‘I’m sure I’ll learn. I meant it when I said I want to be fully involved with him, and that includes changing his nappy.’ Andreas smiled at her obvious surprise. ‘Once Loukas has settled, I’ll go and make dinner.’
Her brows lifted. ‘I hadn’t got you down as the domesticated type.’
‘Careful, moro mou,’ he said softly, ‘or I will demand you return my shirt immediately.’ The glitter in his eyes sent a frisson of sexual hunger through Isla. Her breasts felt heavy and when she glanced down she was embarrassed to see her nipples jutting beneath the shirt he had lent her.
‘I’m curious,’ she mumbled. ‘Did your mother teach you to cook?’
‘Theos, no!’ His smile faded. ‘My mother had an army of servants to run around her and I doubt she ever set foot inside a kitchen. She wasn’t interested in anything except her ill-health and her unhappiness, for which she blamed me.’
‘Why did she blame you?’
‘She suffered a stroke after I was born, brought on by a long and difficult labour. My mother never fully recovered, physically or mentally, from the trauma. When I was a small boy I had no idea why she seemed to detest me, but when I was older she never missed an opportunity to tell me that all her problems were my fault.’
‘It sounds as though you had an unhappy childhood.’ Isla imagined Andreas as a little boy, wondering why his mother seemed not to care for him. Loukas would never doubt how much she loved him, she promised herself.
‘I was away at school a lot and I spent most of the holidays here on Louloudi with Toula and Dinos.’ He shrugged. ‘I learned to be independent and self-sufficient from an early age and those qualities helped me when I was starting out in my racing career. My father did not approve of me racing motorbikes and refused to give me financial backing, but it only made me more determined to succeed.’
It was not difficult to understand why Andreas seemed so emotionally guarded, Isla thought later that night. He had grown up feeling unloved by his mother. And his father’s affair with her mother had meant that Stelios was often not around for his family.
With a sigh she checked Loukas on the baby monitor before she switched off the bedside lamp. Andreas had shut himself in his study, saying he needed to do a couple of hours’ work on his laptop. Her ankle was turning an interesting shade of purple but the pain had settled to a dull throb and she hoped she would be more mobile tomorrow.
But first there was the night to get through. Andreas’s bed was enormous but she wriggled over to the edge of the mattress so that when he came to bed he would know that she was only sharing it with him with extreme reluctance.
Who was she kidding? Isla asked herself ruefully. She only had to be in the same room with Andreas and her body went haywire, every cell, every nerve fiercely aware of him. Earlier he had carried her into the sitting room of his suite and sat her at the table before he served dinner.
‘I’m impressed that you made moussaka,’ she’d told him, thinking that her own culinary skills didn’t extend much further than omelettes.
His grin had done strange things to her heart. ‘I am not very domesticated. Toula prepared meals and left them in the fridge. I simply heated the food up.’
She had found herself smiling back at him and, although she only had half a glass of wine topped up with soda water, she felt relaxed yet at the same time more alive than she’d ever felt.
‘Loukas looks like you when you both smile,’ Andreas murmured.
‘I think he looks more like you. He has your colouring and his eyes are the same deep blue as yours.’
‘He has a mixture of our genes and he’s bound to have a physical resemblance to both of us.’
‘I suppose so.’ Emotion had suddenly clogged her throat. Loukas wasn’t just a baby; he was a link between her and Andreas that would last for their lifetimes. ‘When you asked me to marry you, what kind of marriage were you suggesting?’ She blushed and felt herself floundering. ‘What I mean is, would you want a proper marriage?’
Andreas had given her a speculative look. ‘By proper I assume you mean would we have a sexual relationship? Why not? We have already proved that we are sexually compatible.’
She was glad he hadn’t pretended that he was in love with her, Isla assured herself. There was nothing romantic about Andreas’s proposal and marriage was simply a way for them to bring up their son together—with added benefits.
Thinking about their sexual compatibility made her feel hot all over. For the past year she’d frequently had dreams of Andreas making love to her, but tonight, lying in his bed, those memories were sharper than ever before. Her nipples tingled as she remembered how he had caressed her breasts with his hands and mouth, and how he’d moved down her body, pressing hungry kisses over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Isla’s breathing slowed and her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as sleep claimed her and she slipped into a delicious dream.
She woke with a start and opened her eyes. It was pitch-black and she could not see anything, but her other senses took over and she realised that the wind had died down and the only sound she could hear was Andreas’s regular, deep breaths. She hadn’t been aware that he had come to bed, or that at some point during the night she had moved across the mattress towards him. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and his male scent—an elusive mix of his sandalwood aftershave and something muskier and uniquely him—stirred a fierce longing low in her pelvis.
He was fast asleep. Now that her eyes were accustomed to the dark, she was able to study his face. His sculpted features were softened slightly and she glimpsed the boy he had once been, and imagined how Loukas would look when he grew up. Emotion tugged on her heart. She and Andreas had made a beautiful child together but they were separated by a chasm of mistrust. Except that right now the only thing separating them was the shirt he had lent her.
Her mind was still full of the dream she’d had about him. She could not resist touching him and felt the heat of his silken skin and the slight abrasion of his chest hairs beneath her palm. Closing her eyes, she imagined if they were a proper couple instead of almost strangers linked by a baby they had not planned to have. If they were lovers she could trace her fingertips over the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles and discover the indent of his navel, before following the arrowing of hairs across his flat stomach and down to where they disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts.
She froze when he stirred. But his chest rose and fell evenly and she released her breath and pressed her face against his shoulder. She couldn’t resist kissing his satin-smooth skin. He tasted of salt on her tongue. If they were lovers she could slip her hand beneath the elastic waist of his boxers and trail her fingertips over a hair-roughened thigh. Her heart skipped a beat when she came up against his impressively hard, thick arousal. Before she could snatch her fingers away, he clamped his big hand over hers.
‘Just so that there are no misunderstandings, omorfia mou, you were the one to take advantage of me,’ he growled.
Isla stared at his face, so hard and angular with the skin pulled tight over his sharp cheekbones. His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger that sent a quiver of response through her. ‘I advise you not to start something unless you are prepared for me to finish it.’
Embarrassed heat scorched a path from Isla’s face right down to her toes. ‘I was having a dream,’ she choked.
‘I thought I must be dreaming when I felt you touching me but the reality is even better.’ The lazy satisfaction in Andreas’s voice and the gleam of triumph in his eyes made her feel sick with mortification.
What had she done? She had shown him that she was still desperate for him, despite the fact that he had never bothered to get in contact with her after the night she had spent with him. Sure, he had been busy trying to save Karelis Corp but he could have phoned her after she’d left Louloudi. He had told her he’d loo
ked for her after she’d visited him in Athens to tell him she was pregnant, but she only had his word, Isla thought bleakly. The truth was that Andreas had viewed her as a sexual diversion. The chemistry between them was a bonus in a marriage that he had only suggested because he wanted his heir.
She sat up and pulled the sheet up to her chin. ‘I don’t want to have sex with you.’
‘You could have fooled me,’ he drawled. But his dry comment did not disguise the bite of frustration in his voice. ‘I know you want me. Your body has been sending out signals from the moment we met each other again.’ He ran his finger lightly down her cheek and then lower, skimming over her throat before slipping beneath the sheet and finding the hollow between her breasts.
She wondered if he could feel the frantic thud of her heart. In the darkness his eyes glittered like blue flames as he lowered his head until his mouth almost grazed hers. Almost, but not quite. Part of her wanted him to take control and kiss her. If he did, she would not be able to resist him. The hunger inside her craved his touch—his lips, his hands, his body driving into hers.
‘Let me make love to you, moro mou.’
Temptation clawed in her stomach. It would be so easy to let him ease her loneliness. When she was in his arms she could pretend that he was offering more than sex. But afterwards he might walk away from her as he had done in the past, leaving her self-respect in tatters.
‘No.’ She shifted across the mattress away from him. ‘Just because I had a dream doesn’t mean that I want to get involved with you again. You are the father of my child, but we are practically strangers and the little bit I know of you I don’t like very much. I’m won’t be your convenient wife and provide sex on demand.’
‘Theos, I would not make any demands on you,’ Andreas ground out. ‘When we have sex it will be because you are as willing and eager as you were when you gave your virginity to me. And note that I said when, not if. You will come to me, and I can wait.’ He cursed when she swung her legs over the side of the bed and yelped as she tried to put weight on her injured foot. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I can’t stay in your bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa in your dressing room. At least I’ll be nearer to Loukas if he wakes up.’
‘Get back into bed,’ Andreas said tersely. ‘I’ll take the sofa. Do not argue with me, Isla. You have already tested my control to its limits,’ he told her as he strode into the adjoining room and closed the door with a thud that spoke volumes.
The next few days were difficult. Isla had felt thoroughly ashamed of her behaviour when she woke the next morning, alone in Andreas’s huge bed, and recalled how she had touched his body while he slept. If she had woken in the night and found him caressing her, she would have accused him of taking advantage of her, she acknowledged on a fresh wave of embarrassment. She was aware that she was sending out mixed signals, and she felt silly and childish. She was a grown woman and a mother, but once again she was letting her past and her fear of rejection prevent her from satisfying her sexual needs with Andreas.
To her relief he did not mention what had happened—or not happened—she thought ruefully. She had expected him to make a mocking comment when he’d carried her downstairs and she’d stiffened in his arms and avoided his gaze. But he seemed to understand that her emotions were all over the place, and he kept their conversations to neutral topics, mainly about Loukas, so that Isla gradually began to relax.
By the third day the swelling on her ankle had reduced enough for her to be able to wear her shoes and she could hobble about, although Andreas always carried Loukas in case her ankle gave way. He continued to sleep in his dressing room, and in the morning when Loukas woke he brought the baby to her so that she could feed him. Those moments when they were all together and their son was at his most winsome made Isla wonder if she had been too hasty when she’d refused to marry Andreas. But he did not mention marriage again and her fear of rejection stopped her from asking him if his proposal had been serious.
Dinos and Toula arrived back on Louloudi, and a couple of days later Andreas said he had business meetings in Athens and left on the helicopter early in the morning. Isla missed him and she wondered how much longer they could continue to remain in limbo, with their desire for one another unfulfilled.
The day had dragged and her heart leapt when she heard the helicopter return. Toula had said that Andreas had asked for them to have dinner on the terrace, and the Greek woman was going to babysit.
‘Loukas can spend the night at my house. I am used having my grandchildren to stay, and it will do you good to have an evening off,’ Toula told Isla firmly. ‘The baby will be fine with me, so stop worrying and enjoy some time with Andreas.’ Her eyes twinkled and Isla didn’t have the heart to explain that her relationship with Andreas was not the great romance that Toula clearly believed.
Nevertheless she felt a sense of anticipation when she took a silk wrap-around dress in soft green out of the wardrobe and slipped it on. The material felt sensual against her skin and the dress flattered her slim figure that she’d been lucky enough to regain quickly after giving birth to Loukas. She teamed the dress with strappy silver sandals and slid a chunky silver bracelet onto her wrist. Her hair had grown like crazy while she was pregnant and reached almost to her waist. She clipped the front sections back from her face, added a slick of rose-pink gloss to her lips and sprayed perfume to her pulse points.
Andreas was already outside on the terrace and Isla hesitated in the doorway and roamed her eyes over him. He looked incredibly sexy in black trousers and a black silk shirt, open at the throat to reveal a vee of olive skin and a sprinkling of his chest hairs.
He looked over at her, and as their eyes locked Isla glimpsed a predatory hunger in his gaze that made the weakness in her limbs so much worse. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine if this scene played out differently—if they had been a loving couple and devoted parents to their son. Andreas would ask if Loukas had settled, before he drew her into his arms and kissed her mouth—slow and sensual with a promise of the passion that would explode between them after dinner, when he would lead her up to their bedroom and make long, sweet love to her.
Longing for all that she could not have pierced like an arrow through her heart but she forced herself to smile. ‘Are we celebrating something?’ she murmured, eyeing the bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. There was a huge bouquet of flowers on the table and a few packages gift-wrapped in silver paper.
Andreas popped the cork on the champagne, filled two glasses and offered her one. ‘Happy birthday.’
She swallowed hard. ‘How did you know that today is my birthday?’
‘I saw your date of birth in your passport. By the way, I have put Loukas’s passport in your bedside drawer.’
Isla buried her face in the mixed bouquet of pink roses, white lilies and blue freesias. Their perfume was heavenly. ‘I haven’t celebrated my birthday since Mum died,’ she said in a choked voice.
‘No tears on your birthday.’ Andreas brushed his thumb over Isla’s damp cheeks. He felt a tug in his chest when she blinked and gave him a wobbly smile.
‘I can’t believe you bought me presents.’
‘They’re nothing much,’ he said, feeling awkward. He’d spent hours when he should have been at work, walking around the shopping district in Athens and wondering what to buy her. He’d never actually chosen a gift for a woman before. That was something he left to his PA to organise, and he had an account with an exclusive jeweller who provided something suitably sparkly and expensive when he ended an affair with a mistress.
But Isla was different from any other woman he’d known, and she seemed genuinely delighted when she unwrapped a book on Greek mythology, a framed photo of Loukas smiling and showing his first tooth, and lastly a sky-blue topaz pendant suspended on a filigree silver chain. The necklace hadn’t been expensive but Isla gave a gasp of delight as if it was the
most valuable piece of jewellery in the world.
‘I chose it because the pendant is the colour of Loukas’s eyes,’ Andreas explained as she lifted the necklace out of its box.
‘And your eyes,’ she murmured. She turned around and held her hair up so that he could fasten the chain around her neck. Andreas breathed in the floral fragrance of her perfume and his stomach clenched. He wanted to press his lips against her slender neck. Sexual tension had simmered between them since the night he’d been woken by her hands caressing him. How he hadn’t lost it then, he did not know, but he had promised himself and Isla that he would wait until she was ready to make love with him.
It was not surprising that she was wary of him, he’d acknowledged as he’d tried to get comfortable on the sofa, which had not been designed for a man of his height. He had done nothing to earn her trust, but that needed to change because she was the mother of his son and he would do whatever it took to convince Isla that Loukas deserved the happy family life which neither of them had had when they were children.
‘Thank you for the necklace and the other gifts. I love them.’ Her smile stole his breath and Andreas felt a frisson of unease. He would not fall in love with her, he assured himself. He’d witnessed the damage and devastation wrought by love and its associated hopes and expectations. But he liked Isla and it was important to win her trust so that Loukas would grow up with two parents who were friends.
‘Let’s eat,’ he said, holding out her chair for her to sit down. The starter was a meze platter with a selection of olives, cubes of feta cheese, wedges of pitta bread, hummus dip and stuffed grape leaves. Andreas wasn’t hungry, at least not for food. Isla looked divine in her sexy, clingy dress and his body stirred as he imagined unwrapping the green silk to reveal her soft curves and those perfect breasts of hers. He took a gulp of champagne and said gruffly, ‘Tell me what Loukas has done today.’
Proof Of Their Forbidden Night (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 12