The Greek Bridegroom

Jace’s gaze narrowed. ‘Every day?’

‘Six out of seven.’ It didn’t bother her. Never had, for she was a morning person. However, after a fourteen-hour day on her feet anything less than six hours’ sleep and she was wrecked.

‘I’ll order coffee.’ Luc signalled the waiter, and she joined Ana in choosing tea, all too aware coffee would keep her awake. How long had they been here? Two hours? Three?

They were almost done, and within half an hour she’d be free to slip behind the wheel of her car and drive home.

Wonderful, she determined as Luc fixed the bill, and she stood to her feet, collected her evening purse, and followed Ana to the foyer.

Her skin prickled in awareness of Jace’s close proximity, and it took considerable effort to move at a leisurely pace. She could almost feel the warmth of his body, and her own stiffened at the light touch of his hand at the back of her waist as they gained the pavement.

‘I’ll see you to your car.’

‘I had a valet attendant park it for me.’

Ana tilted her face as Jace leant down to brush his lips to her cheek. ‘Luc and I can give you a lift back to the hotel.’

‘I’m sure Rebekah won’t mind.’ Jace straightened and shot his cousin a measured look. ‘I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’

Rebekah uttered a silent prayer that Luc would intercede, only the deity wasn’t listening. Ana leant forward and brushed her lips to her sister’s cheek, accepted Jace’s affectionate ‘Goodnight’, then she moved with Luc towards their car.

It was so smoothly effected, she could hardly believe she’d been cleverly manipulated. His hotel was en route to her apartment. Given she had to pass right by the main entrance, it would be churlish to refuse.

However, her mind screamed in silent denial as she waited for the attendant to fetch her car. She didn’t want to be alone with him, ever, and especially not in the close confines of her MG sports car.

What had prompted him to suggest it when she’d been so painstakingly polite all evening? She hadn’t flirted, or given him any reason to think she coveted his attention.

Dammit, just get in the car, drop him off at the hotel, then that’ll be the end of it. Ten, fifteen minutes was all it would take.

There wasn’t a lot of leg-room, and it gave her a degree of satisfaction as he folded his lengthy frame into the front passenger seat.

Rebekah didn’t waste a second, and she gained the street, then headed towards Double Bay. Idle conversation, simply for the sake of it, wasn’t on her agenda, and she didn’t offer a word as she took liberties with the speed limit.

Ten minutes and counting.

It was a beautiful late-spring evening, the dark sky a clear indigo sprinkled with stars. Cool, sharp temperatures promised another fine day, and she directed her mind to the shop’s orders and the stock she’d need to purchase from the markets.

It didn’t work, for she was supremely conscious of the man seated beside her. In the close confines of the car she was aware of the subtle tones of his cologne, the clean smell of his clothes…and the faint male muskiness that was his alone.

Rebekah felt the tell-tale prickle of her skin as her body began an unbidden response. There was warmth, and heat pooled deep inside, intensifying with damning speed as her pulse accelerated to a crazy beat.

His hand rested on one knee, which was close, much too close to the gear-shift, making it impossible not to touch him whenever she changed gears. Avoiding contact without appearing to do so required care, and she wondered if he sensed her disquiet.

What if he did, and he was silently amused? Oh, dammit, just drive. In another five minutes she’d be free of his disturbing presence.

One more set of traffic lights and she’d enter the outer fringes of suburban Double Bay. A sense of intense relief began to descend as she turned into the street housing the main entrance to his hotel, and she drew to a halt in the impressive forecourt.

A uniformed bellboy moved towards the car, and Rebekah turned towards Jace. ‘Goodnight.’

In one fluid movement he captured her face with his hands, then lowered his mouth to hers in an evocative kiss that invaded and seduced. All too brief, it held the promise of more.

Shocked surprise encompassed her features as he lifted his head, and her mouth parted, only to close again as he offered a huskily voiced au revoir before sliding out from the low-slung seat.

She caught the faint gleam in those dark eyes before he turned and walked towards the main entrance.

Damn him. What did he think he was playing at?

She moved the gear-stick with unnecessary force, then sent the car into the street. Her apartment was situated two blocks distant, and she reached it in record time, easing the MG down into the underground car park.

In the lift she castigated herself for not predicting Jace’s move. He’d bargained on the element of surprise, and had won.

So what did it matter? She was unlikely to see him again. But it irked unbearably he’d caught her unawares, and provided a not so subtle reminder that he was aware of her vulnerability, and, even more galling, susceptible to him.

She should have slapped his face. Would have, if his action hadn’t rendered her momentarily speechless.

Ten o’clock wasn’t late, and with only six hours’ sleep ahead of her she should go straight to bed. Instead, she slid off her stilettos and roamed the apartment, too emotionally wound up to settle to an easy sleep.

Nothing on television held her interest for long, and after utilising the remote to flick through every channel she simply switched off the set, collected a magazine and flipped through the pages with equal uninterest before discarding it in disgust.

A derisive sound emerged from her throat as she doused the lights and made for her bedroom.

She could still feel Jace Dimitriades’ touch when she began removing her clothes. As she cleansed her face of make-up she was positive she could still taste him, and she took up her toothbrush and cleaned her teeth, twice.

So vivid was his powerful image, she was prepared to swear he was there with her as she lay in bed staring into the room’s darkness.

Over and over the evening replayed itself, and the memory of his kiss taunted her, awakening her imagination to such a level it became impossible to sleep.

Jace Dimitriades drained the last of his coffee, reached for his suit jacket and shrugged it on, collected his wallet and cellphone, then he exited his hotel suite, took the lift down to ground level and walked out into the sunshine.

He had an hour before he was due to join Luc at a business meeting in the city. Time enough to achieve his objective, he determined as he crossed the street and walked the block and a half to his intended destination.

Blooms and Bouquets was ideally sited, the window display colourful with expertly arranged blooms in numerous vases on stands of varying heights. A background wall held a similar display, and the overall look from outside was a mass of floor-to-ceiling flowers.

The result was visually stunning, and a testament to the two sisters who owned the boutique.

He pushed open the door, registered the electronic buzzer, and offered a greeting to Ana, swivelled his head to include Rebekah, who was deftly assembling a bouquet of orchids at the work table.

‘Jace, how wonderful to see you.’ Ana slid off her chair behind the computer and joined him. ‘Is this a social call?’

He leant down and brushed his lips to her temple. ‘How are you?’ His smile held affectionate warmth. ‘In answer to your question…social and business.’

‘Then let’s get business out of the way first.’

The phone rang, providing a convenient interruption. Not that he really needed one, but it helped. ‘Answer that. Rebekah can organise the order.’

Could she, indeed? From the moment he stepped into the boutique all her senses had snapped into full alert. It was crazy the way her body reacted to the sight of him. Amend that to just thinking about him, she admitted wryly. Hadn’t that very thing kept her awake last night?

Any hope of having Ana deal with him was shot, leaving her with little option but to place the bouquet taking shape onto the work table and move forward to assist him.

He looked…incredible, the dark grey business suit fashioned by a master tailor, fine cotton shirt, impeccably knotted silk tie. But it was the man himself who took hold of her composure and tore it to shreds.

She didn’t like the feeling at all. It had taken two years to repair the damage Brad had wrought and restore a measure of confidence. To have it undermined in any way was something she’d defend to the death.

Rebekah slipped into the polite, professional role with practised ease. ‘Do you have anything particular in mind?’

Good, his presence rattled her. He’d caught the faint tremble in those capable hands, sighted a glimpse of her inner struggle as she geared herself to deal with him. Signs she wasn’t anywhere near as calm as she’d have him believe.

‘A journey is but a series of many steps.’ The quote teased his brain, although he couldn’t be sure of its accuracy or its origin, only that the words were pertinent.

Rebekah Stanford intrigued him. He admired the look of her, the strength of character apparent. The exigent sexual chemistry. But it was more than mere physical attraction. There was mystery surrounding her, something he couldn’t quite pin down.

During the past year he hadn’t been able to dismiss her from his mind. Her features teased his subconscious, the scent and feel of her. The way she’d responded to his touch haunted him…and destroyed anything he thought he could feel for another woman. Plural, he amended ruefully, aware of the few women he’d sought to fill a void.

Now he was back, intent on combining business with pleasure…or was it the other way round? Intent on determining if memory of an emotion still existed, and if it did, just what he intended to do about it.

‘Roses.’ Their velvety texture, exotic perfume, the exquisite petals so tightly budded just waiting to unfold.

‘What colour do you have in mind?’

Rebekah moved towards the temperature-controlled cabinet and indicated several vases holding a variety of colours.

There was the perfection of white, glorious pinks and corals in their various shadings, and deep, dark red.

He didn’t hesitate. ‘The red.’

She opened the glass door, removed the vase and carried it to the work table. ‘How many would you like? The cost—’

‘Is immaterial,’ Jace concluded. ‘Three dozen.’

‘Would you like them delivered? An extra charge applies.’

‘I’ll handle delivery.’

A woman undoubtedly. Hostess, friend, or lover?

If it was a lover, he must possess all the right moves. He’d only been in the country two days.

Rebekah gestured towards a stand containing cards for every occasion. ‘Perhaps you’d like to choose a card and write on it while I fix these.’ She was already reaching for Cellophane, and mentally selecting ribbon.

Within minutes the bouquet was ready, and she attached the card, accepted payment, then handed him the roses.

Jace took time to admire their assembled artistry, then he presented her with them. ‘For you.’ He observed a gamut of emotions chase across her expressive features, and saw her struggle with each and every one of them.

‘Excuse me?’

‘The roses are for you. I suggest you read the card.’

Rebekah read the words with a sense of mounting disbelief. ‘Dinner tonight. Seven.’

‘I’ll collect you.’

‘You don’t know where I live.’ What was she saying? She had no intention of sharing dinner with him.

‘Ana will give me the address.’

‘No.’

One eyebrow slanted in mocking humour. ‘No, Ana won’t give me the address?’

‘No, I won’t accept your invitation.’ The thought of spending time with him wasn’t a good idea.

‘I promise not to bite.’

‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’ She held out the magnificent sheaf of roses. ‘Please take these. I can’t accept them.’

‘Can’t, or won’t?’ His New York-accented drawl held humour, and something else she couldn’t define.

Ana? Where was her sister when she needed her?

It took only a glance to determine Ana was still on the phone. ‘I don’t date.’

The stark admission appeared to have no effect at all. ‘Seven, Rebekah.’ He turned and walked from the shop, and her reiterated no fell on deaf ears.

She swore, and followed it with a husky litany that damned the male species in general and one of them in particular.

‘Oh, my,’ Ana declared as she replaced the receiver. ‘What did he do? Issue an indecent proposal?’

‘He asked me out.’ Rebekah’s voice came out as an impassioned hiss.

‘And that’s the extent of his crime?’

Rebekah tossed the bouquet of roses onto the work table. ‘I’m not going.’

‘Of course not.’

‘How dare he come in here and order roses…?’ She could hardly contain her anger. ‘Three dozen of them.’ Her eyes flashed blue fire. ‘Then give them to me?’

Ana clicked her tongue and shook her head. ‘Very bad taste.’

Rebekah’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m not accepting them.’ She pushed the bouquet into her sister’s hands. ‘You take them home.’

‘Why not you?’ Ana queried reasonably.

‘I’ll return them to stock.’ She spared them a glance, and her artist’s eye admired the blooms’ beauty. Just for a moment she felt a twinge of remorse.

No man had gifted her anything in a while. And never flowers.

‘Who does Jace Dimitriades think he is?’ It was a question that required no answer, and she banked down a further tirade as a customer entered the boutique.

Rebekah was glad of the interruption, although she seethed in silence for the rest of the day. A number of scenarios as to how she’d deal with him crossed her mind. Some of which, should she put them into effect, would be sure to get her arrested for causing grievous bodily harm.

‘Do you have a number where I can contact him?’

It was late afternoon, and Ana was about to leave.

‘Jace?’

‘Of course, Jace.’

Ana’s features assumed a thoughtful expression.

‘It’s been two years since your divorce. Don’t you think it’s time you emerged into the real world again?’

‘You’re advocating I have an affair?’

‘Who are you afraid of?’ Ana queried gently. ‘Jace or yourself?’ She walked to the door, paused and turned to give her sister a warm smile. ‘Think about it.’

Rebekah opened her mouth, then closed it again.

As an exit line, it was without equal.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS after six when Rebekah eased the MG into the underground car park and rode the lift to the seventh floor.

Indecisiveness was not one of her traits, yet for the past hour she’d changed her mind at least a dozen times.

On entering her apartment she crossed to the phone, looked up the number for Jace’s hotel, punched in the digits, only to replace the receiver minutes later. Jace Dimitriades didn’t appear to be in his room, and a request for his cellphone number was politely declined.

Damn. Failure to contact him meant she had little option but to shower and dress in record time. Or stand him up.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she chided silently. A few hours, good food, pleasant conversation… What did she have to lose?

Her sanity, she conceded half an hour later as she replaced the in-house phone, gathered up her evening purse, car keys, then rode the lift down to the lobby.

He stood tall, the image of masculine strength, emanating a sense of power only those totally at ease with themselves were able to exude.

Rebekah met his probing gaze, caught his warm smile, and felt her stomach execute a slow somersault.

Any mental assurance she could survive the evening began to dissipate. Was it too late to change her mind? Way too late, an inner voice mocked with derision.

Jace watched the fleeting emotions evident, defined each and every one of them, and felt a sense of male satisfaction in knowing he affected her.

‘Rebekah.’ He moved forward, appreciating the cut and style of her clothes. The slim black skirt and matching jacket highlighted the creamy texture of her skin, and her make-up was minimal. A touch of gold at her ears and her throat added a pleasing addition. Her hair was drawn into a smooth twist, and his fingers itched to remove the pins and let it fall free.

What would she do if he drew her into his arms and covered that pretty mouth with his own? Undoubtedly she’d react like a frightened gazelle, he decided grimly.

What damage had her ex-husband done to kill her natural spontaneity? Something hardened inside him at the array of possibilities, resulting in a surge of anger against a man he’d never met.

‘We’ll take my car.’

‘I’ve hired a vehicle for the duration of my stay,’ Jace said smoothly, and glimpsed her faint disconcerted glance before it was quickly masked.

She wanted to retain control. It made her feel secure, and she suppressed the momentary uneasiness at Jace’s increasing ability to undermine her confidence.

Together they walked through the entrance doors, and Jace led her towards a gleaming Jaguar, unlocked the passenger door and saw her seated, then he crossed in front of the car and slid in behind the wheel.

Rebekah’s awareness of him became more pronounced within the close confines of the car, and she banked down the onset of nervous tension. Difficult, when her pulse had already increased its beat and she could feel the thud of her heart.

This was madness. She should have said an emphatic no, and, failing that, not left it until the last minute to rescind his invitation.

Except on reflection, his inaccessibility hadn’t really given her much choice.

In the restaurant, Jace deferred to her preference in wine, ordered, then requested the menu.

Rebekah wasn’t sure she could eat a thing, for her digestive system seemed to be in a mildly chaotic state. And it wasn’t just her digestive system!

Oh, move along, an inner voice prompted. You’re here with him. At least try to enjoy the evening. Pretend. Surely it can’t be too difficult. You managed OK last night.

Yes, but then Luc and Ana had been present. Now she was on her own, and she’d been out of the social scene for too long. It was two years since she’d exercised her social skills to any great degree. One date soon after her divorce had proven to be disastrous, and at the time she’d vowed not to repeat it.

‘Tell me what made you choose to be a florist.’

She took a sip of superb chardonnay, and replaced the goblet onto the table. Blooms and Bouquets…she could do shop-talk. ‘The perfection of professionally grown blooms, their textures, colours and scents. The skill in assembling them together so the image conveys something special to the person to whom they’re gifted.’

Jace watched her features become animated, her blue eyes deepen and gleam like blue topaz as she elaborated on her craft. Did she know how attractive she was? Or how deeply she appealed to him?

On every level, not just the physical.

‘The pleasure, comfort and solace they provide for every occasion,’ she continued, smiling in reflection of the many memories she’d shared where warmth and the sheer joy of making someone’s day a little brighter became paramount.

‘One imagines there’s a downside?’ he probed, and watched as she wrinkled her nose.

‘Early starts, long days on your feet, dish-pan hands from having them constantly in and out of water.’ She offered him a wry smile. ‘Difficult customers who are impossible to please. The rush to get orders out on time. Incorrect addresses, mistakes made with deliveries by the courier.’ She effected a negligible shrug. ‘Like any business, there are the accompanying problems.’

The waiter delivered their starters, and they each began eating. The prawn cocktail was succulent with a delicate sauce on a bed of shredded lettuce, and Jace forked his with evident enjoyment.

Did he enjoy women as much as he enjoyed food? She almost choked at the thought. Where had that come from?

She lifted her goblet and took a sip of wine. ‘Your turn, I think.’

He set his empty dish aside and regarded her with a thoughtful gaze. ‘New York-born to Greek immigrant parents. Graduated from university with a degree in business management.’

Rebekah held his gaze and attempted to define what lay beneath his composed exterior. ‘The condensed version,’ she acknowledged. ‘Business management covers a broad spectrum.’

‘I specialise in takeovers and buy-outs.’

‘Large companies with their backs against the wall?’

‘Something like that.’

‘It fits,’ she said simply.

‘On what do you base that assumption?’

‘You have a ruthless streak,’ she inclined with thoughtful contemplation, aware it was more than that. Leashed strength meshed with an animalistic sense of power, a combination which boded ill for any adversary.

‘I imagine you wheel and deal with cut-throat determination.’ She paused a beat. ‘Mostly you win.’ She doubted he ever lost…unless it was a deliberate tactical manoeuvre.

‘An interesting character analysis,’ Jace accorded with musing cynicism.

The waiter removed dishes, and the wine steward refilled their goblets.

Soft piano music provided a pleasant background for the muted buzz of conversation.

‘You have family in New York?’

‘Parents, one brother, two sisters, and several nieces and nephews.’

Was he removed from them, too caught up being a high-flying entrepreneur and too involved in his own life?

‘My mother insists we all get together once a fortnight for a family dinner,’ Jace drawled. ‘Madness and mayhem would be an accurate description.’

‘But fun?’ She had a mental image of adults laughing, chiding children, noisy chatter and a table groaning with food and wine.

‘Very much so.’

Did he take his women…it had to be plural, although presumably he was discriminative…to visit?

‘Not often, no.’

Rebekah endeavoured to still her surprise, and failed. ‘You read minds?’

‘It’s an acquired skill.’

‘One in which you excel.’

Jace inclined his head, but there was no arrogance apparent, just the assurance of a man well-versed in the vagaries of human nature and possessed of the ability to deal with them.

It was during dessert that Rebekah happened to glance towards the restaurant entrance. Afterwards she couldn’t say what drew her attention there. Instinct, perhaps? Some deep, inner, protective element alerting her to danger?

For a few heart-stopping seconds she prayed she was mistaken, but she’d have known that profile anywhere, the angle of his head…

‘What is it?’

She registered Jace’s voice, and tried to tamp down the sick feeling that filled her stomach.

‘Rebekah?’

Oh, God. Think, she bade silently. There’s a good chance he won’t see you, and if he does, what can he do?

Plenty.

Jace witnessed her pale features as the colour leeched from her cheeks, and her eyes had dulled an instant before she veiled them with her lashes. What, more relevantly who was responsible for rendering her as still as stone?

‘Do you want to leave?’ His voice was quiet, but serious in its intent.

She wanted to say yes. Now, quickly, quietly.

Except that was a coward’s way out, and she’d vowed the day she legally severed all ties with him she’d never allow Brad Somerville to intimidate her again. Ever.

‘My ex-husband has just walked in the door.’

Was she aware that with so few words she’d conveyed so much? Somehow he doubted it.

‘Is it a problem?’

If she stuck with the truth, how would Jace Dimitriades deal with it? A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat. Why in hell would he want to?