by Jennie Lucas
Once the housekeeper left them alone in the enormous gilded ballroom, beneath the medieval fifteenthcentury timbers and decorated stucco rosework, Eve could not believe the ballroom’s size or beauty. To get a better view, she walked halfway up the sweeping stairs.
“And that is where I first saw you,” Talos said in a low voice behind her.
She whirled around. “Here?”
“At the charity ball the first weekend in June.”
The sun shone weakly through the tall windows of the palazzo, leaving a tracery of the Gothic rose pattern of the facade on the marble floor. She could almost imagine long-ago pirates coming to plunder the wealth of La Serenissima.
“Before that day,” he said, staring at the sunlight through the multicolored glass of the windows, “I’d scoffed at the rumors about you. No woman could be that beautiful, I said. No woman could be that mesmerizing.” Slowly, he turned to look at her. His dark eyes sizzled through her as he said in a low voice, “Then we met.”
Talos looked just like the dark corsair she’d imagined, the Barbary pirate who’d come to plunder the medieval city—to take what he wanted and burn the rest.
She blinked. How had she come up with such a brutal, cruel image? Where had that come from?
“I saw you coming down those stairs in a long red dress,” he said softly. “You were on the arm of my greatest business rival, but I knew at once that I would take you from him.” Slowly, he walked up the stairs toward her. “I would have taken you from the devil himself.”
As he came up the stairs toward her, she was unable to move. Unable to breathe.
“You made me pursue you across Venice for a week before you finally surrendered and agreed to accompany me to Athens. Where I finally discovered to my surprise that you were a virgin.” He fixed his dark eyes on her and a flash of heat coursed through her body. “For the first time in my life, I found myself wanting a woman more after I had bedded her, instead of less.”
He bent his head toward her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“The more I had of you,” he whispered, “the more I wanted.”
But as he lowered his head to kiss her, he suddenly stopped, then stiffened. Without touching her, he wrenched away, his eyes cold. “Come. We’re done here.”
After thanking the housekeeper, he led her from the palazzo. Outside, as the storm clouds brewed above them, she could feel a storm building between them as well, a tension that had nothing to do with tenderness.
He led her across an elaborate covered bridge that crossed the Grand Canal. It was momentarily empty of tourists, and as the cold, wet wind howled around them, he finally turned to face her.
His eyes were dark and hot.
A little thrill of jumbled fear and desire went through her as he took her in his arms. She felt his fingers brush her skin, felt his muscular body hard against hers. The tension increased inside her, tightening into a coil low in her belly.
“This,” he said hoarsely, “is where I first kissed you.”
He leaned forward, stroking the back of her head. Brushing stray tendrils from her cheek, he cupped her face with his hands. Staring up at his handsome face, she was aware of tiny details. The dark scruff on his chin, though he had shaved just hours before. She’d thought his eyes were black, but now she saw they were a deep brown, with slivers of honey-gold.
“And,” he said in a low voice, lowering his head toward her, “this is where I’m going to kiss you now.”
She trembled all over, her heart pounding like a frantic hummingbird’s wing. She wanted him to kiss her—but at the same time something pushed her to flee!
But she couldn’t. This time, he held her fast. He wouldn’t let her back away.
It was as if she’d never been kissed before. His lips were gentle at first on her mouth. Then he spread her lips wide. He teased her with his tongue, licking her lips, entwining her tongue with his.
Desire and need swept through her like a fire. And she forgot about running away. She couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to.
His kiss hardened, deepened. Instead of tempting and luring, he suddenly demanded and took. His body pressed against hers so tightly she was no longer sure where he ended and she began.
The kiss was like nothing she’d felt before.
Just like a kiss should be.
She was dazed, lost in him. As he pulled away, a small whimper of protest escaped her. He looked down at her. There was a fire in his dark eyes.
“Now, glyka mou,” he whispered. “You belong to me.”
Above their heads, she could hear the caw of seagulls soaring high above, hear the ringing of the distant church bells. She could hear the lap of the water beneath them, the sound of a speedboat, hear the cries of vendors from the nearby Rialto market.
You belong to me. She closed her eyes as the echo of those words went through her. He’d spoken those words to her before. He’d kissed her here before.
You belong to me.
That hot, humid summer night, the moon had been full, washing both of them in veils of silver. She remembered the press of his hands against her bare shoulders, over her dress. She remembered desperately wanting him to kiss her. Remembered a sense of relief and triumph as he took her in a hard, savage kiss. Remembering sinking into his arms, so tight, so tight, at last…
Eve’s eyes flew open as she drew back from him with an intake of breath. “I remembered something!”
Talos’s eyes widened. Then his jaw tightened.
“What exactly did you remember?” he said, his voice low and strained, but in her excitement, she didn’t pause to wonder why. She gave him a joyful smile as tears rose to her eyes.
“Our first kiss. It was here on this bridge, just like you said! Oh, Talos, I’m getting my memory back. It’s coming back! Everything is going to be all right!”
She threw her arms around him, holding him tightly, overwhelmed by gratitude and relief. She pressed her face to his chest, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back the tears.
Her mind might not remember much about him, but her body instinctively did. She’d been so afraid, but now…
But now…
As she held him, her heart quickened, galloping faster and faster. The mood between them suddenly changed, electrified. A moment before, she’d just been joyful to have a memory to cling to, some sense of who she was and her past. But as he held her body close, as she breathed in the scent of his skin and pressed her cheek against his soft black shirt, she suddenly felt quite different.
Her cheeks grew hot as she looked up into his eyes.
“Eve, my beautiful Eve,” he whispered, touching her face. “Marry me. Be my wife.”
Yes, she opened her mouth to say.
But she forced herself to shake her head. “You deserve so much more,” she said softly. “You deserve a wife who can remember everything about loving you.”
His lips curled with a faint hint of mockery. “Don’t worry. I’ll get what I deserve.” He paused, then his eyes glowed down at her. “After you are my wife, I will devote myself night and day to helping you remember your past. I swear it.”
She swallowed, picturing how wonderful it would be to be his wife. How right it would be, to be married as they awaited the birth of their child. Perhaps then her body wouldn’t be so afraid for him to kiss her.
Perhaps her sense of honor would accept far more than a kiss.
“It would be selfish of me to accept,” she gasped, clinging to her decision by her fingernails.
He traced her tender, bruised lower lip with his fingertip. “It would be selfish of you to refuse. Marry me. For the baby’s sake.” He paused. “For mine.”
She shuddered as his stroke against her lip sent sparks down her body, making her nipples tighten, causing her to shiver all over.
He thought she was being selfish when she was only refusing him for his own sake?
She exhaled. She couldn’t fight it anymore. Not when all she wanted to do was be loved and protected and m
ake sure her baby was, too.
“Marry me,” he murmured between kisses to her eyelids, her forehead, her throat. She could hardly think straight. He held her so gently, so tenderly. With such love. “Marry me now.”
Her eyes were blurry with tears as she stared up at his darkly handsome face. There was a halo of light behind his head, and in the distance she could see birds flying up through the darkly shifting gray sky.
Then he lowered his lips to hers.
Her last thought before he kissed her was that she couldn’t remember loving him, but perhaps she didn’t need to remember.
Perhaps…she could just fall in love with him all over again.
CHAPTER SIX
KISSING Eve was like falling into hell.
It was fire. Sheer fire running through him. Talos placed his hand on the back of her head, his fingers twining in her beautiful hair, as he deepened the kiss.
For months, he’d hated her. Hungered for her.
Was that why finally kissing her now overwhelmed his senses more than ever before?
It wasn’t just desire that had changed the kiss, he realized. It was Eve. The kiss was different because she was different.
Wrenching away, he looked down at her. Her eyes remained closed. A blissful smile traced her full, bare lips. In her new clothes and hairstyle, she appeared sweet, natural and true.
The Eve he remembered had been none of those things.
Her eyes were still closed as she leaned forward, licking her lips with a tiny dart of her pink tongue. He nearly groaned. He wanted to take her to bed. Now. He’d already started to pick her up to take her back to the hotel when he caught himself.
No!
He took a deep breath. He couldn’t forget who he was really dealing with. The kind, innocent girl in front of him was an illusion. The real Eve Craig was a shallow vixen, a selfish liar. She’d given him her virginity just so she could betray him for another man. He couldn’t let her win.
This time, the victory would be his.
“Marry me,” he demanded, barely holding himself back from kissing her again. “Marry me now.”
“All right,” she whispered. “All right.”
He exhaled in a rush. Pulling away, he looked down at her fiercely. “Today.”
“I’ll marry you today,” she murmured, looking up at him with a happy, almost tearful smile.
“Talos? Getting married?” a man said behind them. “I can’t believe I just heard that!”
Talos whirled around in consternation to see an old friend grinning at him. The man split his time between New York and Tuscany—what the hell was he doing in Venice?
“Roark,” he said faintly. “What are you doing here?”
“I never thought I’d see this day,” Roark Navarre replied with a snicker. “You always said you’d never get married. You gave me a hell of a time when I married Lia. How the mighty have fallen!” Laughing, he took a step forward. “I can’t wait to meet the woman who—”
Then Eve shyly turned to face him, and the grin dropped from Roark’s face.
He stopped, his eyes widening.
Eve snuggled back in Talos’s arms. A pink blush suffused her cheeks as she looked at Roark with quiet happiness.
His old friend gave Talos a sharply questioning glance. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Eve blinked, furrowing her brow. She glanced between the two men. “What do you mean? A joke?”
“He just can’t believe a woman like you would settle for a man like me,” Talos told her lightly, then over Eve’s head, he stared hard at Roark. “Isn’t that right?”
His friend got the message. “Yes. Exactly right.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m settling exactly,” Eve teased him, then looked back at Roark. “Have we met?”
Roark frowned, blinking as if he were in some kind of weird upside-down world. “Several times. At parties, mostly. You were once on a charity committee with my wife.”
“Oh.” Eve held out her hand with a friendly, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I’ve had some memory problems lately. What’s your name?”
“Roark Navarre. My wife is Lia.”
“Lovely to meet you. Is she here?”
“No. She’s at home with our kids in Tuscany.” Roark shook her hand, then shot Talos a questioning look. “I came to Venice to buy her a gift. Today’s our third wedding anniversary.”
“How romantic!”
Roark cleared his throat. “Not as romantic as the two of you, it seems. You’re really getting married today?”
“Yes,” she said shyly, glancing back at Talos. She radiated contentment and quiet joy.
Roark had reason to look shocked, Talos thought. He was one of the few people who knew the whole story of how Eve had stolen the documents from his safe and given them to his American rival, who’d promptly released them to the press with all sorts of nasty insinuations. Roark was undoubtedly wondering why, instead of ripping her head off for nearly ruining his billion-dollar company, Talos had proposed that she become his wife.
Roark wasn’t much of a talker—the two men had become friends over mutually beneficial business deals in New York and the occasional Knicks basketball game—but any moment he might say something to give it away.
Once Eve realized their past wasn’t as rosy as he’d implied, she would never agree to marry him today. And she’d already had her first memory. The clock was ticking. The rest might come tumbling down at any moment. She could get her memory back, then all would be lost. His revenge. His child’s name. He had to marry her as soon as possible. Now, before she remembered everything and ran away again, this time taking his baby with her.
“Yes, we’re getting married today,” Talos confirmed. “And we have additional good news,” he said evenly. “We’re having a baby.”
“Oh,” Roark said, then, “Oh.” He cleared his throat, then suddenly smiled, as if it all made sense now.
A great time to leave. “So if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way…”
“On your way!” Roark shook his head, clapping Talos heartily on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t hear of it. Come down to Tuscany, man. Just three hours’ drive from here. I was just headed back home.”
“But it’s your anniversary,” Eve blurted out. “We couldn’t possibly intrude.”
“Nonsense.” He grinned. “I’ll call Lia. She hasn’t planned an event for ages, since she’s been home with the babies. She’ll love the excuse for an impromptu party. And she’s been wanting a chance to show off the new place since we finished rebuilding the castle…”
“A castle?” Eve breathed. “In Tuscany?”
“Yes. The oldest part is the medieval walls around the rose garden. Particularly beautiful in September. ‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,’ and all that,” he added, looking a bit embarrassed as he glanced down at the package in his arms.
“Keats,” she said in surprise.
“Lia loves poetry,” he sighed. He held up the wrapped package. “It’s a first edition.”
Eve shot Talos an imploring look. “It all sounds lovely.”
A romantic wedding? With his friends in attendance?
“Absolutely not,” Talos said firmly. “We’re fine with a quick visit to fill out the paperwork here.”
Leaning against his chest, Eve reached her arms up over his neck and looked back at him pleadingly. “Oh please, Talos. I would far rather have a real wedding with some of your friends then just with strangers.” She paused and suddenly looked wistful. “With no friends and no wedding party, it wouldn’t seem quite real.”
No, it wouldn’t, Talos thought crossly. And that was just the point. This marriage wasn’t real. It was a means to an end.
“But I understand,” she said with a sigh. “You don’t want to bother your friends on their anniversary.” She brightened. “Perhaps we could wait a few days, plan something here in Venice and invite them.”
“All right,” Talos said through clenched teeth.
He would lose this battle to win the war.
“All right?” she repeated.
“We’ll wed in Tuscany.”
“Oh, thank you!” she cried, whirling around in his arms to embrace him. “You’re so good to me!”
“I’ll get my car,” Roark said.
“No.” Holding her in his arms, Talos looked over her head at Roark. “My men will sort out your car. We’ll take my plane. There must be no delay.”
“I understand.” Glancing between the two of them with an amused grin, his friend gave a snort. “I’ve felt that way myself, too.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll tell Lia we’re on our way.”
Eve had never expected when she woke up that morning that today would be her wedding day. Or that she would get married in a castle in Tuscany.
The beautiful Lia Navarre, called Contessa by her housekeeper, had immediately taken Eve under her wing. She’d treated her like a dear friend, even though they’d apparently met only once or twice before. When Eve had nervously told her about her amnesia, Lia had only laughed and said she thought amnesia would be an asset in any marriage.
“Believe me,” she’d added dryly, “there are a few things about my own marriage I wouldn’t mind forgetting.”
Eve had watched in awe as Lia simultaneously arranged for a designer to bring six wedding dresses into the bright morning room and organized flower arrangements over the phone, all as she chattered in Italian with her three-year-old daughter and nursed her new baby son to sleep in her arms.
“I hope to be a mother with half your skill,” Eve said wistfully as the wedding designer helped her try on yet another dress. She watched Lia tuck her sleeping baby into a nearby bassinet. “You do everything so well, and all at the same time.”
Lia looked up with a snicker. “It might look that way, but believe me, I always wonder if I’m doing enough, or if I’m even doing it right. I’m sure you’ll do much better.” She tilted her head at Eve. “You know, I never knew you very well, but something about you always confused me.”
“What?”
“You’ve cultivated this image as a party girl, but the time I worked with you on a charity fundraiser, I was shocked at your hard work and drive. You are the most determined person I’ve ever met, but you just don’t let on. You hide it. Why?”
