by Trish Morey
So Jade wouldn’t let her down—especially not now, when it was clear that Grace was already in for a rough ride when she discovered the truth about Mayor Goldfinch.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Of course I’m happy working here.’
‘Then don’t let me hear any more about you trying to talk people out of surgery. You have a gift, and these people need you. They’ll do anything to look better.’ Grace reached out and grasped her forearm, squeezing it so hard her acrylic nails bit deep into Jade’s flesh. ‘You, more than anyone, should appreciate that.’
She’d been so close. If he’d taken her somewhere else, if he’d found somewhere private, she would have been his. Even now, leaning against the door of her champagne-coloured Mercedes convertible in the palm-tree-lined car park behind the Della-Bosca Clinic, he could still feel her in his arms, feel her shuddering response to his touch.
She’d wanted him that night!
She’d melted into his arms like warm syrup and he could have had her. If it hadn’t been for the Mayor and his young bimbo beating them to it, he would have had her. She’d been his for the taking. Ripe and luscious and so hot to touch that he was aching to have another chance to unleash the passion he knew was lurking beneath that polished exterior.
He smiled to himself as he pocketed his sunglasses. If she thought her rapid departure meant she’d escaped him, she had another think coming. He wasn’t done with this strategy just yet.
So far he’d accomplished none of the things he’d set out to do to comply with his father’s request to keep his sister safe; he’d found out none of the information he needed to pull the rug out from underneath Dr Della-Bosca’s Manolo-clad feet. But there was still no better way to find out what he needed to than to coax it out of her young colleague.
And next time he’d make sure there was no chance for her to change her mind. Next time she wouldn’t get away.
His body hummed with anticipation of the hunt. The information couldn’t come more enticingly gift-wrapped. The idea of extracting what he needed to know couldn’t possibly give him more of a charge.
She might be as plastic as the industry she worked for, and the celebrities she practised on, but at least she was making his quest more entertaining than he’d ever imagined possible.
He pulled one hand from his pocket and glanced down at his watch, but it only confirmed what the sun was already telling him as it dipped lower in the sky—the doctor kept long hours. The nip and tuck business was obviously booming.
Then a movement at the side door caught his eye. It was her. As she stepped from the door her hand went to the back of her head, and with a toss she pulled a clip from her hair, releasing it. He growled his approval as the wave swung around her face and tumbled over her shoulders like a sweep of honey.
He liked the way she looked with her hair down. Even more than how it looked, it appealed to his sense of economy.
One less thing for him to remove.
She couldn’t wait to get into that bath. Grace might be content to stay and deal with paperwork till all hours, but Jade had had enough for one day. And there was absolutely no need for Grace to stay back. They had enough staff that Grace need never bother herself with administration, but she’d always been hands-on, always been involved, even with matters as mundane as the accounts. She was a total inspiration.
Her neck and shoulders aching, Jade unclipped her hair as she stepped from the building, already mentally unwinding as she shook her hair free. She took two steps into the car park and froze.
It was him. He was leaning against her car and looking for all the world as if he owned it. Did he know it was hers? In the same instant she asked herself the question she’d already answered herself in the affirmative. Of course he knew. Why else would he be sprawled all over it? How he knew wasn’t even an issue. This man didn’t strike her as the sort who would have trouble getting anything—least of all information.
But what the hell was he doing here? Even in the gathering twilight the foolishness of her actions at the ball came back in stark detail to taunt her. And she didn’t want to be reminded of that night. Didn’t want to be reminded of what had nearly happened. Didn’t want to be reminded of how his firm body and his sultry mouth had made her feel…
She swallowed down an urge to turn around and walk the other way. She’d run from him once before, and be damned if he’d see her bolt again. It was her car he was leaning on. He was the one who was going to leave.
So she forced her legs to move once more, forced herself closer to where he stood so casually regarding her approach, his hands in his pockets, one leg bent over the other, while she wound tighter and tighter inside like a coiled spring.
She stopped two metres shy, wondering how the hell she was going to get into her car while he leaned against her door.
She nodded. ‘Mr Demakis.’
‘Loukas,’ he corrected. ‘How are you, Dr Ferraro?’
If he thought that was an invitation to ask him to call her Jade he was very much mistaken. ‘You seem to be blocking my car door.’
He looked around as if surprised. ‘This is your car? Now, there’s a coincidence.’
‘An unbelievable coincidence, I would have thought,’ she said, making it clear she knew it was no accident of fate that had brought them together today.
‘It seems we have a mutual liking for this particular marque,’ he continued, indicating the car alongside hers. Another sleek Mercedes Sports, although so clearly the top of the line it made her smaller soft-top look like a basic city run-around. ‘I wonder what else we have in common?’
His easy banter grated on her nerves, especially as his eyes gave her different messages entirely. In what remained of the light of day they were nowhere near as dark as they’d seemed in the evening lighting, more a rich chestnut colour—though right now they contained a noticeable absence of warmth. And yet she felt a heat emanating from them that burned into her senses and touched parts of her deep down inside, where the humming his touch had set in train Saturday evening was coming alive once again.
How could he do that? Look so cold and imperious in the same instant he was setting her skin aflame?
She shifted her stance, trying to quell her mutinous flesh and disguising her purpose by digging through her purse for her keys.
‘Who can say?’ She took a step closer, holding her keys pointedly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me?’
He didn’t move an inch, still leaning against the car door, and she was left wondering about the wisdom of moving closer to him.
‘You’re not curious enough to find out?’
She tilted her head up to his face, taking in the challenging glint in his eyes and the crooked smile. Why was he here? Did he see her as an easy target? Did he expect her to fall into bed with him the moment he reappeared in her life and take up where they’d left off in the library?
Or was there just the remotest chance he was really interested in getting to know her?
Oh, yes, she was curious all right. And it had nothing to do with what they had or didn’t have in common. But, whatever he wanted, there was no chance she’d be swept away by irrationality again. Once was more than enough.
And, if he was honestly interested in getting to know her better, he’d soon work out that ambushing someone in the car park after a long day was hardly the way to win friends.
She forced what she hoped would pass as a smile to her face. ‘Not in the least bit curious,’ she lied. ‘And I really have to be leaving now, so if you’ll kindly sprawl over your own car instead, I’ll get going.’
He laughed out loud, pushing himself upright, away from her car. At last, she thought, sensing escape was near at hand. But still he didn’t move his feet. And now he was even closer. Close enough to bring memories of that night, of being next to his body, held by his arms against his muscled torso, crashing over her. Close enough that if she just reached out her hand she could once again touch him, could feel his heated skin throu
gh her fingertips, feel the beat of his heart pulse its way into hers.
‘Are all Australian women as refreshingly direct as you?’
His words broke into her consciousness, snapping her out of the crackling tension of her imagination. What the hell was she thinking? Another moment and she would have been imagining tumbling him into bed. She had to get out of here, and fast.
She raised her chin. ‘Are all sons of Greek success stories as frustratingly obstinate as you? I asked you very politely to get out of the way.’
He stood surveying her for what seemed like for ever, his brown eyes frosted and unreadable, a twitching muscle in his jaw his only movement. Finally, when she’d all but given up hope of ever getting into her vehicle and was contemplating hailing a cab instead, he suddenly moved to his left. It gave her enough room to pull the wide door open, but not enough to ensure she wouldn’t have to brush past him as she sat down in the driver’s seat. But it would have to do.
She stepped forward, hoping to get by as quickly as possible, steeling herself against the prickle of sensation that she knew would come with passing so close to him.
‘You haven’t even asked me why I’m here,’ he said, once she was safely in her seat.
‘You’ve had more than enough opportunity to tell me,’ she replied, turning the key in the ignition and gunning the engine for effect.
He hunkered down alongside her, ignoring her blatant desire to get out of there as quickly as possible, one elbow resting on the window, the other above her on the roof and his face perilously close to her own. Instead of feeling in a position of strength, suddenly sitting down in the car made her feel more vulnerable than ever. He dwarfed the sports coupé’s entry, his limbs spread wide like a spider about to encompass its prey.
‘So humour me for one more minute,’ he urged, his warm, masculine scent beckoning like a drug. She could almost feel herself being drawn further and further into his web. ‘Let me explain why I’m here.’
Her eyes looked longingly through the windscreen to the car park exit and the main road beyond, her hands grimly clawed on the leather-covered steering wheel. She was so close to escape, so close to getting away. But would one minute matter? Why not let him say what he wanted to? Then she could be out of here. Then she would be able to think straight again.
‘Okay,’ she said on a resigned sigh. ‘You’ve got one minute. Why are you here? What do you want?’
‘I want you to come to dinner with me.’
Her skin goosebumped at the unexpected invitation. Dinner. It was a harmless enough concept, so why did she feel as if she herself was on the menu? After how close they’d come at the ball, would he be expecting her to move from the dining room to the bedroom with no hesitation? And would he be right? She bit down on her lip. Whatever her reservations, whatever her sense that there was more to this man than he revealed, the thought of following through on what she’d missed out on was more than tempting.
She’d certainly thought about it quite enough in the intervening days since the party—thought about what it would have been like to make love to this man, what it would have felt like to have him inside her. Would the reality come anywhere near the fantasy? Or would the real man surpass the man in her dreams?
She sucked in air, clamping down on her desires and on the spreading warmth between her thighs. It couldn’t happen. She’d had a fortunate escape once already. She’d almost made a total fool of herself and only just saved herself from certain humiliation. She couldn’t expect her luck to hold out a second time.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, reaching past him for the handle to pull closed her door. ‘I’m busy tonight.’ Washing my hair.
‘Then make it tomorrow night.’
She swallowed. ‘I really don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.’
He didn’t take the hint, instead remaining exactly where he was. ‘My minute isn’t up yet. And I think you really do want to accept my invitation.’
‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’ she snapped, her patience worn thin.
‘Because it’s attached to a one-million-dollar donation to the foundation—that’s why.’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE disbelief must have been evident in her eyes even as her hand dropped from the door. Benefactors on such a scale were notoriously thin on the ground. They didn’t usually just fall into your lap like a ripe peach, without a great deal of time and effort spent shaking the tree. One million dollars. That kind of money would give a mighty kickstart to the foundation’s new overseas children’s assistance programme. And he was offering the foundation that just to eat with him!
Or was he?
‘Let me get this straight—you’ll give one million dollars to the foundation and all I have to do is have dinner with you?’
‘As simple as that.’
Nothing was that simple. Not in this town. She raised an eyebrow.
‘Are you trying to buy me, Mr Demakis?’
‘I said you could call me Loukas.’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘I’m trying to make a contribution to the wonderful work of your foundation. Nothing more.’
‘So this isn’t some underhanded way of finishing what you started Saturday night?’
His head tilted, his eyebrows rising in speculation.
‘Is that what you’re hoping?’
Breath lurched inwards through her teeth, and she could only hope her cheeks weren’t betraying the sudden rush of heat to her skin. ‘I think you misunderstand me. I just need us both to be clear on this. I’m not interested in taking your money if there are certain strings attached.’
He paused a moment. ‘Do you really think I would pay one million dollars for what I could have had for free?’
Her eyelids fell shut as his words doused her in a cold dose of reality. Of course he was right. Why would he imagine he’d have to pay that kind of money for her? She’d shown how cheaply she could be bought when she’d been right there in that room with him.
Her eyes started open at the touch of his fingers as they drew her chin around to face him. ‘You shouldn’t take that the wrong way,’ he said.
Heart thumping wildly in her chest, she searched his brown eyes for meaning. What other way was there to take his words? But she didn’t have to say a thing. She knew the question was right there in her eyes.
‘When you make love to me,’ he said, his voice washing over her like rich velvet, ‘it won’t be because I have to pay you. It will be because you want to.’
She swallowed, her mind battling to grab hold of logic and rationality in the sea of foaming sensation bubbling inside.
‘When you make love to me’ he’d said. Not if.
Part of her wanted to argue—who was this man to presume to know what she wanted?—while another part of her recognised the simple truth at the core of his assertion. Because there was something about this man—something that drew her closer and more intensely than any man she’d ever met. And whether it was merely lust or a powerful attraction or something else that was driving her thoughts, simply knowing that eventually, ultimately, they would make love gave her flesh a shivery tingle of anticipation.
At last she managed to unknot her tongue enough to respond. ‘You sound very sure of yourself, Mr Demakis.’
‘Oh,’ he said, holding her chin steady as he angled himself closer, ‘it’s not just me I’m sure about.’
His lips met hers in more of a tingle than a meeting of flesh. He was there, barely touching, so she could sense his contact rather than feel it. His low breathing fanning her face, mingling with hers. And waiting for more was like exquisite torture.
Her earlier weariness was shrugged off. Every part of her now felt alive, sparkling, special. And when his lips brushed over hers and closed that final millimetre she knew why she’d felt lucky to have escaped Loukas’s influence before. Because she didn’t think she could escape if she tried. Even wo
rse, she knew she wouldn’t try to. Because right now there was nowhere she’d rather be.
If there was such a thing as a perfect fit, she was sure she’d found it. His lips wove sweet magic over hers in a tender caress that felt as if it was made for her and her alone. She heard a noise, a strangely foreign sigh that sounded like someone slipping into ecstasy, only to register with surprise that it had come from her. She was the one slipping away.
And then all of a sudden his lips were withdrawing, and she knew that whatever arguments she put up about not wanting to sleep with him would be rendered completely useless after that kiss. No matter what she said, what she claimed to the contrary, there was no way he wouldn’t know she was completely and utterly his for the taking. There was no way he wouldn’t know it was only a matter of time.
She opened her eyes hesitantly, unsteadily, almost afraid to meet his eyes because of how they might look—smug?—victorious?
But his hand continued to cup her chin, and there was no option but to raise her lashes and look up at him. What she saw there was even more disconcerting than his kiss. Because there was arrogance, there was even a kind of victory, but there was confusion and questions too—questions that swirled and eddied and muddied the depths of those brown eyes, questions that she couldn’t begin to understand, let alone answer.
Yet there was one question she could answer—right now.
‘Yes,’ she said, running her tongue over her lips, tasting the essence of him on her skin.
His brows pulled together. ‘Yes what?’
‘Yes.’ To anything you want. ‘If it means one million dollars for the foundation, I’ll have dinner with you.’
‘I don’t know, Grace. I can’t put my finger on what it is that’s bothering me, but it doesn’t seem right somehow.’ Jade stopped pacing the living room long enough to rest her hands on the back of one of the soft peach-coloured sofas while Grace sat opposite, sipping on her post-supper coffee.