Seduced into the Greek's World

He dragged his gaze back up to hers and let her see undisguised male desire.

Tingling excitement encompassed her. It wasn’t exactly confidence, but it wasn’t uncertainty, either. It was a delicious and involuntary “yes, please” that scared the hell out of her.

“You’re very much in an elite league of your own, Natalie. Or are you making excuses to spare my feelings? It would surprise me if you are. You don’t strike me as someone who would bother. Not considering the frankness we’ve already arrived at.”

That made her chuckle drily, but she suppressed it with a sheepish dip of her chin. “You’re right. But read my personnel file, Mr. Makricosta—”

“Demitri,” he corrected.

“I don’t live nearly as fast as you do. Demitri.” She tried to make her voice diffident and amused, but Demitri was a surprisingly erotic name for a man with an American accent. “If I thought you were issuing a genuine invitation—and one that was only for dinner,” she added with a you-can’t-fool-me look. “I would be tempted. My coworkers here have families to go home to. It would be refreshing not to eat alone. But I suspect you’re mocking me. Or maybe punishing me for said frankness?”

He was taken aback by that. “Why wouldn’t I want to take you out? You’re beautiful, amusing and you have a pretty laugh.”

The sincerity in his tone made her heart swing inside her chest, dipping and lifting in a way that made her set a hand on the edge of her desk for balance. She grappled for humor to deflect how thoroughly his simple compliment disarmed her.

“And you want to hear that laugh in bed?” she challenged.

“Ha!” His chuckle was surprised and real, his grin appreciative before it turned hot and hungry. His gaze closed around her like a fist.

“I’ll have the car brought to the curb for seven.”

CHAPTER TWO

DON’T BOTHER.

That was all she’d had to say before he had winked and left her alone in her office. She could have chased him down, although she’d kept her eye out for him the rest of the day, filled with misgivings, but hadn’t seen him. The intercompany email was the simplest option. It didn’t even require the awkwardness of explaining herself. All she would have had to type was I can’t make it.

She hadn’t.

Why not?

Oh, she’d come up with dozens of rationalizations including, “it’s only dinner.” She was lonely and homesick. Travel for work wasn’t as glamorous as she’d expected, especially without someone to share stories with, and calling Zoey twice a day wasn’t nearly enough. She was used to her daughter disappearing for a weekend with her father up to the farm, but going on ten days without being able to hug her girl was a form of slow torture.

Therefore, she reasoned, she was entitled to a night out on the company that had separated them. She’d already put in tons of extra hours on this project. She and Demitri would probably talk about work anyway. She certainly wasn’t looking at this as a real date. Definitely not one where she might get lucky.

She shaved her legs anyway. Then put on the sexy black underwear she’d bought here in Paris and topped it with a black lace sheath over a black slip. She stepped into the heels she’d picked up at the consignment store before leaving Montreal, the ones she’d debated whether to bring at all because they were too high to be practical for anything less than a night on the town. With her fake diamond earrings winking from behind the fall of her freshly washed hair and her makeup more dramatic than usual, she was as date-worthy as she’d ever been.

Then she stood at the curb like an idiot for ten minutes.

Wow. What a prince. And she had developed quite a jerk radar after her brief marriage and lengthy attempt to finalize her divorce. Well, she’d wanted a taste of the dating scene. Who knew it was this bitter? But it was exactly this well-honed resentment of thoughtless men that steeled her spine and made her demand better for herself whenever she had offers back home.

Pivoting to go back inside the hotel, she entered the rotating doors as Demitri entered them from the inside. She ignored him as she passed him and kept walking into the lobby.

“Hey!” he circled back to call after her. “Natalie. Wait.”

“I was stood up,” she said over her shoulder, then paused to swing around and level a glare at him. “Lesson learned. If that was your intention. Good night.” She swung back toward the elevators.

“I stood at your door thinking the same thing.”

She checked her step. Turned to search his expression. He looked annoyed, not smug or smarmy. She didn’t want to believe him, too aware that giving men the benefit of the doubt was an invitation to be walked over.

“You said to meet you at the curb,” she reminded him coolly. Her entire body prickled with awareness that the front desk and bell staff could see them, if not hear them.

“No, I said the car would be there.” He came even with her and scowled. “What kind of men have you dated that they pick you up on the sidewalk?”

That gave her pause. For all her ideals, she still expected the very worst from men. Maybe she ought to give Demitri more credit.

He offered his arm, gaze still vaguely hostile.

After a brief hesitation, she transferred her pocketbook to her other hand and tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow, nervous now because she wasn’t sure how to take him. Was he one of the few good ones after all?

With his reputation?

He skimmed a glance down her front to where her dress was revealed by her open raincoat. “I’ll forgive you for underestimating me since you look so lovely,” he commented.

It wasn’t the most extravagant compliment, kind of backhanded in the way he suggested she was seeking his forgiveness, but she warmed under his words. And couldn’t help taking a visual snapshot of him in his black pants and black buttoned shirt under a smoky gray suede jacket that was so buttery soft it made her want to caress his arm. He smelled fantastic, too, all spicy and masculine, jaw shiny where he’d freshly shaved.

They turned more than a few heads walking out to the car, but she doubted it was because they made such a striking couple. She’d have to make a point of mentioning how innocuous this evening had been when training her coworkers over the next few days. He’d been just being nice, she’d stress. Even though she doubted a man like Demitri went out of his way to be nice. She suspected he was ruled by self-interest, and most of his interest was banked below his belt.

For the moment, however, she set all that aside and concentrated on not smiling like an idiot because she was on a date. With a handsome man. This was exactly what she’d hoped for from this off-site assignment, and it astonished her that it was happening. Her neglected femininity had been desperate for male attention and glowed with pleasure at getting some.

They didn’t talk much in the limo. Her fault as she took in the color and lights of Paris. The restaurant was only a short drive anyway, a distance she would have walked in Montreal, even in this blustery fall weather and wearing these neck-breaking shoes. They were shown to a table with a stunning view of Notre Dame and the Seine. She tried not to gawk as they moved through the dining room, but along with gorgeous detailing that spoke of France’s rich history, the place was loaded with movie stars. There were probably athletes and politicians, too, not that she would recognize them. Demitri seemed to have a nodding acquaintance with almost everyone in the room, but didn’t stop to speak to anyone.

“Shall I order for you?” he asked as the maître d’ left them.

“What kind of men have I dated that dared to let me read the menu myself? As if a woman could,” she scoffed lightly.

“This is why I asked. Some of you feminists find it condescending.”

“And you see it as chivalry?”

“I had an old-world upbringing,” he stated with a ring of pride in his tone. “But I also like to know my date is ordering something I’d like to eat, since she won’t finish it,” he added with a supercilious lift at the corner of his mouth.

“Ha! You don’t know me very well, do you?”

“I’m working on it,” he assured her with a look that reached across and held.

“You read my personnel file?” she challenged, heart skipping. He knew about Zoey? Her breath stopped.

“Too easy,” he dismissed, leaning forward in a way that seemed to catch her in a magnetic field that pulled her into him. “I like a more personal approach.”

So he didn’t know she had a daughter. Natalie toyed with the idea of blurting it out, but didn’t want to cool the sizzle between them. It was too exciting, playing with this particular fire.

“I’ll bet you do.” Her voice came out papery and soft. He probably knocked women over with gently blown kisses. Her pulse was racing and her skin glowing hot from the inside. The way the banter lobbed back and forth between them entranced her, but he was an expert, she reminded herself. This wasn’t anything so grand as chemistry.

“If you think I’m such a womanizer, why are you here?” he asked, eyes narrowed to hide what he was thinking.

“Honestly?” She schooled herself not to look or sound desperate, even though she was bordering on despair where men and relationships were concerned. “I live like a shut-in, working from home a lot of the time. I’ll never get another chance to dine like the one percent and, quite frankly, you hit the nail on the head about the men I date. I thought I’d see what it’s like to be the girl for a change.”

He raised his brows.

“Let you hold the door for me,” she explained. “Pay. Even though I know it’ll really be the company paying. But you do know this is only dinner, right? I work for you.”

“You work for my brother,” he stated firmly, not thrown off his stride at all by her bluntness. “IT falls under finance. I head up marketing.” Despite his affable tone his gaze was dead level as he added, “My threats earlier were empty. I have no authority to fire you. By the same token, I have no way of helping you advance. If this turns into more than dinner, there’s no professional advantage for you.”

The warning pushed her back into her seat, putting her in her place. Yet she was strangely relieved. Embarrassed, yet amused.

“Look at all we’ve got on the table and we haven’t even ordered,” she said with a pert lift of her brows.

* * *

Demitri released a “Ha,” and looked away, astounded by how thoroughly this woman was keeping him on his toes. Fortunately the waiter arrived to advise them of the evening’s specials.

“Please,” Natalie said when Demitri glanced at her. “Order for me. I’m curious.”

He nodded in satisfaction even though his brain was barely able to pull it together to order at all, only managing to choose the starters with a suitable wine before he turned back to her, trying not to fall into her spell like a fisherman off a boat.

When had she hooked him? That first laugh? The doe-eyed virgin look when he’d asked to speak to her? Definitely by the time she’d cut him down to size with a few swings of her rapier tongue, he’d been curious. Everyone loved him. Instantly and thoroughly. Even his family only acted irritated as they made every effort to draw him further inside the fold. Hell, women he slept with and left within hours remained affectionate and syrupy when he crossed paths with them later.

But not Natalie. He didn’t think it was an act, either. She’d been furious and insulted by his accusations today, then mistrustful and apprehensive of his invitation to dinner. When she hadn’t answered her door, he’d been stunned. No one rejected him, no matter what he did. And he searched for the line at every opportunity.

Finding her at the front of the hotel had been entirely too much of a relief for his comfort. Then she’d demonstrated that she was perfectly ready to leave him in the dust for being thoughtless. The warning lights were still flashing. Off her and inside him.

Only dinner, she’d claimed.

Take heed, he told himself. He avoided women with standards, being genetically incapable of living up to anything but the basest expectations of him.

Her honesty and playfulness were incredibly refreshing, however. And she was beautiful, with that skin like creamed honey and her eyes reflecting the sparkling lights from beyond the window.

“Tell me about yourself, Natalie,” he commanded softly.

Something like indecision passed over her face before she brought her gaze around to his. Her expression smoothed to an aloof facade, as though she’d mentally tucked away everything personal and only left the basics.

“There’s not much to say. I grew up outside of Montreal with my mother and brother. I divorced pretty much as soon as I married and worked on contract with Makricosta for two years before I was hired for a permanent position with the Canadian branch. Sometimes I go on-site across the country, but most of what I do is handled over the phone and through screen-share from my home office.”

“Turn it off and turn it on again?” he guessed.

“Exactly. Along with some talking off the ledge when files are corrupted or a job change demands a revision of an email signature and they can’t find where to update it. The excitement in tech support never stops, let me tell you. I couldn’t figure out why my ear felt weird the first few days I was in France and finally realized it’s because I wasn’t wearing my Bluetooth.”

There was more, he suspected, but before he could dig, she turned his inquiry around. “You?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you know? Through your carefully vetted research,” he drawled, and liked the way her full lips pursed in compunction. He wasn’t bothered. Of course the employees gossiped about him. He made about as much effort to be discreet as he did toward curbing misbehavior overall. The whole point was to let his escapades be known in order to reach maximum exasperation factor.

Which was juvenile, he realized, reflecting on it under Natalie’s regard and feeling the first traces of shame, but he had his reasons for making himself the target of attention.

“I don’t actually know that much,” Natalie said. “Your family keeps a low profile. Your brother turning up with a baby with the chambermaid was a hot topic for a while, but since I don’t work directly in the hotels, I don’t have close friendships with anyone at work and only get the odd bits of gossip fed back to me. There are some people I talk to all the time, and when I’m solving a crisis I’m very popular, but mostly I’m regarded as a necessary evil. Right now, making all these changes to the main system? It’s a good thing I have a thick skin because I’m not anyone’s friend. Which sounds like I’m talking about myself again. What a bore I am!”

“I’m interested,” he assured her, surprised by how true the comment was. “How old were you when you married?”

“Not old enough,” she said with a circumspect lift of her lashes. “Nineteen. Have you ever been married?”

“Hell, no.”

“Wish I’d had your sense.” The wry curl at the corner of her mouth and couched bitterness behind her eyes suggested she was being completely forthright.

A woman after my own heart, he thought ironically.

“What happened to cut your marriage short? Infidelity?” Hell, at that age he had broken up his brother’s impending marriage, coldly and deliberately.

Natalie didn’t answer right away. Her lips pursed in old disappointment as she stared out the window. “The short answer is he didn’t come to my mother’s funeral,” she finally allowed.

When she swung her face back to him, it was as if she was saying, There. I did it. As if her telling him without showing too much emotion had been very hard.

A weird, answering pain lurched in his chest.

He was a student of human behavior. People thought he was superficial and lacking in empathy. He was fine with the misconception. Deep thoughts really didn’t interest him, but he was very good at reading people. Years of living in a house where emotions were so deeply hidden you needed a pickax to find them had honed his skills. The side benefit was that it made him good at his job. Good with women.

Natalie didn’t want his sympathy, however. The keep-away vibes rolling off her were obvious and troubling. Especially because, for once, he knew exactly how she felt.

“I couldn’t face my mother’s funeral alone. I brought a date. How twisted is that?” he confided.

“Adara and Theo weren’t there?”

“No, they were.” And Nic, the older brother Demitri hadn’t known about. He averted his mind from how disturbing it had been to have a stranger enter their inner circle, as though a member of the audience had walked on stage and begun acting with the players, throwing off his lines. “We’re not close in a way that would have made something like that easier.” He’d barely spoken to them at all, too stunned and filled with questions he refused to ask.

“But you said you grew up with your mother and brother, so he must have been at the funeral with you?”

She flinched and sat back, distancing herself even more. She straightened her silverware and looked quite pale despite the golden glow of candlelight on her skin.

“He died the year before. Can we not talk about this please?”

“I’m sorry.” When had he ever been so aghast at stepping on someone’s feelings? Or apologized so sincerely to a woman? But his hand was over hers before he knew he was going to reach out to make a connection. “Really. Theo drives me bat-guano-crazy, but I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

She laughed. It was more of a sniff, and she brushed at her cheek, eyes wet and glowing when she lifted them. “Thank you. It was six years ago, but I still miss him and think about him every day.”

The waiter arrived to distract them. By the time they were alone again, Natalie had her bravest smile back in place. “Tell me why your brother drives you crazy.”

He shook his head. “You’ll have me in tears,” he dismissed.

“Your job, then. Will you talk about that?”

“You can’t be interested,” he deflected. Where were questions like “Were you in Cannes for the festival?” “Where do you summer?”

Natalie shrugged. “I’m certainly not interested in myself. This is the most excitement I’ve had in my life. True story,” she assured him with a confirming nod. “You travel, at least. Meet famous people.”

“People who think they’re famous are boring as hell. That is a true story. But come on. You must have at least one deep, dark secret that makes you interesting.”

“One,” she allowed promptly, suppressing a smile. “But it’s not very dark. Dirty blond at best. And I’m not going to tell you.” She had decided that, since this was her one chance to act like a carefree young woman instead of a mom. It was harmless, she told herself. This was only dinner.

“I want to hear it,” he insisted.

She shook her head, firm. “You’ll think differently of me. But what about you? Any dark secrets falling out of your pockets?”

* * *

His guard was so low he almost told her about Nic. The fact his siblings had kept the man’s existence from him had completely unraveled his view of his life and his place in the family. The exclusion had rocked his foundation, and he’d begun mentally separating from them, thinking more seriously about starting his own marketing firm.

Gideon had called a few weeks later to announce Adara’s pregnancy and to inform Demitri that he would be expected to step up and take on extra hours in the family business. Demitri had been needed again. Integral to the business and to his sister. Things had gone back to normal for a while, but then Adara had started trying to get everyone together. She and Theo were as thick as thieves with their parenthood jokes, and he was once again on the outside looking in.

They weren’t even leaning on him at work anymore. Quite the opposite, which was eating at his sense of self. With practiced ease he turned his mind from all of that, distracting Natalie with some of his stock stories that always drew a laugh. He knew loads of celebrities and had made a career of partying with them. His siblings had certainly never loosened up enough to ensure their highest-paying guests had fun.

That was Demitri’s job: creating distraction. Drawing and holding attention.

Natalie was rapt, thoroughly engaged with everything he told her. It wasn’t a strange occurrence for him. Everyone, women especially, responded to him. He’d recognized it early and used it to this day. The difference tonight was how much he enjoyed her attention while at the same time resenting that she wanted him to talk when he wanted to hear more about her.

They lingered over their meal, finishing the bottle of wine and nursing coffee, steering away from personal topics in favor of movies and news scandals and places he’d been that she’d like to visit.

“You’re a single woman. Get on a plane,” he ordered. “What’s holding you back?”

“I did get on a plane,” she argued good-naturedly, shielding her eyes with a downward sweep of her lashes. “I’m here. Dining on the Seine. Thank you for a lovely evening,” she added, flashing her gaze back up to his. “This is what I’d hoped for when I applied for this trip.”

She’d been looking for a man to seduce her. He could see it and a pulse of sexual excitement pumped through him. But seduction required patience, he reminded himself.

“Do you like dancing? We could go to a club.”

“I... It’s a work night,” she argued, but the slant of her gaze told him she was tempted.

He smirked. “I begin to see why you don’t have a life.” He signaled for the check.

“Note to self—boss thinks a work ethic is overrated,” she chirped.

“I’m not your boss,” he reminded. “C’mon. I know you want to tick the box on dance in a Paris nightclub.”

“Yes, but...” She canted her head at him, nose wrinkled. “I’m not dressed for it.”

“Believe me, truly cool people do not dress for clubs. They drop in on impulse.”

“And get turned away at the door for not being on the list.”

“You’re adorable. I’m always on the list.”

* * *

She had definitely had one glass too many if she was teetering into not giving a damn about work or propriety, but Demitri was a difficult man to say no to. He took her hand and wound her through the restaurant, tucking her into the back of the limo and angling his body so he looked at her the whole way to the club.

“This is a bad idea,” she insisted, trying desperately to hang on to a few grains of common sense while turning a challenging look on him that only clicked into a locked gaze with his.

His grin widened. “Because it’s turning into more than dinner?”

“You’re the kind of man who always gets what he wants, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered without reserve.

Be careful, Natalie. Be very, very careful.

“Well, I’m only going along out of curiosity,” she excused with a toss of her hair. “Don’t say I led you on. Oh, we won’t even get in,” she added as they pulled up at the entrance where a hundred people stood in the rain, all dressed to the nines.

He made a pithy noise and waited until the chauffeur had opened the door and held an umbrella for them, walking them to the door.

“Jean,” Demitri greeted the doorman, slipping him a bill without even pausing.

Pounding music accosted them as they entered the dark interior. Flashes of neon pierced the violet glow while strips of white stood out in stark contrast. As they wound through the crowded tables and bouncing bodies, a stunning woman with a lot of dark skin exposed by her French maid inspired two-piece bikini lowered her serving tray and kissed both of Demitri’s cheeks. They had a brief conversation, she pointed, he nodded and then he tugged Natalie along with him as they continued toward the back of the club.

He said something into her ear, but she must have heard him wrong. She looked to the stage, but that DJ couldn’t be the pop star he’d just mentioned.