She Can't Say No to the Greek Tycoon

Sophie drew in a slow breath, acknowledging that she was in deep trouble.

Something had happened in that short, violent storm of emotions. Some barrier had been breached, some internal barricade splintered, leaving her feeling wide open and defenceless. She hadn’t a clue how, but now, instead of feeling only grief at her loss and fury at the thought of her grandfather, a new mix of feelings swirled within her. They threatened the iron-hard control that had kept her going through the last few weeks.

Something about this man, this stranger, had reached straight out to her, unsettling her in ways she didn’t comprehend.

He wasn’t her type. Not at all. Big, bossy, take-charge guys weren’t her style. So how could she explain this feeling of linkage, of a bond between them?

She couldn’t.

‘Now we understand each other.’ His voice was low, vibrant, making her aware of her body’s immediate response of shimmering excitement. Just to the sound of him!

She nodded, not trusting her own voice.

‘And you’ll help?’ There was unmistakable urgency in his controlled tone.

‘Of course I’ll do what I can,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t ignore your little girl.’

His smile was taut, perfunctory. Already he was planning his next move; she could see it in his eyes, in his ready-for-anything stance. He was probably deciding how best to manage the logistics of the test.

‘But don’t forget,’ she warned, reaching out a hand as if to restrain him, then losing her nerve and letting her arm drop to her side, ‘there’s no guarantee it will work.’

His look told her what he thought of her caution. ‘It’s got to work. There’s no other option.’

He made it sound simple. As if the outcome were assured. Sophie shivered. The bleak reality was that she probably wouldn’t be able to help his daughter.

But she didn’t voice her caution again. She understood too well the desperation of watching a loved one wither away before your eyes. The eagerness with which you snatched any hope, no matter how tenuous. The constant prayers, the belief that somehow you might will them to survive.

She’d been like that as her mother lay in hospital, unable to fight the disease that robbed her of life far too early. And it was like that now with Costas Palamidis.

He might look hard as nails. In fact, she was sure he was. But the weary lines fanning from his eyes, the carved lines bracketing his mouth, revealed a pain that was no less real for being savagely hidden behind his formidable reserve.

That must be why she felt this unique connection to him. As if there was far more between them than their status as cousins-in-law.

Sophie breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was it. Of course there was a rational explanation. Fellow feeling for someone suffering the trauma she’d been through.

She looked up into his severe face and told herself it would be all right. She didn’t need to worry any more about the inexplicable fusion of awareness and fear that he evoked in her. It had an explanation after all.

Steadfastly she ignored the trickle of unease that slid down her spine as her eyes met his. Fire sparked again deep within her.

‘I’ll make all the arrangements,’ he was saying, and for the first time his gaze was warm with approval.

The trickle disappeared as a wave of h

eat washed over her.

She nodded, trying to concentrate on what lay ahead and ignore her physical response to that look.

‘Can you be ready tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’ The sooner the better.

‘Good.’ He took her elbow and turned towards her house, pulling her along with him. His hand was hot through the sleeve of her shirt and his warmth at her side enfolded her. Her chest constricted strangely, as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs.

‘I’ll organise our flight for tomorrow,’ he said.

Sophie faltered to a stop. ‘Sorry?’

‘Our flight.’ He sent her an impatient glance and started walking again, guiding her beside him. ‘I’ll call you with the details and drive you to the airport.’