“Don’t be ridiculous.” She clutched the robe closer about her body, and he laughed. And that had her ire rising…as well as her temperature and heart rate.
“Is it?” He leaned back in his chair, his words a low rumble in his chest sent her emotions into a scramble.
“Answer me.” She slid her fingers in her long locks and shoved them off her forehead. “Did you…I mean did we…you…me—”
“Yes and no.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Coffee?” He picked up the briki, the coffee pot, and motioned her to sit down for breakfast.
“Don’t change the subject.”
An impatient sigh filtered from his mouth, and he took his time refilling his cup, then hers. “You were exhausted after the flight and conked out after putting Amy to bed.” He raised the demitasse, took a long sip and reset it on the saucer. “Good coffee. You should have some.”
The man was maddening. Aggravating.
Hot. Sexy.
Dressed in designer slacks and an open necked shirt with a gold chain around his neck, he exuded a casual confidence.
Deceptive. The thought criss-crossed her mind, and a sound, almost a snort tickled her throat, and she gulped it down. Beneath his casual air coiled the strength and power of a puma which, once unleashed, tore up everything in its path. His unquenchable drive fueled him to succeed in everything he did.
In everything except their marriage.
The snort blasted from her then, and although she slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, it tainted the air between them.
He quirked a brow, and she lowered her lashes a fraction, glancing at his rolled up sleeves.
His forearms were smattered with dark hair, and his hands invoked memories—him holding her, touching her in her most intimate places, loving her. Erotic sensations frisked her body, and she crunched the feelings she’d just as soon forget between her teeth.
“I removed your shoes and outer clothing—made you more comfortable.”
“How thoughtful,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm, her toes curling on the tile. Compared to him she looked and sounded like a shrew, and that compounded her resentment against him.
“I can be.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“Why, next to you.”
“No.”
“Mmm, yes.”
She wanted to smack the ‘gotcha’ look off his face, but instead, she leaned against the balustrade and gripped the twisted metal rods between her fingers. Jasmine leaves brushed her skin, and the white star-shaped flowers filled the air with exotic scent.
“Can’t have the help gossiping, now can we?”
“That never worried you before.”
His eyes glittered, his shoulders tensed. “Indeed.”
The early morning sun warmed her back, and she turned, her gaze skimming over the bougainvillea in the garden below, the scarlet blooms a contrast to the whitewashed villa. Lifting her lashes, she looked far out to sea at the sailboats dotting the horizon, and her thoughts went into reverse.
The flight from Paris to Athens had been anything but cordial. Taciturn, Michalis had sat next to her, his gaze glued on the sleeping child in her arms; but when he shifted his eyes to her, his tender look became eclipsed by the hardening of his pupils. A rip of dread pierced her, and she’d clutched Amy closer to her heart.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she’d said between her teeth.
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve committed some great sin.”
He scratched his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Conscience nipping at you?”
“No,” she hissed. “It’s not my conscience that’s guilty, it’s—”
“You’d better get some rest.” He’d hauled himself up, reached for his laptop from the overhead compartment and settled on the seat across the aisle.
Several hours later, the Leonadis jet taxied to a stop on the runway of Athens International Airport, and Julia still refused to relinquish the child in her arms. Not during the drive to the villa, and not even after the chauffeur had set their suitcases in the foyer, and she and Michalis stood alone in the huge house.
“Let me help you with her.” Michalis had reached for the baby, but she twisted away and climbed the stairs. “The nursery’s on the right, adjacent to our bedroom.”
She faltered in her step, but kept going, shutting her mind to everything and everyone. Especially Michalis, and his ‘our bedroom’ announcement. A maid appeared in the hallway, opening the nursery door and Julia stepped inside, hugging her daughter even tighter.
The nursery was a child’s dream. A rainbow mural decorated one wall, teddy bear mobiles hung from the ceiling and stuffed toys were everywhere. The baby crib made of the finest polished wood and painted with cartoons, had the softest linen, and no doubt the most expensive.
A snicker trickled from her mouth. Michalis had given Amy everything in one day that money could buy…everything Julia hadn’t been able to give her in a year and might never be able to do.
Michalis wouldn’t spare any expense for what, or whom, he considered belonged to him. And he’d laid claim to her and her baby for the next month. Her chest grew tight. Would she have to forfeit her child to Michalis at the month’s end?
The query taunted her mind, sending a ripple of panic through her. She couldn’t compete with the Leonadis’ wealth. An explosion of air from her mouth, and the maid shot her a puzzled look. Julia gave her a brief smile, and swallowing emotion bruising her insides, laid her daughter on the fluffy mattress. Drawing the light blanket over her shoulders, she bent over and pressed her lips to the child’s brow.
“I’ll have your bags unpacked Kyria—”
“Thank you.” Julia bypassed her into the adjoining bedroom. “But that can wait.” As soon as the door closed behind her, she’d crashed out on the king-sized bed, squeezing the pillow in her arms. A tear had oozed between her lashes, then another…
“I’ve hired a nanny,” Michalis announced, his words echoing on the sunlit veranda and rocking Julia from her thoughts.
“What?”
“By tonight, you’ll be fully rested,” he said, his meaning unmistakable. “And to ensure you stay that way, I’ve hired a nanny for our daughter.”
“No way.”
“Yes.” Michalis lifted the demitasse to his mouth and took another sip of the Greek brew, fixing her with a piercing look over the rim. “It’ll ensure we won’t be disturbed—”
“Michalis, I don’t want my daughter looked after by a nanny. I’m perfectly capable—” She tossed him a cool glance over her shoulder, keeping her voice light but beneath her fingers, the steel design of the railing embedded in her palms. “There’s no need.”
“There is.” He slammed the cup down and twisted in his chair, the sunlight glinting on his hair. Even as her mind rejected, another emotion prodded her to reach out, brush back the stray lock from his forehead … craving to touch him.
A seagull squawked, snapping her from her foolishness and reminding her why she was here and what she stood to lose.
“Why?”
He blotted the corner of his mouth with a napkin,