Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife

by Sun Chara

  “Seriously?” He chuckled, but it didn’t flicker in his eyes, still dark with passion.

  “Seriously.” She met and held his gaze, her stomach plummeting, her pulse skyrocketing.

  “To please you—” He whacked it with his palm and static sounded, but no words. “Okay, now?”

  “Not okay.” She bumped him aside and flicked knobs, switches then smacked the transmitter with her hand, her fist. “Hello…anybody there?” A whimper flittered from her mouth, and she slumped against the desk.

  “Here, let me.” Michalis took the transmitter from her nerveless fingers, his thumb stroking her palm.

  “Warn…come in…”

  “Yes!” Laughing, she tossed her fist in the air in victory. “Told you.”

  But when no other communication transmitted, her moment of elation deflated, and she braced against the counter, rubbing the chill from her arms.

  “How ’bout making us a cup of coffee, while I tinker with this?”

  She nodded, and trotted across the lobby to the kitchen in back, glad to keep busy. It’d keep her mind off what almost happened with her sexy ex, and placate her nerves, which were about ready to blow.

  Twenty minutes later, she had a tray in hand with a pot of steaming brew and cheese and tomato sandwiches. “At least we won’t starve,” she muttered, but her lip quivered, fizzling her attempt to lighten the mood. A splinter of fear stabbed, but shaking it off, she marched back into the lobby.

  “Dinner is served.”

  A crackle, a spark, and an expletive tainted the air before he flew back against the wall, groaning.

  “Michalis!” She dropped the tray, and it crashed to the floor, the sound reverberating around them. Coffee aroma filled the air. She couldn’t care less. Fear clawed her heart, and she rushed to him behind the reception counter, her legs wobbling.

  Sprawled on the floor, he supported his forearm oozing with blood, pain carving his features.

  She fell to her knees beside him. “What happened?”

  Chapter 9

  “I wrestled with the wires and lost.” He attempted to make light of it, but his indrawn breath suggested otherwise. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he propped himself against the wall. “No big deal.”

  Julia took his hand and placed it over the wound. “Keep pressure on it to staunch the bleeding.” Scrambling up, she raced for the bathroom and tossed over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

  Seconds later, she skidded back, plopped down beside him and opened the first aid kit with trembling hands. “Good thing I saw this when I was looking round.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, a stitch of pain at the corner of his mouth.

  “Here let me.” She took his arm, placed it across her lap and swabbed the gash clean.

  He winced.

  “Almost done.” She picked out a roll of gauze, snipped a length with the scissors and wrapped it around his injured forearm. “You know better than to play with electrical wires,” she scolded, hiding her fear behind her words.

  “Someone had to fix it.” He grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were concerned about me.” When he saw the appalled look on her face, he shrugged, and measured a narrow space in the air with his thumb and forefinger. “Well, maybe this much, hmm?”

  “Only because I didn’t want to be marooned here with you.”

  He chuckled, and then grumbled, as she clipped the bandage together.

  “Well, did you fix it?”

  A bit sheepish, he shook his head. “I think the outside line may be down.” He made to get up, tottered, and she reached for him, his good arm encircling her shoulders, his warmth seeping into her. “Without a flashlight, it’ll have to wait ’til morning.” His fingers feathered across her nape, sending tingles of awareness through her. “You don’t happen to have one in your back pocket do you?”

  She shook her head, fighting off a quiver at the corner of her mouth. “You okay now?”

  “Good to go.” He stood firmly on his feet, but still held onto her. “Without electricity, we’ll have to be creative in amusing ourselves for the night.”

  She disengaged from his embrace and took a pace back, hands on hips. “Exactly what does that mean?” As if she didn’t know. Their bantering was simply a delay of the inevitable. A tremor ripped through her. Michalis would collect his due.

  Her.

  He turned an innocent face her way. “Why, we’ll dine on sandwiches and coffee” –a quick glance at the food strewn on the floor— “to the serenade of the wind ’n surf whooping it up outside.”

  A whoosh of sound slammed against the windows, followed by a crash; and the remaining lights flickered and went out.

  Julia screamed, her hands fluttering to her mouth.

  “Hey, it’s just the shutters.” He encircled her shoulders with his good arm and drawing her closer, stroked her hair with his fingers.

  For a second, she accepted the reprieve of his touch…okay two, three seconds, and then she drew in a shaky breath and exhaled.

  “I’m cool now.” She patted his biceps and stepped away, her fingertips tingling from the contact on the iron hard muscle.

  “Really?”

  “Ye-eah.”

  “Can’t see two inches in front of my face,” he rasped, “but I can still feel. And baby doll, your…er…cool’s singeing right through my shirt.”

  “I…uh…saw some candles in the kitchen drawer earlier,” she said, avoiding his bait. “I’ll go—”

  “No, stay put,” he commanded. “I’ll go.”

  While he bumped his way through the lobby to the kitchen, Julia felt her way across the foyer and collapsed on the sofa. About to leap up, she shrugged, exhausted; maintenance could deal with any possible sea stains.

  The minutes ticked by, and she rubbed her arms to chase the chill away, although it was more a reaction from what had just transpired than feeling cold. The balmy night was a blessing. Electricity might be on the blink, but at least they weren’t going to freeze.

  “Got it.” The sound of his voice sent a spark of relief through her, underscoring the sliver of excitement prodding her, but she vehemently denied the latter.

  He strolled back with two lit candles on a tray of fresh sandwiches and two mugs of steaming coffee.

  “You’ll hurt your arm carrying—” She sprang up to help, but he waved her back down.

  “Arm’s …uh…cool.”

  “Good to know.” She shifted on the sofa and ignored his verbal baiting.

  He set the tray on the accent table and sank down beside her, the cushions dipping beneath his weight. “Have a sandwich.”

  “Thanks.” She picked one up and bit into it, relishing the taste. “Mmm, this is good.”

  “Sure is,” he chomped into his sandwich, and winked.

  By the glint in his eye, she knew time was running out. The food turned tasteless in her mouth, and she swallowed, a morsel snagging in her throat. She reached for the coffee cup.

  He seized his cup and clinked it with hers. “Cheers, Julia—”

  “Here’s to a quick rescue.” She raised her cup, took a gulp and wheezed.

  “Hey, are you alright?” He took the cup from her hand, set it on the tray and patted her back.

  “I-I’m fi-ine.” She coughed, her eyes watering, and waved him away.

  Tentatively she took another sip of the bittersweet brew, and although it stung her raw throat, she forced it down.

  He drained his cup, studied her over the rim, and then set it on the table. “It won’t be long.”

  “For what?” She replaced her half-eaten sandwich and half-full cup of coffee on the tray and folded her hands in her lap.

  He inclined his head, toward the door. “The rescue you’ve been pining for.”

  A sigh of relief preempted the nervous giggle scratching her throat. “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that.” He stroked his chin with the back of his hand. “But we still have the night, maybe two befo
re—”

  She shot up, debating her course of action. He was toying with her, like the cat that had the canary cornered, then pounced. Foolish thought. Michalis didn’t pounce, he seized, he—

  “The lady has to be willing, Julia.”

  “Yes, she does, Michalis,” she whispered. “A-and, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  He hauled himself from the sofa and in two steps bridged the gap between them, standing so close his heat radiated to her, his fresh ocean scent wrapping around her like a long forgotten memory. A shift of his stance, and his shorts brushed the hem of her own, but still he did not touch her. Awareness flared between them, his potent sexuality a catalyst to her own.

  “On the contrary,” he murmured, his breath caressing her cheek. “It’s an excellent idea.”

  Silence enveloped them, severed only by the storm outside.

  Julia could not move. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across his proud features; she’d touched, kissed every spot, plane, line, angle of his face; the tiny scar at the cleft of his chin. She wrinkled her brow. He’d never told her how he’d gotten it. So much she didn’t know about him. And now she’d never know. A pang of regret pierced her. A million years had passed since then, and she banished the bittersweet memory with her impersonal words.

  “I-I’ll clear this up.” She reached across him for the tray, but he stayed her hand, curling his fingers around hers, his thumb stroking her palm.

  “Julia—”

  “Michalis—”

  She jolted upward and bumped his forehead. Her giggle mingled with his chuckle and shattered the awkward moment.

  “It’s been a long day.” She brushed her hand across her brow, and a tired sigh slipped from her mouth. “I’m going up to bed.”

  “A good idea.” He shot her a killer smile and in the eerie light, it looked more like a leer. “I’ll come up and join you as soon as I’ve checked the premises.”

  “You have a choice of rooms.”

  “I do,” he said, tone wolfish. “Yours.”

  *

  Sunlight warmed her eyelids, and Julia stretched her limbs beneath the covers. Although her muscles were still a bit tense, a smile curved her mouth. Michalis must’ve made another choice, since the bed had been hers alone all night. A giggle reared, but she muffled it with her hand. He hadn’t had much choice against a locked door, had he?

  You think a bolted door would keep a man like Michalis out? The silent query zapped her mind, and she shrugged. So, she’d get a night’s reprieve. She bounced on the mattress. “Mmm, like sleeping on a cloud.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes open, and peered through the crack in the lace curtains of the French doors leading to the wrap-around terrace. Blue sky, sunshine and the sound of surf lapping the shore made for a sparkle of a day. The antithesis of the night before. A yawn, and she hopped out of bed, padded across the room and curling her toes on the plush carpet, pulled the curtains aside.

  “Oh my,” she gasped, a jab in her stomach, a jig in her heart and a blush coating her body. “A Greek god surfacing from the depths of the sea.”

  Totally nude, Michalis waded from the foam of the sea, dragging something with him and tossing it on the sand. Then he dove back, surfaced and tossing his head back, swam to the cabin cruiser, miraculously still buoying above the water. After watching him for a few minutes, she turned away and dressed in her shorts and top. A quick freshen up in the luxurious bathroom, and barefoot, she ventured down the winding staircase, untangling her hair with her fingers.

  She opened the front doors and stepped onto the balcony. Sunlight glinted on the ocean; the breeze was fresh upon her face, a seagull sailed across the sky. She lifted her hands to heaven, thankful, and breathed the clean sea air.

  When she dropped her arms to her sides, she scanned the sea for Michalis but he was nowhere in sight. A prick of fear had her jumping the three steps, her feet sinking in the sand, the warmth a surprise so early in the morning. But oh, so soothing.

  Lifting a hand, she shaded her eyes against the glare of sunlight and caught sight of him further along the shore dragging another item from the waves. A sense of peace permeated through her, and leaving him to salvage the bounty from the yacht, she trudged through the sand to a spot half hidden by overhanging rock and brush interspersed with bamboo.

  For a moment she stood, listening to the force of nature crashing upon the rocks, then the seagull squawked and landed several yards away, scavenging for breakfast.

  She ignored the rumbling in her stomach, and blotted her upper lip already beading with perspiration. Jiggling her blouse sticking to her skin, she hesitated a second, and then flinging off her clothes, plunged into the sea. The water glided off her shoulders like silk. She swam out a little way and flipped on her back, squinting at the seagull now flying through the seeming endless blue sky. Sea and sky merged, and she closed her eyes, floating on the gentle waves.

  “Mmm, heaven.”

  “So, it is.”

  He pulled her under, her hair floating around her, and scrambling, she shot upward, splashing water everywhere.

  “Michalis, how—” she spluttered, wiping the sea-sting from her eyes.

  “I couldn’t let a mermaid frolic in the ocean alone.” He trod water beside her, a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle on his lips.

  Seawater dripped from his hair to his cheeks, streaming down his pectorals and plastering the sprinkle of hair cushioning the crucifix he wore. He’d told her that at seventeen, he’d been beachcombing and found it washed upon the shore. A good omen, he’d whispered in her ear so long ago.

  “Especially if she’s my mermaid.”

  “I’m not yours.” Twisting away, she bashed the sentimental thoughts far back into her mind. At that age while he roamed the beach carefree, she’d been stuck in foster care waiting for her mom to come for her. Although she’d promised, Lolita had never shown up; at least not for her daughter.

  Julia had soon learned not to hold her breath, waiting for her mother. She couldn’t depend on her mother, and had learned to fend for herself. Luckily, a talent scout had come to her high school one day …and thereafter, she soon discovered the brutal world of high fashion where she could only depend upon herself. And except for a rare friend like Chachee, no one else.

  A glance at Michalis from beneath her damp lashes triggered a stitch of pain inside her. She’d dropped her façade for him, relying on him, trusting him, loving him—

  “You are my mermaid for the month.”

  His words were like a splash of ice water, splattering her thoughts. Apparently history wasn’t done yet, for here she was with Michalis who still called the shots. And to get back at him, she splashed him, and swam for shore. He gave chase with his strong front crawl and quickly overtaking her, scooped her up in his arms and marched through the foam of surf to the beach.

  “Let me go.”

  “Sure thing.” A heavy breath, and he trudged through the sand, skirting a sandy knoll and plunked her on a towel, half shaded by a screen of bamboo. Dropping down beside her, he twirled a wet strand around his index finger, and then dipped his head, nuzzling her neck, nipping her earlobe. A flicking of his tongue behind her ear triggered a spiral of sensation inside her.

  “Michalis, please—”

  “Michalis, please what?” he murmured, the words a guttural sound from deep in his chest.

  She raised her hands to push him away, but he caught them with his, wrapping them around his neck. “Mmm, you smell good.” He bumped his nose to hers, his mouth smiling against hers, his warm breath a caress upon her face. “Fresh, clean and natural.” He flicked the tip of his tongue on her lips, and smacked his own. “Got to do something about that salt, though.”

  And suddenly she laughed—and didn’t know why…didn’t care— the sound ringing loud and clear in the lazy day. “Well, that lets me off the hook.” She wiggled beneath him, but he held her steady beneath his body.

  “Oh ho no,” he ch
uckled. “I can get used to extra seasoning.”

  He nibbled his way down her throat, to the swell of her breast, covering one with his hand while dallying with the other with his tongue.

  A tightening in her belly gave rise to sexual desire, stimulating her every cell. She arched into him, sucking in a breath, her fingers stroking the damp hair at his nape, the muscles of his back, trailing over his shoulders to his biceps. A purr of sound from deep in her throat, and for a moment, she wanted to succumb to the erotic feel of his skin upon hers, his leg stretched between hers, his hair a welcome abrasion on her thighs, igniting what was on the brink of exploding between them.

  “But I can’t.”

  “Really?” he murmured into her neck. “You seem to have been doing just fine a moment ago.”

  “I’m…er…hungry.” She glanced up at him, stroking her fingers along his angular jaw to the cleft of his chin. “What’s for breakfast?”

  He hiked a brow, a saucy grin on his mouth, and she knew she’d walked into that one.

  Amusement twitched her mouth, and she placed her hand on his chest, attempting to resist him. “Real food, Michalis.” The words were a whiz of breath between her lips.

  “Exactly what I had in mind, soul food.” He propped himself on his elbow, watching her, his forefinger traveling down her cleavage, across her belly, flirting with her navel. A heavy beat, and he spanned his hand across the curls at the apex of her thighs. “Julia,” he rasped, his gaze clouding with passion.

  She tangled her fingers in the damp curls on his chest, his heart pounding beneath her hand. “Oh, Michalis—”

  He hauled her into his arms, his mouth devouring hers…his tongue plunging into her mouth, his hips pressing into hers.

  Dear God, she was on fire with him, and felt for sure any minute they’d incinerate in a detonation of the senses. He rocked with her to the rhythm of the waves crashing upon the rocks, and on the brink of no return, he gripped her shoulders, and an epithet blasted from his mouth.

  “Bad timing.”

  A whirring noise penetrated through the haze of passion, then a shout from the approaching chopper. “Ahoy down there.”