The Greek's Million-Dollar Baby Bargain

by Julia James

  Abruptly, another emotion stabbed into her. One that was shocking, unforgivable—shameless!

  Never to see Nikos again—

  Instantly, viciously, she slammed down on the emotion, crushing it brutally, punishingly. How could she stoop so low? How could she? And how could a man who thought her the lowest of the low, who had said such cruel, vile things about her sister, a man she had hated for four long years, have possibly made love to her the way he had?

  Her face hardened. Made love? Was she stupid or something? Nikos Theakis hadn’t ‘made love’ to her! He’d had sex with her! That was all he’d done—all he’d wanted. Bitter humiliation seared through her. Oh, how could she have fallen into bed with him like that? Just because he looked like a Greek god. Just because she felt weak at the knees because he was so devastating a male that any woman, every woman, would turn and stare at him and yearn for him to look their way…

  Anguished, hating herself almost as much as she hated Nikos Theakis, Ann went on staring at the ceiling, counting the hours till she could escape from Sospiris. Escape from Nikos.

  But what had seemed imperative as she lay sleepless and tormented on her bed became far, far more difficult when she had to face Mrs Theakis at breakfast.

  ‘Leave us?’ Sophia Theakis’ eyes widened in surprise. ‘Surely not?’ Her gaze shifted as the doors to the morning room opened. ‘Nikos! Ann is saying that she may have to return to London.’

  Ann felt herself freeze. Not for all the power on earth would she turn her head to see Nikos stalk in. But nothing could stop her hearing his deep voiced reply as he took his place. ‘Out of the question. It was agreed that she would stay until after Tina’s wedding so that Ari would be least unsettled. Is that not so, Ann?’

  Her head swivelled. And immediately, fight it as she might, she felt colour stain vividly across her cheekbones at the sight of him. He was casually dressed in a pale cream polo shirt with a discreetly expensive logo on it, hair still damp and jaw freshly shaved. At once, vivid and hot, sprang the memory of his roughened skin against her last night as his mouth possessed hers… Her colour deepened.

  His eyes were holding hers, challenging them—branding them.

  She bit her lip, and saw something flare deep within. ‘I—I—’ she began, then floundered. Rational thought, speech, was impossible. ‘It’s just that—’ she tried again, and failed.

  Another expression shot through Nikos’s eyes. She could have sworn it was satisfaction.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then that is settled. You will stay, as agreed, until after Tina’s wedding. And then…’ His eyes flicked to her momentarily, as his hand reached for the jug of freshly squeezed orange juice in front of him. ‘Then we shall see. Who knows, Ann, what will happen after Tina’s wedding, hmm? In the meantime today, with Ari occupied with his playmate from Maxos arriving with Tina later this morning, it is more than time, I think, that I showed you something more of Sospiris than you have already seen.’

  Calmly, he started to drink his orange juice. Numbly, Ann turned back to Mrs Theakis, as though she might somehow save her from so dire a fate. But as she turned she caught for a fleeting moment a strange, assessing look in the older woman’s eyes, as they hovered between her guest and her son. Then an instant later it was gone, and Ann could only think—only hope!—she had imagined it.

  Sophia Theakis’ expression had changed to a serene smile. ‘That is a lovely idea, Nikos. Sospiris has many hidden beauties, Ann,’ she said benignly, ‘and I’m sure my son will show you all of them.’

  With monumental effort, Ann schooled her face into complaisance. Inside, she felt like jelly.

  Nikos gunned the Jeep impatiently. Where was she? If she was planning on trying to get out of this, he would simply go and fetch her. But she would come. His mother would see to it.

  For a moment his expression wavered. It was not comfortable, being under the eye of his mother in these circumstances. But it was for her sake that he was doing this—even though, of course, she could not know that. But for her to be burdened indefinitely, leached off by the female she thought so well of just because he could not open her eyes to Ann Turner’s true character, was not something he was prepared to tolerate. What he was prepared to tolerate, however, was his own disapproval of the course of action he had decided to pursue—a course of action that he’d already taken a decision on as he’d walked back into the bedroom the night before.

  To hell with it! To hell with warnings about playing with fire—it was too damn late for that. He’d not just played with fire—he’d set the bed ablaze! And it, and he, had gone up in a sheet of flame. So any warnings, any regrets, were too little, too late. If there was one thing that was now absolutely clear—had become forcibly even more crystal-clear when he’d seen his empty bed and realised that Ann had run away—it was that he was counting the hours until he could possess her again.

  The remainder of his night had been a sleepless one, but not because he had been repining his seduction any more—it had been because his bed was empty, and he very definitely did not want it to be empty. He’d almost gone after her. Why she had done a runner he had no idea—unless it was to see whether he would come chasing after her. Or—a sudden frown had knitted his brow darkly—was she belatedly, seeking to assume a virtue she had just very amply demonstrated she did not have?

  He brushed the thought aside. Of course Ann Turner possessed not a shred of virtue! How could she, when she had sold her own flesh and blood for cold hard cash? For a fleeting moment something jarred in his brain. The vivid memory of their union burned again in his mind. Could the woman who had so inflamed him, with whom he had cried out at the searing moment of their fulfilment—a fulfilment deeper and more intense than any he had experienced—really be the same woman whose grasping fingers had greedily closed over the cheques he had so contemptuously handed her?

  And yet she was. She was that same woman. However much she inflamed him he must never forget that—not for a moment.

  Certainly not now, as she finally emerged from the villa, her face set, not meeting his eyes, simply clambering up into the Jeep without a word, ignoring his hand reaching across the seat to help her in. Angry irritation flared briefly in Nikos at her obvious intention of refusing to acknowledge him. He released the handbrake, let in the clutch and sheered off, his eyes behind the sunglasses hard. He drove fast, not bothering to take the bumpy track easily, and was conscious that Ann was hanging on grimly, refusing to ask him to slow down.

  He didn’t stop until he slewed the Jeep to a halt at the far end of the island, down by Ari’s ‘secret beach’. He’d brought Ann here deliberately. Not only would they not be disturbed, but the beach hut was ideal for his purposes. It was not luxurious, but it contained the essentials—mainly a bed.

  As he cut the engine, tossing his dark glasses on to the dashboard, a silence seemed to descend along with the settling cloud of white dust around the car.

  He turned towards Ann. She was still sitting with one hand clutched at the doorframe, the other planted on the dash to steady herself. Her expression was stony. She was wearing, Nikos realised, exactly the same outfit she’d worn when they’d brought Ari here—beige cotton trousers and a long- sleeved T-shirt. His eyes glinted mordantly. Did she think such a drab outfit would put him off? And why, pray, the cold shoulder? The glint came again, and there was a spark of anger in it now. ‘Cold’ had not been the word for her last night.

  Time to stop this, right now.

  ‘Ann,’ he began, his voice edged, ‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but—’

  Her head swivelled. The expression in her eyes was scorching.

  ‘Playing at?’ she threw back at him. ‘I’m not playing at anything! I have absolutely no idea what the hell you think you’re doing, but—’

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. The scorching look in her eyes intensified. Absently, he noticed how it made them even more luminous.

  ‘What I think I’m doin
g, Ann,’ he said—and now the edge in his voice had gone, replaced by something very differerent, ‘is this—’

  He reached for her. Unable to help himself. He’d been wanting to do it since he’d walked into breakfast and seen her there, feeling a punch to his system that had made him want to walk right up to her and sweep her to him.

  She was pliant in his arms as he drew her to him, and satisfaction surged through him as he lowered his mouth to hers. The next moment she had gone rigid—as rigid as a board—and her hands were balling against his chest, her mouth jerking away.

  ‘Let me go! Let me—’

  His mouth silenced her, catching her lips and his hand at her back slid up to hold the base of her skull, fingers spearing into her silken hair. God, she felt so good to kiss! So sweet and soft and honeyed—

  Her momentary resistance had vanished, melted away into his kiss, and he took instant possession. He felt her hands splaying out, pressing through his polo shirt against the wall of his chest.

  He kissed her thoroughly, deeply—arousingly. And not just arousing her. His own body was responding as though a switch had been thrown, and desire swept through him.

  Eventually, breathlessly, he surfaced, holding her still, gazing down into her eyes. They were huge.

  ‘You were saying?’ he said. The amusement was in his voice again, but different now—husky and low.

  For a moment she just gazed at him blindly. Then, with a little choke, she tugged free. He let her go—he had proved his point. Handsomely.

  Her face was strained. ‘I don’t want this.’ Her voice was faint, hands knotting in her lap. ‘I don’t want it.’

  His eyes glinted. ‘Ann, no games. Not now. Last night proved that amply.’ The glint intensified. ‘Very amply.’

  He started to reach for her again, but this time she was faster. She thrust open the Jeep door and leapt down. Nikos stared with a mix of exasperation and incredulity as she started to march back along the track. Was the girl mad? It would take a good hour to walk back to the villa, and the sun was getting high in the sky. He gave a rasp of irritation and went after her. She was only doing it as some kind of grand gesture, though heaven knew why.

  He caught up with her in seconds and turned her round towards him. She was rigid, face clenched.

  ‘Take your hands off me,’ she gritted, eyes sparking. ‘I told you I don’t want this! What part of that don’t you understand?’ she bit out.

  Something shifted in his eyes. ‘This,’ he said. Deliberately, quite deliberately, he lifted a hand to her face, letting the other one drop from her arm so that she was quite free. His eyes never leaving her, he simply drew his index finger down her cheek—lightly, like a feather.

  He saw her eyes flicker, saw her pupils dilate. Then he let his hand fall.

  She didn’t turn, or run, or march away. She simply stood there, on the track, the sun pouring down on her pale hair, swaying slightly. There was a helpless look on her face.

  ‘That’s the part I don’t understand, Ann,’ he said, his voice low. ‘The part where I only have to touch you and you respond to me. Or not even touch you…’

  His gaze held hers, lambent with desire for her. ‘Do you think I haven’t wanted you from when I first saw how beautiful you had become? All that was required was—opportunity.’ His hand lifted to her face again. This time he slid his fingers around her jaw, feathering her hair, his thumb playing with the tender lobe of her ear. She did not move. Very slowly, her eyelashes lowered over her eyes. His other hand lifted, his thumb going to her lips, tracing across their fullness. Then, as she still stood there motionless, eyes shut in the silence all around, he gently pressed down on her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, even as his mouth came down sensuously, languorously, to take its place.

  He felt her give. Felt her mouth slowly start to move against his. Felt the stiffness leave her body, the rigidity ease, dissolve. She was dissolving against him. She was exploring, tasting every moment of the sweet, delectable arousing. How long he kissed her, standing as they were alone, at the edge of the deserted beach, he did not know. Only knew that at some point he let his mouth ease from hers, felt his hand slip into hers, take it lightly, loosely, but enough to lead her, as if she were still in a daze, towards the little stone building. She came willingly, unresistingly.

  Just as he had known she would.

  Light filtered through the wooden shutters. It slanted narrow fingers across the bed, casting planes of dark and shade across the strong face lying so close to Ann’s. She lay looking at it a moment. The eyes were shut and the features in repose. He looked—replete. The word came to her, and she knew it was apt. For herself she was—drained. Drained of everything—all emotion, all will. She could only go on lying there, her naked body held slackly against his. Her mind was a miasma, floating adrift in a strange state. She’d gone, she knew, beyond conscious thought—because what could she think? What was it possible to think, rationally, about what she had done? What was happening? It wasn’t possible, that was all.

  It was barely sane…

  Because how could it be sane to sink again into the bliss she had known last night when that bliss came courtesy of a man who made his contempt of her no secret? And yet that man, that harsh, condemning man, so sneeringly offering her money for Ari, for her time here on Sospiris, seemed a universe away from the man who had initiated her into an ecstasy she had never known existed…

  She felt something squeeze inside her that was almost pain.

  But it’s the same man… The whisper formed in her head, and she felt that strange, squeezing pain again.

  Her eyes shadowed. Is it the same man—is it?

  Her head told her yes, but her body—oh, her body denied it with all its power.

  Without conscious thought, she let her hand press against his warm, hard body, smoothed the golden skin. He was so beautiful to touch. She felt her heart give that little squeeze again, felt a strange catch in her breath, as if in wonder—in homage—at such perfection.

  The long lashes lifted from his eyes, and immediately his gaze focussed on her. Equally immediately she felt as if those incredible dark eyes were piercing right into her. She felt naked—

  ‘Ann—’

  It was all he said, but it was said in a voice that sounded as replete as he was. He glided the hand resting on her upper arm along its smooth surface. It was not sexual, not arousing. It was just because she was there. In his bed. Beside him.

  ‘Ann,’ he said again, and drew her more closely against him, settling himself into the bedding, feeling her slender body curved against his. It felt good—but then everything about her felt good. Idly, he went on smoothing his palm along her upper arm. He felt full, at rest. And after a while he started to caress her again.

  This time arousingly.

  And yet again Ann went with him where he wanted to go.

  The Jeep was rattling over the trackway again, heading back to the villa. Nikos was driving a lot more sedately now—and why not? His ill-tempered mood of the outward journey had disappeared completely. Of course it had! Ann’s ludicrous and incomprehensible show of resistance had taken him nothing more than a few moments to dispose of. Why she’d done it he had no idea, and he didn’t much care. It had obviously been some kind of ploy, and it had equally obviously been completely pointless. Anyway, it was irrelevant now. All that mattered was that it was over and would not be returning.

  A smile played around his mouth. No, Ann had proved—conclusively and incontrovertibly—that she was completely incapable of resisting him. Which was exactly what he’d known all along.

  Just as he’d known—the smile around his mouth deepened—that his decision to stick to the strategy of making Ann Turner his mistress was the right one. Every cell in his body told him blatantly that it was certainly the right one for him personally.

  As his mistress, Ann Turner was malleable, enjoyable—definitely enjoyable!—and above all disposable. His strategy was foolproof. He’d b
een mad to think it had any risk to it. Not only was he now going to be able to stop Ann Turner from being a thorn in his flesh, but her own exquisite flesh was his to enjoy—to enjoy with an intensity that had proved as real today as it had last night. Just why there was such an extraordinary intensity he didn’t much care—he wasn’t about to question it, just make the most of it.

  Whenever he could.

  His smile faded, replaced by a tightening of his mouth. Now, that was going to be an impediment he didn’t welcome. But it would have to be managed, all the same, until he could take Ann back to Athens with him.

  He turned his head to speak to her.

  ‘We’re going to have to be discreet, you understand? But I will see what can be done to make time for you.’

  A looming hairpin bend made him look back at the road. Then, having negotiated it, he said, having got no response to his comment, ‘Ann?’

  He glanced at her again. She appeared not to have heard him.

  ‘Ann?’ he said again, now with a slight edge in his voice.

  ‘Yes, I heard you. Thank you,’ she answered.

  Nikos considered her profile. Was she put out because he’d said they would need to be discreet? Perhaps she didn’t understand that there was no way he was going to expose his mother to what they were doing? Or perhaps she thought he was not intending to continue with her—or that the necessity for discretion was in fact a lack of appreciation for her on his part? Well, that could easily be sorted—no problem. He knew exactly what would keep her sweet.

  And it wasn’t just sex…

  Ann sat on her bed, the shutters of her bedroom window drawn, locking out the light of the day. Locking out the world. She had told a maid she’d passed on her way in that she had a migraine and would be keeping to her room.

  Blankness enveloped her. She knew with one part of her mind that it was a kind of safety mechanism, like anaesthesia, blocking everything else out. The blankness made her calm—very calm. In a little while, but not just now, she would think about what she had to do. But not just yet. Not quite yet. Soon.