Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8

by Cathy Williams

  Christo’s groin grew heavy. She stood with arms folded and hip jutting in a confrontational stance that triggered a reaction deep in his psyche. Something he could only describe as very primitive and utterly masculine.

  ‘Walking,’ he murmured, watching her eyes flare brighter. As if she struggled to contain her emotions.

  Was that what she’d done before? Kept her emotions under wraps?

  The woman he’d courted in Australia had been reserved and eager to please. Christo had thought he wanted the quiet, compliant Emma. But there was a lot to be said for vivacity. For passion.

  ‘You don’t think it would have been helpful if you’d stayed with Anthea? Helped her settle in?’

  Christo settled his shoulders back against the rough bark of the tree and slowly crossed his arms. ‘You were doing a fine job. Better than I could have done. My skills don’t lie in that direction.’ Give him business any day. Wrangling a profit in a difficult commercial environment was far easier than dealing with family or feelings.

  Emma shook her head gain, dark blonde waves slipping around her shoulders. ‘That’s no excuse. You should have been there. You’re her uncle.’

  Step-uncle. But Christo didn’t correct her.

  ‘It’s not me she needs. It’s someone like you, with a knack for dealing with children.’

  ‘Don’t think you can get out of your responsibilities so easily.’ Her voice was low and even but determined. ‘You need to build a relationship with her. When we divorce, I won’t be around to take care of her.’

  There’d be no divorce.

  Christo planned to keep Emma as his wife. Once she got used to the idea, once he’d taken her to bed, she’d change her mind. It might be his money and looks that initially attracted women, but he knew how to satisfy them.

  Pleasure stirred at the memory of Emma on their wedding day. Her breathless anticipation. The flurry of nerves that barely concealed her desire for him.

  All he needed was patience, time to remind her how much she wanted him.

  There’d be pleasure too in having what she’d denied him when she’d run off, leaving him to explain the inexplicable to her friends and family. Runaway bride, indeed! Did she really think she could make a fool of him and not pay? Did she think he had no pride?

  ‘I have every intention of developing a relationship with her.’ Though the thought of it made him feel...

  No. Better not to examine that too closely. He knew his duty and he’d do it.

  ‘Well, you haven’t got off to a good start.’

  Christo shrugged. ‘Some things take time.’ Such as seducing a woman who needed the reassurance of a gentle touch. He read more than anger in Emma’s obstinate stance and quickened breathing. There was awareness. How could he not notice when it crackled in the air between them?

  ‘They’d go far better without your girlfriend here.’ The words emerged through clenched teeth. Emma bit the words out.

  Jealousy?

  Despite the tension he’d fought these last hours, Christo felt delight unfurl.

  * * *

  ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

  ‘She sure fooled me.’

  Emma’s chin swung higher. It wasn’t Christo’s companion who’d made a fool of her. It was her own husband. How she hated that word. Husband. Almost as much as she hated the fact she’d been stupid enough to marry him. She must have been out of her mind!

  Now he’d brought his lover here. She’d heard about open marriages but this was the man who just days ago had demanded sex as his marital right!

  As if all that weren’t enough, there was yet another sting in the tail.

  Despite the different colouring, one brunette and one redheaded, there was a strong similarity between the woman who’d stepped out of the limo and Emma’s cousin, Maia. The gorgeous cousin with whom Christo had admitted he’d like to have an affair.

  Both women were tall, sexy in a sultry, almost earthy way, yet with a sophistication Emma couldn’t hope to match.

  Plain Emma. Ordinary Emma. Emma the ‘nice’ girl. Emma who played by the rules and didn’t like to upset people who cared for her.

  She dug her fingers into her upper arms, fighting a wave of reckless anger. Losing her temper wouldn’t help.

  Yet, now she’d met Christo’s ‘type’ and realised how far she was from the sort of woman he wanted, it was a battle to retain some surface calm. Because it brought home how ridiculous her dreams of happy-ever-after had been.

  ‘Emma?’ He straightened from the tree and moved closer, forging a path through scarlet poppies and smaller wildflowers. In the dappled light of the olive grove she almost believed that was regret on Christo’s face. Except she’d had enough of self-delusion.

  ‘That’s far enough.’

  He halted before her, his gaze clear and open, as if he’d never deceived her.

  ‘She’s Anthea’s nanny, not my lover.’

  Emma snorted. ‘Even I’m not that gullible.’

  ‘But I was. Or at least, the recruitment expert was.’

  Something about his tone of voice, the jarring note that sounded like discomfort, as well as annoyance, stopped Emma’s scornful reply.

  This was the first time Christo Karides had admitted being anything other than in control. Was it a trick?

  He curled his hand around the back of his neck. The action dragged his casual shirt up, stretching it across his wide chest.

  Emma stared then raised her gaze to his face, telling herself it was the drowsy afternoon heat of the sheltered grove that made her feel warm.

  ‘You’re telling me she really is a nanny? She doesn’t look or act like one.’

  ‘The only other time I met them, she wore flat shoes, hair pulled back and her outfit was sensible, not—’

  ‘Sexy?’ Emma arched her eyebrows. ‘Surely you noticed she couldn’t take her eyes off you? She didn’t even glance at Anthea.’ Outrage on behalf of the bereaved little girl cut through Emma’s hurt. They were both victims of this man.

  ‘Oh, I noticed. Today.’ His tone was grim. ‘But she wasn’t like that the other time. Then she was wonderful with Anthea. Attentive and reassuring. She perfectly matched her excellent references.’

  Emma frowned, finally registering what Christo had said a moment ago. The only other time he’d met them.

  It wasn’t just the nanny he’d met only once. It was his niece too. No wonder Christo and Anthea behaved like complete strangers. Yet did that explain his grim expression as he’d surveyed the little girl?

  Slate-blue eyes caught and held hers. ‘Today I saw a different side to her.’ He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and Emma realised he was still talking about Anthea’s nanny. ‘It happens. Women deciding to make a play for a rich man who’ll be a meal ticket. But I confess this time I was taken completely by surprise.’

  Emma stared back at this man who took such things in his stride. A light breeze riffled his jet-black hair and the shifting shadows cast those high, carved cheekbones in stark relief, accentuating his hard male beauty.

  She knew they came from different worlds but to accept such games as inevitable? ‘If that’s normal in your world, then I pity you.’

  Something shifted in his face. His expression closed, turned still. For just a second Emma sensed she’d hit a nerve. Or had she imagined it?

  ‘I’m not interested in sleeping with the hired help.’ His voice was chill, sending a shiver tracking over her bare arms and neck. ‘I never mix sex and business. Besides, I have a wife. Remember?’ The way his voice dipped suddenly took Emma’s stomach with it, diving low in a giddy swoop. ‘What I want is someone I can trust to care for Anthea. She needs it, poor kid, after what she’s been through.’ He paused, as if side-tracked by his thoughts.

  ‘You mean more than losing her mother?’ Emma didn’t know what prompted her words. A parent’s loss would make any kid withdrawn and wary. Emma was certain her own early losses had affected her that way too. Yet after just a
short time with Anthea she wondered at her level of self-containment, and the bruised expression in her eyes, as if expecting the worst at any moment.

  Christo fixed her with a hard stare, as if daring her to go on. For answer she simply stared back.

  Finally he sighed and shoved his hands deep in his trouser pockets. ‘It’s as well you know.’ He paused and paced away, as if too restless to stand still. ‘Anthea was living with her mother, my stepsister, in the USA.’

  ‘Not in Greece?’ But then that would explain why Anthea had responded easily when Emma had spoken to her in English.

  ‘My stepmother and stepsister were American. It was decided Greece didn’t suit my stepsister.’ To Emma’s astonishment, she saw Christo’s mouth work, tugging down in a grimace before flattening into a grim line.

  Her curiosity rose. She was about to ask what that meant when Christo continued. ‘She went to live with relatives in the States.’

  ‘Instead of staying with her mother and your father?’ It seemed odd.

  ‘Yes.’ His tone put off further questions. ‘She lived there till she died recently. Sadly, it wasn’t a settled life. She was...troubled.’ There it was again, that slight hesitation that made Emma more rather than less curious about his choice of words.

  ‘Put plainly, she became addicted to drugs and alcohol. As far as I can tell, she never lived with Anthea’s father, whoever he was.’

  ‘You weren’t in contact with her?’

  Christo shook his head and turned to survey the villa through the trees. Was it her imagination or did he deliberately avoid her eyes?

  ‘I only ever saw her once, years ago. I never heard from her after she left.’ He opened his mouth then closed it again. Had he been going to add something?

  Emma pushed the idea aside. The issue now was Anthea, not Christo’s relationship with her mother.

  ‘Anthea lived with an addict?’ Her heart sank as she imagined the sort of life the little girl had experienced.

  Christo nodded, the movement abrupt. ‘They moved a lot and I suspect she was neglected.’

  Emma looked at that hard face, the profile made severe by tension, and realised that behind the adamantine stillness of his features Christo was distressed.

  It made him suddenly, unexpectedly, human.

  A flurry of warmth rushed through her. An unwanted stirring of sympathy.

  She’d thought of him as a liar and a cheat. Seeing evidence of a softer side was unsettling.

  ‘I should have followed up. I shouldn’t have assumed she was okay.’ The words were so quiet they melded with the sigh of the breeze through the silvered olive leaves.

  Emma was puzzled. She’d assumed Christo and his stepsister had been young when they’d met. That Christo hadn’t been responsible for her.

  He turned back, those dark blue eyes searing in their intensity. ‘Anthea hasn’t had the advantage of a stable home or family. That’s one of the reasons I want her settled with someone who can nurture her.’

  Emma, in other words.

  Indignation stirred anew. She wasn’t some mail-order bride to be brought in to fill a gap. Yet her anger was muffled this time by the story she’d heard.

  She understood Christo’s desire to look after his niece. She even applauded it. Except for the ruthless way he’d lied to her, making her believe he wanted her.

  ‘In that case, you need an excellent nanny. You can’t rely on me long term.’

  To her surprise, Christo inclined his head. ‘Before you arrived I was debating whether to dismiss this nanny immediately. But that would leave you in the lurch when I go back to Athens.’

  ‘You were concerned about me?’ His consideration surprised her. Hadn’t he acquired her for that very purpose?

  Familiar hurt jabbed her. That was all she was to him, a convenient business acquisition, bringing him property and the mothering he wanted for Anthea. Even his demand for sex had been an afterthought, driven by annoyance that she’d defied him. She knew one thing for sure. She wasn’t his type.

  ‘Of course.’ His gaze held hers. ‘I never expected just to foist Anthea onto you. It would be unreasonable to expect you to care for her twenty-four hours a day. As my wife, you’ll have other things to do with your time. And Dora is already busy enough.’

  For a moment there Emma had actually started to warm to Christo. Until the reference to her being his wife. As if she had no other purpose in life.

  ‘Actually, I’m going to be busy setting up my business. I won’t have time for much else.’

  Those penetrating eyes surveyed her for silent seconds and Emma wondered what he read in her face.

  ‘All the more reason to find reliable help for Anthea.’ Emma couldn’t argue with that. ‘The difficulty is that when I dismiss this nanny it will take time to find someone suitable.’

  ‘You could look after her yourself.’

  Black eyebrows winged up that broad forehead. ‘I’m many things, Emma, but experienced in caring for traumatised children isn’t one of them. Even if I trashed my schedule for the next several weeks to be with her, I wouldn’t be suitable.’

  ‘It’s not a matter of being suitable. It’s about providing warmth and love.’

  Christo didn’t answer. Didn’t so much as blink.

  He was right, Emma realised with icy clarity. Christo didn’t do love. Little Anthea needed more than he could provide.

  ‘Don’t sack the woman. Give her another chance.’ She surprised herself with the words.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘You said yourself that she did a good job before. Maybe today was an aberration she’s already regretting. We all make mistakes.’

  Emma should know. This man had been the biggest mistake of her life. She knew how he could turn a woman’s head.

  ‘I could put her on notice. Spell out the boundaries to her,’ he said slowly, as if thinking through Emma’s suggestion. ‘After all, she’s the only one of us that Anthea has known for more than a couple of hours.’

  ‘In that case, definitely give her a second chance. For Anthea’s sake.’

  He frowned. ‘We’ll have to keep a close eye on the situation. I won’t allow Anthea to be neglected again.’

  Did he notice that he’d said ‘we’? It sounded as if he intended to take an active role in monitoring the situation. Perhaps he wasn’t as cold-hearted as he seemed.

  ‘If she doesn’t live up to expectations, you can hire someone else. You could even tell your recruitment people that you may need a replacement if this one doesn’t work out so they can check their books.’

  ‘This time I’ll vet the applicants personally.’ Christo nodded. ‘Thanks, Emma. It’s a good, practical suggestion.’

  Suddenly he smiled, a grin that transformed his features from sombre to breathtakingly attractive. It made Emma’s pulse trip and stumble, then continue erratically.

  ‘See how well we work together when we try? It just proves how perfectly matched we are.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  PERFECTLY MATCHED!

  How dared Christo pretend they were any such thing?

  Emma lay on her bed, fuming. No matter how she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to sleep.

  To her dismay she’d shared dinner alone with Christo. Anthea was too little to stay up and, after an interview with Christo, her nanny had elected to stay and watch over her. Dora had refused, point blank, to break a lifetime’s habit and join them in the dining room.

  Christo had been all easy charm, reminding her of their courtship in Australia. He’d complimented Emma on the villa and won Dora over with praise of her food and her home-made kumquat liqueur. It was hard to believe he was the same man who’d threatened blackmail to get Emma into his bed.

  But she’d been taken in by him before. She refused to fall for that charade again. He might seem considerate but beneath lay a heart as cold as a steel trap.

  Except where his niece was concerned. And, Emma suspected, his stepsister. There’d been
something about his expression when he’d spoken of her...

  Emma rolled her eyes, disgusted at her eagerness to find good in the man. She turned over and punched her pillow, trying to get comfortable.

  It was impossible. Christo Karides kept invading her brain. It was bad enough when he’d been in another country, or on the mainland. Having him under the same roof made her edgy.

  She told herself she felt indignant at him making himself at home, as if he were an invited guest instead of an unwanted husband.

  There it was again. That shudder of repugnance at the word ‘husband’.

  But Emma was always brutally honest with herself, even if she’d spent years smoothing over prickly issues with her papou. That wasn’t all she felt. There was a sliver of something else.

  It had been satisfying this afternoon, discussing Anthea and her needs with him, hearing his thoughts and having him take her input seriously. That reminded her of their time in Melbourne, when he’d been not only solicitous but interested. She’d thought that had all been false. Now she wondered.

  Emma bit her lip. She was going around in circles. She couldn’t trust Christo Karides. The truly unnerving thing was that, despite everything, part of her wanted to.

  On a surge of impatience, she flung back the covers and got up, grabbing the robe from the bottom of the bed.

  Her mouth twisted as she put it on and cinched it around her waist. Steph had helped her choose it, and the matching nightgown of champagne silk and gossamer-fine lace for her trousseau. Emma had never owned anything like them in her life.

  She’d imagined wearing this on her wedding night. Imagined Christo peeling it off as he kissed her in places she’d never been kissed before.

  The thought raised gooseflesh on her skin, from her thighs to her hips and abdomen.

  Spinning on her heel, Emma marched across the room and wrenched open the door to the balcony. She needed to think about something other than Christo. She’d count stars. That would keep her busy for the next hour or two.

  There wasn’t much moon and as the village was around the headland there was no light pollution. Just the inky-dark sky, the sigh of the sea and thousands upon thousands of stars.