by Robyn Donald
Incredulously Iona said, ‘Ten minutes?’
‘A car is waiting for you,’ he said with a little shooing motion of his hand.
Luke was autocratic—so what? It didn’t need to affect her. Working for Angie had taught her to cope with everything that came her way.
Not only could she organise a party that would make the social pages for all the right reasons, but she’d turned down propositions—even insulting ones—without once losing her equanimity. She could smile with real amusement at attempts to put her in her place, and control her temper no matter what the provocation.
So why did she feel like exploding at one man’s calm assumption that her life was his to organise?
Because he kissed you senseless, and you’re scared.
She used the ten minutes in the car to talk herself into composure—a composure that evaporated the moment she caught sight of the small group waiting by the elephant quarters. It was impossible not to notice the way women in the vicinity looked at Luke—with a kind of delighted appreciation as though he fulfilled a set of unspoken, unrecognised conditions.
It was the whole package, Iona thought, her heart contracting; he wore his superbly cut casual clothes with a negligent grace that proclaimed a lithe, toe-curling masculinity and the kind of assets that figured in the financial pages.
That effortless impact was reinforced by the way he towered over most of the people there, with an air of authentic authority and a face like something out of a feverish female fantasy.
But what brought sympathetic smiles—and stirred a dangerous meltdown in Iona’s heart—was the way he carried his daughter, as though she was the most precious thing in the universe.
Watching the curve of that dangerously compelling mouth when he set Chloe on her feet, Iona couldn’t control her half-apprehensive excitement. Tossed this way and that by dynamic, perilous emotions she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, she slowed down.
Luke turned his head. His eyes darkened, and he took Chloe’s hand as he straightened to watch Iona come towards them, his face stern.
An apprehensive delight filled her. More perilous than desire, more disturbing than her memories, she tried to tamp it down. Luke Michelakis had no right to affect her like this. Losing her heart to him would be—stupid. And terrifying. And forbidden.
After all, what did she know of him apart from his prowess between the sheets?
Only what Angie had told her. And that he loved his daughter.
Don’t forget he can be tender and generous when he’s making love, some treacherous part of her mind reminded her.
It just wasn’t enough to cover the risk, she thought desperately as she came up to them.
Hiding her emotions with a light tone and a smile, she said, ‘Hello, kids. Having fun?’
Fortunately both Chloe and the boys greeted her with enthusiasm, each wanting to be the one to tell her a lion had roared at them through the huge glass window that separated the lords of the savannah from fascinated onlookers.
Above the babble of noise Angie grinned at her, but Luke’s eyes were cool and measuring when she looked at him.
‘All well?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you.’
Once they set off to explore more of the zoo, Iona was surprised when Chloe alternated between her and Luke. Not surprising was the way the boys also gravitated to him, unconsciously awarding him respect and attention. In turn, he was superb with them, calmly curbing their high spirits, and treating them with the same interested courtesy with which he spoke to Chloe.
Iona didn’t dare glance Angie’s way. Until now she’d thought the boys were getting over their father’s abandonment, but the uncomplicated hero-worship in two pairs of eyes revealed just how much they missed a male presence in their lives.
On the way back to the apartment Luke lifted his gaze from his daughter’s head, cradled against his upper arm as she dozed in the car seat, and said abruptly, ‘I gather the boys’ father does not live with them?’
With reserve, Iona said, ‘No.’
He frowned. ‘How often do they see him?’
Iona said stiffly, ‘Not often.’ Never, actually.
The arrogant features hardened and his mouth thinned. He looked down at the child beside him before saying in a voice that lifted the hair on Iona’s neck, ‘Does your cousin forbid any communication between them?’
She sent him a cool glance that should have warned him off. ‘No.’
Contempt iced his tone, transformed his gaze into golden quartz. ‘Whatever the situation between your cousin and the boy’s father,’ he said austerely, ‘they are still his sons, and blameless. To abandon them is the act of a weakling.’
It was also affecting the boys badly, but Iona kept silent about that.
When the car drew to halt outside the apartment building Chloe woke up, crossly demanding that Luke carry her.
Iona soothed her. ‘He’s paying the taxi driver. We’ll be at the apartment soon.’
‘I don’t want to walk,’ Chloe said petulantly. She waited until her father joined them to say, ‘Lukas, my legs are tired.’
‘If they are too tired to stand while we use the elevator, they are tired enough to go straight to bed.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And some sleep might sweeten that temper of yours, hmm?’
Relief at his support brought a fleeting smile to Iona’s face. After a pouting moment Chloe gave in with good grace, trotting alongside her father, her little hand nestled in the strength of his strong own.
When Iona came out from settling her down for her nap, Luke was out on the terrace, surveying the harbour and the islands beyond. Something in his stance stopped her just inside the huge glass doors. Big and hugely competent, a formidable, dominant man, uncompromising in his power and authority, surely he had the world at his feet?
Yet, for a quite irrational moment, she thought he looked completely and utterly alone.
But when he turned his head and beckoned her to join him, his expression showed nothing beyond lazy appreciation as she came towards him.
A secret excitement bloomed in her. Calm yourself, she commanded acerbically.
In a neutral voice he said, ‘This is a beautiful city. Or perhaps I should say it has a beautiful setting.’
‘We have no buildings to match the glories of Greece,’ she admitted.
‘In a setting like this it matters not.’ He paused, and when she didn’t speak said, ‘I am satisfied that I need have no worries about Chloe’s wellbeing when you are in charge.’
Startled and pleased, she said, ‘Thank you. It’s what I’ve been trained to do.’
‘It’s more than just training; you have a deft touch with children. I noticed you managed both Angie’s sons and Chloe easily, sorting out any small problems before they had a chance to escalate. And the principal of the nursery school you worked at before you left to join your cousin’s enterprise gave you a glowing commendation.’
Iona stared speechlessly at him. The references she’d packed that morning were still in her bedroom, waiting to be handed to him.
He lifted a brow and said a little arrogantly, ‘Surely you did not expect me to accept you without a security check?’
Iona fought back a bewildering complex of responses. Of course in the world of the mega-rich everyone—especially employees—would be checked and double-checked.
Yet his action had revealed only too clearly her position in his life. Their passionate affair and last night’s kiss meant nothing. They’d been lovers—surely he’d learned something about her character then?
Uncompromisingly, Luke continued, ‘I trust very few people. Chloe is defenceless, and will be alone with you for long periods of time. I would be failing in my duty if I didn’t make sure she’d be safe.’
Iona knew she shouldn’t be hurt. Already she was forming bonds with the child, and Luke’s love for his daughter was subtly altering her feelings for him. Oh, the physical attraction was as strong as ever—stronger, she though
t guiltily—but it was now buttressed by emotions she didn’t dare face.
Chapter Five
IONA looked up and met Luke’s hard frown. He said, ‘You must have had employers check your references before, especially as you taught at nursery school?’
‘Well—yes,’ she admitted, because of course he was right. Her objection was purely—and ridiculously—personal. She tried to lighten things with a wry smile and the comment, ‘Except for Angie, of course.’
‘Sometimes the ones closest to you are the ones who most need watching.’ His voice was level and un-inflected, but a note in it sent a cold shiver down her spine.
She said, ‘It’s all right. I do understand. I was just—taken aback, I suppose.’
‘You must have lived a very sheltered life. I want the same for Chloe.’
‘Any father would want that for his children,’ she said, relieved to get off the topic.
‘I am not her father.’ He spoke without emphasis, his eyes burnished an opaque gold, unreadable yet somehow ruthless when they met and held hers.
Stunned, Iona stared at him. Before she could order her thoughts words tumbled out. ‘Then who…?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you—the resemblance is so strong.’
Surely not another man who refused to acknowledge his child?
As though he could read that horrified thought, he twisted his mouth into a sardonic smile. ‘Perhaps you should have run a check on me. Chloe is my half-sister.’
‘Half-sister?’ she said blankly.
He lifted broad shoulders in another rapid Mediterranean shrug. ‘I have adopted her. The circumstances don’t matter. What is important is that she be kept safe.’
She shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘From whom?’
‘From anyone who’d try to use her,’ he said, his deep voice holding more than a touch of impatience.
‘I’m afraid that’s not enough information,’ she told him quickly. At his frown she went on, ‘Surely you understand that if she’s in any danger I need to know what form it’s likely to take?’
He paused a moment before saying, ‘At this moment I do not expect any danger to her, but there is always the possibility her birth father might try to claim her.’
Shocked, she asked involuntarily, ‘And her birth father is…?’
‘The same man who sired me,’ he said coldly, as though she should have known.
Angie’s words drifted back into Iona’s mind. Something about him leaving his family, to which Iona had replied sarcastically that they’d probably always been there for him in the background.
It seemed she’d been wrong; clearly there’d been a rift of massive proportions. As soon as she got access to a computer she was going to find out more about Luke—Lukas—Michelakis.
Until then the situation was beyond her comprehension, so she fixed on one thing. ‘It’s highly unlikely anyone would try to kidnap her here.’
His expression revealed what he thought of that. ‘There is no crime in New Zealand, then?’ he asked satirically. ‘No families torn apart by feuds?’
‘Some feud if an innocent child is endangered by it!’
He paused before saying shortly, ‘Her life is not in danger.’
One glance at his stern face told her that was all he was prepared to let her know. She said, ‘New Zealand’s situation makes it difficult to smuggle people. We’re a long way from anywhere else, with no land borders, so any kidnapper would have to leave by plane, and security is really tight now.’
Again that shrug, more pronounced this time. ‘For some people the world is a small place.’
For the very rich, he meant. What on earth had she become caught up in? Starkly she said, ‘The check you ran on me must have indicated I have no experience as a bodyguard.’
‘It’s not necessary—for the time you are caring for Chloe you will be protected wherever you are.’
‘You won’t be with us all the time.’
‘I’m flattered that you think I’d be protection enough,’ he said smoothly, ‘but I employ security people for that.’
‘Everywhere? At the zoo?’
‘Of course,’ he said, as though she was being naïve.
Somehow the knowledge tarnished a pleasant memory. She shivered.
He covered the distance between them in one stride and touched her bare arm.
‘You are cold,’ he said quietly, something in his voice alerting her.
Don’t look up!
But a force stronger than her will dragged Iona’s gaze to his face. Her breath stilled in her throat. Eyes dilating, she stared up at classical features saved from mere beauty by the hard stamp of intelligence and command. A sensuous awareness quivered between them, transforming his aloof tawny-gold survey into a heated, intent examination.
The light touch of his fingers ran like a caress through her, sending a feverish excitement smoking along every nerve. For a taut second she had to grit her teeth, fighting the need that urged her to sway into his arms, surrender to the potent, mind-numbing charm that would banish all her fears.
But that was no longer enough. She felt as though she were on the edge of a life-altering discovery, a step into the unknown so big and important she instinctively flinched back.
Instantly his smouldering gaze turned icy and his hand dropped away.
Random thoughts whirled dizzily around Iona’s brain, and although she retained enough presence of mind to speak, her voice emerged in a husky whisper. ‘I’m not cold.’
Desire rode Lukas hard, mingling with something darker and even more reckless. He was far too conscious of the texture of Iona’s skin, soft and sleek, and the faint scent that owed nothing to any carefully crafted perfume. She smelt of woman, sweet and seductive; it was one of the things about her that had fascinated him.
He’d never forgotten her passion, her laughter, her quick mind and intriguing, mysterious silences. Warm and companionable, touchingly unawakened for a woman who’d spent six months living with the man she’d intended to marry, she’d kept essential parts of herself hidden behind that maddening reserve.
‘Then why are you shivering?’ he asked softly.
She lifted huge eyes, mysteriously shadowed a dark, deep blue-green. Eyes to lose your soul in, he thought, feeling the reins of his self-control loosening.
Iona’s breath blocked her throat, set her heart drumming in a feverish tattoo.
Yes, please…Oh, please…
As though he’d heard the urgent, mute plea Luke bent his head, his mouth taking hers without mercy in a kiss that transcended the past eighteen months as though they’d never existed.
Last night he had kissed her with a purely physical hunger. This was different; it was like coming home, like following her heart into paradise, like entering a fantasy world where all things were miraculously made right. Dimly, through the surging sensations that fired every cell in her body, Iona recognised that this kiss marked a fundamental change in their relationship.
She had no idea where it was leading—and she didn’t care. Ravished by Luke’s expertise, she surrendered to the sweet need that clamoured through her.
Until Luke lifted his head and dropped the arms that held her against his hard body, and stepped back to say harshly, ‘I am sorry—I should not have done this.’
Assailed by a dislocating awareness of where she was, Iona stared at him, her soul-deep joy fading rapidly as he re-imposed control. That formidable will chilled her right to her vulnerable core.
She stepped back and said in a thin voice, ‘You’re right—it wasn’t sensible.’
‘It won’t happen again.’
Desperately clutching at the ragged shreds of her self-possession, she drew in a jagged breath. ‘Is that a promise?’
Luke’s dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘You have my word on it,’ he said shortly.
His unexpected lack of control angered him; he didn’t go in for wild lusts or raging desire. For twelve years he’d disciplined his
emotions, reaching into his soul to develop a granite self-sufficiency, relying only on his own strength of character. He’d deliberately chosen his lovers for their sophistication and experience and their inability to be hurt.
And then he’d met Iona, a fair trespasser. Met her, and desired her with a swiftly fierce, unexpected passion. At first he’d thought she fitted his specifications—that she was another compliant, worldly woman who wouldn’t expect more than he could give—sex, luxury, and the temporary satisfaction of desire. He’d pursued her and taken her, and it had been—magical.
So magical he’d broken the rules he lived by and asked her to move in with him. Permanence was the last thing he’d thought he’d wanted, yet when she’d run away he’d felt something of the bleak sense of betrayal he’d endured when his father had believed his second wife’s lies and disinherited him, cutting him off from everyone he loved and trusted.
Iona was a distraction he couldn’t afford right now. He needed to concentrate on this latest effort by his father to wreck his life—one that had a fair chance of succeeding.
But that very attack meant he couldn’t—yet—get rid of Iona. He examined her face. Although his kiss had softened the outline of her lips, her wary, self-contained expression belied their temptation.
Iona looked up, meeting his eyes with heightened colour. ‘Your security men must be very inconspicuous. I didn’t notice anyone.’
‘That’s the whole point.’
‘I don’t think I could ever get accustomed to being watched all the time.’
How easily she could dismiss those moments in his arms! Cynically he told himself it was for the best.
‘You won’t be watched,’ he said, wrenching his mind from its absorbed focus on that soft mouth and the lingering sensual impact of her slender litheness against him. ‘My security men are paid very well to watch the people around Chloe.’
Stop thinking with your sex, he told himself. If he sent Iona away he’d have to find another temporary nanny to take her place. It would take time he no longer had to find someone like Neelie—middle-aged, sensible, and devoted to her charge. More importantly, someone Chloe liked as well as she clearly liked Iona.