outside his range of income, so why would he come to this backwater lean-to with no modern conveniences? And, more to the point, why had he brought her with him?

  She eyed him over the top of her wine glass, wondering what was going on behind those dark, inscrutable features.

  A tiny flutter of something indefinable settled in her stomach as she contemplated his possible motives. Did he intend to consummate their marriage? Was that to be her punishment for hiding Kyle? But would it be a punishment? she wondered. Demetrius Papasakis looked every inch the consummate lover; few women would turn down a period of time in his arms, she was sure.

  Demetrius captured her gaze and held it within the dark, mesmerising heat of his.

  ‘You look ready for bed.’

  ‘I’m not!’ Her face instantly flamed. ‘I’m not the least bit tired.’

  His lazy smile told her he didn’t believe her for a second.

  ‘Anyway, I always read for hours before I go to sleep,’ she said.

  ‘Did you bring a book with you?’

  She gave him a resentful look. ‘I would have if I’d been given enough time to pack.’

  ‘I gave you plenty of time to pack, but you wasted a considerable amount of it arguing with me.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t I argue with you? You seem to think I’m some sort of puppet you can make dance at the end of your strings. But I can tell you right here and right now, Demetrius Papasakis, this is one puppet that is not going to dance to your tune.’

  He got to his feet in one easy movement.

  Maddison felt herself shrinking backwards in the old chair and, rather than suffer the indignity of falling off it, sprang to her feet and put some much needed distance between them.

  His chuckle of amusement irritated her beyond measure. ‘You’re so delightfully defiant,’ he observed. ‘Tell me, Maddison, did you play so hard to get with all your previous lovers?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘It makes me wonder what it is you’re afraid of.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of anything and certainly not you,’ she threw at him. ‘I just don’t want to…to…’

  ‘Have sex with me?’

  Her cheeks burned at his words. A vision of her body locked with his flashed through her mind, instantly causing her stomach to flip over.

  ‘I find you the most unappealing lover imaginable,’ she said.

  A flicker of something she didn’t recognise flared briefly in his dark gaze but his voice when he spoke was deep and even.

  ‘What is it you look for in a lover?’

  She found his question threatening. What could she say? I have absolutely no idea because I’m still a virgin at twenty-four? How could she admit that to him? How could she admit it to anyone?

  She pitched her gaze to the top of his T-shirt so she didn’t have to see the satirical glint in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t see the p
oint in this discussion for as long as I have breath, I can assure you, the last person on this planet I would ever consider sharing my body with is you.’

  There was a small but intense pulsing silence.

  ‘Those are definitely fighting words,’ he drawled, bringing her eyes up to his. ‘But I wonder if you mean them.’

  ‘Of course I mean them!’ She took another step backwards.

  He closed the distance with two lazy strides, his thighs so close to hers she was sure he would feel them trembling against the rock solid strength of his.

  This close she could see the way his dark eyelashes fringed his unreadable eyes, and the way his mouth lifted slightly at one corner in what she was beginning to recognise as his particular version of a cynical smile.

  Ever so slowly he reached out with a long finger and traced the smooth curve of her cheek. Maddison felt her breath snag in the back of her throat as the pad of his finger moved to the soft bow of her mouth, lingering over the top curve before moving on in a tantalisingly slow pathway to the fullness of her bottom lip. Her lips began to fizz with feeling and she felt the most incredible urge to take his finger into her mouth and curl her tongue around it, to suck on it, to taste him, to feel him move inside her.

  His finger left her mouth to trail a fiery path down the slender curve of her neck, stalling at the front of her top where her breasts lay secretly, shamefully aching for his touch.

  Her breathing became increasingly shallow as his finger dipped to the shadowed cleft, lingering there for endless seconds, the heat from the pad of his finger like a brand on her sensitised skin.

  His thumb moved over the top of her breast before slipping down to its throbbing peak, which leapt at his first barely there touch.

  She saw desire flare in his dark eyes, and her stomach hollowed as his thumb stroked back and forth in a fainéant movement, drawing from her an involuntary, barely audible gasp.

  She was fast losing ground.

  Her legs were liquefying beneath her, becoming boneless and useless as he leaned even closer, his intimate maleness probing her lower body, leaving her in no doubt of his potent arousal.

  His head came down and her eyelids fluttered closed, the timeless seconds before his mouth met hers a silent torture of anticipation which she felt in the innermost part of her body where a pulse had begun drumming insistently.