The Greek Bridegroom Page 2

There was nothing like taking control and initiating conversation.

  ‘Yes.’ He met her level gaze, held it, and wondered if she had any idea how well he could read her. ‘Also Melbourne, Cairns, Brisbane and the Gold Coast.’

  ‘Interesting. Presumably matters which require your personal attention?’

  How would she react if he revealed she was one of them? He inclined his head. ‘I’m unable to delegate in this instance.’

  Property he wanted to sight? Yet in a high-tech age, it was possible to scan digital images at the speed of light, and as he shared some investment interests with Luc, why couldn’t Luc act on his cousin’s behalf?

  The waiter delivered their starters, and Rebekah toyed with the soup, spooning the contents automatically without affording it the appreciation it truly deserved.

  ‘Tell me something about floristry.’ Jace’s voice was pure New York, and she waited a beat before countering,

  ‘An idle query, or genuine interest?’

  His eyes held a humorous gleam. ‘The latter.’

  ‘The art, or a day in the life of…?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Floral artistry comprises a good eye for colour and design, shapes appealing to the customer’s wants and needs, the specific occasion.’ If he wanted facts, she’d supply them. ‘Which blooms suit, room temperature, the effect the customer wants to achieve.’

  She lifted her shoulders and effected a light shrug. ‘Knowledge where exotic out-of-season stock can be bought and how long it takes to air-freight it in. And the expense involved. Unfortunately there are always those who want the best at minimum cost.’

  ‘I’m sure you manage to apprise them that quality comes with a price?’

  ‘Don’t be fooled by Ana and Rebekah’s petite stature,’ Luc drawled. His mouth curved into a warm smile. ‘I can assure both sisters pack a powerful verbal punch.’ He turned towards Ana and brushed light fingers down her cheek. ‘My wife, especially.’

  ‘It’s a defence mechanism,’ Ana responded sweetly. The waiter removed their plates, and Rebekah’s gaze shifted to Jace in a deliberate attempt at dispassionate appraisal.

  Superb tailoring emphasised an impressive breadth of shoulder, and the deep blue shirt with its impeccably knotted silk tie accented his olive textured skin.

  All she had to do was look at him, and warmth flared to uncomfortable heat as her mind spun into overdrive, remembering how it felt to have his mouth on hers. From there it was just a step away for her mind to spiral out of control, imagining what lay beneath the trappings of his conventional attire.

  Don’t go there. Dear heaven, what was wrong with her? No one, not even her ex-husband in the heightened throes of pre-marital passion, had been able to arouse such an intense reaction.

  She was conscious of every breath she took, and co-ordinating cutlery with morsels of food and the actual eating process was fraught with nervous tension.

  Was Jace aware of her inner turmoil? Dear God, she hoped not.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, she mentally chastised. You’re only sharing dinner with him, and acute vulnerability could be conquered…couldn’t it? Or at least successfully masked. Besides, Jace Dimitriades was only a man like any other man, and hadn’t Brad been charm personified in the beginning? Only to turn into a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  Except instinct warned comparing her ex-husband to Jace Dimitriades was akin to associating an ill-bred canine with a powerful panther.

  There was a part of her that wanted to replace her cutlery, stand to her feet, and leave. Retreat to the safety of her car, return to her apartment with her sanity intact.

  Except such an action was a cop-out, and besides, what excuse could she present? Act, she commanded silently. You deal with people every day in the shop and utilise psychological skill to handle difficult customers. How difficult could it be to deal with Jace Dimitriades for a few hours? There was the added advantage of Ana and Luc’s presence to provide a buffer. It should be a breeze.

  Fat chance! She felt about as relaxed as a cat on hot bricks!

  Why hadn’t she listened to her initial instinct and remained adamant at not doing this? Because she cared for her sister. At least, that was the simple answer. The more complex one didn’t bear contemplating.

  Maybe some wine would loosen her nerves a little, and she indicated the wine steward could fill her glass. Seconds later she took an appreciative sip, and felt the grape’s delicate bouquet slip into her bloodstream.

  It was a relief when the waiter presented the next course. Her appetite was non-existent, and although her meal was a decorative vision in cuisine artistry, her tastebuds appeared to be on strike.

  Travelled south for the duration, she accorded with silent wry humour, aware to an alarming degree just where they’d chosen to settle.

  Eat, she commanded silently. Focus on the food. The evening would eventually come to a close, and she’d never have to place herself in this position again.

  She may as well have told herself to go jump over the moon for all the good it did, for she was supremely conscious of every movement he made. The economical use of his hands as he apportioned each morsel of food. The way the muscles at the edge of his jaw bunched as he ate. His hands were broad, tanned with a sprinkling of hair, the fingers tapered with neatly shaped nails.

  How would those hands caress a woman’s skin? Lightly skim the silken surface, discover each pleasure pulse and linger there?

  Her mind came to a screeching halt. What was the matter with her? She couldn’t blame the wine, for she’d only consumed a few sips, and alternated it with chilled water.

  ‘You have an early start in the morning?’ Luc queried solicitously.

  Could she conceivably use that as an excuse to slip away soon? ‘I have to be at the flower market around four-thirty.’

  Jace’s gaze narrowed. ‘Every day?’

  ‘Six out of seven.’ It didn’t bother her. Never had, for she was a morning person. However, after a fourteen-hour day on her feet anything less than six hours’ sleep and she was wrecked.

  ‘I’ll order coffee.’ Luc signalled the waiter, and she joined Ana in choosing tea, all too aware coffee would keep her awake. How long had they been here? Two hours? Three?

  They were almost done, and within half an hour she’d be free to slip behind the wheel of her car and drive home.

  Wonderful, she determined as Luc fixed the bill, and she stood to her feet, collected her evening purse, and followed Ana to the foyer.

  Her skin prickled in awareness of Jace’s close proximity, and it took considerable effort to move at a leisurely pace. She could almost feel the warmth of his body, and her own stiffened at the light touch of his hand at the back of her waist as they gained the pavement.

  ‘I’ll see you to your car.’

  ‘I had a valet attendant park it for me.’

  Ana tilted her face as Jace leant down to brush his lips to her cheek. ‘Luc and I can give you a lift back to the hotel.’

  ‘I’m sure Rebekah won’t mind.’ Jace straightened and shot his cousin a measured look. ‘I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’

  Rebekah uttered a silent prayer that Luc would intercede, only the deity wasn’t listening. Ana leant forward and brushed her lips to her sister’s cheek, accepted Jace’s affectionate ‘Goodnight’, then she moved with Luc towards their car.

  It was so smoothly effected, she could hardly believe she’d been cleverly manipulated. His hotel was en route to her apartment. Given she had to pass right by the main entrance, it would be churlish to refuse.

  However, her mind screamed in silent denial as she waited for the attendant to fetch her car. She didn’t want to be alone with him, ever, and especially not in the close confines of her MG sports car.

  What had prompted him to suggest it when she’d been so painstakingly polite all evening? She hadn’t flirted, or given him any reason to think she coveted his attention.

  Dammit, just get in the car, drop him off at
the hotel, then that’ll be the end of it. Ten, fifteen minutes was all it would take.

  There wasn’t a lot of leg-room, and it gave her a degree of satisfaction as he folded his lengthy frame into the front passenger seat.

  Rebekah didn’t waste a second, and she gained the street, then headed towards Double Bay. Idle conversation, simply for the sake of it, wasn’t on her agenda, and she didn’t offer a word as she took liberties with the speed limit.

  Ten minutes and counting.

  It was a beautiful late-spring evening, the dark sky a clear indigo sprinkled with stars. Cool, sharp temperatures promised another fine day, and she directed her mind to the shop’s orders and the stock she’d need to purchase from the markets.

  It didn’t work, for she was supremely conscious of the man seated beside her. In the close confines of the car she was aware of the subtle tones of his cologne, the clean smell of his clothes…and the faint male muskiness that was his alone.

  Rebekah felt the tell-tale prickle of her skin as her body began an unbidden response. There was warmth, and heat pooled deep inside, intensifying with damning speed as her pulse accelerated to a crazy beat.

  His hand rested on one knee, which was close, much too close to the gear-shift, making it impossible not to touch him whenever she changed gears. Avoiding contact without appearing to do so required care, and she wondered if he sensed her disquiet.

  What if he did, and he was silently amused? Oh, dammit, just drive. In another five minutes she’d be free of his disturbing presence.

  One more set of traffic lights and she’d enter the outer fringes of suburban Double Bay. A sense of intense relief began to descend as she turned into the street housing the main entrance to his hotel, and she drew to a halt in the impressive forecourt.

  A uniformed bellboy moved towards the car, and Rebekah turned towards Jace. ‘Goodnight.’

  In one fluid movement he captured her face with his hands, then lowered his mouth to hers in an evocative kiss that invaded and seduced. All too brief, it held the promise of more.

  Shocked surprise encompassed her features as he lifted his head, and her mouth parted, only to close again as he offered a huskily voiced au revoir before sliding out from the low-slung seat.

  She caught the faint gleam in those dark eyes before he turned and walked towards the main entrance.

  Damn him. What did he think he was playing at?

  She moved the gear-stick with unnecessary force, then sent the car into the street. Her apartment was situated two blocks distant, and she reached it in record time, easing the MG down into the underground car park.

  In the lift she castigated herself for not predicting Jace’s move. He’d bargained on the element of surprise, and had won.

  So what did it matter? She was unlikely to see him again. But it irked unbearably he’d caught her unawares, and provided a not so subtle reminder that he was aware of her vulnerability, and, even more galling, susceptible to him.

  She should have slapped his face. Would have, if his action hadn’t rendered her momentarily speechless.

  Ten o’clock wasn’t late, and with only six hours’ sleep ahead of her she should go straight to bed. Instead, she slid off her stilettos and roamed the apartment, too emotionally wound up to settle to an easy sleep.

  Nothing on television held her interest for long, and after utilising the remote to flick through every channel she simply switched off the set, collected a magazine and flipped through the pages with equal uninterest before discarding it in disgust.

  A derisive sound emerged from her throat as she doused the lights and made for her bedroom.

  She could still feel Jace Dimitriades’ touch when she began removing her clothes. As she cleansed her face of make-up she was positive she could still taste him, and she took up her toothbrush and cleaned her teeth, twice.

  So vivid was his powerful image, she was prepared to swear he was there with her as she lay in bed staring into the room’s darkness.

  Over and over the evening replayed itself, and the memory of his kiss taunted her, awakening her imagination to such a level it became impossible to sleep.

  Jace Dimitriades drained the last of his coffee, reached for his suit jacket and shrugged it on, collected his wallet and cellphone, then he exited his hotel suite, took the lift down to ground level and walked out into the sunshine.

  He had an hour before he was due to join Luc at a business meeting in the city. Time enough to achieve his objective, he determined as he crossed the street and walked the block and a half to his intended destination.

  Blooms and Bouquets was ideally sited, the window display colourful with expertly arranged blooms in numerous vases on stands of varying heights. A background wall held a similar display, and the overall look from outside was a mass of floor-to-ceiling flowers.

  The result was visually stunning, and a testament to the two sisters who owned the boutique.

  He pushed open the door, registered the electronic buzzer, and offered a greeting to Ana, swivelled his head to include Rebekah, who was deftly assembling a bouquet of orchids at the work table.

  ‘Jace, how wonderful to see you.’ Ana slid off her chair behind the computer and joined him. ‘Is this a social call?’

  He leant down and brushed his lips to her temple. ‘How are you?’ His smile held affectionate warmth. ‘In answer to your question…social and business.’

  ‘Then let’s get business out of the way first.’

  The phone rang, providing a convenient interruption. Not that he really needed one, but it helped. ‘Answer that. Rebekah can organise the order.’

  Could she, indeed? From the moment he stepped into the boutique all her senses had snapped into full alert. It was crazy the way her body reacted to the sight of him. Amend that to just thinking about him, she admitted wryly. Hadn’t that very thing kept her awake last night?

  Any hope of having Ana deal with him was shot, leaving her with little option but to place the bouquet taking shape onto the work table and move forward to assist him.

  He looked…incredible, the dark grey business suit fashioned by a master tailor, fine cotton shirt, impeccably knotted silk tie. But it was the man himself who took hold of her composure and tore it to shreds.

  She didn’t like the feeling at all. It had taken two years to repair the damage Brad had wrought and restore a measure of confidence. To have it undermined in any way was something she’d defend to the death.

  Rebekah slipped into the polite, professional role with practised ease. ‘Do you have anything particular in mind?’

  Good, his presence rattled her. He’d caught the faint tremble in those capable hands, sighted a glimpse of her inner struggle as she geared herself to deal with him. Signs she wasn’t anywhere near as calm as she’d have him believe.

  ‘A journey is but a series of many steps.’ The quote teased his brain, although he couldn’t be sure of its accuracy or its origin, only that the words were pertinent.

  Rebekah Stanford intrigued him. He admired the look of her, the strength of character apparent. The exigent sexual chemistry. But it was more than mere physical attraction. There was mystery surrounding her, something he couldn’t quite pin down.

  During the past year he hadn’t been able to dismiss her from his mind. Her features teased his subconscious, the scent and feel of her. The way she’d responded to his touch haunted him…and destroyed anything he thought he could feel for another woman. Plural, he amended ruefully, aware of the few women he’d sought to fill a void.

  Now he was back, intent on combining business with pleasure…or was it the other way round? Intent on determining if memory of an emotion still existed, and if it did, just what he intended to do about it.

  ‘Roses.’ Their velvety texture, exotic perfume, the exquisite petals so tightly budded just waiting to unfold.

  ‘What colour do you have in mind?’

  Rebekah moved towards the temperature-controlled cabinet and indicated several va
ses holding a variety of colours.

  There was the perfection of white, glorious pinks and corals in their various shadings, and deep, dark red.

  He didn’t hesitate. ‘The red.’

  She opened the glass door, removed the vase and carried it to the work table. ‘How many would you like? The cost—’

  ‘Is immaterial,’ Jace concluded. ‘Three dozen.’

  ‘Would you like them delivered? An extra charge applies.’

  ‘I’ll handle delivery.’

  A woman undoubtedly. Hostess, friend, or lover?

  If it was a lover, he must possess all the right moves. He’d only been in the country two days.

  Rebekah gestured towards a stand containing cards for every occasion. ‘Perhaps you’d like to choose a card and write on it while I fix these.’ She was already reaching for Cellophane, and mentally selecting ribbon.

  Within minutes the bouquet was ready, and she attached the card, accepted payment, then handed him the roses.

  Jace took time to admire their assembled artistry, then he presented her with them. ‘For you.’ He observed a gamut of emotions chase across her expressive features, and saw her struggle with each and every one of them.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘The roses are for you. I suggest you read the card.’

  Rebekah read the words with a sense of mounting disbelief. ‘Dinner tonight. Seven.’

  ‘I’ll collect you.’

  ‘You don’t know where I live.’ What was she saying? She had no intention of sharing dinner with him.

  ‘Ana will give me the address.’

  ‘No.’

  One eyebrow slanted in mocking humour. ‘No, Ana won’t give me the address?’

  ‘No, I won’t accept your invitation.’ The thought of spending time with him wasn’t a good idea.

  ‘I promise not to bite.’

  ‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’ She held out the magnificent sheaf of roses. ‘Please take these. I can’t accept them.’

  ‘Can’t, or won’t?’ His New York-accented drawl held humour, and something else she couldn’t define.

  Ana? Where was her sister when she needed her?

  It took only a glance to determine Ana was still on the phone. ‘I don’t date.’