‘Somehow, I doubt that. And even if it were the case—I don’t suppose she’ll be heartbroken if you turned up on your own.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
She wished he wouldn’t stand so close. From here the hard, denim-clad leg was directly in her line of vision. She glanced up at him and that was even worse. Now she could see the full, hard, impressive length of his body. The jut of his hips, which was so arrogantly and fundamentally masculine. ‘Oh, come on, Xandros—you know perfectly well what it means!’ She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘You can’t be blind to the fact that the woman finds you attractive.’
He realised that her matter-of-fact manner was having a dangerous effect on his blood pressure. Maybe if she’d behaved in a way which was jealous, or clingy—then he might have enjoyed escaping into the house next door. But somehow the very prospect of going there without her seemed lacklustre.
‘Well, I think you should come as well,’ he said silkily. ‘In fact, I insist on it. It’ll do you good. You haven’t had a night out in—how long is it?’
Not since the early days of her pregnancy, but Rebecca was too proud to tell him that—especially in the light of that rather patronizing, ‘It’ll do you good.’ ‘Oh, not for ages,’ she said vaguely. ‘But that’s quite common for new mothers.’
‘Suddenly, you are the world expert on new mothers, are you?’ he put in sardonically. ‘Well, I want you to come. Look on it as a public relations exercise for the sake of our children—so that we can meet other parents in the street.’
‘How very provincial that sounds,’ she murmured.
He laughed softly. ‘Are you accusing me of being provincial, agape mou? That is outrageous.’
This felt dangerously like flirting and Rebecca rose to her feet and nervously took a step back, like someone who had strayed just a little too close to the cliff-edge for comfort. ‘Anyway, we don’t have a baby-sitter.’
‘Betty says she’s happy to do it.’
Rebecca liked and trusted their housekeeper—and she’d been a mother herself and adored the twins. And it had been a long time since she’d gone out—especially to a party.
‘Oh, okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll come.’
Something she had been indifferent to suddenly became something she began to get excited about—as Rebecca found herself looking forward to the party. Forgotten excitement began to bubble away inside her as she began to get ready. Maybe that was because she felt good about herself, she told herself. Because her self-esteem was in place and she hadn’t allowed herself to be bowled over like an emotional or physical ninepin.
But she still needed to be vigilant around Xandros. She had thought that, by maintaining her distance, her desire for him would lessen—but nothing could be further from the truth. She wanted him very badly and knew that he wanted her—yet something had changed.
She had his children now—they had forged two brand-new lives together and the emotional significance of that was deeply profound. They needed to maintain a civilised relationship for the future—no matter what that future was. And Xandros had all the weaponry in his armoury to hurt her in ways she couldn’t even bear to imagine—and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Not now. She couldn’t afford to go to pieces with two beautiful little babies who relied on her. So remember that next time he tempts you.
On the night of the party, Betty took over. As a housekeeper she was superb—as a stand-in for the night, she was unmatchable. A kind but no-nonsense woman in her fifties, with her own grown-up children, she told Rebecca to go off and enjoy herself, and not to worry.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ she said firmly. ‘You’re only next door if I need you!’
Spring was in the air and Rebecca chose a favourite pre-pregnancy outfit—one of those dresses which always made her feel wonderful and which she was delighted still fitted her. In filmy shades of blue, it fell softly to her ankles—thankfully concealing her winter-pale legs—and she teamed it with a beautiful pair of blue-jewelled sandals she’d bought in Rome, which added just the right, casual touch. Her hair she left loose and newly washed and she sprayed on a scent which smelt of roses.
Xandros was waiting for her in the drawing room, standing silhouetted against the vast window, and he turned round at the sound of her footsteps, his black eyes narrowing as he saw her. Her silken hair cascaded down around her shoulders, with two little clips keeping the mass of it from her face, and her blue-violet eyes were dark and wide. He felt the sudden hard beat of desire.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said softly.
‘Don’t sound so surprised.’
‘Maybe I am. It’s a long time since I’ve seen you dressed like that.’
‘It’s a long time since I’ve been out to a party.’
But her casual words masked what she was really feeling. That this felt uncomfortably like a date. It felt like something a couple would do. And they weren’t a couple. They weren’t. The last time she had dressed up like this had been that fateful night at her flat—when he had been so critical about where she lived and the effort she had made. Remember that if you get carried away with the way his black eyes are caressing you now, she told herself—as if he would like to drag you off somewhere and ravish you.
‘I’d better check on the twins,’ she said unsteadily.
‘Rebecca, I’ve just checked—and they are fine. So is Betty. Now relax.’
Relax? That would be walking straight into the danger zone, surely? Relaxing meant letting her guard slip—and wouldn’t that lead on to her looking at Xandros and deciding that he was irresistible, dressed in that dark shirt and trousers—with his ebony hair and eyes gleaming like jet?
She went to pick up the pale cashmere wrap but he took it from her.
‘Here. Let me,’ he said, and draped it carefully around her bare shoulders.
Rebecca felt herself trembling and wondered if he had noticed. Xandros was a maestro when it came to women. Did he realise how disturbing such a simple gesture could be—especially when you had been starved of physical contact for so long that your body was aching for it? And now? Was he deliberately brushing his fingers against her collar-bone, making her shockingly aware of how close they were to her breasts and how easy it would be for him to begin to stroke her there? And didn’t she want that? Didn’t she want to tremble with passion and desire again?
But it’s over. It has to be over.
A rush of blood to her cheeks was only adding to her discomfort and she moved away from him, trying to subdue the aching in her body. ‘Let’s go,’ she said unsteadily.
‘Yes, let’s,’ he echoed, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth—like a man playing poker who realised he held the trump card.
The lighted window of the large house next door showed a party in full flow—with tiny women looking like exotic birds of paradise in their fine frocks and jewels, and men in dark suits standing in small clusters.
Caroline herself opened the door—almost, thought Rebecca, as if she’d been waiting for them. Had she? Or was that just her being paranoid? And even if she had been—it was none of Rebecca’s business. She couldn’t decide that she didn’t want Xandros for herself—but then object if somebody else obviously did. Even if Caroline was a married woman, it was not her place to act as someone else’s moral conscience.
Married or not, the way the blonde stuck to his side made it clear she had decided that Xandros was her number one favourite guest. And, in a way, Rebecca couldn’t blame her. Hadn’t she once been like that herself? Just one in a long line of docile women who were enraptured with the stunning Greek billionaire.
His exotic and rugged good looks made him stand out from the crowd of other men and he dominated the room as if he were lit by some dark, inner fire. He drew the eye like a magnet. Rebecca saw people edging closer, men and women, but especially women—trying to hear what he was saying, as if some force beyond their control were compelling them to do so.
‘Yes,’ said Rebecca.
‘I believe you’re the mother of his children?’
‘That’s right.’
‘But you’re not married?’
Rebecca turned to look at the other woman properly. Her eyes were bright with curiosity, her over-dieted face momentarily hard. Did she care that her unsubtle line of questioning might be hurtful? Of course she didn’t. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about me,’ she commented wryly.
‘I’m Caroline’s sister. She’s spoken of you. Said there’s a new couple who’d moved in next door.’ The woman forced a smile which did not meet the bright eyes, as if trying to establish a fact once and for all. ‘But you’re not his wife, right?’
‘That’s right,’ said Rebecca—wondering whether it would have made any difference if she had been. Maybe these kind of women considered any man fair game, if the man happened to be alluring enough. She sipped her champagne, hoping it might dissolve some of the small knot of anguish inside her.
But in a way, Caroline’s sister helped reinforce her conviction that she was doing the best thing by keeping her physical and emotional distance from Xandros. Why, if they were still lovers she would probably be spitting at the sight of their neighbour who was smiling into his eyes as if she was already imagining him in her bed. And where the hell was her poor husband?
She drank a glass of champagne and nibbled on a couple of carrot sticks, forcing herself to chat with some of the other guests. Just because she was all mixed-up about Xandros, didn’t mean she couldn’t be a good person to have at a party. She met another mother who lived on the other side of the park who was actually very sweet, and they arranged to meet for coffee.
She was just chatting to a rather dashing pianist from Uruguay with the darkest eyebrows she had ever seen, when there was a tap on her shoulder and she turned to find Xandros standing there with an impatient look on his face.
‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked.
She had actually been enjoying a grown-up conversation about classical music, and felt like telling him that she wanted to stay and learn a bit more. But they had been away for two hours, and she was keen to get back to the twins.
‘I guess so.’ She smiled at the pianist. ‘I’ve so enjoyed talking to you,’ she said.
He gave a rueful smile. ‘Me, too,’ he murmured. ‘It’s a pity you have to leave—and so early, too.’
Outside, the air was cool and they had just walked through their front gate when Xandros caught hold of her elbow, startling her as much with the unexpected contact as the undisguised hostility which was glittering from his black eyes.
‘You know they say that he even flirts with the leg of his piano!’ he accused, his hard, rugged features illuminated by the security lights which had caught them in their spotlight.
‘Who does?’ she asked, genuinely confused.
‘Rodriguez. The man you couldn’t take your eyes off!’
‘It is usual to look at someone when they’re speaking to you, Xandros!’
‘Is it, agape mou?’ he said softly. ‘So why do you shy away when you’re looking at me?’
‘I don’t.’
‘Liar,’ he taunted. ‘Yes, you do. And do you know why?’
‘N-no.’ Suddenly, her hard-fought-for composure seemed to be slipping away—vanquished by the powerful aphrodisiac of his touch.
‘Because if you allow yourself to look at me for long enough you will remember how it felt to have my lips on yours. My mouth on your body. You will think back to how it was to lie naked in my arms, your body sated and satisfied,’ he finished, on a soft boast.
But not her heart, she realised—he had always left that empty and hungry for more. ‘Xandros—’
‘And you will realise that you are sick of living with memories. That you want that. Admit it, Rebecca—admit you still want me!’
‘Xandros—’ She said his name again and this time the word was supposed to be a protest—a soft indication that maybe they should stop all this. But perhaps it lacked conviction, for now his hand was cupping the other elbow and he was drawing her towards him as if she had been composed of nothing more substantial than a ball of cotton wool.
And she was letting him. He was moving her as if she were a puppet and he her master, but suddenly she didn’t care. How could she care about anything when her senses were fizzing over like shaken-up champagne from which the cork had just been eased?
It had been so long since she had been in his arms like this. Not like that time at her flat, when she’d only recently given birth and she had been feeling awkward and unsure. Tonight, in her party dress and high heels—all perfumed and pampered—she felt like a real woman. And, oh, there was no doubt about the authenticity of this ultimate alpha-male who was now pulling her closer still.
She could feel the muscular strength of his powerful body and sense the rapid building of his desire as he tipped her face up to look at him. ‘Did you want him?’ he demanded roughly. ‘Did you?’
‘No—’ But the word was lost as he crushed his mouth down on hers in a kiss which felt more about punishment than desire, and although Rebecca knew that she should not be responding to it—she just couldn’t stop herself.
He was hot and aroused, his hands tumbling in her hair as if he had never touched her hair before, and his thigh was nudging insistently at hers, causing them to part and him to groan. ‘Rebecca—’
Her hands flew up as she kissed him back with a fervour of someone who had never been kissed before, winding her arms sinuously around his neck, unable to get enough of him. She pressed herself into his body, but not as close as she wanted to be and she began to melt with unbearable longing. Why shouldn’t she want him? When had she ever really stopped wanting him? She moaned softly as he splayed his hands over her buttocks and it made her long for him to touch the aching skin beneath. After all, they were two adults who were…were…’
‘Miss Gibbs!’
A voice broke into her stupefied arousal and in a daze Rebecca lifted her head as Xandros abruptly stopped kissing her—to see Betty standing at the top of the stairs leading to their front door, her face creased with concern.
‘Miss Gibbs—can you come in? It’s the baby. He’s sick!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY heard the sound of a dreadful cough, which sounded like the barking of a seal, before they had even set foot inside the house.
‘Which baby is it?’ asked Rebecca desperately. As if it mattered!
‘Alexius, I think!’ answered Betty.
Rebecca moaned. No one knew them as she and Xandros knew them—so how could they have gone out when they were still so young? ‘What happened?’
‘He started coughing like that about half an hour ago and it’s been getting worse. I think it’s croup—my own had it.’
Croup? A vague memory of some respiratory condition swam into Rebecca’s mind. Did she have it referenced in a book somewhere?
Xandros ran up the sweeping staircase with the two women following after him and Rebecca’s terrible guilt was only increased as she ran into the nursery to see him cradling one of his sons who was making a horrible, wheezing sound.
‘It’s Alexius,’ he said. His black eyes icy-bleak as they met hers.
Rebecca bit her lip. ‘I’m going to ring the doctor,’ she said, and turned to Betty. ‘And then I want you to tell me exactly what you noticed.’
The doctor came quickly—a surprisingly young medic who barely looked old enough to have qualified, but he examined the baby with confident, gentle hands before straightening up.
‘Your housekeeper’s right. It’s croup,’ he said. ‘Good old-fashioned croup.’
‘Croup? What the hell is croup?’ demanded Xandros.
‘Inflammation of the upper airway,’ said the medic. ‘Not an uncommon condition for a young baby at this time of the year. You say he has a twin? I’d better take a look at him, too.’
‘And the treatment?’ Rebecca’s voice was trembling. ‘Will he have to be admitted to hospital?’
‘That shouldn’t be necessary, Miss Gibbs.’ The doctor smiled. ‘I’m afraid the treatment is rather old-fashioned, too—you need to sit up with him and keep him in a moist atmosphere. A steamy bathroom is perfect—you can both take it in turns to run the bath.’
Xandros stared at the doctor. ‘You are telling me that, in this day and age, the only treatment is for us to run the bath?’ he repeated incredulously.
‘Just do it, will you, Xandros?’ Rebecca pleaded.
He nodded, hearing the sudden steel which underpinned her plea. ‘Ne, agape mou,’ he said softly. ‘I will do it now.’
The doctor pronounced Andreas clear and told Rebecca to keep the two babies apart for a couple of days. ‘I’ll drop in first thing tomorrow morning,’ he promised. ‘And in the meantime—you’ve got a long night ahead of you both.’
Rebecca carried her son into the bathroom, which was now so steamy that it took a second or two for her eyes to become accustomed to the mist when suddenly Xandros’s tall, shadowy figure appeared beside her and she started. But she had never been so glad to see someone in her life.
‘Here, let me take him,’ he said.
‘In a minute.’ Rebecca winced as her little baby began to wheeze. ‘I want to hold him. Oh, Xandros, we shouldn’t have gone to the party.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ he gritted. ‘He was fine when we left—you know that, otherwise you would have refused to have gone. Do not blame yourself, Rebecca—for I will not let you. You are a good mother to our children,’ he declared fiercely.
‘None of it matters,’ she whispered, perilously close to tears and yet knowing that she couldn’t give in to them. ‘The only thing that matters is that he gets better.’
‘And he will get better.’
‘Will he?’ said Rebecca as she heard the fast, difficult breaths issuing from the little lungs and it felt as if someone were twisting a knife inside her.
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