Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8

by Cathy Williams

  Perhaps that should sound strange coming from the man who’d traded on her besotted naivety to trap her into marriage. Instead it sounded caring. Not merely the result of macho possessiveness. There was a good dose of that, judging from the jut of his jaw. But there was more too.

  For a second it reminded her of the old days, with her family, and particularly Papou, being over-protective. In the past Emma had found that trying, but she realised it felt good to know someone cared. She’d missed that.

  ‘Emma.’ Christo bent closer, as if trying to decipher her thoughts.

  ‘You’re not worried the press would say a billionaire’s wife shouldn’t work?’

  A crack of laughter sounded. ‘As if that’s relevant!’ Then, just as suddenly, he turned sombre. ‘But I’m serious about that guy. The way he looked at you, he definitely wasn’t thinking about work.’

  Emma looked into Christo’s strikingly handsome face, looking for self-interest, for some hint of manipulation. All she read was concern.

  Once more that glow of warmth filled her.

  She squeezed the big hand that held hers just a fraction too tight. ‘Okay, I’ll bear that in mind.’ She’d already decided not to take the job, but she didn’t want Christo thinking he could order and she’d immediately obey. He was domineering enough without further encouragement.

  For long seconds he said nothing. Then he nodded and Emma released a pent-up breath. This felt like a victory. More. It felt like caring and respect.

  Deep inside something tight and knotted frayed.

  Christo gathered her against him, shifting so they both faced the glorious view. A shoal of fish glinted, turning in the crystalline shallows a few metres away. A yacht appeared around the promontory, its sail pristine white against the deep blue of sea and distant land.

  Emma felt the comforting thud of Christo’s heart and the warm weight of his arm around her. His breath feathered her hair and she inhaled his unique cedar, leather and spice scent. Elation rose.

  ‘I’m glad to be back on Corfu, Emma.’

  She smiled up at him, surprised to hear herself admit, ‘I’m glad too.’

  * * *

  ‘Busy?’ The deep voice came from behind Emma next morning as she sat in the courtyard loggia. Warm hands covered her shoulders and slid down her bare arms.

  The pencil spilled from her hand onto the table. Her eyelids flickered as tingling heat rushed through her. She breathed deep, inhaling the familiar scent of Christo mingling with the last wisteria blooms. It was a heady mix.

  Did he pull her close or did she lean back? Either way, as usual, she melted.

  It was less than an hour since she’d left him and a giggling Anthea playing hide and seek in the garden. Two hours since Christo had held Emma pinioned against the wall of the shower, water sluicing over the pair of them, lips soldered together as he’d pumped into her, bringing them both to rapturous completion.

  Thinking of it made her nipples peak and awareness tighten her inner muscles.

  She sighed as he bent, nuzzled the hair from her neck and grazed his teeth where her neck curved into her shoulder. Emma shuddered. He knew all her sensitive spots.

  ‘You’re too distracting. I’m supposed to be working.’

  Yesterday’s conversation had reminded her how much she still had to do to get her business off the ground. She’d researched the market and competitors, checked local government approval processes and developed a business plan. She’d begun a website, scouted local suppliers and made plans for changes to the villa. But her non-existent cash flow meant she couldn’t proceed as fast as she’d like.

  Christo lifted his head and Emma bit her tongue rather than voice the protest that rose to her lips.

  ‘On the weekend?’

  She opened her mouth to say that was what he did, spent the weekends working, but it was no longer true. Last weekend there’d been a couple of calls to the Italian they’d met in Athens to discuss their joint venture. But that was all.

  What had happened to the busy entrepreneur who’d initially seemed out of place at the villa?

  ‘What are the drawings for?’ Christo sat beside her at the table, pulling his chair so close his leg brushed hers and her shoulder nudged his upper arm.

  She sighed and closed the papers. ‘It’s a long-term vision for the villa next door. But my main focus right now really needs to be on getting this place ready.’

  ‘You’re sure you want to do that?’

  ‘Of course.’ She needed the income and she had the skills to make it work. Eventually, when she and Christo divorced, this place would be hers free and clear.

  Strange how the thought of being free of Christo no longer held the allure it once had. In fact, it chilled her to the bone despite the morning’s warmth.

  * * *

  Christo had problems with the idea of outsiders here. Security would be a nightmare but, more than that, the place was their private haven. It wasn’t modern like his Athens apartment but it felt like home. More than the ostentatious house where he’d grown up ever had.

  ‘You won’t mind sharing your home with strangers?’

  Christo felt Emma’s muscles tighten almost imperceptibly at his words. Yet she’d seemed rapt in the idea when she talked about it before.

  Because she needs to support herself. Because you robbed her of the inheritance that should be hers, at least temporarily.

  A decent man would give Emma back everything he’d taken.

  Christo considered himself decent, if tough. He dismissed a pang of conscience.

  ‘It’s either that or move out completely. I’d rather be on hand when there are guests, to deal with their needs.’

  ‘What about your privacy?’

  ‘That’s not a luxury I can afford.’

  Christo stilled. He felt like a heel. ‘Care to show me the drawings for next door?’ When Emma hesitated, he reached forward. ‘May I?’

  She shrugged. ‘Why not? Papou bought the neighbouring property, but it needed a lot of work, and he got sick not long afterwards so he never got around to doing anything with it.’

  Christo surveyed the drawings. ‘You have a good eye,’ he murmured, lifting the top page to look at the next and the next. ‘This could be something special. Even better than developing this place.’

  ‘You think so?’

  He met her stare, noting the excitement in her eyes at odds with the press of her lips. As if she were scared to expect too much.

  ‘I like the combination of modern and traditional. And extending the outdoor living space next to this—’ he pointed ‘—is it a sunken garden?’

  ‘It is, with a fabulous view over its own cove.’

  ‘It would make a perfect venue for exclusive celebrations.’

  ‘Weddings in particular.’ She was enthusiastic now. ‘I could lure a lot of people from overseas for a romantic wedding in Greece. Or anniversaries, or private holidays. One day, when I’m solvent, I’ll tackle the remodelling.’

  ‘I could help with that. My company specialises in property development.’ Though on a much larger scale.

  Emma spun round in her seat, her eyes huge. ‘You threatened to withdraw your money from my uncle’s business unless I stayed married to you. Yet you’re offering it to me now?’

  Not Christo’s finest hour. He’d been desperate to convince Emma to stay with him. That need hadn’t gone. It was just tempered by other things.

  Feelings. It’s tempered by what you feel for her. What you want her to feel for you.

  Christo’s pulse hammered high in his throat. Suddenly he didn’t feel as invincible as usual.

  ‘You agreed to my terms and I trust you to keep them,’ he said, as if that was all he wanted, her presence for another ten months.

  Christo paused, wondering if she had any notion how significant that admission was. Trust didn’t come easily to him. Yet he’d discovered in Emma a woman unlike any he’d known. A woman who might disagree with him, but who, he wa
s sure, wouldn’t lie. She was sexy and passionate, gentle and emotional, practical and forthright. She cared for orphans and ageing housekeepers and maybe even for him.

  Everything within him stilled as he acknowledged how much he wanted that.

  ‘I want you to be happy and fulfilled, Emma.’

  His words clearly took her by surprise, despite all they’d shared. But why shouldn’t she be surprised? He’d couched their intimacy only in terms of sex. He’d let her imagine their connection was all about desire and satisfying carnal appetites. The truth, he’d discovered, ran far, far deeper.

  Still she hesitated.

  ‘Look on it as an advance against the money I owe you from the Athens property.’ Not that he intended to use her funds for this. It would be his gift, but she didn’t need to know that now.

  Emma tilted her head to one side, as if trying to see him better. ‘That would virtually dismantle the hold you have over me. You do realise that?’

  Christo shrugged as if it were a small thing. As if his heart wasn’t pummelling his ribs sickeningly and his neck wasn’t prickling at the thought of her slipping away from him. But it wouldn’t come to that.

  ‘Until the year’s up I still have ultimate say over the property.’ He couldn’t relinquish total control yet.

  Slowly she nodded. But the reminder of that ace up his sleeve didn’t dim the wonder in those hazel eyes. Her expression made him glow. As he had when he’d found her yesterday and she’d looked at him with such patent delight.

  Had anyone ever looked at him as Emma did? For sure, he’d never felt this way about any other woman.

  He lifted his hand to her satiny cheek, brushing it with the back of his knuckle. Something welled high in his chest and he opened his mouth to tell her...

  ‘Emma!’ A child’s voice rang out and they turned to see Anthea and Dora’s niece step out of the house. The new nanny released the girl’s hand and predictably she flew across the courtyard to Emma’s side like a bullet.

  Emma gathered her up, settling her on her lap and nodding as Anthea told her how she’d helped tidy up.

  Seeing the two together, the sensation in Christo’s chest twisted into something powerful and barely familiar. This was how he’d imagined them, even better than he’d imagined. Yet it wasn’t mere satisfaction he experienced.

  Abruptly Anthea stopped chattering and turned to him, holding her arms out. ‘Cwisto!’ Inevitably her lisp made him smile. ‘Up, pease. Up!’

  It still stunned him that he’d built a rapport with Cassie’s daughter. That he hadn’t inadvertently hurt her because of his lack of experience. Guilt and the shadow of the past had persuaded him it wouldn’t be possible. That he didn’t deserve her trust.

  Christo looked from Anthea to Emma and absorbed a barrage of emotions. Who’d have believed his world would be upended by two females? One tiny and demanding. The other feisty yet sweet. Both vulnerable. Both adorable.

  Emma passed the little girl over to him, and he read in Emma’s expression something he hadn’t seen before. He wanted to freeze that moment, analyse that look, question her. But Anthea was wriggling, demanding he take her to see the baby birds in the nest they’d found in the garden.

  He got up, slanting a look at Emma. But she turned away, folding the plans that riffled in the breeze.

  Later, he told himself. This was too important to ignore.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘THE PLACE DEFINITELY has excellent potential,’ Christo said as they left the empty villa and headed down the path to a private cove, smaller but no less beautiful than theirs next door. With each step their view of the jewel-toned water improved. Drifts of wildflowers, pink, white, blue and yellow, frothed up against the boles of massive olive trees and iconic tall cypresses.

  Emma nodded, trying to stifle bubbling excitement that Christo was so positive about the place. All through their inspection Christo had asked tough, insightful questions. He’d closely examined the house and outbuildings which Emma hoped to turn into extra accommodation.

  ‘It would take a lot of money to renovate,’ she said. The more they inspected, the more she feared she’d underestimated costs. Emma knew events management but nothing about building. That was Christo’s field.

  He took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. Emma’s breath stalled then accelerated to a gallop. Ever since Athens he took every chance to touch her, to be close. The attraction between them was real, not manufactured for the press.

  Was that why her heart sang when he touched her?

  It might not be love but this...fling felt wonderful. As if she’d undone the shackles of grief, self-doubt and anger and had stepped free of them. She felt lighter at heart than she could ever remember.

  See? She could enjoy the moment. Take pleasure like a sophisticated adult and...

  Christo smiled and her thoughts frayed. He tugged her hand, leading her off the path and onto the deserted crescent of fine sand. Metres away the sun glinted off shallow water that sparkled like gems. It was a private paradise, screened at this end of the beach from open water by a tumble of rocks. There was just the shush of the sea on sand, a songbird in the trees above and Christo.

  Yearning trembled through her.

  ‘Marketed right and run well, it would be worth the investment. It can’t be left. A vacant property will just degrade. And with this—’ he gestured to the private beach ‘—you’re onto a winner.’

  Emma nodded, struggling to focus on the property, not on the man. ‘I’ve tried to calculate how much it would cost but I haven’t got very far.’

  He turned back, his grey-blue eyes snaring hers. ‘Leave that to me. I’ll get someone onto it.’

  ‘You will?’ Was he serious about helping with the place?

  ‘Of course.’ He released her fingers and instead wrapped both hands around her waist. ‘I’ll release the resources so you can remodel. My staff will chase up the best local builders.’

  Emma was so stunned it took a second to register what he was doing with his hands. Until air wafted around her torso as he urged her arms up, pulling her top over her head.

  ‘Christo!’ She darted a look around the empty beach. ‘We can’t.’ Yet her breathlessness proved she was more excited than outraged. Especially when, with one swift movement, he hauled his shirt over his head and dumped it on the sand.

  Emma’s heart beat too fast as she took in his muscled body. She’d discovered one of her favourite things was to lay her head on his chest, feeling the strong thud of his heart beneath her ear and listening to it hammer as she flicked his nipple with her tongue, or slid her hand down to squeeze his shaft and tease him till he growled and rolled her beneath him.

  No growling now. Christo shucked his shoes and the rest of his clothes while she stood staring. She’d thought herself accustomed to the sight of him, all taut muscle and proud virility. But she’d never seen him under the bright blue sky, stark-naked and mightily aroused.

  He looked like some Greek god, perfectly proportioned, formidably sexy and utterly intent. Her body softened in anticipation. Involuntarily her inner muscles squeezed and she felt the slick wetness of arousal.

  ‘Believe me, Emma, we can.’

  In seconds he’d undone her bra and tossed it onto his clothes. The sun warmed her bare flesh but it was nothing to the blaze of heat as his gaze licked her. She thrilled at the ardour she read in his face, yet they were outdoors and...

  ‘Don’t cover yourself, sweet Emma.’ She hadn’t realised she’d made to cover her breasts till warm hands shackled her wrists. ‘Please? I want to see you. You know we’re private here. You can trust me.’

  Standing there half-naked, feeling totally exposed, Emma realised she did trust her husband. More than she’d once believed possible.

  ‘You want sex on the beach?’ Emma felt a ripple of shock. But then, despite weeks of passionate sex, she’d been a virgin just a short time ago. This was still new.

  He smiled, and her heart to
ok up Zumba behind her ribs. ‘With you, I want sex everywhere.’

  Christo’s gaze snared hers. Arousal beat hard and low in her pelvis. She told herself this was merely physical. Nothing else, nothing to worry about. Conveniently she silenced the part of her that said this felt like far more than sex.

  ‘If you want,’ he added. His hands hung, fisted, by his sides and Emma read tension in the line of his jaw.

  He meant it. He’d leave her be if she chose. Contrarily, the realisation conquered her natural reserve. She toed off her sandals, her hands going to the zip of her skirt. Then she paused, one last doubt surfacing.

  ‘If we have sex it’s not because you’ve promised to help refit the villa.’ She held his gaze, willing him to believe. ‘I’m not like your mother. I don’t do sex for money.’

  Christo stood unmoving so long, she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. But how could it be wrong when it was the truth?

  Finally he unlocked frozen muscles and shook his head. ‘You’re nothing like her, Emma. You think I don’t know that?’

  She lifted her shoulders. ‘I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.’

  ‘Good.’ He stepped so close his erection brushed her skirt and she shivered as need corkscrewed through her lower body. ‘Just honesty between us now. That’s what I want. And you, sweet Emma. I want you so badly.’

  Christo’s words set off a chain reaction inside, making internal muscles spasm needily and her heart thrum wildly. ‘In that case, I hope you have a condom.’

  He did. By the time Emma was naked he was sheathed and she was on her back on the warm sand, Christo kneeling like a conquering hero between her legs. His eyes had that glazed look he got when aroused and, when he nudged her, she automatically rose to meet him, the sensation so exquisite, she stifled a cry of delight.

  ‘Don’t hold back, glyka mou. I like hearing you.’

  With a tilt of his hips Christo slowly drove in till she felt him lodged right at her heart. Emma told herself that was impossible, but that was how it felt when he tenderly kissed her on the lips and gently rocked against her, evoking sensations that should be just physical but which felt profoundly emotional too.