‘Is it such a handicap being beautiful?’ he queried with soft cynicism, and she shot him a dark pensive glance.
‘Sometimes I could scream for people to see beyond the façade, to be liked for me, everything that is Alexis Honore Harrison. Not simply Jonathan Harrison’s daughter, or David Harrison’s sister. Or even Lexi Harrison, model.’ She effected a helpless shrug. ‘There was a time when I thought of hiring a four-wheel drive and travelling north to Kakadu Reserve,’ she continued broodingly as she sipped from her glass.
‘Tracking kangaroos and crocodiles, dressed in khaki and wearing an akubra hat?’ He lifted a hand and touched the tip of his forefinger to the edge of her nose. ‘Living life in the rough and exposing this beautiful skin to the heat and dust and other unmentionable elements.’ His finger slid down to the curve of her upper lip, then gently traced its outline. ‘The trouble with running away is that eventually you have to return. And the problems you wanted to escape from still remain. It’s better to stay and deal with them.’ His smile was warm and completely disarming. ‘Believe me.’
It was impossible to still the faint trembling of her mouth. ‘You sound like Jonathan and David.’
He reached out and caught her arm in a light clasp. ‘Come out on to the terrace. It’s cooler, and we can talk without half the room watching our every move.’
He was weaving a subtle magical spell, and the crazy thing was that she drew great comfort from the touch of his hand. It was almost as if he represented a large stable rock to which she could cling, and be safe from the storm-tossed sea threatening to engulf her. Yet that in itself was a parody, for Georg Nicolaos represented a far bigger threat than she’d ever encountered, and she wasn’t sure precisely how she was going to deal with it.
He was right, she accorded a few minutes later. The terrace was cooler, and it was nothing less than sheer bliss to be free of the surreptitious glances and the mild exasperation of knowing she was the subject of conjecture.
‘Shall we dance?’
‘Must we?’
He took the glass from her hand and placed it down on the wide ledge of the balustrading. ‘I think so. I shan’t bite,’ he drawled with hateful mockery, and she stiffened as he drew her close.
‘If you even dared,’ Lexi warned with soft vehemence, ‘I’d—’
‘What? Bite me back?’
Damn him, he was amused! ‘Yes!’
‘I’m almost tempted. The result could prove—’ he paused deliberately ‘—interesting, shall we say?’
He held her impossibly close, and she felt consumed with futile anger. ‘Damn you!’ she burst out in a furious undertone. ‘This isn’t dancing!’
‘Why not relax?’ Georg queried imperturbably, restraining her efforts to wrest herself free with galling ease.
‘The only way I can relax is when I’m ten feet away from you!’ she declared vehemently.
‘That’s quite an admission. Have you stopped to consider why?’
His silky drawl was the very limit, and her head reared back as she sought to deliver a bitter invective. Except that the words never found voice as his mouth closed over hers in a kiss that took all her fine anger and tamed it into subdued submission.
‘Don’t ever do that again,’ Lexi said shakily several long seconds after he’d relinquished her mouth. That long, infinitely slow possession had been one of the most evocative, erotic experiences of her life. Eyes closed, she had wanted it to go on and on, and never stop. And she’d wanted so much more than just the mere coupling of their mouths.
For the first time since those initial heady days with Paul she wanted, needed a complete satiation of the senses that went way beyond mere seduction. Not just with any man. This man, a tiny voice taunted.
And he knew. It was there in his eyes, the soft curve of his mouth, the possessiveness of his hands as they moved lightly down her back to curve her close against the hard length of his body.
She unconsciously pleaded with him, her eyes large luminous pools that shimmered with the threat of crystalline tears. ‘Let me go.’
His gaze darkened fractionally, and his mouth moved to form a sensual curve. ‘What if I refuse?’
She felt as if she were caught up in a swirling vortex of emotion so treacherous that she was in danger of drowning. ‘Please.’ The effort it cost her to summon a faint smile was beyond measure. ‘I—’ she hesitated, and her lips trembled slightly as her eyes silently beseeched him ‘—I don’t want to play this particular game.’
His head lowered, and his lips brushed the length of her jaw to settle at the corner of her mouth. ‘Who said it was a game?’
A single tear overflowed and slowly trickled down her cheek. ‘You’re not playing fair.’
‘That depends on your definition of the word.’
If she didn’t attempt to instil some levity into the situation she’d fragment into a thousand pieces. ‘Shall we go back indoors?’
He lifted his head. ‘Do you particularly want to?’
‘I think so,’ she said steadily. ‘We’ve stayed out here sufficiently long to make our absence convincing.’
His eyes gleamed darkly in the shadowy light. ‘One look at you will be enough to convince anyone,’ he mocked gently as he lifted a hand and smoothed back a few wayward tresses.
For a moment she appeared stricken by his implication; then her features assembled an expressionless mask as she withdrew a tube of coloured gloss from her evening-bag and skilfully smoothed it over her lips.
Without a word she stepped away from him and walked slowly along the terrace to a double set of doors.
For what remained of the evening Georg was never far from her side, and she circulated among the guests, chatting, smiling with such conviction that it was doubtful anyone guessed that inside she was a mess of shattered nerves.
Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves, but Lexi wondered darkly if it was just a façade. The smiles, the expressed interest all seemed so incredibly false, so artificial. Were any of them true friends, or merely trading as superficial acquaintances? A hollow laugh rose unbidden, then died in her throat. Should anyone present tonight suffer a change in financial status, their social standing would diminish to zero.
‘Shall we leave?’
Lexi turned towards Georg and proffered a solemn smile. ‘Is it awfully late?’
‘Almost two.’
She managed an expression of mock surprise. ‘Good heavens. I had no idea.’
A warm, sloping smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘Behave, Lexi,’ he bade her, and, taking hold of her hand, he led her towards their hosts.
In the car he drove competently, slipping a cassette into the stereo system so that conversation wasn’t a necessity, and when he drew to a halt outside her apartment block she made no demur as his hands closed over her shoulders.
She knew she should flee now, before she became lost, but it was far too late as his lips brushed hers, settling with unerring ease over their delicate curves, savouring the sensual softness; then she gasped as he caught hold of her lower lip and pulled it gently into his mouth. Her tongue darted forward in a gesture of protective defence, then sprang back in shocked disbelief as he caught its tip between his teeth and gently drew it forward.
She swallowed convulsively, and made a strangled demur in resistance, only to have his mouth open over her own as he took possession in a manner that left her in no doubt as to his ultimate intention.
She reached for his shoulders and used all her strength to push against him, gaining a slight degree of freedom only, she suspected, because he permitted it.
‘Please.’ The word came out as a tortured whisper.
‘You could ask me in.’
‘If I did,’ she managed shakily, ‘you’d read more into the invitation than I intended.’
‘And you’d hate yourself in the morning?’
‘Something like that.’
She could sense his faint smile a few seconds before his lips b
rushed hers, then she was free.
‘We’ll dine out tomorrow night.’
Lexi looked momentarily startled, and was about to refuse when she caught his faintly brooding smile. ‘What if I’ve already made plans?’
‘Cancel them,’ he instructed cynically.
‘I may not want to,’ she felt empowered to state, and glimpsed the mockery evident in the depths of his eyes.
‘Do it, Lexi. I’ll collect you at seven.’
‘Do you usually tell your female companions what your plans are, and expect them to pander to your every whim?’
His eyes became tinged with musing warmth, and a sloping smile tugged the corners of his mouth. ‘For some reason they seem intent on pleasing me.’
She didn’t doubt it for a minute. There was an inherent quality about him that was wholly sensual, and something else that made her want to run and hide. Except that she couldn’t, and maybe that bothered her more than she was willing to admit.
It was almost as if he was playing a game, she decided with an intuitive flash of speculative knowledge. His manipulative force in the business sector was legendary, and the Press dutifully recorded his every move.
‘Why wouldn’t they?’ Lexi returned sweetly, uncaring of his deep probing glance. ‘You’re an exceptionally wealthy man, you drive an exotic car, and you’re reasonably attractive—if you happen to like a surfeit of brooding Greek magnificence.’ She tilted her head to one side as she subjected him to a pensive appraisal. ‘I hope I won’t damage your ego when I say that it wouldn’t really matter if you were fifty, paunchy and bald. The women would still flock to your side.’
One eyebrow slanted in musing cynicism, and she caught a gleam of laughter in the depths of his eyes. ‘Perhaps I should return the compliment. There are any number of men waiting to beat a path to your door—if only you would let them.’
Her eyes widened fractionally, then became veiled by the swift downward sweep of her lashes. ‘Now you’re being facetious.’
‘Perhaps we should be grateful that neither of us possess any illusions,’ he drawled.
Lexi reached for the doorknob. ‘Goodnight.’
She was totally unprepared as he leant forward and covered her mouth with his own.
This time there was no hard possession, more a mixture of evocative control and blatant intention.
She had no defence against the explorative probe of his tongue as it traversed the inner contours of her mouth, and an electrifying awareness tingled through her veins as his touch became so intensely erotic that she had to physically restrain herself from allowing her body its instinctive inclination to lean close in against him and deepen the kiss.
It was madness, and just as she thought she could stand it no longer he lifted his head and slowly pushed her to arm’s length.
‘Sleep well, Lexi,’ he taunted lazily, and in her anxiety she didn’t hesitate to escape.
He waited until she was safely through the security doors before restarting the engine, and Lexi walked towards the lift without so much as a backward glance.
How could she sleep? He aroused a complexity of emotions, and not one of them was enviable.
Her mouth felt slightly swollen, and she ran the tip of her tongue over the lower curve as she entered her apartment.
Damn Georg Nicolaos, she cursed irreverently. Damn him to hell.
CHAPTER SIX
‘YOU’RE LATE,’ Lexi greeted Georg the instant she opened the door the following evening.
He pulled back the cuff of his jacket and examined a distinctive gold Rolex. ‘Seven minutes. Is it an unforgivable sin?’
It was immaterial that she hadn’t been ready until two minutes ago, and she had no intention of informing him of that fact. ‘I’m starving,’ she declared truthfully, sweeping past him.
‘Had a bad day?’
She wanted to hit him, and, enclosed within the confines of the lift, she wondered if there was some dark reason behind the temptation to resort to physical violence whenever she was in his company.
‘Shall I start from the beginning?’ Even to her own ears she sounded faintly harassed and on edge.
He unlocked the Ferrari and saw her seated inside before going round to slip in behind the wheel and fire the engine. ‘Please do.’
‘You’re amused,’ she accused him.
‘Intrigued,’ he amended as he concentrated on negotiating traffic.
Events of the totally chaotic day rose up to taunt her, and she grimaced in memory. ‘The Mercedes had a flat tyre, and I changed it myself. So I was late. That disrupted Jacques’s schedule. He swore so…graphically that I thought he was going to cancel the entire session. And nothing went right. They sent the wrong-sized clothes, and the accessories didn’t match. He ordered a few stills in black and white, then stormed out in a temper, leaving us to make the best of it. Monique blasted him with a blistered riposte that would have made a navvy blush.’ Her mouth assumed a rueful moue. ‘I missed lunch, discovered that the spare tyre I’d substituted this morning had developed a slow leak, and I had to catch a taxi into the city. The modelling academy kept me way beyond the projected time, and do you know how impossible it is to get a taxi between five and six?’ She suddenly became aware of their whereabouts. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘To my apartment.’
‘For dinner?’
‘Are you unaware that I am an accomplished chef?’
There was nothing she could do to guard against a sharp intake of breath. If she said she’d prefer to go to a restaurant he would imagine she was afraid to be alone with him. And she wasn’t. At least, fear didn’t motivate the state of her emotions.
‘You’ve been slaving in the kitchen all afternoon?’ she countered as he turned beneath an impressive apartment block and sent the Ferrari growling into a reserved bay. ‘Don’t you have to spend your weekend in an office directing a large slice of the city’s finances?’
His smile was faintly cynical. ‘I have access to hi-tech equipment in a number of offices, one of which is based in my apartment. Communication in the nineties is becoming increasingly portable. All it takes is the flick of an electronic button.’ He switched off the ignition and slid out of the car, waiting until she joined him before walking towards the lifts. ‘The restaurant is managed by a team of extremely competent chefs, who kindly permit me to work with them whenever I feel the inclination.’ He jabbed the call-button and when the doors slid open he inserted a key to allow private access to the penthouse apartment. ‘And slaving is scarcely applicable in preparing a dinner à deux,’ he concluded as the lift came to a smooth halt.
The penthouse was magnificent, and she said so, complimenting him with genuine sincerity on the tasteful blend of cream, beige and muted shades of brown and Wedgwood blue skilfully used in the décor. Deep-buttoned leather furniture in chocolate brown lent a masculine touch, and contrasting colours were implemented in expensive works of art gracing the walls.
‘Sit down,’ Georg bade her, crossing to the cocktail bar. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
Without doubt there would be wine to accompany their meal, and she had the feeling she needed to be in total control of her senses. ‘Something long, cool and non-alcoholic.’
‘Playing it safe, Lexi?’
Her eyes caught his, and her chin lifted a fraction in defiance of his drawling tones. ‘It’s the only way.’
‘You sound defensive,’ he accorded, slanting her a musing glance. ‘Will it help if I assure you that you have nothing to fear?’
Maybe, just maybe she might have believed him if it wasn’t for some elusive sixth sense that warned he was skilfully indulging in a contest where he was the mastermind and she merely a pawn. It was crazy, and totally without foundation, but the thought had infiltrated her mind and refused to be dislodged.
‘You mean, I’m safe from any so-called “fringe benefits” you might consider your due as a participant in this diabolical scheme?’
His gaze d
idn’t waver, although his eyes darkened measurably, and his voice when he spoke was deliberately mild, yet she detected an edge of steel beneath the velvet-smooth surface. ‘As safe as you choose to be.’
If that was assurance it was unsuccessful, and she watched as he put ice in a tall glass, then added lime-juice, a dash of bitters and topped it with soda before handing it to her.
‘Good luck.’
Educated in the best private schools, and fashionably ‘finished’, she was adept at dealing with almost any given situation, commanding an enviable repertoire of stock-in-trade social small talk. Yet with Georg Nicolaos she alternated between raging at him in temper and behaving like a tongue-tied teenager. It was ridiculous, she chided silently.
‘Tell me about yourself.’
Lexi looked momentarily startled, and took an appreciative sip from her glass. ‘A personal profile from birth until now?’ Her lips widened to form a bitter-sweet smile. ‘Including a run-down on my disastrous marriage?’
‘I consider Paul to be immaterial,’ Georg dismissed drily, and she felt a slight shiver feather its way down the length of her spine.
She looked at him carefully, noting the dark business suit, immaculate white linen shirt and sober navy blue silk tie. Character analysis just had to be his forte, for he appeared every inch the wealthy executive, exuding an animalistic sense of power with chilling ease.
‘What made you decide to take up modelling?’
Lexi gave a careless shrug. ‘It happened by accident. I attended a fashion parade with a friend three years ago. Just after I returned from two years abroad. The mother of another friend owned one of the boutiques supplying the parade with clothes. One of the models failed to show, and I was there—the right height and size. Before I knew it I was out on the catwalk trying to look as if I’d modelled clothes for years.’
‘With obvious success,’ Georg conceded.
‘I enjoyed it,’ she admitted. ‘Sufficiently so to agree to participating in another fashion parade held a few days later. Jacques was there. He seemed to think I possessed a natural flair. So I began to look at it seriously, enrolling at a modelling academy to learn all the tricks of the trade, and, as they say—the rest is history.’
The Greek's Bride of Convenience Page 8