The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife

Energy surged through her from where his palm touched her, his fingers engulfing her hand. She felt power judder through her body, filling her with heat and vibrant awareness. Yet despite the sun’s rays she shivered.

Tessa tugged but his hold was firm, unrelenting.

Reluctantly she raised her eyes to his face. He didn’t meet her gaze. Instead he surveyed her with a thorough sweep that made the blood rush to her cheeks. His straight brows were drawn together in a sleek line of disapproval. His nostrils flared as if in distaste and his mouth flattened out in a grim line.

What had she done wrong now?

‘You said I could use the pool.’ The words burst out, breathless but defiant. Now his guests had gone she’d been permitted the run of the villa’s public areas.

So long as she didn’t attempt to leave. Though it had been his absolute certainty that she couldn’t escape, rather than any threat, that had persuaded her escape would be a wasted effort. Those grim-faced security men had a lethal professional air that was completely convincing.

Slowly his gaze swept back up her, from her trembling legs, over her cotton shorts and tight black tank-top, heating her as it went, till fire sparked and swirled in her abdomen. It was like a physical touch, evoking an instant, eviscerating response. To her shame it wasn’t embarrassment she felt now.

Again she pulled and this time his fingers eased their grip, allowing her freedom.

‘Of course you may swim.’ His voice was cool, dismissive. He arched one eyebrow as his grey eyes met hers, holding her where she was just as easily as if he still touched her.

He had the autocratic air of a man used to compliance. To people obeying him without question. It would give her pleasure to show him she wasn’t one of his lackeys.

And yet she stood, mesmerised by a glimpse of something in those steely eyes. Something that unnerved her. Something more complex than anger.

‘But there’s no need to swim in your clothes.’ This time his deep voice held a rough note she hadn’t heard before. ‘Get a swimsuit from the pool-house next time you want to use the pool.’ It wasn’t an offer. It was an order.

Stupid embarrassment curled within her. So she didn’t have a swimsuit. That wasn’t the end of the world. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Nevertheless she shrank as his eyes flicked ruthlessly over her wet body, dismissal clear in his tight expression.

No doubt it pained him to see even his unwanted guest looking so dishevelled. He probably mixed with only the most beautiful people. He was used to the manicured perfection of Angela Christophorou.

Tessa wrapped her arms defensively round herself and turned away, searching for the towel she’d left somewhere.

She told herself it didn’t matter that she had no airs or graces. No glamour. Yet a forbidden discontent gnawed at her. A fleeting longing for what she’d never had.

She’d seen Stavros and his fiancée together in the distance only this morning. He’d held her close, his arm embracing her protectively. Lovingly.

And Tessa had had to turn away from the sight as sharp, lacerating pain clawed at her insides.

Stavros watched her pluck a towel from a sun-lounger. Her movements were jerky, abrupt, as if she was nervous.

He speared a hand through his hair in frustration. Never had a situation spun so far out of his control. Never had he lost command of his own emotions! He was livid, but whether at himself or his unwanted wife, he wasn’t sure.

Shock had blasted him as he read the investigators’ report. It confirmed Tessa Marlowe hadn’t been safe with her family these last years, or decadently profiting from her looks at the expense of some man. Instead she’d been scraping a precarious living in a third-world country racked by poverty and civil war.

Because he, Stavros Denakis, had failed her.

It was a powerful punch to the gut, knowing he’d been safe when she wasn’t. No matter that he’d crossed the border by the skin of his teeth, with severe concussion and a fractured collar-bone. Nor that everyone had believed her dead.

His stomach roiled. Even the knowledge that she was on the make, angling for an undeserved share of his fortune, didn’t lessen his discomfort.

No wonder she was so desperate for cash after the privation she’d endured. Sto Diavolo! That also explained her fragility. She looked as though a gust of wind would knock her down.

Yet that didn’t impede the rush of raw lust he experienced whenever he saw her. Nor did the fact that he was honour-bound to another woman. It was irrelevant that there was no emotional bond between him and Angela. He’d given her his promise.

As he’d promised to protect a defenceless stranger with eyes like gem-fire four years ago.