The Greek Tycoon's Bride

‘The most what?’ she countered swiftly, her defiance strengthened by the fact that she couldn’t see he had anything to complain about. She had agreed with him, for goodness’ sake! That was a first if nothing else. And she hadn’t accused him of trying to take advantage of her—just the opposite, in fact. What was the matter with the man? He disliked her as much as she disliked him, she knew that, so why was he all bristling male ego?

‘Forget it.’ It was cold and abrupt. ‘Just forget it.’

‘No, hang on a minute.’ As he turned to go, she caught at his sleeve, a tiny part of her amazed at her temerity. ‘You obviously have something to say, so say it.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he bit out grimly. ‘You are Jill’s sister and I am Theodore’s brother. That is all. We are bound through family ties to get on with each other as well as we can over the next little while. If you would like to deal with the matter of the dress, I will then escort you back to the dining room,’ he added with stiff formality. ‘I will wait outside.’

She could feel bunched muscles under her fingers and, unbidden, a picture of how he had looked earlier, tanned and dark and uncompromisingly virile, made her breathless and took any tart rejoinder she might have made straight out of her consciousness.

She remained staring at the door to the cloakroom a good ten seconds after Andreas had left, and then roused herself to get to work on the dress. The material was wafer-thin, as was the lining, and after sluicing handfuls of cold water over the stained area she patted it carefully with one of the cloakroom’s fluffy towels which dried it almost immediately.

The recovery mission accomplished, Sophy stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror for a few moments. She was too flushed, she decided critically. Too bright-eyed. It was the champagne, of course, that was definitely all it was, but she had better dab her hot cheeks with cold water before she went back to the others.

By the time she opened the cloakroom door she was feeling a little more like herself, and when Andreas levered himself off the opposite wall where he had been waiting for her she managed a fairly cool smile as she said, ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting but there was no need for you to stay.’

‘It is no problem.’ His gaze was remote, implacable, and it made her want to gabble. Instead she kept her mouth tightly shut as they walked back to the dining room, and it was only when she sat down in her chair and felt taut muscles relax that she realised just how tense she had been.

The meal was wonderful, and as course followed course Sophy realised Christina’s cooking was first class. The housekeeper made an appearance at the end of the dessert stage when she bustled into the dining room with the coffee, Ainka following with a tray containing a carafe of ouzo—a spirit distilled from grapes—and another of iced water.

Sophy had been hoping she could escape to her room; the slow leisurely style of the last meal of the day in Greece meant they had been at table for over two hours. And two hours of Andreas Karydis was enough for anyone!

But as Christina poured a cup of the heavy sweet coffee for everyone and Ainka filled the women’s glasses with iced water and those of Evangelos and Andreas with ouzo—the women having declined the spirit—she realised she had at least another half an hour or so of social chit chat to get through, just to be polite. And, the thing was, she wouldn’t have minded if it was just Theodore’s parents and herself and Jill present, but Andreas’s dark presence on the perimeter of her vision was keeping her as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. And he knew it too.

At half-past ten, when her nerves were stretched to breaking point, she rose jerkily to her feet. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me, but I have a slight headache,’ she said politely to the room in general, allowing her glance to brush each face briefly before it concentrated on that of Dimitra’s. ‘I think I’ll turn in, if that’s all right. Thank you for a lovely dinner and for making me so welcome,’ she added with a warmth which was quite sincere. ‘It was really very kind of you to include a third party in Jill’s invitation, and I do appreciate it.’

Through the ensuing effusive reassurances from Evangelos and Dimitra that of course she was very welcome in their home, and that as Jill’s dear sister she must count herself just as much a part of their family as Jill and Michael, Sophy was very aware of the cool scrutiny of the tall dark man standing watching her across the other side of the table, although she ignored him.

Andreas had risen when she had stood up—he had the social etiquette down to a fine art, if nothing else, Sophy reflected a trifle nastily—but he hadn’t added his voice to those of his parents. Not that she had expected him to do so.

He simply stood there, silent and enigmatic, his glittering gaze trained on her flushed face and his big body relaxed and still, looking at her as though he was a scientist studying some rather repellant bacteria under a microscope.

Sophy smiled again, wished them all goodnight in as bright and carefree a voice as she could manage and left the room quickly, forcing herself to restrain the urge to break into a trot once she was in the hall and making her way towards the stairs.

‘Awful man. Awful, awful, awful man.’ She found she was muttering to herself once she had reached the sanctuary of her room and stopped abruptly, kicking off her high heels as she walked over to the bed and flung herself down on the soft covers with a little sigh of exasperation.

She couldn’t let Andreas get to her like this. She had only been in Greece for a matter of hours and here she was all knotted up and at loggerhead with Jill’s brother-in-law. And she was supposed to be here to help Jill and Michael, to smooth their path as it were—not enter into war with a member of the family.

They had got off on the wrong foot, but hopefully, now he had made the polite overtures of welcome his parents had obviously required of him, his presence at the house would be minimal. And if Dimitra and Evangelos were really as pleasant as they appeared to be, the next two weeks might roll by quite happily.

But it was strange… Sophy’s clear, unlined brow wrinkled as she rolled over on to her back and gazed up at the pale blue ceiling which had rather impressive little fat cherubim fashioned in each of its corners. As far as she could recall, apart from those first few minutes when they had arrived at the house, Dimitra and Evangelos had mentioned their eldest son hardly at all. Now that wasn’t normal in the circumstances, was it?

She had left the balcony windows open whilst she went down to dinner and now, as the thin, flimsy drapes moved with the warm evening breeze, she heard the sound of voices from somewhere outside. Andreas must be leaving, but as the drive was at the front of the house and her room was situated at the back overlooking the landscaped grounds, beyond which stretched the swimming pool, she could distinguish little of the conversation beyond Evangelos’s voice calling something in Greek, probably goodbye.

It was quite dark outside, but once on the balcony Sophy breathed in the rich scented air and looked up at the moon brushed free of clouds. She felt restless tonight, and although she hadn’t lied about the headache she didn’t feel like going to sleep. She massaged her aching temples slowly.

The night was soft and warm, a night for lovers, for passion. A night for endless caresses and whispered promises, for reaching the heights.

And then she caught hold of her errant thoughts sharply, utterly amazed with herself. What had got into her tonight? she asked herself bewilderedly. She must have had too much wine. Why was she feeling so disturbed and edgy, fretful even? This wasn’t like her. She was always perfectly in control of herself.

She heard the sound of a car’s engine and the scrunching of tyres on the drive which signalled Andreas’s departure, either by taxi or maybe he had called out his driver to pick him up. Whatever, he was leaving and that was the main thing.

But with Andreas’s name came the clear picture of how he had looked that afternoon after leaving the pool—tanned, dark, virile, dangerous.

And suddenly Sophy knew why she was feeling the way she did.

CHAPTER FOUR

AS WITH every other unpleasant thing which had come her way in her twenty-eight years of life, Sophy faced the fact that she was sexually attracted to a man she thoroughly disliked head-on.