by Jennie Lucas
“Thank you for loaning me your pajama top,” she said awkwardly. She gave a laugh that sounded nervous and goofy, even to her own ears. “I must have lost mine. There was nothing in my suitcase.”
“You always slept in the nude.”
She swallowed, staring at his profile, very aware of the bed behind her. “Well, um…”
“You take the bed.” Standing up, he closed his laptop and finally looked at her. His dark gaze, which had been so hot when he’d nearly kissed her near St. Mark’s Square, had suddenly cooled. “I’ll work in the office so I don’t disturb you. I’ll sleep on the couch when I’m tired.”
After the amount of time she’d spent trying to steady her nerves and steel herself to share a hotel room, she’d never expected this—for him to treat her as if she were a distant guest. She glanced from his tall body and wide shoulders to the small, slender couch. “You won’t be able to fit on that!”
“I’ll manage.” He turned away. “You and the baby need rest.” Rising from the desk, he left the room. He paused at the door. “Good night.”
He turned off her light. Since she had no other choice, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. Bereft of his warmth. Miserable. Alone.
She sighed as she turned her head back and forth on the thick, luxurious pillow, trying to get comfortable, trying to make herself sleep with anxious thoughts racing circles in her mind.
Why hadn’t she let him kiss her?
She’d yearned to know what it would feel like to have his mouth on hers. She sighed now just thinking about it. And yet she’d jumped away from him without thought. As if she’d placed her hand on a burning stove.
She heard the echo of his dark, haunted voice. You are right to be afraid.
Afraid? Eve flipped onto her other side with an impatient huff of breath. Afraid of what? Talos was a good man. Her lover. The father of her child. He’d been so loving, so romantic, so patient with her!
And he wanted to marry her.
She needed to do whatever it took to regain her memory, for Talos’s sake. For their baby’s sake. For her own.
Tomorrow, she promised herself firmly. Tomorrow, she would be brave. Tomorrow, she would let him kiss her.
When Talos woke up the next morning, Eve was gone.
He sat up on the couch with an intake of breath. Looking at the bright light from the windows, he knew he’d overslept; the clock over the mantel said eleven. Where was Eve? He looked at the king-sized bed.
It was empty. Empty and made.
She’d made the bed?
With a growl deep in his throat, he stood up, dropping his blankets and pillow haphazardly to the floor. Then he saw the little note in her handwriting written on hotel stationary, neatly affixed to the top pillow.
Gone shopping. Back soon.
He exhaled. So she hadn’t regained her memory and run away. He’d ordered Kefalas to keep an eye on her in any case. She wouldn’t escape him again.
Eve was out shopping. A humorless smile traced his lips. Apparently she hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought.
With a yawn, he raised his arms over his head, stretching his half-naked body. His chest was bare, his legs in pajamas. Every muscle ached, and it wasn’t just because he’d managed to fit his six-foot-three frame into a couch that was at most five foot ten. It was from being so close to Eve.
Listening to her breathe.
Remembering the last time he’d slept in a room with her.
The last time she’d been in his bed.
He clawed back his hair. Spending the whole day with her yesterday, pretending to be her devoted lover, had been difficult. Spending the whole night in the same hotel room without trying to seduce her had nearly killed him.
He hated that he still wanted her.
She’d been perfect three months ago, her figure slender but curvaceous in all the right places, but now her newly pregnant breasts were so lush, while her waist was still so tiny, that she was the epitome of any man’s dream.
Including his.
He’d purposely stayed in the next room until 3:00 a.m., answering e-mails and making long phone calls to Australia about the Sydney deal. He’d purposefully waited until he’d nearly passed out over his keyboard before he allowed himself to stumble back into the dark bedroom and fall on the couch. As the window’s light changed to the grayness of dawn, he’d finally collapsed with exhaustion.
But even in sleep, he’d had endless dreams of making love to her. He’d woken up hard for her.
With a loud curse, Talos twisted his head to crack the vertebrae in his neck. He hurt all over.
Stomping into the bathroom, he turned on the shower then stared blankly at the rapidly steaming water.
He’d always known Eve was shallow and selfish. But he’d been intrigued by all her contradictions, his seductive virgin mistress, the gorgeous beauty who never asked him questions or revealed any of her feelings. Unlike any other woman, she’d taken pleasure in bed without emotion.
He’d been captivated by her. When she was naked beneath him in bed, when he brought her to a gasping climax, her blue eyes had shone up at his with sudden searing vulnerability. He’d thought there was something more inside her soul. Some mystery that only he could solve.
And he’d kept on believing that, right up till the day she’d sneaked from their bed, rifled through his private safe and stolen damaging financial information to give to Jake Skinner over a romantic breakfast.
Overnight, the Xenakis Group’s stock had crashed nearly in half, causing him to lose nearly the whole company with margin calls. If Talos hadn’t had the resources of his personal fortune to back him up, he would have lost his company. He would have lost everything.
Instead of buying distressed companies at pennies on the dollar, he would have been one of the poor fools forced to sell.
He cursed softly in Greek.
And in spite of all that, he’d nearly kissed her tonight. He’d wanted to take her against the wall of an alley in view of the Bridge of Sighs and possess her utterly. Over and over. Until he had his fill.
He was so tense with fighting his desire for her, that when those Italians had dared to whistle at Eve, he’d almost thrown himself at them. He’d suddenly relished the thought of the relief of pain, of punching them all bloody in an honest fight.
How simple a straightforward street fight had seemed, compared to trying to lure the woman he hated—the woman he wanted—into marriage!
Clenching his fists, Talos stepped into the shower. He leaned back as the hot water coursed over his naked body. He washed his hair, rubbed soap over his chest.
Would it be so bad to give in to temptation?
The insidious thought made his eyes fly open.
Would it be so bad to take what he wanted? To gorge himself until he was sick of her?
Like Scotch.
The first time he’d tasted an expensive single malt Scotch, he’d been only nineteen, newly arrived in New York. He’d done well for his American boss in Athens, but this was a new country—a new world. Waiting for half an hour in Dalton Hunter’s office, he’d grown steadily more nervous. He’d finally poured himself a shot of the rich amber-colored liquor from a crystal decanter on a silver tray. He’d had one delicious taste before he’d looked up to see Dalton watching him from the door.
Wondering if he was about to get sacked on his first day, Talos lifted his chin and observed defiantly, “I thought you’d want me to learn how to hold my liquor. As an asset to the company.”
“Quite so,” Dalton said, sounding amused. Then his eyes narrowed. “So drink it all.”
Talos had looked at the nearly full decanter in shock. “All?”
“Right now. Or get out.”
So Talos had drunk the entire decanter, gulping down the smooth, smoky Scotch as if it were water. However, his bravado had been lessened when he’d spent the whole afternoon puking in the office bathroom, aware of the other employees laughing at him in th
e hallway. When he’d finally gone back to his boss, he’d been red-faced, sweaty, humiliated.
“Now you know not to steal from me,” Dalton had said before he coldly turned away. “Get to work.”
Talos still grimaced as he remembered that day. He’d never been able to touch Scotch again. Almost twenty years later, just the smell of it still made him sick.
And that was how he wished he could feel about Eve.
He wished he could get her out of his system once and for all. Until he never wanted her again. Until the thought of bedding her was as disgusting as a flawless Baccarat crystal decanter of imported single malt Scotch.
Turning off the water, he toweled himself dry. He pulled his clothes from the closet where someone in his staff had neatly put them away. He stepped into his boxers and black pants, then stared at himself in the half-fogged mirror. He took a deep breath.
No.
He wouldn’t give in to lust.
He wouldn’t be seduced by her again.
Fiercely, he pushed aside the thought of Eve in his bed, her skin glowing with rough lovemaking and her eyes full of desire.
He’d once planned to take her new fortune from her under threat of prosecuting her for theft and corporate espionage.
But now…
All he wanted was their child, safe and healthy in his arms. And Eve to disappear from their lives forever after the baby was born.
As he buttoned his sharply tailored white shirt, he glared at himself in the mirror. Every time he thought of the lustful fool he’d been a few months ago, neglecting his business, spending every hour in bed with her, making love to her day and night, it made him grind his teeth with rage.
He would never let it happen again.
He would never lower his guard. Never give up control again.
Talos had to convince her to marry him as soon as possible. Today, he thought, leaning in toward the mirror as he shaved his jaw. He couldn’t risk her regaining her memory before he’d tied her down as his bride, giving his child a name. Then he would help her remember. And after the baby was born, he would blackmail Eve with the choice of her child or her money.
He had no doubt which she’d choose.
So today, he would act the part of a besotted lover. He would tempt her. Lure her. He would whisper sweet words. Poetry. Flowers. Jewelry. Whatever it took. His lip curled. How hard could it be?
He dropped the razor to the counter, wiping the last vestiges of shaving cream off his face with a towel.
He would not, repeat, would not—he glared at himself—take her to his bed.
Damn it, he wouldn’t!
He heard a door slam and suddenly Eve was standing behind him. His jaw dropped as he looked at her in the mirror. She smiled back serenely.
“Good morning.”
“Eve.” He whirled around with a gasp. “What have you done?”
CHAPTER FIVE
EVE had been beaming at him, but now she felt suddenly shy. She put her hand to her hair, which yesterday had hung past her breasts but now barely touched her collarbone. “I had my hair cut.”
“I can see that.”
“So why did you ask?” she retorted pertly, squaring her shoulders. “Honestly!”
He ignored that, walking around her in a circle in the wide marble bathroom, looking her up and down.
She lifted her chin defiantly, daring him to criticize her.
The sleekly modern, rather than sexy, blunt-cut pageboy hairstyle wasn’t her only change. Instead of the tight red dress and overflowing cleavage she’d had last night, she was now dressed in a cotton jersey cardigan and long knit skirt in pale rose. The simple garments were still pretty, she hoped, but natural—not to mention stretchy against her expanding pregnancy. And the pink flat sandals were certainly easier to wear than the stiletto heels.
She now felt comfortable in her own skin rather than like someone trying to gain attention through her clothing.
But he only frowned at her.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, lifting his hand as if to touch her, then dropping it again. “Where did you buy this?”
“At a boutique in the Mercerie recommended by the concierge.”
“Did you take Kefalas with you?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “I didn’t want to, but he insisted on it. He wouldn’t even let me use the credit cards in my purse, but insisted I charge everything to your accounts.”
“Good.” He peered down at her. “You look different,” he mumbled.
Different as in bad? She shuffled her feet, feeling awkward under his scrutiny.
“Why the makeover?” he asked, tilting his head.
She took a deep breath. How could she explain how horrifying it had been to have men constantly gawking at her? How to explain how wretched she’d felt when Talos had nearly started a brawl against five men just because of some strangers’ low whistles and murmured appreciation of her charms that were too flagrantly on display? She licked her bare lips.
“Um,” she managed, “the clothes in my suitcase just, er, didn’t fit right.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “That’s not what you said when I bought them for you in Athens.”
“You bought the clothes?” she blurted out. “Even the red dress?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed. Now she’d sounded ungrateful. “They were all lovely. Really. But…”
“But?”
“But they’re not comfortable. They, um, made people look at me.”
He stared at her. “I thought you liked that.”
“It was still a lovely gift,” she stammered. “And I’m so grateful. That you picked them out for me is terribly sweet.”
“Lovely?” he repeated in a surly voice. “Sweet?”
“And I don’t mean to be critical of your taste, but—”
“I didn’t pick them out for you,” he ground out. “I just paid for them. You chose.”
She had? What had she been thinking? “Oh. Um. Don’t worry, I’m sure the charity shops will sell them quickly,” she said apologetically. “They’re so glamorous—so well-made!”
He glanced at her empty suitcase with surprise. Glanced at the many bags that Kefalas had just left inside the doorway before discreetly disappearing.
“You gave away all your designer clothes?” he said incredulously. “The Gucci? The Versace?”
“Are they your favorite designers?” she said, chagrined to be so rude.
“No!” he nearly shouted. “They’re yours!”
“Oh,” she said. She bit her lip. “Well, those clothes are just a little too tight for me now. Not to mention too sexy.” She brightened as a sudden explanation occurred to her. “Maybe my tastes have changed because I’m about to be a mother,” she said happily, relieved to have an explanation. “That’s probably it, don’t you think?”
He stared at her. He started to speak, then visibly bit back the words. Finally, he silently held out his arm. She took it in her own.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.
She peeked up at him, hoping he really meant it. “Really?”
“Yes.” He gave her a slow-rising smile. It lit up his face, making him so handsome that he took her breath away. Reaching down, he stroked her bare cheek. “I’ve never seen you look more radiant.”
She exhaled. She hadn’t realized until that moment that she’d been tense, wondering what his reaction would be. She’d cut her hair. She’d gotten rid of the lowcut, tight dress and the stiletto heels. Would he still approve of her? Would he still want her in his life?
His hot, smoldering glance told her that yes, he approved, and yes, he wanted her.
The real her. Without all the tarty trimmings.
“Now,” he said as his smile sharpened, “let’s go get what we came here for.”
For the rest of the day, they explored the charms of Venice, from walking beneath the medieval overhangs of the Calle del Paradiso to sharing lunch on the wide outdoor terrace of
the Hotel Cipriani.
The fog thickened throughout the afternoon as the capricious autumn weather turned melancholy. But Eve barely noticed that the Italian sunshine had disappeared. As they strolled along canals as gray as the lowering sky, she felt warm and contented. Talos smiled down at her, his dark eyes warming her with the heat of burning coal as they laughed and talked, walking down the tree-lined paths through the grassy Giardini.
He bought her a fiery orange rose from a stall in an outdoor market. When he told her in a low voice how beautiful she was to him, how much he wanted her to be his wife, she glowed from within. She barely heard the sad, plaintive cries of the gulls soaring through the heavy clouds overhead.
As the afternoon drew on, rain finally started to drizzle. The fair-weather tourists had scattered beneath the cold-blowing winds, but Eve had never felt more gloriously lit up inside.
In her new clothes, she got occasional second glances from men, but only from up close—not from across the street. She wasn’t forced to endure the endless hot stares of strange men, while knowing that only the presence of powerful, darkly dangerous Talos kept the other males at bay.
Now, she felt safe.
She felt…free.
She never wanted the day to end. She glanced down at his hand in hers as they walked. He was so possessive, so attentive. So romantic and loving.
She felt his eyes on her constantly. Any time she turned her head, she caught his gaze. Even when he didn’t touch her, she felt his presence like electricity. Like fire.
As the rain started to fall more heavily, he drew her back inside an elaborate Gothic doorway. Then, to her surprise, he turned around to knock on the door of the palazzo.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, confused.
“You’ll see.”
They were admitted by a housekeeper. She told them in heavily accented English that, sadly, his friends the marchese and marchesa were away on vacation. But when Talos, with his most charming smile, asked to see the ballroom, she could not resist.
Who could? Eve thought.
