Mediterranean Tycoons

‘Why wait to see an ancient work of art, when I have a perfect work of art in my grasp?’ he said with blunt urgency. ‘My apartment is not far.’

She wanted to lash out at him for looking at her with such arrogant possession. Yesterday she might have done but, after last night, all she could think of was his sensual mouth on hers, his large, strong, naked body possessing her.

He pulled her along the road and into the shadowed entrance hall of a large building. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and she could sense the powerful sexual tension that gripped his great frame. At the foot of the stairs, he glanced down at her and, as if compelled, he backed her against the wall and covered her mouth with his own in a ravishing kiss that left her boneless when he finally lifted his dark head.

‘Hell! Why did I choose the top floor?’ he grated and dragged her up the stairs, finally turning around and sweeping her up in his arms, for the final two flights.

He opened the door, and she was back where she had been last night. This time, Marcus didn’t hesitate but marched straight into the bedroom.

Eloise didn’t have time to survey her surroundings as he lowered her down the lean length of his superbly fit body. She could feel the tension in his every muscle, the faint musky scent all male and all Marcus, and she quivered, inside heat surging in her lower body.

His hands dispensed with the buttons down the front of her blouse with a speed that smacked of vast experience, but Eloise didn’t care; she grasped his lean waist and hung on as he slipped her blouse from her shoulder and flicked her bra open and off.

With a groan Marcus dropped his head and suckled at an erect dusky nipple, and her hands clenched fiercely in his waist, an involuntary groan of pleasure torn from her throat. Her head fell back, and then her whole body as Marcus eased her down on the bed and, with hands that shook slightly, divested her of her trousers and briefs.

His own clothes were shrugged off in a second and he was over her, large, lean and magnificently aroused. She was awed by his spectacular male beauty and helpless in his grasp as his strong hands swept the whole length of her slender frame. One hand swept upwards over the curve of her thigh, and with his other he caught her throat, and his mouth crashed down on her already parted lips.

His long fingers explored the silken red curls at the juncture of her thighs with devastating effect, even as his mouth trailed down her throat and back to her aching breasts. He lingered there, teasing her sensitive flesh until every nerve in her body tautened to breaking point, in fiery anticipation.

‘I have to have you now,’ Marcus muttered thickly.

He bit down on a distended nipple, then soothed with his tongue and she writhed beneath him, consumed by a hunger, a need so intense she cried out his name.

The sound of his name from her lush lips drove him to the edge and Marcus arched back and, cupping her bottom, he thrust deep into her hot, tight, silken sheath.

Eloise dug her fingers into the night-black hair of his head, and gave herself up in wild, wanton delight to the primitive joining. She was inflamed to fever pitch, and when he took her mouth again in a savage admission of need she returned the kiss, her tongue duelling with his. His great body stilled, fighting to retain control.

Eloise slid her hand down the indent of his spine, felt him shudder, and clenched his buttocks, needing him to move, to ease the intolerable tension, but he stayed fast.

Lifting his dark head, black eyes burning down into hers. ‘You make me…’ but whatever he had been going to say was lost as Eloise involuntarily clenched and tightened her legs around him.

He moved hard and fast and Eloise naturally, wantonly picked up the furious rhythm and was spun into a world of pure sensation that exploded in a shattering conflagration like a star going nova. She clung to him, whimpering cries escaping from her.

Marcus, his breathing audible, stared down into her dazed green eyes, and slowly eased from her allowing her limp body to sink back on the bed. His dilated black eyes still fixed to her, he rolled off her and, brushing her lips with his, he leant on one elbow and stared down at her in silence for a long moment, his large hand stroking down her still-quivering body with a tactile delight.

‘Exquisite,’ Marcus murmured softly. ‘I have never seen you totally naked in the light of day,’ and he dropped another kiss on her brow.

Only then did Eloise realise it couldn’t be more than three in the afternoon, the summer sun was shinning though the window, lighting every corner of the bedroom, and she was stark naked with a man who was her enemy. ‘Oh.’ Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her breasts.

Marcus’s narrowed gaze swept her hectically flushed face, and lower to her defensive arms over her chest, and then he burst out laughing.

‘What’s the joke?’ she demanded, and with a speaking glance Marcus led his gaze linger on her folded arms, and lower to where his long leg lay over her lower body, then back to her face.

‘A bit late to be bashful, darling.’ Marcus fought to restrain his laughter. ‘After what we’ve just done.’

Eloise saw the humour in her defensive action, and chuckled. ‘Yes, well, I am shy.’

‘You can certainly act shy,’ Marcus drawled and, lifting a finger, he traced the smiling curve of her mouth. ‘But, thankfully—’ he surveyed her with delighted masculine satisfaction ‘—in bed you are the most wonderfully passionate, sexy woman. I can’t get enough of you.’

Eloise almost laughed again, but it was with sick humour. If only he knew since the age of twenty she had never looked at a man. Before that, Marcus himself had been the only male she had allowed to touch her and he still was….

Marcus scanned her naked body spread out before him, and let his finger trail from her mouth to circle the areolae of her breasts; he felt her tremor and, lifting his dark head, he scrutinised her with a reawakening of desire. A tiny muscle pulsed at the corner of his mouth. ‘I doubt I will ever have enough of you,’ he breathed.

Held by his darkening eyes, she was shaken by his unconcealed passion, and tore her gaze away to look somewhere over his shoulder. To believe him would be the road to hell, she knew. She could not let her guard down, but as he once more took her mouth in a hot hungry surge of passion Eloise caved in. Her hands gripped his smooth shoulders, and skimmed over the tautness of the muscles flexing in his back and, closing her eyes, she bowed to the inevitable.

‘You are so hot, so tight,’ Marcus rasped as once more he drove her to the heights and, groaning her name, he thrust deeply into her one last time, felt her come and then jerked violently with the force of his own release.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MARCUS flopped over onto his back carrying her with him, folding her in his arms so tenderly, for a second Eloise felt as she had the very first time they made love. But not quite… Then she had felt as though they were one single identity bound by love. Now she knew better…

Her mouth pressed a brief caress against his bronzed chest, breathing in the hot, moist scent of him. Then she lifted her head and collided with slumberous dark eyes. ‘I need the bathroom,’ she said prosaically and wriggled from his hold.

Standing in the shower cubicle, the warm spray beating down on her, Eloise tried to come to terms with what she had done, but before she could get her chaotic emotions in any kind of order, the door of the shower stall opened and Marcus appeared. Very tall and broad but without an inch of fat on his muscular frame, his black hair and eyes gleaming, he was magnificently male and incredibly gorgeous.

‘Allow me,’ he chuckled, knowing exactly what she was thinking, and took the soap from her numb fingers.

What followed was a lesson in sensuality that left Eloise weak as a kitten, and clinging limply to his wide shoulders as he carried her to the bed and tucked her in.

She groaned and rolled over on the wide bed, fighting the demons in her mind, and suddenly opened her eyes. It was dark, and for a moment she did not know where she was; then she remembered. She glanced across the bed. She was alone.

Five minutes later, dressed and with her hair combed back in a ponytail, she nervously made her way into the sitting room. Marcus was at the desk, a laptop computer open in front of him, obviously working.

What did one say after spending all afternoon in bed with a man? she thought despairingly. ‘I think I’d better be going now,’ was the best she could come up with.

Marcus spun around in his seat. ‘Eloise, you’re awake,’ and, getting to his feet, in two lithe strides he was beside her. ‘And you’re not going anywhere. I’ve cancelled your hotel room.’ With a wave of his hand, he indicated a suitcase on the floor. ‘And arranged for your clothes to be sent here. It makes more sense to stay here while we are in Paris.’ As he bent his head she knew he was going to kiss her.

Evading his mouth, she stiffened angrily. ‘You…you have…my hotel room.’ She could not get the words out, she was so mad at his high-handedness. ‘How dare you?’ she finally snapped. ‘You had no right.’

Marcus stilled and studied her beneath hooded dark eyes. ‘I have every right, Eloise. You gave me the right yesterday when you accepted my terms to keep you out of court.’

Reminded with such brutal candour of their deal, Eloise paled. ‘I see.’ And she did—he held all the cards and he was the sort of man that always won. ‘But what will I tell Katy?’ she murmured under her breath, but he heard her.

‘I’ll take care of Katy and Harry,’ he said arrogantly.

With the same speed and cunning as he had taken over her life, no doubt. Pride alone made her square her shoulders and face him. ‘I suppose it will be more convenient for the brief time I am in Paris,’ she agreed, and, with a burning desire to hit back at him, she added with mock sweetness, ‘after all, why should I spend my money on a hotel bill when I am a wealthy man’s mistress? In fact I could do with some new clothes. I didn’t bring much with me, because I thought I was only staying a couple of nights.’

Marcus had the gall to laugh. ‘That’s what I like about you, Eloise. Even when you’re down you’re never out.’

‘Pig,’ she snapped. ‘I’m going to unpack.’ She brushed past him to get to her suitcase.

But later that evening, once more in the wide bed, with Marcus, pig was not the word that sprang to mind. Eloise had to clench her teeth to hold back the words of love that hovered on her tongue, and repeat over and over in her head no emotional involvement.

When she finally had the breath to speak and her emotions under control she asked casually, ‘How long have you had this place?’

A husky chuckle greeted her enquiry, and held firm against the side of his mighty body, she glanced sideways up at him. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘You, Eloise. Together, we have just experienced mind-blowing sex.’ Amused dark eyes rested quizzically on her lovely face. ‘And you come out with a mundane question like that.’

Her lips compressed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise conversation was forbidden between bouts of sex.’

‘Bouts of sex.’ Marcus’s expressive mouth curved into a sardonic smile. ‘Crude, Eloise.’

‘But then you are?’ she snapped back.

She felt his body tense, and his fingers bit tightly into her side, and she saw the swift flare of anger in his deep brown eyes. Then the corners of his sensuous mouth quirked in a cynical smile.

‘If you really think that, Eloise, then your sex education has not been as extensive as I thought. Perhaps I should show you the difference.’ And, flipping her onto her back he hovered over her. Catching her hands in one of his, he pinned them above her head and kissed her.

She felt the latent passion in his kiss, but he went on kissing her, and pinned to the bed she was unable to resist. With hand and mouth he tormented her until she was drowning in something so incredibly erotic that she groaned out loud, and she was incapable of offering any protest as he roughly positioned himself between her thighs.

Her body cried out for him, and in that moment it hit her like a bolt of lightning. She loved him, always had and probably always would. It didn’t matter that he was ruthless and arrogant and felt nothing for her but lust. She knew he was the only man she would ever allow to touch her, and a single emotional tear squeezed from her eye.

Marcus looked down at her and stilled. Hell what was he doing? He knew he could have her, here and now, the act primitive and yet satisfying, and it took all his will power to pull back, his body rock-hard and aching.

Eloise glanced up, her green eyes slowly focusing on Marcus, and wondered why he had stopped.

‘What we share is not crude, Eloise.’ He smiled a ruefully slightly humorous grin, accurately reading her mind. ‘And I intend to keep it that way.’

Marcus watched the fleeting emotions of surprise, regret and finally relief chase across her exquisite features, and accurately read every one of them, amazed at his own restraint and slightly worried. He had never felt protective of his usual lady friends but for some inexplicable reason with Eloise it was different.

He paused and cleared his throat. ‘Now, what was it you wanted to know? How long have I had this place?’ Rolling over on his back and curving her unresisting body in the crook of his arm, he proceeded to tell her.

‘My father bought this apartment for me when I spent a year here studying French. My father was of the old-fashioned school, who thought if one wanted to be a player in the world-wide business market, then it was essential to speak the two languages of diplomacy, English and French.’

Realising she loved him made her feel incredibly vulnerable but, somehow comforted by the warmth of his body and the deep melodious tone of his voice, she slowly relaxed. ‘Ah, so that’s why you are so fluent in French,’ she murmured. ‘And the London hotel—don’t tell me he bought that for you as well?’ Such conspicuous wealth was unimaginable to Eloise.

Marcus chuckled. ‘No, I bought the hotel myself a few years later. When I was a student in London I stayed in a hall of residence. It was single-sex and very correct.’

She looked up beneath the thick fringe of her lashes. The sensual curve of his mouth brought vividly to mind how it felt on her own, and her stomach flipped. She didn’t want to like him, didn’t want to admit she loved him, and certainly did not want Marcus to discover how she felt, and she hid the disturbing thought with humour.

‘Why is it I have difficulty associating you with correct and sex?’ she posed. ‘Unless, of course, you’re a secret S and M freak?’ she concluded with a grin.

A husky chuckle greeted her comment. ‘Wishful thinking, darling.’ And, leaning over her, he added, ‘S and M is not my thing, but I will be perfectly happy to oblige if your fantasy is to be bound to my bed.’

‘No, certainly not,’ Eloise shot back, horrified at where her attempt at humour had led.

‘Pity,’ Marcus observed with a grin, his dark eyes laughing down at her, and wondered if she was aware she had the most expressive eyes; every flicker of emotion was recorded in the swirling emerald depths. ‘Still, I think I can survive on straight sex, as long as it is with you.’

‘Straight sex, with a crooked lady friend.’ She said the first thing that came into her head, and then wished she hadn’t as she saw the swift flare of anger in the depths of the black eyes that held hers. Then a muscle in his jaw twitched, a slow smile tilted the corners of his lips again, and he lifted a finger to trace the contours of her slightly parted lips.

‘Forget the crooked part, and be my lady, and I will do the same,’ Marcus offered lazily. ‘The deal we made need not affect our relationship, unless we let it.’ He shrugged a smooth, tanned shoulder. ‘A truce, if you like.’

Pretend the deal never existed. It would be very foolish, Eloise told herself, but with Marcus’s hand slipping from her lips to her throat and lower, she felt like taking the chance. His words had given her the first crumb of hope for the future. ‘All right,’ she agreed rather breathlessly.

‘That design looks really promising.’ Katy stood behind Eloise surveying the drawing board over her shoulder. ‘Inspired, in fact. It just goes to show what the love of a good man can do,’ Katy teased happily.

Eloise grimaced! If only that were true, she thought longingly. But Marcus’s intentions were far less honourable. A lustful revenge was more what he had in mind.

‘And where is he?’ Katy demanded as Eloise turned in her seat to look at her friend. ‘We haven’t seen him for nearly a week.’

‘Marcus does work,’ Eloise drawled mockingly. ‘He has an office on Wall Street, and he keeps apartments in London and Paris, but his home base is in Greece. And hopefully, if we all work a bit harder, we might end up with three or four outlets as well.’ She diverted Katy from any more personal questions by asking how the latest designs were selling.

It was over a month since she had returned from Paris. The week in Paris had been a revelation to Eloise, and she blushed at the thought. She’d spent most of it in Marcus’s wide bed. They’d eaten out occasionally, and he’d insisted on taking her shopping and spending a fortune on clothes for her. She’d tried to stop him, pointing out she had only been joking when she suggested he buy her clothes, and in any case she was only going to be with him for one year.

His short reply was to remind her of their truce.

On returning to London, he’d insisted on accompanying her to her apartment. She hadn’t wanted him in her own home, and she certainly hadn’t wanted him to make love to her there, but he did. She couldn’t sleep in her own bed at night without thinking of him sharing it with her.

The next evening he had called, supposedly to take her out to dinner; instead, she had landed up in the king-sized bed in his London penthouse, and dinner was a cheese sandwich before, at her insistence, she returned to her own home.

In the ensuing weeks, he had behaved as far as Katy and Harry were concerned as the perfect suitor for their friend, handsome, sexy but more than that—he was caring and concerned, and his input in the business had been invaluable. He had a wonderful sense of humour. Eloise had watched him joking and laughing with Jeff and Julian, and Katy and Harry; they had all dined frequently together, and according to all of them Marcus was wonderful.

He was the same with everyone; even baby Benjamin gurgled when Marcus appeared. Eloise kept reminding herself, he was a master manipulator and a devious swine—but, God help her, even as she hated him for what he was doing to her, she was finding it harder and harder to retain a semblance of distance from the man. Every night that she spent in his bed, when he made love to her with a passion, tenderness, or simply a ravishing hunger, it became more difficult to hold back the words of love she ached to say.

True to his word, their affair was high profile. He’d insisted on taking her to the premiere of a film, where they’d been photographed, and appeared in the gossip column of a national daily the following day. Eloise cringed at the publicity, and lived in fear of anyone making the connection with her past. She had tried to argue with Marcus and, to give him his due, after that one event, he’d bowed to her wishes, and intimate restaurants, and an occasional trip to the cinema had followed.

Surprisingly, as the weeks passed, Eloise found herself actually thinking of Marcus as a normal boyfriend. He did nothing to dispel the notion and remarkably the truce they’d struck in Paris was holding up. Neither ever mentioned the real reason for their togetherness. They talked, they laughed, they made love, and the few times he couldn’t see her, he sent her flowers, and phoned every day.

‘Daydreaming won’t get the work done.’ Katy’s voice cut into her troubled thoughts. ‘Mind you, I don’t blame you. Much as I love Harry, I can see what a wonderful catch Marcus is. If you play your cards right, you could keep him—wedding bells, the lot, I’m sure.’

Eloise gave a sharp laugh. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ But in her heart of hearts she wished it were true. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain the invisible barrier she had erected in her mind that kept her from declaring her love to Marcus. And lying to Katy didn’t help. She longed to confide the truth to her friend, but she could imagine Katy’s angry reaction if she did. Marcus is not my boyfriend, he simply blackmailed me into being his mistress for a year and in return he won’t wreck our business. Katy would probably kill him…

‘And, to answer your first question, he’s in New York and likely to stay there for a while. And, knowing Marcus, I doubt if he’ll be missing me for long. There are too many beautiful women in the world ready to accommodate him.’

‘Your trouble is, you don’t realise how lovely you are, both inside and out. But Marcus knows, I’m sure.’

‘Thanks for the compliment, Katy, and I hope you’re right.’ Eloise forced a grin and, turning back to her drawing board, she added, ‘But in the meantime I suggest you and I get back to work,’ and resumed sketching.

Freedom was a funny thing Eloise mused, as she strolled down Kensington High Street on the second Friday of Marcus’s absence. Retail therapy, Katy had said as she’d told Eloise to take off for the afternoon.

Eloise had told herself she was glad to be on her own again, free to spend her time as she chose, but the reality was she missed Marcus’s lovemaking—even if it was just sex—and yes, she missed his company. She missed him…

Marcus had stipulated one year as his mistress, and to her horror last night she had actually caught herself working out how many weeks she had left, and resenting his time away from her. He was stunningly attractive, and she had heard New York was full of bright, beautiful women. Alone with her thoughts, she was eaten up with jealousy and finally realised Marcus might not even stay a year with her…

She knew he wasn’t actually bothered about the money she was supposed to be paying in kind. How could he be, when he spent a fortune on clothes and presents for her? She comforted herself with the thought perhaps he had got over his original anger, and genuinely enjoyed her company.

More and more over the past weeks Eloise had the growing conviction Marcus was truly beginning to care for her on a deeper level. He showed it in so many ways—flowers, an exquisite antique emerald and diamond necklace with matching earrings. She’d tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t let her, telling her it was a memento of their time in Paris, and had actually belonged to some duchess who was beheaded in the French revolution.

Sometimes the present was small, a single rose, and sometimes ridiculous, like when he left for New York and he presented her with a tiny ugly troll, and demanded, ‘Promise me this is the only male you will look at while I am away.’ Giggling, she’d promised and they’d made wonderful love. He telephoned her first thing in the morning British time, from his bed as it was about two in the morning in New York, and he liked to talk to her before going to sleep. She found it endearing, and it fed the hope that was growing in her heart that her love for him had a chance.

He was coming back next Tuesday and her spirit lifted at the thought, and she walked into Harrods with a smile on her face. A negligée to knock Marcus’s eyes out, she decided. Stopping by the perfume counter, she picked up a tester, and was about to spray some ruinously expensive scent on her wrist when a familiar voice called her name.

‘Eloise. How are you?’

She dropped the bottle back on the counter and turned around.

‘Ted. Ted Charlton, I have a bone to pick with you,’ she said bluntly, but she could not help smiling at his sheepish expression.