The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  She caught Emilio’s eye, saw the faint glimmer of amusement apparent, and prepared to shift gears into ‘compete’ mode.

  This was, Michelle accorded silently, going to be quite an evening!

  ‘Michelle,’ Saska almost purred. ‘One hopes you no longer suffer from your headache?’

  The faint emphasis gave the malady quite a different interpretation. ‘Nikos took good care of me.’

  How was that for an understatement? If Saska . were to guess the manner in which he’d cared for her, the sparks would surely fly!

  It was fortuitous the maître d’ chose that moment to indicate their table was ready, and within minutes the wine steward appeared to take their order.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘CHAMPAGNE?’ Saska suggested. ‘We should drink to our continuing friendship.’

  ‘Yes,’ Michelle agreed with a winsome smile. ‘Why don’t we do that?’

  ‘Nikos and I go back a long way.’

  ‘So he told me.’

  Saska’s eyebrow arched. ‘I imagine you know I was married to his best friend?’

  ‘You must miss him very much,’ she said gently. Saska deserved some compassion. It would be devastating to be widowed at any age, but for someone so young, the loss must be terrible.

  Eyes dark and faintly cloudy regarded Michelle with contrived steadiness. ‘Dreadfully. But life moves on, and so must I.’

  With Nikos, Michelle deduced. She could hardly blame Saska for pursuing the possibility. Nikos was a man among men, irrespective of his wealth, status and social position. As a lover... Just the thought of what she’d shared with him was enough to melt her bones.

  Nikos ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon, and together they perused the menu, their choices varied as they deliberated over a starter, main and dessert.

  The waiter presented the champagne with a flourish, eased off the cork, then part-filled each flute before setting the bottle in the ice bucket and retreating.

  ‘To old friends,’ Saska said gently, touching the rim of her flute to that of Nikos’.

  His answering smile was equally gentle, then he silently saluted Emilio and turned to Michelle.

  ‘To us.’

  His eyes were dark, and so incredibly sensual, she had to consciously prevent her eyes dilating with shock.

  Her mouth shook slightly as he caught her hand and linked her fingers with his.

  He’d missed his vocation as an actor. If she hadn’t known better, she could almost believe he meant the light touch on her arm, the slight brush of his fingers against her cheek. The warmth of his smile, the way his eyes gleamed with latent emotion.

  Together, they decided on a selection from each course, gave their order, then discussed a range of topics from art to travel as they sipped champagne.

  Emilio added authenticity to Nikos and Michelle’s ‘romance’ with anecdotes from his years as an art student in France.

  ‘Remember, cara? That little café on the Left Bank, where the waiter plied you with coffee and pledged his undying love?’

  Saska looked from one to the other, her fork poised as she posed a question. ‘You studied together and shared accommodation?’

  Michelle wrinkled her nose, then laughed, a faint husky sound that was unintentionally sexy. ‘Yes, with four other students. Communal kitchen, bathroom. Tiny rooms. It was little more than a garret.’

  ‘But you adored it,’ Emilio endorsed. ‘Too much coffee, too little food, and too much discussion on how to change the world.’

  ‘You lived in a garret?’ Saska queried in disbelief. ‘With little money? Didn’t your parents help you?’

  ‘Of course. Except I didn’t want a nice apartment in the right quarter, with smoked salmon and caviar in the fridge.’

  ‘She gave all that up for the baguettes, sardines, and cheese.’

  ‘And wine,’ Michelle added with an impish smile. ‘It was fun.’

  ‘Pretending to be poor?’

  ‘Dispensing with the trappings of the rich,’ she corrected with quiet sincerity. ‘Had I not done that, my time in Pans would have been very different’

  ‘Yet you managed to meet Nikos.’ Saska gave a faint disbelieving laugh. ‘I cannot imagine him slumming it.’

  ‘We met at the home of mutual friends,’ Nikos drawled, embellishing the original fabrication.

  ‘It was one of those rare occasions when we ventured into the sophisticated arena of the rich Parisians,’ Emilio revealed with droll cynicism.

  ‘So you were at the party, too?’

  ‘As Michelle’s bodyguard,’ he declared solemnly. ‘She rarely left home without me. And no,’ he added quietly at Saska’s deliberately raised eyebrows. ‘We were never more than just very good friends.’

  ‘And now you’re business partners.’

  Emilio inclined his head in mocking acquiescence. ‘Our friendship is based on trust. What better foundation to establish a business?’

  ‘How—quaint,’ Saska acknowledged. ‘Pretending to be impoverished students, then returning home to open a Gallery.’

  You don’t get it, do you? Michelle queried silently. We needed the struggle, the very essence that combines naked ambition with the perspicacity to survive and succeed. A nebulous element that shows in the art as something more than talent. We wanted to be able to recognise that flair through personal experience, not as judgmental eclectics.

  It was perhaps as well the waiter delivered the starter. Although she wasn’t so sure as Nikos played the part of attentive lover by tempting her with a morsel of food from his plate.

  It was relatively easy to take up his challenge by spearing a succulent prawn from its bed of lettuce and offering it to him from the edge of her fork. She even managed to adopt the role of temptress with a melting smile, which brought an answering gleam and a flash of white teeth as he took a bite of the fleshy seafood.

  Michelle daren’t glance in Emilio’s direction, for if he acknowledged her performance with a surreptitious wink she would be in danger of subsiding into laughter, and that would totally destroy the illusion.

  Saska was not about to be outdone. Although her attempts to gain Nikos’ attention were infinitely more subtle with the light touch of her hand on his arm, the few ‘remember’ anecdotes that served to endorse a long friendship.

  Michelle had to concede it was a fun evening, for she enjoyed the nuances, the interplay, and the elusive rivalry, albeit that on her part it was contrived.

  Or was it? There was nothing false about her reaction to Nikos’ touch. Or the warmth that radiated through her body when he smiled. The brush of his lips caused a spiral of sensation encompassing every nerve cell.

  It provided a vivid reminder of the exquisite orgasmic experience they’d shared, and the need to recapture it again.

  Which would be the height of foolishness. Sexual gratification was no substitute for lovemaking. It was something she’d vowed to uphold. Selective sex with someone she cared for, and who she believed cared for her. It didn’t sit well that last night she’d broken her own rule.

  They chose to decline dessert in favour of the cheeseboard, and lingered over excellent coffee.

  Michelle was surprised to see it was after eleven when they parted outside the restaurant, and she offered her cheek for Emilio’s kiss.

  ‘Brava, darling,’ he murmured close to her ear, then offered, ‘Your performance was incredible. See you in the morning.’

  Saska followed suit by pressing her lips to Nikos’ cheek, then lightly, briefly on his mouth. ‘We must do this again soon.’

  Nikos’ smile held warmth. ‘We’ll look forward to it.’ He caught Michelle’s hand and threaded her fingers through his own, then brought it to his lips. ‘Won’t, we?’

  Oh my, he was good. She offered him a melting smile. ‘Of course. Thursday evening there’s a charity ball being held at the Marriott. Maman is on the committee. I can arrange a ticket if Saska would like to join us.’

  Saska didn’t hesitate
. ‘I’d love to.’

  Nikos waited until they were seated in the car before venturing with silky amusement, ‘Do you delight in setting the cat among the pigeons?’

  Michelle turned towards him and offered a stunning smile. ‘Why, darling, Maman will be gratified at the sale of another ticket, and Saska will enjoy the evening.’

  ‘And you, pedhaki mou,’ he drawled. ‘What will you enjoy?’

  ‘Watching you,’ she responded sweetly.

  ‘Playing the part? Isn’t that what we all do on occasion? In business, socially?’

  ‘You do it exceptionally well.’

  ‘Let me return the compliment.’

  ‘In the interest of establishing our pseudo relationship, the evening was a success.’

  He didn’t answer as he negotiated an intersection, and she lapsed into a silence that stretched the several minutes it took to reach her apartment building.

  ‘There’s no need for you to stay,’ Michelle declared firmly as he rode the lift with her to the fifteenth floor.

  ‘We’ve already settled this issue.’

  ‘Last night was different.’ The lift came to a halt and she retrieved her key in readiness.

  ‘No.’

  She crossed the carpeted lobby to her apartment and unlocked the door.

  ‘What do you mean—no?’

  ‘Your apartment or mine,’ Nikos reiterated hardily. ‘It’s irrelevant. But we share.’

  ‘I doubt Jeremy will attempt to enter the building, and even if he did, he’d never get past my front door.’

  He thrust a hand into each trouser pocket, and looked at her with open cynicism. ‘You don’t think he’s sufficiently devious to disguise himself as a delivery messenger?’ He continued before she had a chance to answer. ‘Or utilise some plausible ploy to get past reception?’

  A week ago none of these possibilities would have entered her head. Now, she had good reason to pause for thought. And she didn’t like any of the answers.

  ‘You’re not prepared to give in, are you?’ she queried wearily.

  ‘No.’

  She didn’t say a further word, and simply turned and walked through to the kitchen. She needed a drink. Hot sweet tea to take the edge off the champagne and an excellent meal.

  Michelle filled the electric kettle and switched it on, then she extracted a cup, teabag, sugar and milk, and stood waiting for the water to boil.

  She was conscious of Nikos’ presence, and all too aware of him silently watching her actions as she poured hot water into the cup, sweetened it and added milk.

  If he stayed there much longer, she’d be tempted to throw something at him.

  She discarded the spoon into the sink, and looked at him. Then wished she hadn’t.

  Eyes that were dark and frighteningly still held her own captive, and she felt like an animal caught in a trap.

  Everything faded into the background, and there was only a mesmeric quality apparent as he closed the distance between them.

  ‘Fight me, argue with me,’ Nikos berated silkily. ‘But don’t turn your back and walk away.’ He lifted a hand and caught hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger, then tilted it. ‘Ever.’

  It was impossible to escape that deep assessing gaze, and her own anger lent an edge of defiance.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ he warned with deceptive mildness, as she opened her mouth to give vent to his actions.

  ‘Why?’

  His mouth angled over hers, then took possession in a kiss which tore the breath from her throat as he plundered at will.

  Then the pressure eased, and she almost cried out as he began an evocative tasting with such sensual mastery it was almost all she could do not to respond.

  A flame deep within ignited and flared into vibrant life, until her whole body was consumed with it, and she wound her arms up around his neck, leaned into him, and simply went with whatever he dictated.

  It was a long time before he gradually broke contact, and she could only look at him in stunned silence as he lightly traced the swollen contours of her mouth.

  ‘There’s no one here to observe the pretense,’ Michelle said shakily, and his smile held musing warmth.

  ‘Who says it’s a pretense?’

  His hand brushed across her collarbone, back and forth in a hypnotic movement, and she bit back a gasp as he settled his lips at the base of her throat.

  ‘Let’s not do this,’ she pleaded fruitlessly, and felt his mouth part in a soundless smile.

  ‘Frightened?’

  ‘Scared witless,’ she admitted.

  He savoured the sweet valley between her breasts, then slowly nibbled his way back to her lips. ‘Don’t be.’

  She had to stop him now, or she’d never find the willpower to break away.

  ‘Last night was a mistake,’ she said desperately, and almost died at the force of his arousal.

  ‘Something which felt so good could never be a mistake.’

  Michelle made a last-ditch effort. ‘Foolish, then,’ she amended.

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  Self-preservation and remorse reared its head. ‘I don’t do this sort of thing,’ she assured, then attempted to clarify. ‘We haven’t even known each other a week.’

  His eyes held hers, and there was wry humour, sensuality, and something else she couldn’t define. ‘A lifetime,’ he mocked lightly.

  ‘It has to mean something,’ she protested.

  ‘And this doesn’t?’

  ‘No—yes. Oh hell. I don’t know.’ She was supremely conscious of the sensual warmth stealing through her veins, heating her body until her bones seemed to liquify and dissolve beneath the flood of sensation.

  She felt bare, exposed, and frighteningly vulnerable, and she needed to explain why. ‘I like to plan things, have a reason for everything. Not dive off the deep end with—’

  ‘Someone you’ve known less than a week?’

  ‘Yes!’ She was out of her depth, and flailing. ‘Where can this—this farce, possibly lead? In a few weeks it’ll all be over. Then what?’

  Nikos brushed gentle fingers down her cheek and let them rest at the edge of her mouth.

  ‘Why not wait and see?’

  Because I don’t want to be hurt, she cried silently. Too late, a tiny gremlin taunted. You’re already in this up to your neck, and in a one-sided love, pain is part of the deal.

  Love? She didn’t love him. Lust, maybe. Definitely lust, she amended as he hoisted her high up against him and walked towards the bedroom.

  Michelle wound her legs around his waist and held on, exulting in the feel of him, the broad expanse of his chest, the tight waist, the strength of his arms.

  In the bedroom he switched on the lamp, then let her slide down to her feet.

  For a moment she just looked at him, then he lowered his head and took her mouth, gently this time, employing such acute sensitivity she felt she might cry.

  Together, they slowly divested their clothes, pausing every now and again to brush a tantalising path over bare flesh in a teasing discovery.

  She adored the texture of his skin, the hard ridges of muscle and sinew, the clean faint musky aroma. There was the faint tightening of muscle, the soft intake of breath as she caressed him, and she groaned out loud when he wreaked havoc with one sensitive peak, then the other as he suckled at each breast.

  There were no questions asked, no answers given, as they embarked on a sensual feast that was alternately gentle and slow, then so hard and fast sweat beaded their skin and their breath became tortured and ragged.

  It was a long night, with little sleep, only the mutual sharing of something infinitely special. Wholly sexual, blissfully sensual, and to Michelle, incredibly unique.

  On the edge of exhaustion she wondered if it all wasn’t a figment of her fervent imagination. Except there was a hard male body to which she clung, and something terribly real to the scent and feel of him.

  ‘Orange juice, shower, breakfast, w
ork,’ a husky male voice tormented. ‘Rise and shine, pedhi mou. You have forty minutes.’

  Michelle lifted a hand, then let it fall back onto the bed. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’

  ‘Eight-fifteen on a bright and warm Wednesday morning,’ Nikos assured, and pulled the sheet from her supine form.

  He could, he thought regretfully, get very interested in the slender lines of her back. The twin slopes of her bottom were firm mounds his hands itched to shape. And as for that daring little butterfly tattoo... It just begged to be kissed, tasted, and savoured. Like the cute dimple on each side of her lower spine.

  ‘Five seconds,’ he warned musingly. ‘Or I’ll join you, and you won’t surface until midday.’

  That had the desired effect, for she rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. ‘Five?’

  ‘Three, and counting,’ Nikos assured, laughing softly as she swung her feet to the floor.

  ‘Orange juice.’ He handed her the glass and watched her drain half the contents before handing it back to him.

  ‘Shower,’ Michelle said obediently, and searched for her wrap.

  ‘Nice view,’ he complimented gently, and glimpsed the tinge of pink colour her cheeks.

  ‘You’re dressed,’ she observed as she pushed a tumbled swathe of hair behind one ear.

  ‘Showered, shaved, and I’ve just cooked breakfast.’

  ‘A gem among men.’ She found the wrap and shrugged her arms into it. ‘I hope you’ve made coffee?’

  ‘It’s percolating.’

  ‘Are you usually so energetic at this hour of the morning?’ She caught his gleaming smile, and her mouth formed a wry grimace. ‘Don’t answer that.’

  Michelle crossed to the en suite, and adjusted the water dial in the shower to hot. Afterwards she’d turn it to cold in the hope it would encourage her blood to circulate more quickly and force her into bright-eyed wakefulness.

  A fifty per cent improvement was better than none, she perceived half an hour later as she sipped ruinously strong coffee and sliced banana onto cereal.

  By the time she finished both, she felt almost human.

  Five minutes remained to take the lift down, slip into her car and drive the short distance to the Gallery.