The Antonides Marriage Deal

by Anne McAllister

  “Baklava,” she said woosily. She wondered if she had the strength to get up and get some. Maybe she could just dream she was eating it. That would be wonderful. But she didn’t much feel like moving.

  “Here.” A gruff voice penetrated the fog that was her mind.

  She opened her eyes. No, she didn’t. She must be still dreaming because Elias was still here. In fact he was standing besides the bed with a plate of something in his hand.

  She blinked at him. “Whazzat?”

  “Baklava. You said you wanted some.”

  What a dream! What a spectacular dream. Not only was Elias Antonides starring in it, all rumpled and gorgeous looking, he was bringing her baklava in bed!

  Tallie accepted the plate, but it wobbled precariously in her grasp.

  “Here,” he said. “Give it back.” And the next thing she knew, he was holding the plate again and sitting beside her on the bed.

  Bemused at how real it all seemed, albeit slightly fuzzy around the edges, Tallie took a piece of the baklava and bit into it. Ambrosial…if she did say so herself.

  “Mmm.” She shut her eyes, savoring the sweetness, and licked the honey off her lips. A slightly strangled sound made her open her eyes again. Elias was looking at her, a rather odd, definitely desperate look on his face.

  “Oh,” she said. “Sorry. I should have offered you some.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m—”

  “You must be hungry. Eat.” She held out what was left of her piece of baklava, waving it under his nose, brushing it against his lips.

  “Tal—” But that was as far as he got, because she poked the baklava in his mouth. His lips touched her fingers. His mouth shut in surprise and he half coughed before he managed to swallow and then chew the unexpected treat. “Thank you,” he said when he’d swallowed again. He sounded very polite and rather strained.

  “Stop that,” she told him.

  His brow furrowed. “Stop what?”

  “Acting all stiff and proper. This is my dream and you aren’t supposed to behave that way.”

  He looked almost startled. But then he shrugged slightly and his lips quirked. “I’m not? How am I supposed to behave?”

  “You’re supposed to be nice,” she told him firmly. “Well, you have been, I guess. Bringing me the baklava. But sometimes at work you’re cranky.”

  “I apologize.”

  “See? There. You’re doing it again. Smile,” she commanded.

  He barred his teeth.

  “Not like that. Are you ticklish?”

  “What?” His eyes went wide.

  “I asked if you were ticklish. If I tickled you and you laughed, that would be as good as a smile.”

  “I’m not ticklish,” he said dampeningly.

  “Pity.” She picked up the last piece of baklava and broke it in two and held a piece of it out level with his mouth, inviting him to take another bite.

  He hesitated a moment, then leaned forward and did just that. Only this time he wasn’t surprised. She was. Because this time he didn’t just nibble at the baklava—he nibbled her fingers!

  The feeling was so unexpected and so surprisingly intimate that she jerked back, shocked. “Elias!”

  He grinned.

  Oh my, yes. It was even better than a smile. Elias Antonides’s grin was glorious. It was memorable. She hoped to goodness this was one of those dreams she could recall after she woke up!

  “Here,” he said, and began to brush the crumbs off the bedclothes and into his hand. It necessitated him touching the lightweight duvet that was covering her. It necessitated him brushing his hands over her breasts, over her belly and her thighs. It seemed almost as intimate as his nibbling her fingers had.

  And then, somehow he was leaning right over her, his face very close, nearly in her own, and his deep, dark eyes met hers, locked with hers. His lips were just inches from her own—right where they had been before he’d kissed her.

  Kissed her?

  What?

  Good Lord, another dream? A dream within a dream? She blinked rapidly. Gave her head a little shake.

  Elias straightened up. “What’s wrong? Got something in your eye?”

  Tallie shook her head again, dazed, trying to think. To remember. But it was gone. Whatever she’d thought she was remembering she couldn’t.

  It was just the feeling, she thought. It was how she used to feel when Brian had kissed her. There had been that moment of connection, of anticipation, of need. That was what she was remembering!

  She was missing Brian. Her gaze sought the picture on her dresser. It was too dark in the room, though, with only the small reading lamp illuminated. She couldn’t see her 5-by-7 inch Brian in the shadows. She could only see Elias, tall and strong and devastatingly sexy, looking down at her worriedly.

  He was too vivid, too present to allow her to focus on anything—or anyone—else. Memories of Brian slid away as memories of Brian had been doing lately. And this was only a dream, anyway.

  She might as well enjoy her dream.

  She reached out and took hold of his shirtfront and pulled him down toward her again.

  “Tallie?”

  “Shh. Just testing,” she murmured, and then she pressed her lips to his.

  It was indeed the dream to end all dreams, she thought dizzily as the kiss went on and on and became better and better.

  Even dreaming she remembered thinking he was the last man in the world she ought to have anything to do with. But Elias Antonides kissed as good as he looked. Better, in fact. The best since Brian.

  Possibly, her traitorous thoughts proclaimed, even better than Brian—though she loved Brian.

  Still, she had to admit, for a dream kiss, it was the best she’d ever had. She didn’t know why she didn’t dream about kissing more often if she was so good at conjuring up kisses like this!

  The last man she’d kissed for real had been Martin—if you could call the dry press of his mouth against hers a kiss. What she remembered most about that was the aftertaste of goat cheese.

  Elias’s kiss, on the other hand, was the sort she could take out and replay to keep her warm on subzero nights in Antarctica. Con Ed could use it to light up all of Manhattan and have enough wattage left over for Brooklyn and the Bronx besides.

  It threatened to burn them both right down to the ground. And Tallie knew she would go willingly and die with a smile on her face.

  Her hands slid underneath his shirt. She ran her fingers through the soft, springy hair on his chest, savored the heat of his body, the ripple of his muscles as he caught his breath. His fingers came up to tangle in her hair, to weave and thread and curl the strands, to tug lightly on them, to bring her closer, to bring the two of them together.

  She wanted more. She wanted it all. And so, it seemed, did he. But as she began to fumble with his buttons, there was a thump, and Harvey—her subscious in feline form, no doubt—landed on the bed. A shred of sanity reminding her that even in her dreams there were some things she shouldn’t do.

  Apparently, the dream Elias thought the same thing because he pulled back abruptly, then stared at her looking as dazed as she was. She was aware—and pleased—that he looked as shattered as she felt. At least in her dreams she could disconcert him.

  “Bad idea, Prez. Really, really bad,” he said raggedly. And then he’d straightened up and walked out of the room.

  Watching him go, Tallie found herself wishing that her subconscious cat hadn’t disturbed them. It would have been more than interesting to make love with Elias Antonides. She touched her tingling lips, thinking how real they felt, how well kissed.

  “Killjoy,” she muttered to Harvey.

  Then she closed her eyes and willed herself back into the dream, curious now. If she could get back to the level where she and Elias were kissing, well, she thought with a smile, she might never want to wake up.

  Unfortunately she did.

  Her ankle was throbbing. It took her a moment to figure out why. To reme
mber the accident. The ambulance. The hospital. The purple Barney of a cast that felt like a lead weight on her leg. The meeting at the office. That mortifying journey out of the building and the trip home in the taxi with Elias and then him having to go back and get her pain pills for her.

  Thank God today was Saturday. She wouldn’t have to face him again until Monday.

  Wincing, Tallie carefully rolled her aching bruised body over in her bed and stared in horror at the rumpled, stubble-jawed man sound asleep in Yiayia Savas’s old rocking chair next to her bed.

  Oh, dear God.

  Tallie squeezed her eyes shut, disbelieving the sight before her eyes, trying desperately to subdue the pounding behind her eyelids that seemed to make her hallucinate. But when she opened them again, he was still there—Elias Antonides!—in her bedroom!

  But…that was a dream!

  Please, God, it had been a dream!

  But even as she thought it, Tallie had a gut-twisting feeling that it hadn’t been a dream at all. Her heart hammered. That was anxiety. Her head pounded. She felt as if she had the mother of all hangovers. And that was, she knew, the aftereffects of the pain medication.

  She never should have taken any. The pills worked—good heavens, yes, she knew they worked. Give her one and she was blessedly pain free—but they also did a number on her head.

  She knew from past experience that they made her hazy, blurry, loopy, crazy and absolutely irresponsible for anything that she said or did.

  Which was exactly why she’d refused to take any until she got home. She had known she would need all her wits about her at the office. She would never have been able to pay attention or make sense if her brain was buzzing. That was why she’d rung her parents, too, before Elias had returned with them. She wanted to sound with it and sensible so they wouldn’t come and hover over her.

  So she’d got, what? Elias instead?

  Dear God.

  A kaleidoscope of more dizzy impressions crowded into her still-pounding head. She tried to think, to sort, to remember. He’d brought her the pills she’d left in her briefcase at the office. He’d brought her pizza. A good satisfying pepperoni pizza with lots of gooey cheese, not one of those designer pizzas like she and Martin the Bore—de Boer—had shared, and she’d told him about Martin and the aphrodisiacs and—

  Her face burned as she remembered that conversation.

  And then, blessedly, Elias had said he had to leave. But he’d been determined to wait for the person coming to take care of her. And she’d had to admit she’d made it up to reassure her mother.

  “You mean no one will be here?” he’d demanded.

  And when she’d shaken her head, assuring him she’d be fine, he’d snorted and stalked off to the kitchen. She vaguely remembered him cleaning up the pizza and talking on the phone. And then he’d come back and sat down in the chair opposite the sofa.

  “Go away,” she’d said.

  But of course he hadn’t listened. He’d picked up a magazine and had started to read. She didn’t remember anything more because the bloody little pill had done its trick and she’d fallen asleep on the sofa.

  But she wasn’t on the sofa now. She was in her bed—in a nightgown she couldn’t remember putting on—and a man she remembered dreaming about kissing was no dream at all. He was sound asleep barely a foot away.

  Tallie moaned.

  Elias jerked. His eyes flicked open. For just an instant he looked as confused as she’d been feeling, but then clarity unclouded his gaze and he pushed himself upright. “You’re awake. You need another pill?” He was already heading on autopilot for wherever he’d put them.

  “No!” Good God, no! She’d made a big enough idiot of herself already.

  At her desperate shout he turned back. “You sure?” He sounded doubtful.

  His dark hair was sticking up in spikes. His shirttails hung out. Only three buttons were done up on his shirt and his tie was gone. The stubble on his jaw was even darker than it had been when she’d kissed him—

  Remembering that it wasn’t a dream, Tallie moaned again.

  “I’m getting you a pill,” Elias said.

  “No! Really. I don’t need any pills. I’m…fine.” She struggled to push herself up against the headboard of her bed.

  Elias moved to help her, then stopped abruptly, jammed his hands in the pockets of his khakis and remained where he was.

  Probably afraid he was going to get attacked again. Should she acknowledge what she’d done? Pass it off with a laugh? Or was it better to pretend it had never happened?

  Because one look at him told her that, no matter how gorgeous he was and how tempting it would be to kiss him again, Elias had no desire for a repeat performance.

  Nor did she! He was the man her father had set his sights on for her. She didn’t love him. She was attracted to him—on a purely physical level. And that was all. She loved Brian.

  Who was dead, a tiny voice inside her head reminded her.

  True. But even so…she did not love Elias Antonides! Getting involved with him would be disastrous. It would complicate everything.

  And it would make her father even more power-mad than he already was.

  So, what was she going to do about the kiss?

  Nothing. Elias had to know she hadn’t meant it, that if she’d been in her right mind, she’d never have done it. So if she acted as if she didn’t remember, they would both be spared some needless embarrassment. And if he should happen to bring it up, she could laugh it off, say she’d been “under the influence.”

  It was nothing but the truth.

  “So,” Elias said, “fine. No pills. Can I get you some water?”

  “That would be nice.” She gave him a polite determinedly distant smile. “Thank you.”

  He nodded wordlessly and left the room. When he came back with a glass of water, he had his shirt buttoned and neatly tucked in. He’d run his fingers through his hair, and while he hadn’t necessarily tamed it, he looked proper and quite as determined to get things back on a businesslike footing as she was.

  As it should be, Tallie reminded herself.

  She drank the whole glass of water, handed it back, then looked up at him with what she hoped was the proper degree of businesslike equanimity. “It was very kind of you to stay last night.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Still,” she insisted, “you didn’t have to.”

  Elias shrugged. “Somebody did.”

  Tallie was tempted to dispute that. But Elias didn’t look as though he was going to give in on that argument. And if she tried, things might be brought up she had no desire to discuss. So she merely inclined her head. “Yes, well, it was above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you.”

  His mouth twisted briefly and she wondered which “beyond the call of duty” moments he was remembering. But he simply nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  Their gazes met, locked. And the notion that painkillers had been solely responsible was hard to accept.

  Abruptly Elias looked away. “So, you’re okay today?” he asked briskly, all business. “How’s your ankle?”

  “It hurts, but I can live with it. No problem.” Every muscle in her body ached, in truth. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Right. Well then, I guess I’ll take off. He sat down in the rocking chair and yanked on his socks and shoes, then stood up again. “If you decide you need them, your pills are by the sink in the bathroom. Your crutches are here by the bed.” He poked them with his toe. “And your cell phone is on the nightstand. Do you want me to get you something to eat before I leave?”

  “No, I can get something later.”

  “Sure?”

  “Absolutely. Again, thank you very much.”

  It was all very polite now. Very businesslike and distant. And awkward as hell because she could remember the sandpapery feel of his jaw against her cheek, could remember the hungry press of his lips. And wanted, heaven help her, to feel them again.

  She cleared
her throat. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  Elias opened his mouth, started to speak, then closed it again and nodded. “Right. See you Monday. Take care.”

  The woman was going to be the death of him—or at least of his better intentions!

  Elias needed the whole weekend to recover his equilibrium, to stop remembering the taste of Tallie Savas’s lips, the softness of her body, the smoothness of her skin.

  Well, he did remember. But for odd isolated moments now and then he managed to focus on something else.

  It took some effort.

  Saturday, as soon as he left Tallie’s apartment, he started working on the offices he was renovating. But that gave him far too much time on his own. Way too much opportunity to remember the way he’d spent the night—and how much more he’d wanted to do with Tallie that night.

  And even reminding himself that he hadn’t wanted to do it because it was Tallie and it would have been a huge mistake didn’t give him reason enough to forget how much he’d enjoyed her touch, her kiss—her!

  So he rang Dyson and woke him up. “You still want to show me that boat you’re having built?”

  A trip out to Long Island to see Dyson’s pride and joy had been on the back burner too long. Dyson had invited him to come along to see it half a dozen times. But every time Elias had been too busy.

  Now he heard Dyson yawn so loudly his jaw cracked. Then Dyson said, “Yeah. Pick you up in an hour.”

  They spent the day at the boatyard, which made Elias remember how much he had loved building boats with his grandfather and how sidetracked his life had become. Thinking about the past gave him some respite from memories of Tallie in his arms.

  But it also reminded him of other dreams he’d had—of a life split between Santorini and New York, of building boats for a living, of marrying a woman who would love the same things he did and the family they would have together.

  It hadn’t happened the way he’d imagined. Not any of it.

  And the memories of what he’d hoped for and what had actually happened made him surly.

  “Not gonna bring you again,” Dyson said on the way home. “You been scowling all day long. You look like hell, too. What’d you do last night?”