Seduced into the Greek's World

by Dani Collins

  He rubbed a hand down his face, stopping himself from continuing.

  “Because?” she prompted, curious, especially when he revealed a flicker of conflict, something like remorse.

  He shook it off. “Family skeletons. He’s turned out to be a better father than I could have imagined, but it’s been an adjustment for me. Suddenly I’m supposed to be this involved uncle and I have zero interest in the role. I will never be like them. Why? Are you dreaming of picket fences?”

  There was a cool warning underlying his question that made her smile flatly. “I did at one time,” she admitted. “But my father left my mom and my ex...” She sighed with all the dispirit he’d left her with.

  “Did he hurt you?” His tone shifted to something that was both warmly protective and chillingly dangerous.

  “No,” she assured him. “Well, with his thoughtlessness. He’s pretty self-involved, but he’s actually...” A good dad. Not a great one. Discipline and structure weren’t in his vocabulary, but Zoey knew without a shred of doubt that she was loved to bits, and that counted for a lot when love for his daughter had failed to keep Natalie’s own father in the picture.

  “My mother-in-law says we have to respect Heath’s energy. That we’re all on our own journey.” She rolled her eyes, but then grinned with affection as she thought of Heath’s mom. If she couldn’t have her own mother, at least she had the best possible surrogate. If she’d had to leave Zoey solely in Heath’s care for three weeks, she wouldn’t have come, but Zoey’s connection to her grandmother was special and deserved to be nurtured and reinforced. “He actually has a very nice family. I think that was what I was really marrying. His mother is a foster mom and takes in every stray orphan that happens by. I was in a pretty bad place, having just lost my brother when I started dating Heath. She was there for me after Mom died, too, so I can’t hate him when he’s the reason she’s in my life.”

  “Very magnanimous.”

  “I try. But in answer to your question, no. Remarriage is not something I’m aspiring to.” Especially with a man who had such low interest in children. “If you give someone the power to make you happy, you give them the power to make you unhappy. I don’t want to be unhappy. So you’re safe,” she said, swallowing disappointment that she couldn’t even talk about her daughter. She missed Zoey more and more each day.

  Not that she’d be sidestepping that topic much longer. Tomorrow would be their last day—and night—together.

  Except, unbelievably, it wasn’t.

  * * *

  “What are you doing?” Demitri asked, emerging from his shower to find Natalie dressed in sweatpants and a slouched hoodie with a maple leaf on the front.

  He’d left her sleeping since it was still two hours before she needed to start work, but he’d woken and checked email only to become annoyed at his brother questioning why he wasn’t in Athens for a meeting. His first instinct had been to roll onto Natalie and forget about everything, but he was already making more demands of her than he had with any other woman, and that disturbed him. He’d hit the shower as much to prove his ability to resist her as anything else.

  She didn’t have the power to make him happy or unhappy, he kept telling himself, oddly unable to quit turning that remark over in his mind.

  Now she was dressed and putting on her shoes, and his need to possess her climbed several notches.

  “Being a master of disguise, I’ll pretend I’ve gone for an early-morning walk to pick up some pastries,” she explained. “Then it won’t seem weird that I’m coming to work from up the block.”

  Impatience pushed out of him in an annoyed sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

  Surprised hurt flashed across her face before she schooled her expression. “It’s only one more night.”

  A spike of ice nailed him in the chest. “What do you mean?”

  “I leave for Lyon tomorrow. I thought I’d pack over lunch so I can come here right after work. I could check out properly and stay here my last night if you like, but that seems kind of—”

  “What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow?”

  “I’m catching the train. I did the same thing coming here, arrived on Saturday so I could get settled and see a few sights before starting work Monday.”

  “There’s nothing to see in Lyon.”

  “Only two thousand years of history.” She held his gaze, an unvoiced question in her quirked brows. Are you asking me to stay?

  She didn’t ask it and bent to tie her shoe instead, then stood to shoulder her bag. “I won’t bother checking out. I’ll just come over for—”

  “What time are you off?”

  “Might be as late as six.”

  “Do you ski?”

  “That’s random,” she remarked. “I can, but not very well. Why?”

  “We can go to Switzerland for the weekend,” he decided.

  “Switzerland? That’s crazy!”

  “You’re thinking like a colonial. It’s not that far. I’ll take you to Lyon myself. On Sunday.”

  “But—”

  She looked so fresh and innocent, face clean of makeup. For a minute he wondered what the hell he was doing with her. As cynical as she’d sounded about marriage last night, the way she was hiding their relationship told him how uncomfortable she was with what they were doing.

  “You don’t want to?” he demanded gruffly, bracing himself.

  “No, I just didn’t realize you wanted to...” She shrugged. “I thought you’d have somewhere to be by now.”

  According to his brother, yes, but she wasn’t talking about work or any sort of external commitment. She was inferring she thought he’d be tired of her. He should be, and it made him uneasy that he wasn’t.

  On the other hand, a tension he hadn’t quite acknowledged eased in him as he made plans to continue seeing her. He was already looking forward to being open about their relationship in Switzerland. This cloak-and-dagger lurking in shadows was not his style at all.

  Wait. Relationship? Arrangement, he mentally corrected.

  She canted her head. “You’re scowling. Do you have somewhere to be?”

  “No. I do what I want,” he assured her. “And I want to take you to Switzerland.”

  “Do you?” she murmured, eyes dancing with laughter at him.

  He scowled. “If you don’t want to go, say so.” And he’d commence with convincing her.

  “I’ll go. I just didn’t expect this. Text me where to meet you when you’ve made the arrangements.” She came across to lean into him, mouth lifted to press against his.

  He took over the kiss. It had to last him all day, so he made it thorough.

  * * *

  “You can’t buy me skis,” Natalie protested.

  “Why not?” he looked genuinely perplexed, even glanced down at his credit card as though he was checking to make sure it hadn’t been declined.

  “Because...” It was obvious, wasn’t it? If he wanted to pay for a hotel room so they could sleep together, fine. And since he said his brother owned the helicopter that had flown them here, she supposed it was between the two of them to figure out how to pay for the fuel, but buying her ski equipment was weird. “What will I do with them after? I can’t take them home.”

  “Of course you can. You ship to Canada, don’t you?” he asked the clerk.

  “Of course,” the clerk assured her.

  And the cost for that? Natalie drew in a slow breath. “I don’t need skis at home, Demitri. I’ll just rent a pair for the weekend.”

  “The line is too long.”

  “I don’t mind standing in it. You do your thing and I’ll do mine. We’ll find each other on the slopes once I’m outfitted.”

  “This is my thing,” he said with impatience.

  “Getting your way is your thing?” she surmised.

  “Exactly. Ignore her and outfit us both,” he ordered the clerk.

  “Demitri—”

  “Come here. I want to show you something.” H
e drew her over to the window, where snowflakes fell in glimmering sprinkles along the runs lit by high-powered lights. Against the indigo sky, the moonlight glinted off veins of ice in the jagged mountaintop. “Do you see that?” He pointed upward, to the ceiling.

  “What?”

  As she lifted her face, he kissed the daylights out of her. When he finally drew back, she blinked in shock, kind of embarrassed by their display, but also moved by the tender look in his eyes and the sweetness of his caress as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “I just kissed you in public,” he said. “We’re here to be together.”

  “You could stand in line for rentals with me,” she suggested with a cheeky grin.

  “I do enjoy your sense of humor, Natalie.” He reached past her and snagged a pair of lavender ski pants, the kind that clung unforgivably. “Try these on.”

  She glanced at the price, winced and said, “Okay, but I’m buying them.”

  “Again, completely hysterical. I invited you here. This is my treat.”

  Just going along with his demands didn’t feel right, but what woman ever said no to Demitri? Before she knew it, she was decked out from head to toe, including goggles and sunglasses.

  “It’s night,” she protested when he placed the shades on her nose.

  “But the slopes will be bright tomorrow, even if it’s overcast.”

  She gave up arguing with him, and they spent a couple hours rediscovering their ski legs, left their equipment in a locker he rented and picked their way back through the pubs in the village to their hotel, eating fondue and drinking toddies while sampling live music. When they fell into bed, they were almost too tired to make love.

  Almost, but not quite.

  She fell asleep with her nose tucked into the damp warmth in the middle of his chest.

  * * *

  “You don’t have to stick to the baby slopes for me,” Natalie said as they leaped off the chair and snowplowed to a viewpoint. Far below, nestled in the valley, the village sat with comfortable old-world ease. Smoke puffed from small brick chimneys and snow-blanketed roofs poked up against sharp white peaks and brilliant blue sky. It looked like something off a Christmas card. “Go off and do some jumps or something. I’ll be okay.”

  “The past two runs have been midlevel. I think you’re ready to try something more challenging.”

  “No, they haven’t,” she denied, swinging her attention to him, then catching her breath at how urbane and good-looking he was.

  His black bib-style ski pants over a white form-fitting insulated shirt, coupled with his sunglasses and natural air of command made him look like one of those intensely attractive villains from a British secret-agent film.

  “I, um, don’t ski well enough for midlevel.” How had she even wound up here? The family hill she had skied during school trips at home had been a financial stretch. This place was practically coated in genuine silver, every piece of equipment sporting a designer label and mostly being used by licensed representatives, as far as she could tell.

  “What are you talking about? You’re cautious, but your skills are strong. I’m impressed.”

  He gave a passing nod of greeting to—good grief, was that a royal? Demitri had invited a gold-medalist and his wife to join them for lunch when they had bumped into them at the chalet, and a Swedish model had fawned over him in a gondola car. This mountain was a mecca for Europe’s elite.

  “Sorry about that,” he murmured as an entourage in black followed the athletic frame of the prince down the slope. “I would have introduced you, but protocol says he takes the lead on that, and he’s obviously preferring to be left alone right now. Ready?”

  “Wait, no! Steep sounds scary,” she said, catching at his sleeve and releasing a gurgle of nervous laughter, still taking in how he hobnobbed with the crustiest of the upper crust. “I’m cautious because it slants downhill. I’m used to ice. Flat.” She lifted the hand not holding her poles and cut it straight across the air to demonstrate.

  A snowboarder kicked off the ledge beside them and began to fishtail down the sharp incline, spraying powder back and forth with a swish-swoosh. Demitri had said he usually boarded, but he’d chosen to ski this weekend since that was her preference. She feared she was holding him back. He detoured for the occasional jump or slalom through a copse of trees, but kept returning to her side almost before she realized he’d disappeared, and always stopped with her if she needed a break.

  “Ice? You mean skating?” he asked. “Do not tell me you played hockey.”

  “I’m Canadian. Of course I’ve played hockey. On a pond, not in a league, but I really meant ice dancing in a rink.” She’d always thought the carving of skis into snow felt a lot like working skate blades against the ice, but speed gathered rather swiftly on a slope. She was so busy controlling that she wasn’t paying attention to the signs, trusting Demitri to keep her from getting lost and keep her on the easy runs.

  “Ice dancing,” he repeated, taking in this new information with a bemused look. “How long did you do that?”

  “Almost six years, I guess?” She wrinkled her nose. “Until Dad left and there wasn’t really the time or money. I had a friend who drove me for a while, then I took the bus by myself, but Mom didn’t like me sitting at the bus stop at five in the morning and...” She’d needed her. Gareth had. “It just didn’t work.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “That’s life,” she said, shrugging it off. “It doesn’t really bother me except, well, like today when we met your friend who medaled. I don’t know if all the training in the world would have got me half that far, but he’s just a guy who worked really hard. He made sacrifices, I know that, but it makes me think that if I’d been able to stick with my own training, I might have got a blue ribbon somewhere along the way. I really liked it and would have done the work. I wished I could have kept it up, but my life has never really allowed for the chasing of dreams.”

  He was looking at her as though he wanted to ask more, and she didn’t want to talk about it or she’d get emotional.

  “Okay, I’ll try the top-level run,” she told him decisively. “But if you get bored waiting for me to pick my way down, promise to go ahead. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”

  “I’m never bored with you, Natalie,” he admonished. “That’s why you’re here with me.”

  “Such a flatterer,” she said, hoping he’d blame the tremor in her smile on the cold.

  “It’s the truth. But with the ice dancing, is it something you could take up again?”

  “Gonna offer to be my sponsor? No,” she said firmly. “It’s not.” She shifted her weight and moved in a comfortable glide so her skis were alongside his. Facing him, she leaned over, offering her mouth for a kiss. “But it’s nice of you to encourage me.”

  “I’m not being nice. I’m telling you you’re not too old. Seriously, what are the obstacles? The cost?”

  If only he knew.

  “You better take advantage of this now,” she said with a touch of her gloved fingertip to her lips, not wanting to discuss any of her discarded aspirations. “In case I break a leg and have to spend the night in the hospital.”

  “I’m not going to let you break a leg. You know exactly where I want you tonight.” He covered her lips with his own.

  * * *

  Demitri was in the kind of sleep he rarely found. Conditioned by his childhood to be a light sleeper—always on guard—he didn’t often hit the really deep levels of REM, but he’d had an early morning, a lot of exercise, plenty of good food, a few glasses of wine in the hot tub and a delicious release with Natalie’s humid gasps of pleasure against his ear. The room was cold, the bed warm, the smooth lobes of her bottom were spooned into his groin, and her breast was in his palm. He had found perfection.

  Then a song like something off a kid’s cartoon penetrated his consciousness. He fought acknowledging it, but Natalie shifted, coming up on an elbow to fumble for her phone on the night table.


  “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad,” she said.

  “Just make it stop,” he growled, dragging her back into the hollow of his body, resealing the heat of her nude skin against his own.

  “No, I mean I should have told you. Don’t freak out.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? With his nose buried in her hair, he felt the tug of incomprehension pulling against the weight of falling back asleep.

  “Hey, baby,” he heard her say.

  Baby? His mind sharpened.

  “Hi, Mom,” a little girl’s voice said.

  He snapped his eyes open.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AS DEMITRI LEFT the bed behind her, Natalie tilted the screen on her phone so Zoey wouldn’t see she had company. The fog of sleep was still befuddling her, but she was a mom, capable of pulling it together when her kid needed her in the middle of the night.

  “Why are you up so late, sweetie? It’s past your bedtime. Are you okay?” She’d talked to Zoey before leaving Paris, explaining she was going away for the weekend so might not be able to answer any calls. The fact her daughter wanted to connect anyway alarmed her.

  “Daddy said I could stay up ’cause it’s the weekend.”

  The door to the bathroom clicked firmly shut.

  Natalie suppressed a wince and focused on her daughter. Zoey wasn’t bathed, let alone in her jammies. “Where’s Grandma?” She, at least, appreciated the value of a well-rested child.

  “Auntie Suzie’s baby is coming so she walked over to look after Bobby. She’ll be back in the morning. Daddy said I could call you and tell you.”

  “Oh! Well, that is exciting news.” They’d all known this might happen, so Natalie wasn’t completely surprised. Heath was with Zoey and the worst that was going to happen was a late bedtime without a bath, but it still annoyed her that he saw no value in sticking to routine. “Babies usually take a long time to arrive, though, so you can’t stay up and wait. I want you to go to bed now, and I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”