Captivated by the Greek

Her eyes widened with telltale revelation as she made her way towards him. And as she came up to him for the first time Nikos could detect a dent in her air of self-assured composure. Two spots of colour burned briefly but revealingly in her sculpted cheeks.

His eyes were warm upon her. ‘You look fantastic,’ he breathed.

His compliment drew a new expression from her face.

‘I rather thought that was the idea,’ Mel said.

Her voice was dry. But she needed it to be. She needed it to be because as her eyes had alighted upon Nikos Parakis she had felt a kick go through her that she had not intended to feel. If he’d looked drop-dead gorgeous before, in his handmade suit, now, in a handmade tux, he looked ten times more deadly.

And as for the sensation going through her now, as his dark gold-flecked eyes worked over her... She could feel awareness shooting through her, sky-high. Urgently she sought to quell it, to stay composed and unruffled.

Nikos’s smile deepened. ‘What can I get you to drink?’ he asked.

‘Sparkling mineral water is fine, thank you,’ she managed to get out, without sounding too breathless.

He glanced at her. ‘Do you not drink alcohol?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, more easily now, glad to find her voice sounding a little more normal. ‘But I assume there will be wine with dinner, so I don’t want to make a start on it yet.’

‘Very wise,’ Nikos murmured, and relayed her order to the barman.

Then he turned his attention back to his date for the evening. A date, he suddenly realised with a sense of confusion, whose name he had absolutely no idea of!

Up to now, in his head, she’d simply been the stunning blonde in the sandwich shop. He blinked for a moment. Then, to his relief, he realised that of course he knew her name. It had been emblazoned on that unlovely T-shirt she’d been wearing in the sandwich bar.

The barman placed a glass of iced sparking water on the counter. Nikos picked it up and handed it to her. ‘There you go, Sarrie,’ he said, with a smile.

She took it, but stared at him. ‘Sarrie...?’ she echoed.

Nikos frowned slightly. ‘You prefer not to be called that?’ he checked.

She gave him a look. ‘Well, no, actually—because it’s not my name. Sarrie,’ she elucidated, giving him another look—one that reminded him of their first sparking encounter, ‘is the name of the guy who owns the sandwich bar—hence “Sarrie’s Sarnies.” My name,’ she informed him, ‘is Mel.’

She paused minutely.

‘Do you require a surname? Or is that a complete irrelevance because after all,’ she said lightly, ‘our acquaintance is going to be terminated after tonight?’

Nikos found himself frowning. Was their acquaintance gong to be terminated after tonight? Was that what he intended?

Do I want this to be the only time I spend with her?

Did he really want this incredible, fantastic-looking, stunningly gorgeous blonde who was making his senses reel to be with him only for one single evening?

As his eyes flickered over her he knew what his body wanted him to answer—oh, yes, indeed! No doubt about that in the slightest. But it wasn’t just his body responding to the overwhelming physical attraction he felt for this fantastically beautiful woman.

What was she like as a person? As an individual? Oh, he knew she could stand up to him—stand her ground and spark verbal fire with him—but how much more was there to her than that?

Time to find out...

He smiled a warm, encompassing smile. ‘Mel,’ he asked her, ‘don’t you realise yet that I want to know a lot more about you than just your surname?’

To his distinct satisfaction he saw once again that telltale colour run fleetingly over her sculpted cheekbones. He let his gaze have the effect he wanted, and then deliberately let it soften as he relaxed against the burnished mahogany surface of the bar.

Her colour was still heightened when she answered him. ‘Well, it’s Cooper—just in case you should need to know. Like when you introduce me to this woman you want me to keep at bay for you.’

There was an acerbic tinge to her voice, but Nikos ignored it.

I would want her here tonight even if Fiona Pellingham were a hundred miles away.

The knowledge was sure in his head—the certainty of it absolute. Mel Cooper—so fiery and so fantastically beautiful—was a woman he wanted to know more about. Much more.

‘So, tell me, Mel Cooper,’ he said, ‘first of all how do you come to be working in an establishment rejoicing in the name of “Sarrie’s Sarnies”?’

Deliberately he kept his tone light, with mild humour in it. He could see her recovering her composure. The slight stain of colour ebbed. She took a sip of water from her glass. Her voice, when she spoke, had lost its acerbic tone and he was glad.