The Greek Tycoon's Mistress. Julia James

was going on in his mind.

      Then, in a very foreign gesture, he gave a shrug, his broad shoulders moving with perfect musculature beneath the material of his polo shirt, stretched tautly across his chest. The movement distracted her, making her realise just how very perfect that pectoral musculature was. No running to seed for this captain of industry! However he kept fit, he kept very fit indeed…

      She snapped her mind back to what he was saying.

      ‘Please, do not apologise. It was perfectly understandable.’

      The handsome acceptance of her expression of regret was so astonishing that Leandra simply stared at him. There was something different about him suddenly, she realised, and then worked out what it was. The cynical look in his eye had disappeared. The expression in it now was bland.