An expectant hush fell as the first bars of the ‘Wedding March’ issued from the organ. Becca stiffened and drew in air through her flared nostrils. On her lap, her fingers twisted. She took a deep breath and told herself, You can do this.
But can I?
An image of her sister’s pale tragic face as Becca had driven her back from the hospital flashed into her head. It was enough to stiffen her resolve.
She had actually cleared her throat in preparation when the hand she had been expecting all afternoon finally fell on her shoulder.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I REALLY don’t think that would be a good idea, do you?’
Good idea? Becca reflected, as the quivering tension left her body in a debilitating rush. That had never had any thing to do with this.
This had always been about standing up, if only in a small way, for Erica and for every other woman who had fallen for that slimy creep’s lies. His future wife needed to know what sort of low-life she was getting married to, and the world needed to know what sort of man Alex Carides actually was.
Who am I kidding? This is about revenge—plain and simple!
The deep, interestingly accented voice, complete with sexy rasp, seemed very close to her ear as he added softly, ‘I don’t think you want to do this.’
Which, in conjunction with the heavy hand on her shoulder, translated as I’ll carry you kicking and screaming from the building if you try. Becca decided to retreat with a little dignity intact.
Chin up, and looking straight ahead, Becca responded to the pressure of those fingers on her shoulder and smoothly rose from her seat, moving up the aisle and walking with little fuss through the metal-studded oak door just to her right which she hadn’t even noticed was there.
Christos was conscious of a slow-burning anger that had started to smoulder the moment he had realised what she intended to do. God knows what ‘just cause’ she had intended to produce, but there was only one logical conclusion to draw. The woman who was going to feature strongly in his fantasies for the foreseeable future was one of Alex’s cast-offs.
A cynical sneer twisted his mouth as he considered the opposite sex’s inability to see beyond his cousin’s winning smile and slick good looks.
The redhead had appalling taste—but she smelt very good! His eyes widened slightly as he recognised that he was angrier now than he had been when he had caught Melina with Alex.
If this wasn’t jet lag he had a serious problem!
Her captor led Becca into a small ante-room. As the heavy door closed it effectively sealed them off from the sounds of the service beyond. At that moment reaction started to set in—in a big way. Her knees began to shake, closely followed by the rest of her.
‘He’s really not worth it, you know.’
‘I know he’s not…’ As she spoke Becca turned her head, inhaled audibly, and added an unthinking and breathy, ‘Goodness!’
Which, under the circumstances—the circumstances being that she was inches away from the most sinfully gorgeous man she had ever seen—was quite restrained. If you were going to be caught, she reflected, you might as well be caught by someone breathtaking. And my goodness, she thought, still slightly stunned by the dark vision of brooding male perfection, he was gorgeous—and then some!
It was perhaps fortunate that the shaky hand she had lifted to her mouth stopped her saying something unconsidered.
Christos watched the colour rush to her cheeks and then fade quite dramatically away, leaving her marble-pale.
‘I think you could do with some fresh air.’ In his opinion that was the very least she looked as if she could do with.
Becca started, and realised that she had been staring at this stranger. Goodness knew how long she had been the prisoner of those hypnotic dark eyes and her own fascination.
She nodded awkwardly.
Her shoulders slumped as she followed the tall man with the longest eyelashes she had ever seen outside. Another minute—that was all she’d needed. She could have wept with sheer frustration. It was so unfair. Why was it that men like Alex Carides never paid the price?
Shame flooded through her. A great sister I am!
Outside, Becca sank down onto a conveniently situated bench that had been fashioned from a tree trunk. She was in no mood to appreciate its aesthetic properties as she bent forward and buried her face in her hands.
‘Later, when you’ve had a chance to think calmly about this, you’ll realise I’ve done you a favour.’
Becca’s head jerked up. ‘A favour?’ she echoed belligerently. ‘Look, I know you were only doing your job— though if you were any sort of security I wouldn’t have got as far as I did,’ she felt impelled to point out. ‘But don’t act as if your motives were altruistic.’
The tall, dark and gorgeous stranger looked startled for a moment, then gave a lop-sided sort of smile that made her undiscriminating tummy muscles quiver appreciatively.
‘I was tempted to let you do it,’ he admitted.
Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. ‘I wanted…wanted…’
‘Calm down.’
He really was the most beautiful man she had ever seen—or even imagined! She ran the tip of her tongue across the outline of her dry lips and fixed him with a resentful glare. ‘You could have looked the other way.’
‘But then,’ he observed, ‘I’d have lost my job.’
Becca gave a distracted sigh. ‘I suppose you would,’ she agreed.
‘Did you really want to stand up and make a fool of yourself like that?’
‘This isn’t about wanting, it’s about…’ She stopped and took a shuddering deep breath as she struggled to regain control. After a few moments her darkened eyes lifted to the face of the man beside her. ‘Tell me, do you think it’s right that he gets away with ruining someone’s life?’
‘I think you should consider it a narrow escape,’ Christos observed drily.
Becca frowned at the platitude. ‘What would you know about it?’
‘I know quite a lot about Alex Carides.’
Which might, she mused, explain his expression of contempt.
‘How can you work for a man like that?’ The thought of being around such a creep made her skin crawl. The thought of being around any Carides full-stop made her skin crawl.
‘A man has to eat.’
She flickered him an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry—I didn’t mean to moralise. Goodness, I’m the last person to do that.’
Her self-deprecating remark wiped all expression from his face.
Confused, Becca watched his dark, cynical gaze drop, and wondered at the almost tangible waves of tension emanating from him. ‘Are you pregnant?’
Becca blinked, confused by the speed with which his manner had transformed from sympathy to frozen condemnation. As she read the distaste in his face twin circles of angry colour appeared on the apples of her pale cheeks.
‘You think that I—’ She bit back her hasty rejoinder. She didn’t owe a total stranger any explanation—though knowing that he believed she had