Irresistible Greeks: Red-Hot and Rich: His Reputation Precedes Him / An Offer She Can't Refuse / Pretender to the Throne

She gave a perplexed frown. ‘Sorry?’

He gave a shake of his head. ‘Eva, that nineteen-year-old in the coffee shop probably has his tongue hanging out the whole time he’s serving you your coffee!’

She scowled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

He gave a pained wince. ‘Eva, exactly what do you see when you look in the mirror?’

‘I don’t understand…’

Her puzzlement was so totally without guile or artifice that Markos was left in no doubts as to it being genuine. His expression softened. ‘Maybe if I were to tell you what I see when I look at you…?’

Eva eyed him warily. ‘This conversation isn’t going to get insulting, is it?’

‘Hardly!’ Markos grimaced as he recognised that’s exactly what he currently was: hard and hot and throbbing, as he always seemed to be when he was in Eva’s company. And when not in her company too, if the last two days were any indication. ‘Can it be that you really don’t know—don’t see—how stunningly, incredibly gorgeous you are?’

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Could we get back to discussing a colour scheme for your sitting room—?’

‘Let’s see.’ Markos chose to ignore her change of subject as he looked across at her consideringly. ‘Your hair is the colour of midnight—black with a blue sheen—and your eyes—oh, God. I could talk about your eyes all night! They are the colour of the purest gold. Hot—’

‘Markos—’

‘Molten gold I could happily drown in,’ he continued remorselessly. ‘And your skin is as pale and unflawed as alabaster. And your mouth!’ His voice darkened smokily. ‘Would you like me to tell you the things I have imagined those softly sensuous and pouting lips doing to me these past two days?’

The blood in Eva’s veins was now pounding as ‘hot and molten’ as the way Markos had seconds ago described her pale brown eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably as she felt an echoing heat between her thighs, dampening her panties.

Her denims chafed against the arousal nestled there. An arousal that, until meeting Markos Lyonedes, she hadn’t believed herself capable of feeling. An arousal she didn’t want to feel. Not for Markos. Not for any man!

Jack had been only too eloquent in his criticisms of her on the day they’d parted for the last time. He had scathingly told her how it was her fault he had turned to other women, that she had let herself go since learning they wouldn’t have a baby together, that she had always lacked the social graces necessary in his wife, that her hair needed professional styling rather than being left to grow naturally, and that her fuller figure wasn’t only unfashionable but a total turn-off sexually.

Oh, Eva hadn’t been so without self-esteem by that time that she hadn’t known some of his remarks had been made out of pique, deliberately designed to hurt her because she had finally had enough of Jack and his affairs, but that didn’t mean his criticisms hadn’t hurt, or remained as a vulnerability buried deep inside her.

Which was perhaps the reason why she had decided she didn’t need another man permanently in her life.

There was no perhaps about it: her unhappy marriage to Jack and the hurtful things he had said to her that last day were precisely the reasons Eva had made the drastic decision not to remarry and to have the baby she craved on her own, through IVF.

And yet she couldn’t seem to find the words to stop Markos as he continued gruffly, ‘I’ve imagined you licking and kissing my chest and nipples, your lips and tongue hot and moist as they move down my stomach to my—’

‘Markos, please…!’ Eva groaned in breathless protest, even as she felt her own nipples ache beneath her blouse. Just from listening to Markos describe having her make love to him? Oh, God…!

His eyes were dark now, burning with the same desire that coursed through Eva. ‘But I have not yet finished telling you how beautiful you are.’ He gave a self-derisive shake of his head. ‘First let me say that you do not need to lose even one pound in weight. You are perfection just as you are,’ he added firmly, his voice once again clipped and precise, but this time with forceful decisiveness rather than anger.

She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘I—’

‘Eva, there are very few men who actually prefer women with no breasts or hips,’ he continued determinedly. ‘That is a myth which has been perpetrated by dress designers and by women themselves, I believe.’ The darkness of his gaze swept over her appreciatively.

‘The fullness of your breasts is exactly the right size to fit perfectly into the palms of my hands.’

‘That’s only because you have large hands.’

‘And all of me is in proportion,’ Markos assured her as he reached across the table to clasp one of Eva’s smaller hands in his. ‘Eva, who told you that you are not sexy and beautiful? What ungrateful, stupid man could ever have told you such lies?’

Eva couldn’t breathe. Markos’s sensually descriptive words had aroused her to the point where she had briefly dropped the safeguards that had got her through the past five years—the last two years of her marriage to Jack, suffering his numerous affairs, and the past three avoiding any relationship that even looked as if it might touch her emotionally.

But Markos was a man who had refused from the first to take no for an answer. A man who was now demanding answers to questions that were too painful for Eva to answer.

She pulled her hands free of his before getting abruptly to her feet. ‘Has it occurred to you that maybe it was a woman?’ she challenged scornfully, deliberately. ‘That maybe the reason I’m not interested in a relationship with you is because I’m not into men?’

Markos sat back on the stool. ‘No.’

Eva blinked. ‘Just…no?’

‘Just no, Just Eva,’ he drawled dryly.

She eyed him scathingly. ‘Is that male arrogance talking?’

‘Or the knowledge that seconds ago you were as aroused as I am?’

Her gaze slid down from his, across the rapid and shallow rise and fall of his chest, the flatness of his stomach, down to—

Eva’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the thick hard length of Markos’s arousal clearly outlined against the press of his jeans.

He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that everything about him was in proportion.

‘You are so beautiful you make my chest ache, and so desirable you obviously make another part of me ache.’

‘Please, Markos—did your years of living in England teach you nothing about our reserve?’ she cut in to prevent him making what she was sure was going to be another embarrassing—arousing!—statement.

‘Oh, yes.’ He walked slowly towards her. ‘But fortunately I am Greek, and we Greeks are far less reserved in our appreciation of a woman.’

He was standing so close to her now—just a heartbeat away—that Eva could feel the heat of his body, smell that lemon soap and sandalwood aftershave. That heat and the male smell that was uniquely Markos was now curling about her, invading her senses until she could no longer think straight.

If she had been thinking straight then she would never have allowed this situation to get so completely out of hand. So charged with sexual awareness she could almost reach out and touch it…

Markos drew his breath in sharply at the first touch of Eva’s hands against his chest. Her palms seemed to burn through the thin material of his shirt to sear the flesh beneath. His first instinct was to reach out and pull her into his arms before lowering his mouth to claim hers.

His first instinct.

His second instinct warned Markos against moving at all as he allowed Eva’s hands to tentatively seek out and touch the hard contours of his chest and the muscled width of his shoulders, sensing that the slightest movement on his part would result in her once again erecting those barriers around her emotions and needs. Barriers some other bastard had instilled in her, which Markos now realised had resulted in Eva hiding her vulnerability behind a mask of spiky cynicism.

It quickly became an agony of self-control for him to withstand the caress of her fingers and palms against and over him. His teeth were gritted, his jaw clamped shut, and his hands were clenched tightly at his sides as he resisted the impulse to reach out and take her into his arms. It was an impulse that became even more painful still as her fingertips ran lightly over the front of his denims, against his thickened length.

Eva’s caresses grew bolder as she felt the pulsing response beneath her fingertips, and she knew a deep and compelling need to release that aroused hardness from the confines of Markos’s jeans and—

She snatched her hand away before moving back abruptly. ‘I think this has gone quite far enough!’ Her voice came out husky and breathless rather than conveying the firm resolve she had hoped it would.

Markos groaned low in his throat, wanting, needing so much more, but instead he allowed himself to be guided by those instincts that warned against pushing Eva too far too fast. ‘Will you come to a party with me on Saturday evening?’

Startled, she raised her lids. ‘What…?’

Markos gave a pained smile in acknowledgement of the fact that his obvious arousal made this the last thing Eva had expected him to say. But he knew that the invitation he wanted to make—for her to stay on here now, so that the two of them could cook dinner together—would be met with a blunt refusal. As would his plans for what happened after dinner…

‘I have been invited to a party on Saturday evening, and I would very much like it if you would agree to be the guest included on my invitation.’

She blinked. ‘You’re asking me out on a date?’

Markos chose his words with care, having realised in the past few minutes that he still needed to go slowly with this particular woman, that to do anything else would only drive her away. ‘I am asking you to accompany me to a party on Saturday rather than leaving me to spend the evening alone in a room full of strangers.’

She shook her head. ‘You must know your host to have been invited in the first place.’

‘He is a business associate. Nothing more.’ Markos shrugged dismissively.

Eva smiled wryly. ‘There are sure to be dozens of beautiful women there, so I doubt you’ll remain alone for long—’

‘And I would prefer to take my own beautiful woman,’ he interrupted firmly.

Her cheeks warmed. ‘I am not your—’

‘Eva, please.’ Markos cut off her protest gruffly. ‘For business reasons I have to attend this party, and for personal reasons I would like you to accompany me.’

When he put it like that…

Every instinct of self-preservation Eva possessed told her to say no to Markos’s invitation. To stand by her earlier decision to recommend he use another interior designer, and then refuse to see him again.

She should say no. She had to say no. She must say no.

‘In that case I would be pleased to accompany you. Thank you for asking me,’ she heard herself say softly.

Markos chuckled huskily when he saw the chagrined expression appear on Eva’s face immediately after she had accepted his invitation. ‘Sometimes instinct can be stronger than logic, hmm…?’ he suggested mischievously.

‘And sometimes instinct can be a complete pain in the—!’ She broke off with a grimace. ‘I’ll meet you here, if that’s okay?’

‘Because you do not wish me to come to your apartment?’ Markos guessed easily.

‘Not at all.’ She frowned her irritation. ‘I’ll probably have some preliminary sketches and colour charts to bring over for you to look at by then, anyway,’ she added briskly.

It was in an effort, no doubt, to put their relationship back on a businesslike footing. A businesslike footing Markos felt sure Eva had previously decided they wouldn’t even be having. Her visit here this evening had been in response to Markos’s threat of two days ago rather than any real intention of working for him.

‘Bring them, by all means. I had intended to arrive at the party at about nine o’clock, so if you were to come here at eight, that should give us time to look at your sketches before we leave.’

‘Fine,’ Eva agreed tersely—and realised she had just committed herself to the redesigning of his apartment.

She looked so annoyed with herself for doing so, so irritated, that Markos didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her.

‘It is no good, Eva, I have to kiss you again!’ He groaned as he moved to put his arms lightly about her waist. ‘Just once, hmm?’ he encouraged throatily, lowering his head slowly towards hers. She seemed too surprised to protest.

Markos was determined not to send Eva hurtling off into the night this time, so he restrained his need to devour her and kissed her slowly, lightly, tasting her lips as she stood stiffly in his arms rather than giving in to the desire to swing her up into his arms and carry her off to his bedroom.

He kept a tight rein on his control until he felt the first quiver of Eva’s response and she began to return that kiss, her lips parting hesitantly as her hands moved up to rest lightly against his chest. It was the most erotic and yet at the same time most frustrating kiss of Markos’s life, as he allowed Eva to set the pace of their passion rather than take control as he usually did.

He was finally rewarded for his restraint as he felt Eva relax in his arms and she began to kiss him back in earnest.

Markos groaned low in his throat as he felt the press of her breasts against his chest, the softness of her hips nestling against his arousal. Her hands moved up over his shoulders until her fingers became entangled in the thickness of hair at his nape and the kiss turned hungry.

Markos wrenched his mouth from hers in order to seek out the dips and hollows in her bared throat, his breath moving across her skin in a fiery caress as his hands moved restlessly up and down the length of her spine, igniting trembling desire wherever they touched.

Eva’s breasts felt full and hot, and between her thighs she was aching in need for the touch of Markos caressing hands—’No!’ She pushed her hands against his chest and held herself away from him, her breathing ragged and deep as she stared up at him in increasing horror. ‘This is not what I want, Markos.’

His arms remained like steel bands about her waist. His eyes were dark green pits of hell, his breathing as ragged as her own as he obviously fought for control. ‘What is it you want, Eva? Tell me and it shall be yours,’ he promised fiercely.

What Eva wanted was to go back to her previous numbness, to the place where her emotions had been as colourless as the décor in this apartment rather than the blazing colours of fire!

She breathed shallowly. ‘I want to collect my things and leave.’

‘But you will come back on Saturday?’

Eva knew that she shouldn’t—that she should consider running instead, as far and as fast as her car and credit card would take her. Which, considering the money currently in her bank account, was a very long way.

But, having finally stood up to Jack three years ago and put an end to the torment of their marriage, and then remained living and working successfully in New York despite the fact that Jack had made it clear he would rather she returned to England—probably so that he could forget he had ever made the mistake of marrying her in the first place—she had no intention of being forced to leave now just because Markos Lyonedes was making life uncomfortable for her.

She straightened determinedly. ‘I’ll come back on Saturday.’

‘That is good.’ Markos’s smile was still strained as he indicated she should precede him out of the kitchen to collect her things from the sitting room.

What was good about it? Eva wondered slightly dazedly once she was safely back in her car, driving back to her apartment. It couldn’t possibly be ‘good’ that minutes ago she had been so physically aroused by Markos that she wouldn’t have cared if he had laid her down on the coldness of the black and white tiled kitchen floor and taken her right then and there…

CHAPTER SIX

‘OH, no…! Markos, turn the car around!’

‘What—?’ Markos turned his head to give Eva a startled glance from where he sat behind the wheel of his car on Saturday evening, driving them both to the party.

She clutched at the arm of his black evening jacket. ‘Turn the car around—now—and get us out of here!’ she repeated fiercely as she released his arm to stare up in horror at the brightly lit house at the end of the short gravel driveway.

There was already a car in front of them, and one had just turned into the driveway behind them too, effectively blocking any move on Markos’s part to do as Eva asked and turn the car around.

‘What’s wrong, Eva?’ He reached out with his free hand to clasp one of hers, instantly aware of how cold that hand was, considering the warmth of the summer evening.

What was wrong? Eva had just realised that the party Markos was taking her to was at the home of her ex-father-in-law—that was what was wrong!

Why hadn’t she realised sooner?

More to the point, why hadn’t she asked Markos on Thursday whose party it was and saved herself—and Markos—all this embarrassment? As it was, Markos’s black Ferrari was now effectively trapped between two other cars, making immediate escape impossible.

Maybe she should just get out of the car and walk back to the city?

Oh, yes, very practical—considering she was once again wearing three-inch-heeled sandals, black this time, to match with the black tube of a dress she wore, in which the length of her legs was very visible beneath the short hemline. Not only was it impractical, but if she tried to hitchhike a ride back into the city she was more likely to be taken for a hooker than a hitchhiker; she doubted too many drivers would recognise the black dress for the expensive designer label silk that it was.

So she couldn’t walk back to the city, and she couldn’t accompany Markos into the party either. She moistened the dryness of her lips before speaking, still staring at the crowded mansion house in front of them. ‘I can’t go in there, Markos.’

‘Dissatisfied customer?’ Markos teased.

Eva smiled faintly at his attempt at humour. ‘Not exactly.’

‘Then why can’t we go to the party?’ Markos had parked the car now and turned to look at her in the bright lights of the busy driveway, frowning as he saw how pale her cheeks had become.

The evening had been going so well up until this point. Eva had arrived promptly at Markos’s apartment at eight o’clock and, remembering how sceptical she was about compliments, he had deliberately kept his comments as to how stunningly beautiful she looked to a minimum. That figure-hugging black dress, her hair once again loose in blue-black waves about the bareness of her creamy shoulders… Instead he had decided to pretend an interest in the designs she had brought with her.

One look at Eva’s designs and he’d no longer had to pretend that interest. They were so vibrant with colour—not a hint of pink in sight, thank goodness!—that Markos had had no qualms whatsoever about allowing Eva free rein with all the rooms in his apartment.

Those initial designs proved that she knew exactly what he needed to feel comfortable in his own home. Perhaps, without realising it, she was coming to know him? Markos certainly hoped that was the case. And he’d been hoping to get to know her better later on tonight…

Consequently they had both been relaxed on the drive over here—only for this to happen. Although at the moment Markos still had no idea exactly what ‘this’ was!

‘Eva, talk to me,’ he urged gruffly.

She blinked, those golden eyes having darkened to a deep, deep amber. ‘I didn’t say you couldn’t go to the party—’

‘I’m not going anywhere without you,’ Markos assured her firmly.

‘There’s no reason why we both have to miss the party—’ She broke off as the door beside her was suddenly opened.

‘May I help you, ma’am?’ One of the young car valets, no doubt hired for the evening, stood outside on the gravel.

Eva’s look of panic deepened. ‘Markos…!’

He leant over to look out at the smiling teenager. ‘Just give us a minute or two, okay?’

The youngster’s smile faltered slightly. ‘Of course, sir. Except I really need to move your car to the back of the house, with so many other guests still arriving…’ he added awkwardly.

Markos sighed his frustration with this situation. Eva was his only concern at the moment. ‘You will wait—’

‘It isn’t his fault, Markos.’ Eva reached out and put a placating hand on his arm. ‘It’s okay,’ she assured him shakily. ‘I’m okay now.’

Which wasn’t exactly true. But her initial feelings of wild panic seemed to have settled down to less troubled ones, and now that the initial shock was over Eva knew that most of her residual feelings of unease were only because she had arrived at her ex-father-in-law’s home with the powerful and handsome Markos Lyonedes.

She had chanced to meet her ex-father-in-law several times socially in the past three years—it was impossible not to do so when they both remained part of New York society. The difference tonight was that this party was actually in Jonathan’s home—the home where Eva had once been welcomed as his daughter-in-law—and also that Eva had never been in the company of another man when the two of them had met in the past.

Not that she thought Jonathan would be in the least unwelcoming—he was far too charming for that to happen, and Markos was his guest after all. Eva was the one who felt distinctly uncomfortable about attending a party at her ex-father-in-law’s in the company of a man as powerful and charismatic as Markos Lyonedes. In the company of any man who wasn’t Jonathan’s own son!

‘Eva…?’

She turned to give Markos a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll be fine now, Markos. Really.’ She picked up her black clutch bag before turning to get out of the car.

Eva looked far from fine to him. Her face was still pale, and her eyes still that deep amber and wide with apprehension. But other than making a scene—something Markos was pretty sure Eva would not appreciate—he had no choice but to join her outside on the driveway before handing his car keys over to the obviously relieved young man waiting to park his car.

Markos took a firm hold of Eva’s elbow as they walked towards the mansion house ablaze with lights, the rooms visible to them obviously already filled to capacity with other guests. ‘Is there anything you want to tell me before we go in?’ he prompted softly.

There was a faint sparkle of humour in Eva’s eyes now as she gave him a sideways glance. ‘Such as?’

Markos had absolutely no idea.

Their host for the evening had been a widower for some years, and was a man in his sixties—surely not someone Eva had ever been personally involved with.

‘Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Markos,’ Eva drawled derisively as she gave him another teasing glance.

‘Ah, Markos—so pleased you could make it!’

The smoothly charming voice of their host interrupted them.

Markos instantly felt Eva’s tension, and he maintained a proprietorial hold on her elbow even as he turned to face the older man. ‘Jonathan.’ He nodded stiffly. ‘Can I—?’

‘Evangeline!’ The older man appeared momentarily stunned as he instantly recognised Eva, but that surprise was quickly masked as he once again turned on a politely charming smile. ‘How lovely to see you again, my dear.’

‘Jonathan,’ she returned softly, and the two of them kissed each other lightly on the cheek. ‘You’re keeping well, obviously.’

‘Very much so, thank you,’ Jonathan said smoothly, his eyes narrowed shrewdly as he assimilated the fact that Eva was here with Markos Lyonedes. ‘Evangeline, I feel I should warn you that the party this evening is—We’ll talk again shortly, if that’s okay?’ he added distractedly as yet more guests arrived noisily behind them. ‘Please, go through to the drawing room for champagne and canapés.’