The Antonides Marriage Deal

by Anne McAllister

  He had talented hands. Good with wood—and good with her. They felt wonderful, made her skin tingle wherever they touched. Made her shiver with longing to have them touch her more.

  She got his shirt undone, and he levered himself up enough to strip it off, then reached down and peeled hers off as well. Then he bent his head and began kissing her bare shoulders, her breasts, and Tallie shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Elias’s voice was muffled against her.

  She shook her head. “Burning.” She threaded her hands through his thick hair, then slid them down across his shoulders and traced the line of his spine. His back was smooth and hard with muscles. She spread her palms against them, kissed his shoulders, his jaw, his chin.

  And then once more he captured her mouth with his and rolled her over so she lay on top of him. Deftly he reached behind her and unhooked her bra. And as it fell away, he cupped her breasts in his hands, lifted his head and kissed each one in turn, laved it softly with his tongue, made her shiver and grip his shoulders, tense with longing for him.

  “Elias!” His name hissed between her teeth.

  He lay back against the pillow and smiled up at her, watching her beneath hooded lids all the while that his fingers tracing patterns lightly on her sensitive skin, swirling over her breasts and down across her abdomen.

  Mesmerized, Tallie held perfectly still, savoring the feel of them, their soft rough touch gliding over her skin, leaving fiery trails of longing in their wake. The fire built, grew hotter and more intense. And then he flicked open the button to her slacks and drew her zip down.

  As his hands parted the fabric, instinctively Tallie rose up on her knees. He pushed the trousers down on her hips, then slid his fingers inside to delve beneath her silky panties and found her hot and wet and wanting. He touched her there.

  A breath hissed through Tallie’s teeth. She bit her lip and pressed against his questing fingers, whimpering as he stroked and rubbed and lifted his head to kiss her breasts, to take first one nipple and then the other in his mouth until she couldn’t resist. Her body tensed and trembled, desperate, needy, aching.

  It had been so long.

  And yet she wasn’t ready, resisted taking the release he offered. No! Not now. Not yet.

  Deliberately she rolled to his side, but not away, wanting more—wanting him—and determined that, hungry as they were, they were nowhere close to finished yet. He had made her burn for him. Now it was her turn.

  She pressed kisses to his arm, to his shoulder, then raised up on one elbow to lean over and kiss his chest. He watched her, his dark eyes hooded, skin taut across his cheekbones. She smiled and drew squiggles over his chest with her fingers and lazy circles with her tongue. The breath hissed out between his teeth, and he tensed beneath her touch as she had under his.

  “Tallie,” he muttered, his fingers knotting in the duvet.

  “Mmm? Want something?”

  “You.”

  “You’ve got me.” Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes and smiled. His own smile was strained, his breathing shallow. She stopped tracing with her fingers and walked them slowly down his chest and his hard belly to his belt. She undid it, then eased down the zip and bent her head to kiss the line of dark hair that disappeared beneath his boxers.

  Elias jerked at the touch of her mouth. “Tallie!”

  She didn’t answer, just moved her head back and forth, brushing her hair against his belly. Then she slipped her hand beneath the elastic and felt hot, hard, straining flesh meet her fingers there. She curved her fingers around him, weighed and stroked his length. His hips arched. A sharp breath hissed between his lips. “Stop! Just…wait.”

  Tallie waited. She bent her head and kissed him lightly on the chest, then smoothed her hand up his body to feel his heart hammering beneath her fingers. Hammering for her. Wanting her.

  Wordlessly Elias reached up and grasped her fingers and drew them to his lips, kissed them one after another, nibbled them, tasted them, heated her blood all over again.

  And then he pulled her down against him and rolled them over. And somehow they managed to shed the rest of their clothes, no mean trick as it entailed getting her slacks down over her cast. But Elias did it. He was gentle but efficient as he worked her trouser leg down over the cast.

  “Amazing. You’re good at everything,” Tallie murmured.

  He grinned crookedly. “Glad you think so,” he said, his voice ragged. And then he pressed a kiss to her knee above the cast and then to her toes as he slid the trouser leg over them. It nearly undid her.

  And then he was sheathing himself to protect her, and she smiled again because it was so like Elias to, without a word, take the responsibility.

  He caught her gaze. “What?”

  She shook her head and held out her arms to him. And he came to her, settling between her thighs, eager now, pressing against her.

  And Tallie reached for him, drew him down and in. It was as close as two people could be. And when he began to move, instinctively she moved with him, dug her fingers into his back, urged him closer, deeper, harder. Until he shattered and she shattered with him. And they were no longer separate.

  They were one.

  She hadn’t expected that. That was how she had felt with Brian—as if their bodies, their hearts, their souls had merged.

  She had been so lonely, so empty without him. And yet she’d grown accustomed to it, had—over the years—even taken refuge in her loneliness. It was safer than loving. Safer than caring.

  She was very much afraid she was beginning to care about Elias Antonides.

  And that wasn’t safe—or sensible—at all.

  It hadn’t done the trick.

  He’d made love with Tallie Savas to get her out of his system. To stop thinking about her. To stop closing his eyes and seeing her even then. To stop wanting her every minute of the day….

  And within moments of having had her—of having been inside her—he had wanted to be there again.

  They’d rested, they’d murmured, they’d touched, they’d stroked. And then he’d had her again. And she’d had him.

  And still it hadn’t been enough.

  Making love with Tallie hadn’t assuaged his desire. It had heightened it. Sharing intimacies with her had only whetted his appetite for more. He wanted to make her crazy. He wanted to feel her body respond to his. He wanted to feel her nails digging into his flesh as her body climaxed and shuddered beneath him. He wanted her over him, riding him. He wanted to wrap his fingers in her hair and bury his face against her neck and slide right back into the closest he’d ever felt to being whole.

  And at the same time he wanted to run a million miles!

  Tallie Savas was not for him.

  He told himself that over and over all night long. Beyond their reluctant temporary partnership in Antonides Marine—a partnership of necessity—she didn’t want a relationship. She was all about business. And so was he.

  What the hell was the matter with him?

  He’d gone to bed with a fair number of women since Millicent had left, and he’d never thought in terms of the future with any of them. The word relationship had never entered his mind. While he had always enjoyed the experience, he’d never lain beside a woman and wondered where things were going from here.

  Not the way he lay next to Tallie now, wide-awake and staring at the ceiling while she slept soundly and, he hoped, satisfied, in his arms.

  That should be enough. They had been attracted, yes. They’d felt an itch and they’d scratched it—very successfully, he reflected. Making love with Tallie Savas had been an exciting mix of give and take, of gentleness and passion. It had been beautiful and mind-blowing all at once.

  He’d never experienced anything like it.

  Which was probably why he wanted more. More lovemaking; that went without saying. The itch was very definitely still there. But so was this irritating niggling demand for something else. He wanted more…more…even as he knew it was a mi
stake.

  It was all Nikos Costanides’s fault, he decided.

  Seeing Nikos and Mari together, happy, fulfilled, loving had reawakened all those long-buried memories. They had made him want the things he used to want—the things he thought he’d have by now with Millicent.

  And because he was physically attracted to Tallie, those longings had simply attached themselves to her.

  It was all very logical when he thought about it.

  No matter that she was exactly the wrong woman. No matter that he didn’t want any woman for more than a night. No matter, no matter, no matter.

  Damn it to hell.

  It was Cristina’s fault, too. While he was passing around blame, she deserved her share. He was going to have to stand there and watch her get married in scant hours. To Mark Batakis, of all people, who raced fast boats, fought at the drop of a hat, could drink his entire college under the table, and had, conservatively, fifty girlfriends during their college years.

  But Cristina loved him. And he said he loved her. So that made it all right. Elias snorted derisively.

  What the hell did either one of them know about love? If you loved, you left yourself open for being gutted the way he’d been gutted by Millicent. You had hopes and dreams that depended on another person. And they let you down.

  There were no numbers to crunch, no balance sheets to check, no projections to consider. There was nothing sensible to base it on. Nothing logical. It was all emotion and desire and love. They were idiots!

  Tallie must have sensed his unrest, for she turned toward him in her sleep and nestled closer, her lips brushing his bare chest, the fresh scent of her shampoo teasing his nose. It drove him insane with wanting.

  But it wasn’t love, he assured himself. It was attraction. Lust. Animal passion. A release they had both needed because they had worked so hard, been so consumed with work, with sorting out what to do about Corbett’s, with Cristina’s little bombshell.

  He was sure that was the way Tallie saw it. She certainly wasn’t lying awake anguishing over what they’d done, was she?

  Of course not.

  But he was. And if he didn’t get up and get out he was very much afraid he might wake her and do it all over again.

  Carefully Elias eased himself out of bed. It was nearly seven. He could shave and shower and be dressed by the time she woke up. It would be easier to be distant and properly businesslike that way.

  It was harder, though, than he imagined. He was harder. As he stood beneath the shower, he kept remembering his hands on her and hers on him, and he was tempted to go out and wake her, to bring her with him into the shower where he could touch her all over again and—

  Damn, didn’t this water get any colder?

  His teeth were chattering by the time he had shaved and dressed and combed his hair. But at least he had his self-control firmly in place again.

  Then he opened the door and confronted the sight of a rumpled and completely bare—except for her purple cast—Tallie easing herself into one of his shirts.

  So much for self-control.

  So much for cold showers. He’d need a glacier to get over this!

  “Oh, good morning.” Tallie flashed him a quick smile and continued to do up the buttons. The eager lover she’d been in bed was the breezy CEO now, even wearing his shirt.

  “Morning.” He hoped his voice wasn’t as ragged as it sounded to his own ears.

  “Hope you don’t mind about the shirt. I just need something to wear until I’ve washed. I don’t suppose you have a hair dryer?” She was talking quickly, papering over the awkwardness, apparently not about to do a postmortem—or postcoital—of the night before.

  Not that he wanted to, but—one of the reasons for keeping business and pleasure separate, obviously.

  He shook his head. “No hair dryer.”

  “Can’t shower unless I can dry the cast with one,” Tallie said ruefully. “How about a washer and dryer?”

  “I’ve got a laundry room off the kitchen.”

  “Great. Could I throw my stuff in?”

  “I’ll do it.” Much better than standing there looking at her wearing his shirt, wanting to rip it off her and take her back to bed. Swiftly Elias gathered up her clothes—and his—and bolted for the door. He had the laundry going and had just finished making coffee when she came into the kitchen. The shirt hit her above midthigh. He knew what was beneath it.

  He cleared his throat. “Cup of coffee?”

  “Please.”

  He poured two. “Bacon? Eggs? Toast? Oatmeal?” He didn’t look at her again. A man could only stand so much temptation.

  But Tallie was completely blasé. “Toast,” she decided. He heard the clatter as she leaned her crutches against the bar, then one of the stools moved as she sat up on it. “Thanks,” she said when he set a mug in front of her. “You have a great place here.”

  He put the bread in the toaster. “I’m working on it.”

  “Cristina told me. I had no idea you were doing all the work not just here, but in the whole building. I didn’t even know you owned it.”

  He shrugged. “It was a good investment. And I haven’t done all of it. I’ve hired out the wiring and stuff. I do the dirty work—and the wood.”

  “So you did all this?” She was looking at the kitchen cabinets and running her fingers appreciatively over the bar.

  Elias tried not to remember what else her fingers had rubbed over. “I did all the woodwork.”

  “Then why are you wasting your time at Antonides Marine?”

  He frowned and looked at her for the first time since she’d come into the room. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not a waste, I guess. It’s just…this is beautiful. Way more beautiful than mergers and acquisitions.” She stroked the gleaming wood again. “And you obviously love doing it.” She smiled, understanding him.

  He didn’t want her understanding him. It undermined his resolve to keep this casual. He shrugged dismissively. “No time.” Besides, he enjoyed the business, too, though admittedly—to himself at least—not as much as he’d enjoyed building boats. Not as much as he still enjoyed working with wood. The toast popped up. He put it on plates and got out butter and jam. “Besides, you can’t make a living at it. Here. Help yourself.”

  Tallie buttered her toast, but she pressed on. “I’ll bet you could,” she argued. “Lots of people would kill to have something this beautiful in their home.”

  “Kill, maybe. Pay for? Not likely.” Elias shook his head. But they paid Nikos—and paid him well, a little voice inside his head piped up. He shut it down. “It’s just a hobby. I have more important things to do.”

  “Antonides Marine.” Tallie said.

  “That’s right. And don’t suggest I leave it all to you,” he said sharply, unsure why the conversation made him feel edgier and more exposed than he’d felt naked in bed with her. It was easier to pick a fight with her.

  But Tallie didn’t oblige him. “You can’t, can you?” she pointed out mildly. “Not if you want your house back.”

  Exactly. It all came back to the house. Last night’s intimacy was simply a byproduct of a bloody business deal.

  “That’s right,” he said gruffly. “And I ought to get to it right now.” He shot back the cuff of his shirt to glance at his watch. “It’s nearly eight. The wash is in there.” He jerked his head toward the door to a small utility room off the kitchen. “It should be done in a few minutes. You can put it in the dryer.”

  He took one last swallow of coffee and felt it churn in his stomach as he set the mug on the counter and then brushed past Tallie to head for the door.

  “I didn’t intend to be rude, Elias,” she said to his back.

  He stopped at the door and turned, meeting her gaze, trying to focus on her eyes and not on her delectable body clad only in his shirt. He tried, too, to forget last night and remember that today was all about business. They were all about business. “I know that.”

 
“Good.” She paused. “And…about last night—” She stopped.

  He waited. Didn’t breathe.

  The colour rose in her cheeks. “It was…um…nice.”

  “Nice?” He stared at her. Nice?

  “More than nice,” she amended, deeply flushed now, agitated, too. She was strangling her toast. “Thank you.”

  Christ! What was he supposed to say to that? Thank you, too?

  “Yeah.” He gave a jerky nod. His teeth clenched. He had to consciously relax his jaw, then take a breath and let it out. “Take your time,” he said at last. “We can have our meeting about Corbett’s whenever you get there.”

  She flashed him a quick smile. “Thanks. Could you tell Mark I’ll be a little late.”

  “Mark?”

  Tallie rolled her eyes. “Your soon-to-be-brother-in-law, Mark.”

  “I thought the wedding wasn’t until two.”

  “It isn’t. So there’s no reason he can’t work until noon.”

  “What?” Elias gaped at her, disbelieving his own ears. “You didn’t.”

  Tallie just shrugged happily. “Yes, I did. I hired him.”

  When she finally got her clothes clean and dried and made it into the office it was half past nine. She could have been a few minutes earlier, but she’d taken a side trip to buy bagels from the shop down the street.

  “I was a little busy last night,” she apologized to Rosie and Dyson, and hoped her blushes wouldn’t betray her and that no one would remember she was wearing the same silk shirt and black trousers she’d had on yesterday—except for the bright pink scarf knotted at her neck. She’d just bought it from the street vendor in front to the bagel shop.

  “You don’t have to bring something every day,” Rosie said even as she peered in the bag. “It’s not like we expect it.”

  “Of course not,” Dyson assured her, helping himself to a bagel, slicing it in half and slathering it with cream cheese. “However—” he took an enormous bite, chewed and swallowed, then grinned at her “—it’s fine with me if you do.”

  Tallie grinned, too, then looked around. “Where’s Paul?” which wasn’t what she wanted to ask, but asking, “Where’s Elias? Has he killed Mark yet?” didn’t seem like the best question.