by Penny Jordan
She remembered the peculiar melting sensation low in her belly and the distracting tingle of her breasts pushing against the too-skimpy top of her uniform. She remembered being acutely aware of those cobalt eyes being trained on her, uncaring of the woman beside him who was trying very hard not to cry. And Tamsyn had felt a kick of anger. Men. They were all the same. They took and they took and they never gave back—not unless they were forced into a corner. Even then they usually found some way of getting out of it. No wonder she deliberately kept them at arm’s length. With an encouraging smile she’d handed the woman her drink, but as she lifted the Greek’s cocktail from the tray, Tamsyn had met a gaze full of sensual mockery.
She told herself afterwards that she hadn’t deliberately angled the glass so that it sloshed all over the table and started to seep onto one taut thigh, but she couldn’t deny her satisfaction when he recoiled slightly, before the blonde leapt into action with her napkin.
She was sacked soon afterwards. The bar manager told her it was a culmination of things, and spilling a drink over one of their most valued customers had been the final straw. Apparently she wasn’t suited to work which required a level of sustained calm, and she reacted in a way which was inappropriate. Secretly she’d wondered whether Xan Constantinides had got her fired. Whether he was yet another powerful man throwing his weight around and getting the world to jump when he ordered it to. Just like she wondered if he would remember her now.
Please don’t let him remember her now.
‘Would all passengers please begin boarding? The royal aircraft will be departing for Zahristan in approximately thirty minutes.’
Obeying the honeyed instruction sounding over the Tannoy, Tamsyn bent to pick up her rucksack as she rose to her feet. Didn’t matter if he remembered her because he was nothing to her. She was on this trip for one reason and that was to support Hannah on her wedding day, no matter how big her misgivings about her choice of groom. Because, despite having tried to persuade her big sister not to go through with such a fundamentally unsuitable marriage—her words had fallen on deaf ears. Either Hannah hadn’t wanted to listen, or she hadn’t dared—probably because she was carrying the desert King’s baby and there was all that stuff about him needing a legitimate heir. Tamsyn sighed as she rose to her feet. She had done everything she could to influence her sister but now she must accept the inevitable. She would pick up the pieces if necessary and be there for her—just as Hannah had always been there for her.
Hooking her bag over her shoulder, she trooped behind the other passengers—many of whom seemed to know each other—thinking this was like no journey she’d ever been on, with none of that pre-flight tension which usually made everyone so uptight. But then she’d always flown budget before—with that feeling of being herded onto the aircraft like wildebeest on the Serengeti, followed by a futile attempt to claim a few inches of space in the overhead locker. Not so on this flight. The glossy attendants looked like models and were unfailingly polite to all the passengers, as they gestured them forward.
And suddenly Tamsyn heard the sound of a deeply accented voice behind her. Rich and resonant, it sounded like grit being stirred into a bowlful of molasses. She felt her throat dry. She’d heard it once when it had cursed aloud in Greek before asking her what the hell she was playing at. It had made her spine tingle then and it was making it tingle now as the powerful Greek tycoon moved to stand beside her.
Tamsyn stared up into a pair of cold blue eyes and wished her heart would stop crashing against her ribcage. Just like she wished her nipples would cease from hardening so conspicuously against her cheap T-shirt. But her senses were refusing to obey her as Xan Constantinides dominated her field of vision, his presence imprinting itself on her consciousness in a way she could have done without.
She noticed how softly his olive skin gleamed beneath the pristine cuffs of his snowy shirt. And that he carried with him a faint scent of sandalwood, underpinned with the much more potent scent of raw masculinity. Somehow he seemed to suck in all the available oxygen around them, leaving her feeling distinctly short of breath. He was the epitome of vibrancy and life, and yet there was a darkness about him too. Something unsettling and strangely perceptive in the depths of those amazing cobalt eyes. Suddenly Tamsyn felt vulnerable as she looked up at him and that scared her. Because she didn’t do vulnerability. Just like she didn’t react to men—especially men like this. It was her trademark. Her USP. Beneath her fiery exterior beat a heart of pure ice, and that was the way she intended to stay.
She told herself not to panic. People were slowly filing forward and in a few minutes she’d be safely on the plane and hopefully sitting as far away from him as possible. If it had been a commercial flight she would have been perfectly entitled to ignore him, but this was not a commercial flight. They were all guests at the same exclusive royal wedding and even Tamsyn’s shaky grasp on protocol warned her that she mustn’t be rude.
But she could certainly be cool. She didn’t have to gush or be super-friendly. She didn’t owe him anything. She was no longer in the subservient role of waitress and could say exactly what she wanted.
‘Well, well, well,’ he murmured, his English faultless as he pulled his passport from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
Tamsyn fixed her face into a mildly questioning expression. ‘I’m sorry? Have we met?’
Cobalt eyes narrowed. ‘Well, unless you have a doppelganger,’ he drawled. ‘You’re the waitress who hurled a drink into my lap last summer. Surely you can’t have forgotten?’
For a moment Tamsyn was tempted to tell him that yes, she had forgotten. She thought about pretending she’d never seen him before, but suspected he would see through her. Because nobody would ever forget crossing paths with a man like Xan Constantinides, would they? Not unless they were devoid of all their senses. She gave him a steady look. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I was thinking about it afterwards and wondering if you made a habit of throwing drinks all over your customers.’
She shook her head. ‘Actually, no. It’s never happened before.’
‘Just with me?’
‘Just with you,’ she agreed.
There was a pause. ‘So was it deliberate?’
She considered his silky question and answered it as honestly as she could. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think so?’ he exploded. ‘What kind of an answer is that?’
She heard his incredulity and as Tamsyn met his piercing gaze she suddenly wanted him to know. Because maybe nobody had ever told him before. Maybe nobody had ever pointed out that the opposite sex were not something you could just dispose of, as if you were throwing an unwanted item of clothing into the recycling bin. ‘I’m not going to deny that I felt sorry for the woman you were dumping.’
He frowned, as if he couldn’t work out which particular woman she was talking about. As if he were running over a whole host of candidates who might have fitted the bill. And then his face cleared. ‘Ah, neh,’ he murmured in his native tongue, before the frown reappeared. ‘What do you mean, you felt sorry for her?’
Tamsyn shrugged. ‘She was clearly very upset. Anyone could see that. I thought you could have done it in a kinder way. Somewhere more private, perhaps.’
He gave a short and disbelievingly laugh. ‘You’re saying you made a negative judgement of me based on a few overheard words of conversation?’
‘I know what I saw,’ said Tamsyn doggedly. ‘She seemed very upset.’
‘She was.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Our relationship was over but she refused to believe it, and this time she needed to believe it. We hadn’t seen each other for weeks when she asked to meet me for a drink and I agreed. And I left it her in no doubt that I couldn’t give her what she wanted.’
Slowly Tamsyn digested all this, her curiosity aroused in spite of herself. ‘What was it she wanted that you were unable to give her?’
<
br /> He smiled at her then—a brief, glittering smile which momentarily made one of the female ground staff turn and look at him in dazed adoration.
‘Why marriage, of course,’ he said softly. ‘I’m afraid it’s an inevitable side-effect of dating women—they always seem to want to push things on to the next level.’
It was several seconds before Tamsyn could bring herself to answer. ‘Wow,’ she breathed. ‘That is the most arrogant thing I’ve ever heard.’
‘It may be arrogant, but it’s true.’
‘Has nobody ever dumped you?’
‘Nobody,’ he echoed sardonically. ‘How about you?’
Tamsyn wondered why she was having a conversation like this while waiting in line to get on a plane but, having started it, it would be pathetic to call time on it just because he’d touched on a subject she found difficult. No, she had never been dumped, but then she’d only ever had one relationship which she’d ended as soon as she realised that her body was as frozen as her heart. But she wasn’t going to tell Xan Constantinides that. She didn’t have to tell him anything, she reminded herself, replacing his question with one of her own.
‘Did you complain about me to the management?’
He dragged his gaze away from the pert stewardess, who was ticking off passenger names on her clipboard. ‘No. Why?’
‘I got the sack soon after.’
‘And you think I orchestrated it?’
She shrugged. ‘Why not? It happened to my sister. The man she’s marrying actually got her fired from her job.’
‘Well, for your information, no—I didn’t. I have enough staff of my own to look after without keeping tabs on those employed by other people, no matter how incompetent they are.’ There was a pause. ‘What happened to your sister?’
It occurred to Tamsyn he didn’t have a clue who she was. That he had no idea it was the Sheikh himself who’d got her sister fired, or that after Saturday’s glittering ceremony he would be her new brother-in-law. To Xan Constantinides, she was just a judgmental cocktail waitress who couldn’t hold a job down and he probably thought it ran in the family. ‘Oh, you wouldn’t know her,’ she said truthfully, because Hannah had confided that she hadn’t yet met any of her Sheikh fiancé’s friends and was absolutely terrified, because they were all so high-powered.
Their conversation was halted by a smiling stewardess with a clipboard and as she was given her seat number, Tamsyn turned back to Xan Constantinides with a forced smile.
‘Nice talking to you,’ she said sarcastically and saw his navy eyes darken. ‘Enjoy the flight.’
Her heart was still pounding as she took her seat on the aircraft and picked up the book she’d so been so looking forward to—a crime thriller set in the Australian outback—which she’d hope would pass away the hours during the long journey to Zahristan’s capital city of Ashkhazar. But it was difficult to concentrate on the rather lurid plot, when all she could think about was the powerful Greek who’d managed to have such a potent effect on her. She tried to sleep, and failed. She stared out of the window at the passing clouds which looked like thick fields of cotton wool. She attempted to tuck into the variety of delicious foodstuffs which were placed before her, but her appetite seemed to have deserted her. She was just thinking gloomily about the days of celebration ahead of her, when that gravelled molasses voice broke into her thoughts.
‘I suppose you’ll be working as soon as we get there?’
Tamsyn looked up to see that Xan Constantinides had stopped in the aisle right beside her seat and was deigning to speak to her. She looked up to meet that distracting cobalt stare. ‘Working?’ she echoed in confusion.
‘I’m assuming that’s why you’re here,’ he murmured.
Suddenly Tamsyn understood. He thought she was here to act as a waitress at the royal wedding!
Well, why wouldn’t he think that? She certainly wasn’t dressed like the other women on the flight, with their discreet flashes of gold jewellery which probably cost a fortune and their studiedly casual designer outfits. Her sister had tried to insist on buying her some new clothes before the wedding, but Tamsyn had stubbornly refused. Because hadn’t Hannah helped her out too many times in the past—and hadn’t she vowed she was going to go it alone from now on?
‘Just because you’re going to marry a rich man, doesn’t mean I have to accept his charity,’ she remembered responding proudly. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’ll wear what’s already in my wardrobe.’
Was that why Xan Constantinides was so certain she was a member of staff rather than a wedding guest? Because she was wearing old sneakers rather than those fancy shoes with the red soles which everyone else seemed to be sporting? Suddenly, Tamsyn thought she could have a bit of fun with this and liven up a wedding she was dreading. Wouldn’t it be priceless to have the Greek tycoon patronise her—before he discovered her connection to the royal house of Al Diya?
She met his scrutiny with a bashful shrug. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘An event like this pays very well and they wanted to have some British serving staff among the Zahirstanians. You know, to make sure the English-speaking guests felt at home.’
He nodded. ‘Good of them to fly you out in style.’
Tamsyn bit back an indignant laugh. Any minute now and he would start asking her if she’d ever been on an airplane before! She reached out and gave the plush leather of the armrest a quick squeeze, as if it was the chubby cheek of a particularly attractive little baby. ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘Let’s hope I don’t get too used to all this luxury before I go back to my poverty-stricken existence.’
‘Let’s hope not.’ His smile was brief and dismissive—the smiling equivalent of a yawn—as if he had already grown bored with her. His gaze drifted towards the curvy bottom of one of the stewardesses, as if already he was miles away. ‘And now, if you don’t mind—I have work to do.’
Tamsyn opened her mouth to say that he was the one who had started the conversation, but something made her shut it again, as he continued his journey up the aisle of the plane. And she wasn’t the only person looking at him—every female on the plane seemed to be following his sexy progress towards the front of the aircraft. Resentfully, Tamsyn found herself noting the powerful set of his shoulders and the way thick, dark tendrils of hair curled around the back of his neck. She thought she’d never seen a man who was quite so sure of himself. He seemed to inject the air around him with a strange and potent energy and she resented the effect he seemed to have on her without even trying.
An unfamiliar shiver whispered its way down her spine and she clenched her hands into tense little fists as the plane soared through the sky on its way to the desert kingdom.
Copyright © 2018 by Sharon Kendrick
Don’t miss
THE GREEK’S BOUGHT BRIDE
by Sharon Kendrick,
available August 2018 wherever
Harlequin Books and ebooks are sold.
www.Harlequin.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-488-03745-0
Lesson to Learn
First published in 1992
This edition published in 2018
Copyright © 1992 by Penny Jordan
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