Bought by the Greek Tycoon

by Jacqueline Baird

  The devil of it was he could tempt her. In fact, he could probably tempt a saint, Jemma wryly conceded. 'No, remember our deal, Luke. I keep my career.'

  'Okay.' He leapt up off the bed, gloriously naked and unfazed. 'But remember the rest of it, Jemma: you move in here before I return from New York.' And, grasping her chin, he planted a swift, hard kiss on her mouth. 'Give me five minutes and I'll take you back.'

  Jemma noticed he didn't say 'back home', and for a fleeting instant she wondered if Luke could be jealous of her late husband and the life they had shared. No, that was impossible; that would imply Luke cared about her, and she knew for a fact that he didn't. She saw him disappear into the bathroom and hastily scrabbled around to find her panties and her purse. When he returned, dressed in denim jeans and a sweater, she was fully clothed and trying to twist her tumbled mass of hair into some kind of order.

  'Leave it—you're only going to bed,' Luke commanded.

  He left her at her front door with a brief hard kiss. Twenty minutes later she crawled into bed, physically exhausted, but with her mind in turmoil. She didn't understand herself any more. Why had she let the thought of a baby propel her into an impulsive decision to marry Luke? Why had she let a man she didn't like and certainly didn't trust make love to her? She closed her eyes in bewilderment and shame. She didn't recognise herself. Because she hadn't simply let Luke make love to her, she had been a willing, even eager participant—as her aching body reminded her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  'Damn!' Jemma cursed as she put down the phone, turning stormy eyes on Liz. 'That was Luke again. Would you believe it? Apparently I'm to take tomorrow off work because he has arranged for me to go clothes-shopping with Jan at his expense! The nerve of the man! Does he think I'm incapable of dressing myself?' She glared at the telephone in exasperation, und Liz burst out laughing.

  'No, of course not. As a man, he probably thought it was a good way of mending the rift he may have caused between you and Jan because he dated her to get close to you and win you back. Luke's obviously crazy about you, and I think it's so romantic the way he phones you several times a day. If you had any sense you would take the rest of the week off as well, and pamper yourself ready for his return.'

  Romantic, my foot, Jemma thought mutinously, but said nothing. Last Friday she had told Liz she was engaged and given her Luke's version of events. Surprisingly, Liz had swallowed the story whole, and was delighted for her. Now it was Tuesday, and Luke was due back from New York on Thursday. They were flying out to Greece with her family on Friday, for the wedding the following day. The only reason he kept calling her was to inform her of every minute detail of the wedding arrangements. As if she cared! The telephone rang again, and Jemma jumped.

  'You answer it, Liz, and if that's Luke again tell him I'm out,' she snapped. 'Tell him I've gone to move my stuff into his apartment.'

  'And are you?' Liz asked, reaching for the phone.

  'Yes, I am,' Jemma said. 'In fact, I'll take the rest of the week off, as you suggested—if you're sure you can manage?'

  'Of course I can.'

  'Great—I'll see you at the wedding on Saturday.' She slung her bag over her shoulder and dashed out of the shop before Liz could change her mind. If she heard one more comment from Liz, her father, Jan or anyone on how lucky she was to have landed a gorgeous multimillionaire, she would scream. Plus, she had an important visit to make that she could put off no longer.

  After a quick stop at home to wash and change she drove down to Eastbourne. She wasn't looking forward to telling her in-laws she was marrying again, but surprisingly Sid and Mavis took the news remarkably well and were happy for her, telling her she was too young to stay single for the rest of her life and that Alan would have said the same.

  Late the next afternoon, feeling hot and harassed, Jemma shoved the shoestring strap of the simple blue slip dress she was wearing back on her shoulder for about the tenth time, unlocked the door of her house and walked in. Shopping and lunch with Jan had been exhausting, and she dropped the bags she was carrying on the hall table, flexing her aching hands and looking at the emerald and diamond ring on her finger.

  Nervously she twisted it round and round as she walked into the living room. Time was running out; Luke would be back tomorrow, and she hadn't even started to pack or organise her house sale. But did she really need to? A tiny rebellious imp in the back of her mind posed the question.

  She wandered around, touching the familiar items. She picked up her wedding photo, a reminiscent smile curving her mouth, then put it back, her mind made up.

  An hour later she locked the door behind her, leaving her home as it always had been, and drove across London to Luke's apartment with three cases in the boot of her car, packed with clothes and the essentials for everyday living.

  Sam insisted on carrying her luggage up to the penthouse, and she smiled her thanks and gave him a large tip before closing the door behind him. Jemma glanced around the living room; it was as stark as she remembered. She checked out the state-of-the-art stainless steel kitchen. The dining room was much the same—just glass and steel.

  The bedrooms were not a lot better—one white, one blue, functional but soulless. The only surprise was the study, comfy, with book-lined walls, an antique desk, tons of electronic equipment, of course, but also a very attractive fireplace and two high-backed winged armchairs covered in the softest mint-green hide.

  She picked up a suitcase and entered the master bedroom. She hadn't taken much notice of the decor the last time she'd been here, and she was pleasantly surprised. The room was decorated in tones of cream and indigo, and a thick cream carpet with a Grecian border in indigo covered the floor. Long flowing drapes were held back with indigo ties to reveal large glass doors that opened onto a terrace at one side of which was a plump cushioned sofa, chair and a low table. The whole ambience was much softer than in the rest of the apartment.

  Jemma's glance strayed to the massive bed in the centre of the room and an unexpected surge of heat coloured her skin. Quickly she looked away. On the opposite side of the room were two doors, and hastily she walked over.

  She opened the first to discover a luxurious white bathroom, with a double shower and double vanity basins, and in the corner, raised on a dais, a huge whirlpool bath. She closed the door and tried the next one, finding it opened into a dressing room with fitted wardrobes and the same thick carpet following through.

  Jemma quickly unpacked her suitcases and stowed her clothes away. There was plenty of free space; Luke's clothes barely filled one of the wardrobes. Obviously he didn't spend much time here, she thought as she placed her make-up box on the dressing table, and that was good… wasn't it? Lifting her jewellery box from the case, she missed the table and spilt the meagre contents on the floor.

  On her hands and knees, with her head under the table, Jemma was still trying to find the last item of jewellery five minutes later—her platinum heart-shaped locket.

  'Now, that is what I call a welcoming sight!' Luke's body responded with instant masculine enthusiasm on seeing the pert buttocks barely covered by blue silk stuck up in the air, and he chuckled. He recognised that rear with delight, and the relief he felt at finding Jemma already in his apartment was almost euphoric. Unable to resist, he patted her bottom.

  Jemma heard the familiar voice a moment before she felt the hand pat her bottom. Her head jerked up and she hit it on the underside of the table. 'What the hell?' she screeched, and backed out from beneath the table, rolling onto her back and lifting stormy eyes to her nemesis. 'You almost knocked me out, you great baboon.' She lifted a hand to rub her head. To add insult to injury, the hateful man was laughing like a drain…

  'I'm sorry,' Luke spluttered. Her glorious hair was in a tousled mass about her shoulders, her amber eyes as bright as topaz against her flushed skin. The blue silk dress was twisted around her shapely curves, revealing more of her rounded breasts than she was aware of, and his body tightened another not
ch. 'But you have a delightful backside, Jemma, and I couldn't resist.' He reached down a hand to help her to her feet.

  Flustered by his unexpected appearance, and well aware of his amused male scrutiny, her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly. Ignoring his hand, Jemma scrambled inelegantly upright. 'Then it's about time you tried,' she snapped. 'You're a bit long in the tooth to be smacking a woman's bottom,' she said nastily.

  'My, you have led a sheltered sex life, Jemma darling,' he drawled, with a mocking amusement that incensed her even more. Because over the last few days and restless nights, with the memory of his lovemaking fresh in her mind, she had had the same traitorous thought.

  'No one can say that of you, that's for sure,' she shot back, her amber eyes meeting his, and she saw the amusement vanish to be replaced with a much more dangerous gleam. 'And what are you doing here?' She changed the subject abruptly. 'You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow.'

  'I finished earlier than I expected.' He stepped closer, and Jemma stepped back, but was stopped by the edge of the dressing table. 'I couldn't wait any longer.' His hands fastened on her waist and he smiled, a darkly sensual twist of his lips, then slid one hand up her spine to clasp the back of her head. 'To see you.' His dark head bent and Jemma's first instinct was to struggle. 'And do this,' he breathed against her mouth, his tongue slipping between her parted lips. With the warm, moist taste of his tongue against hers Jemma's heart leapt in her breast, and any thought of struggling was lost in the hungry pleasure of his mouth.

  She melted against him, her hands of their own volition stroking across his shoulders. She was intoxicated by the scent of him, the enveloping power of his embrace, the driving passion of his mouth, and when he ended the kiss she groaned in protest.

  Luke muttered something that was unintelligible and lifted her onto the table. His mouth covered the pulse that beat madly in her throat and sucked at the soft flesh with ferocious intensity, and when he slipped the strap of her dress from her shoulder and covered her breast, her nipple peaked instantly against the palm of his hand.

  His hand fell away, and she moaned out loud as his mouth enveloped the aching peak. With tongue and teeth he drove her wild. Then his hand found the hem of her skirt and slid up to stroke over the silk of her panties between her thighs. She gave a tortured gasp and he lifted his head. Their eyes met, the question asked and answered without a word being spoken, and his fingers slipped beneath her panties and caressed her damp silken flesh even as his mouth moved once more to torment her other breast.

  Jemma had never experienced anything like it, so hot and instant was her arousal. She gasped, her legs instinctively parting to give him better access, her thighs quivering as she teetered on the brink of climax. Then suddenly he stopped and straightened, and only her elbows stopped her falling flat on the dressing table. His hand slid down her thigh and took her panties off with incredible ease.

  She stared, wild-eyed and wanting, as she watched him unzip his fly. Then in a frenzy of explosive passion his hands slid under her to grasp her buttocks and he thrust into her, forcing her back with the driving power of his possession so that instinctively she locked her legs around his waist. His mouth crashed down on hers as he thrust to the hilt, again and again, each stroke of his rigid pulsating flesh driving her higher and higher until their bodies climaxed together in a volcanic explosion of fire and liquid heat. His hips jerked to a shuddering halt while Jemma clung to him with arms and legs as her inner muscles continued to convulse around him.

  Luke cursed under his breath. He had never lost control and taken a woman so quickly since he was a callow youth, and the last thing he'd wanted was to frighten Jemma off days before the wedding. He saw the shock in her eyes, and, pushing the straps of her dress back over her shoulders, he withdrew from her body. Holding her steady with one hand, he quickly adjusted himself and zipped up his fly. Then he lifted her off the table and smoothed the dress down over her hips. 'Jemma…' He said her name and she looked at him with huge rounded eyes but didn't say a word. 'Are you okay?'

  Jemma was too stunned to speak, and too embarrassed to hold his gaze. She felt as if she had been hit by a lightning bolt, whereas Luke was fully dressed and not even the knot in his tie had moved. An instant replay of the last five minutes flashed in her mind and she blushed fiery red. Perched on the table, with her dress around her waist, totally exposed, she had never felt such primitive lust in her life before. Her gaze finally lifted warily to Luke's face, to see him watching her with a guarded expression.

  Was she okay? She lowered her eyes again—and it was the tie that did it. She laughed, and if there was a touch of hysteria in the sound Luke didn't appear to notice. 'I'm fine,' Jemma said when she could finally control her voice. 'And you were right earlier—I am a bit naïve about sex. I've never experienced sheer animal lust before,' she told him honestly. 'I suppose I could get used to it, in moderation, though I think I prefer a bed.'

  'Is that an invitation?' Luke grinned, and, reaching out, he gently brushed a few stray tendrils of her hair behind her ear.

  She heard slight relief in his tone, mingled with the blatant sexuality of suggestion. 'No,' she said swiftly, and attempted a sophisticated smile back.

  Basically, Luke was a magnificent specimen of the male sex. He was extremely successful, and he had a very high sex drive that he indulged wherever and with any woman he wanted to. But then she had always known that, so it was no real surprise. What did surprise her was the knowledge that she was equally capable of enjoying sex without any emotional attachment to the person she was having sex with. Perhaps she was becoming the sophisticated woman Luke had called her. But now was not the time for self-analysis, with Luke watching her, so, blanking all thoughts of sex from her mind with some difficulty, Jemma straightened her shoulders and sidestepped away from him. 'Before you appeared,' she said, returning to what was really important to her. 'I was looking for something I had dropped on the floor.'

  'So that's why you were under the table: I did wonder when I saw your bottom in the air.' He chuckled.

  'Yes, well, my locket isn't under there.' Jemma frowned, not in the least amused, and glanced around the floor. 'It must have bounced off the table and got hidden in the carpet somewhere.' She looked at Luke. 'Be careful where you step because I don't want it broken; it was a present from Alan on my twenty-first birthday.'

  Luke was taken aback by Jemma's revelation. Till now he had been more than satisfied—Jemma responded to him sexually and had agreed to their marriage—but now he was far from satisfied. That she could switch from having such intense sex with him to thinking about her late husband two minutes later was not particularly flattering to his male ego.

  'I'll help you look,' Luke offered, but the sad little smile and murmured thanks Jemma gave him in return infuriated him still further. His gimlet gaze sweeping around the floor, he quickly spotted the locket and casually moved to step on it. 'Oops, I appear to have found it.' He bent down and picked up the very much dented locket. 'Sorry about that, Jemma.' And he dropped the mangled locket in her outstretched hand. He wasn't proud of his actions, but anything was permissible in love and war. He stiffened. Love? Where the hell had that come from? Love was not a word in his vocabulary… 'I need to shower and change,' he said abruptly, tugging at his tie and feeling very hot under the collar. I'll buy you another locket.'

  Jemma glanced down at the locket in her hand and curled her fist around it. It was her last link with Alan, she thought with a bittersweet sadness. Well, not quite the last link—she still had the house, and she refused to feel guilty about deceiving Luke. 'Thanks, but that won't be necessary,' she said coolly, lifting her head and looking straight at him, but he avoided her gaze.

  'As you like.' His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug and Jemma had the oddest notion he had deliberately broken her locket. 'I'd like a coffee, but don't bother with anything to eat—I have a bit of work to do in the study. We can go out to dinner later on.' As she watched he removed
his jacket, then started on his shirt buttons.

  He infuriated her! She hadn't intended cooking for him anyway. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but then stopped. She hadn't really thought about the practicalities of living with Luke, but now she was forced to. In three days they would be husband and wife, and unless she wanted her life to become a living hell she had to ignore the reasons why he was marrying her and try to have a civilised relationship with him. She curled the locket in the palm of her hand… The end of an era…

  'Okay, I'll get you that coffee,' she murmured. In her fragile state, Jemma didn't need to see him strip naked, and she darted out of the room to the kitchen.

  Later, seated at an intimate table for two in an exclusive restaurant, lingering over a cup of coffee after an excellent meal, Jemma allowed herself a smile.

  'What's amusing you?' Luke asked, taking a sip of brandy from a balloon glass.

  'I was just thinking it's ironic that this is the same restaurant I was going to bring my father to for his birthday, and instead I got you. In a few days' time we'll be married, and yet this is the first time we have actually been out together. Doesn't it bother you that you know nothing about me, Luke?’

  The meal had been wonderful, and to her surprise Jemma had discovered Luke was an intelligent and witty companion—when he wasn't trying to get her into bed.

  'Not in the slightest.' He put down his glass and put his hand over hers resting on the table. ‘I know all I need to know. You're a very beautiful and sexy woman.'

  'I didn't mean sex.' She tried to pull her hand away, but his fingers linked with hers and prevented her.

  'Let me finish. I know we are compatible in that area.' He freed her hand and, leaning forward, reached to tilt her chin with one finger, his silver eyes holding hers. 'There's a powerful chemistry between us—you can't deny it. You melt when I touch you, and it's the same for me. That's a big plus in any marriage, and as for the rest, we have a lifetime to get to know each other.' Heat scorched Jemma's cheeks. The sexual tension was back in full force, and she heaved an inward sigh of relief when Luke sat back and was silent for a moment. Then he continued, 'But I also know you and I both want the same thing—to have a child or two and be a family, and at the same time make the families we already have happy.'