Pandora missed the next step.
His fingers shifted under hers. “Loosen your grip on my hand. You’re trying too hard. Listen to the music, feel it ebb and flow through your body.”
Pandora concentrated on the plaintive wail of the singer’s voice.
“She’s singing about her love who went away.” His voice was low. “Each day she waits at the wharf for his boat to return, she is sure he will come back for her.”
The music caught Pandora up. Loss and grief filled the singer’s voice. Tears thickened the back of Pandora’s throat.
“That’s right. Now you have it.” Zac sounded triumphant.
Pandora jerked back to reality.
She was following the steps. “How on earth did that happen?” she asked, amazed.
“Greek music comes from the heart. The dancing translates the music. Your body must feel the music.” His gaze held hers. “It is easy. It’s about what you feel. Don’t make it difficult by thinking about technique, about complex things. Just feel the emotion. The joy of love, the pain of betrayal. The steps will follow.”
A warm flush of accomplishment filled her. The music flowed through her, her feet shifted, her body sequayed forward as she followed Zac.
Again the music changed.
The line broke apart.
Zac tugged her hand. “We’ll sit this one out.” A waiter materialised with a tray of champagne flutes and tall glasses of ice water. “Would you like a drink? Champagne?”
She was hot and thirsty from the effort of the dancing. “Just water, please.”
Zac handed her a glass. She sipped, the ice bumping against her top lip. Placing the empty glass on a passing tray, she said, “That was wonderful.”
“Come, let’s go somewhere cooler.” He guided her, skirting the edge of the room. “You picked up the steps easily.”
She laughed up at him. “Not easily. You’ll have to teach me more—when we’re alone.” If that ever happened.
His mouth curved. “Perhaps on our honeymoon, hmm?” He led her through the open French doors. Outside, the night air was warm and stars studded the black velvet sky. Zac reached up and tore off the bow tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
Her heartbeat picked up. “So we’re going to have a honeymoon? Some time together? Totally alone?”
“Oh, yes.” He leaned against a pillar and, reaching out, pulled her toward him, his eyes darkening. “Totally alone. I think we deserve it.”
“Where are we going?”
“I will surprise you. Suffice to say there will be sun, sea and only Georgios and Maria, the couple who look after the villa.”
Excitement thrummed through her. “I can’t wait. When do we go?”
“Tomorrow,” Zac’s voice turned husky. “I, too, can’t wait.”
Inside, the music had stopped.
There was an instant of simmering silence. She could feel Zac’s gaze, intense, waiting.
Waiting for her to move. To do something. Say something. She did not know what he expected. So she did what she wanted. She rose on tiptoe, pressed her lips against his … and the fire caught. Zac moaned, his lips parting under hers.
His mouth was hot and hungry.
Distantly she could hear the next song starting. She blocked it all out. And concentrated on Zac. On that taunting, teasing mouth that she couldn’t get enough of.
Then Zac was straightening. “This isn’t the place for this. Anyone could see us. Come.” He tugged her hand.
“Zac, we can’t just leave,” Pandora protested, casting a frantic glance back inside.
“Of course we can.” He stopped. His gaze was hot, stripping away thought, leaving nothing but a raw awareness of his strength, his masculinity. Perspiration added a sexy sheen to those sculpted cheekbones and his mouth curved in a wickedly hungry smile. “Why should we stay one more minute when we both want to leave?”
“Because …” Pandora tried to summon her objections, to search desperately for a reason. But all she could think of was the way the silk shirt clung to his damp body. His body. Staring at the bare slice of skin at his throat, she swallowed, then said halfheartedly, “Because it’s our wedding and we haven’t cut the cake.”
He shrugged. “The cake can wait. We can cut it at lunch tomorrow. Now come.” Zac gave her hand an impatient tug.
“Lunch?” She stopped.
“For my family. To present my bride to them.” He pulled her to him and linked his arms behind her back.
“Oh.” She’d thought that once tonight was over she’d have Zac to herself. That from tomorrow they’d be alone. On their honeymoon, as he’d promised, without hordes of people and bodyguards. Obviously not. Enfolded in the circle of his arms, she still felt compelled to ask, “I thought we were going on honeymoon?”
“Afterward.” He shot her a rakish smile, his face close to hers. “Be patient, wife. You haven’t had a chance to meet my family—you told me that yourself. I’ve hogged you to myself for five whole days. But the whole clan are here—it will be a while before they’ll get together again. I thought we’d take the opportunity to let you get to know them a little outside the crush of the wedding.”
“I see.” Instantly, she felt contrary, confused. She wanted to be alone with Zac. But she also wanted to meet his family, his best friends. She wanted to have a chance to talk with Angelo and Tariq and get to know them better. She wanted to ask Dimitri and Stacy what Zac had been like as a little boy. And she wanted to meet his sister.
She wanted them to approve of her.
Zac was quite right. She should meet them. Tomorrow. Nerves started to churn in her stomach. “What if they don’t like me?”
One hand came forward and tipped her chin up. “How can they not? You’re perfect.” His teeth glittered in the dim light, and she made out the glimmer of steel in his eyes. “Who would dare question my judgement?”
Her stomach churned some more. Jeez, she was far from perfect. Had Zac set her up on some sort of pedestal? She licked suddenly dry lips. What if his sister hated her? Zac would not tolerate anyone questioning his choice of bride.
Pandora bit her lip and told herself it would be okay. She was the chosen bride of Zac Kyriakos. His family would accept her or face the consequences. They would love her.
As Zac did.
They had to. She’d do her best to make it happen. And what she couldn’t get right, Zac would sort out. She snuggled closer. Sometimes she forgot his power. Sometimes he was simply Zac, the man she adored.
“Stop worrying, everything will be okay.” His head dipped and his lips met hers. Pandora’s breasts brushed his chest and all her concerns vanished. All she could think of was Zac … his hungry mouth, the strength in the hard arms around her, holding her close, making every atom in her body vibrate with longing.
He tore his mouth away and drew a gasping breath of air. “Now can we leave?”
“Yes.” She sighed.
Two
Zac strode to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the sitting room that formed part of the master suite and poured himself two fingers of the single malt scotch whisky he preferred. A couple of long, raking strides took him to the window. He stared blindly