The Greek Tycoon's Love Child

by Jacqueline Baird

  With maturity Willow had attained a certain degree of sophistication, and she did not deign to acknowledge his obvious innuendo. Theo Kadros was a conceited, arrogant devil. She had once looked up the meaning of his name, Theodore—Gift of God, and if ever a man thought he was God's gift it was Theo. Always larger than life, he was a handsome, dynamic man, self-assured to a degree that in­timidated most people. Willow knew that she was no ex­ception, but she had no intention of letting him see her fear.

  'Thank you,' she said coolly, bravely holding his gaze.

  She had read about him over the years; it had been un­avoidable. He was incredibly wealthy and had inherited the family business on the death of his father a few years ago. Typically Theo had gone on to quadruple the size of the company. He was feared and respected in equal degrees by the business world, a ruthless, powerful man who had his fingers in many pies. It was just her appalling bad luck that one of the pies happened to be the very hotel she was booked into for the night.

  'I am glad you enjoyed the book,' she continued steadily. 'But now, if you will excuse me.' She turned and headed for the door. Meeting Theo Kadros again was her worst nightmare, and she had to get away fast.

  'Of course, you have a meeting,' Theo said smoothly and moved quickly to open the door, but put a restraining hand on her arm. 'But later, perhaps you would care to join me for dinner?' He paused and added softly, 'Willow?'

  The sound of her name on his tongue and his long fingers curved around her bare flesh set every nerve in her body quivering in a sensual response. Mortified at her instant reaction to this man, and calling on every bit of self-control she possessed, she lifted her chin and looked up into his hard face. 'Thank you for the invitation, Theo, but I am afraid I must refuse.'

  Theo studied her, his attention wandering from the barely constrained mass of her silken black hair to her brilliant blue eyes. As he watched her he saw the flicker of fear in their sparkling depths. 'You have a husband who might object?' he asked abruptly. Perhaps she was afraid of arous­ing her partner's jealousy? Theo could understand that. If she were his woman he would not let her out of his sight.

  'No. . .' Willow said without thinking. Then cursed her­self for being so honest. Theo had given her the perfect opportunity for her never to see him again and in her panic she had blown it. 'But—' she was going to say she had made other arrangements but never got the chance.

  'Good, then there is nothing to stop you joining me.'

  The arrogance of the man was astounding. As long as she wasn't married it was okay; he had not changed one iota. 'But what about you?' she asked coolly. 'I am sure I read somewhere that you are married. Won't your wife have something to say about you dining with another woman?'

  She knew he had married Dianne. It had been in the press a few months after Willow had last seen him. A year or so later there had been a huge article in an international mag­azine about Dianne and the villa her husband had built for her in Greece.

  'I doubt it,' Theo answered. 'We were divorced years ago.'

  Dianne had probably found out what a two-timing louse he was, Willow thought dryly.

  'So what do you say, Willow? We are both free and single, so there is nothing to stop us spending the evening together. We can catch up on old times.'

  'Sorry.' She tried a brief smile and explained, 'But I have already arranged to have dinner with my editor, so no, thank you.' She reached again for the door handle.

  'Then as we are both staying in the same hotel, you must at least join me for a drink later, or I will begin to think that I have upset you in some way,' Theo drawled in his deep dark voice. 'Yet, as I recall, we parted with a hand­shake nine years ago.'

  Was she imagining the steely threat present in his soft drawl? She was about to bite back with an angry refusal but thought perhaps it would be wiser to agree. Willow's long lashes lowered slightly over her eyes, masking her expression. One drink and a brief friendly chat before re­tiring for the night. How hard could that be? She did not dare take the chance of arousing his suspicions. She was returning to Devon in the morning and would never see Theo again. 'Yes, okay, if you are still here when I get back, I'll have a drink with you. But don't spoil your eve­ning waiting for me.' And with this Willow turned and left the office.

  Ben Carlavitch was a very handsome man, but to Willow, ensconced in his suite with her publisher, the lawyer and Louise, he could have looked like Quasimodo and she still would not have noticed. She barely registered what was being discussed, and answered yes to everything, heaving a sigh of relief when the rest got down to discussing money.

  Her mind was in turmoil. Theo Kadros hadn't changed much in nine years, except he looked harder and more cyn­ical than she remembered him. He was right, they had parted with a handshake, but even now Willow could recall the fierce self-control it had taken to dismiss the man from her life.

  Dear God! Thinking about it now, she could not believe she had ever been that young or that naive. The morning after sleeping with Theo she had answered the telephone and all her romantic dreams had gone crashing to the ground. The man whose bed she had just left had been engaged to be married to someone else. He was an unscru­pulous fiend; even his own sister had said he was a playboy.

  A few hours later, still in a blessedly merciful state of numb shock, Willow had been sitting in the departure lounge at Heathrow Airport waiting for the boarding an­nouncement for her flight. The flight had already been de­layed, and Willow had been anxious to get to her mother, and put the shameful events of the previous night behind her. Briefly closing her eyes, she had wondered how she could have been so stupid.

  'Willow.'

  Her eyes flew open in shock. Theo Kadros was standing in front of her like some dark avenging angel, and she was struck again by his sheer magnetism. But now, in the harsh light of day, the dream-like picture she had of the teasing, tender lover was blasted into oblivion by the ruthless, dy­namic power of the man towering over her.

  Horrified, she leapt to her feet. She must have been crazy to even think for a minute that a sophisticated man like Theo Kadros could be interested in her for anything but a one-night stand. He was way out of her league, and the bitter realisation gave her the strength to face him. 'What are you doing here?' she asked in a cool, polite voice.

  A wry smile curved Willow's full lips as she remem­bered the look of dismay on Theo's face as his gaze had roamed over her from the top of her head to her toes. She had dressed for comfort for the long-haul flight, in plain white cotton drawstring trousers and a baggy blue sweat­shirt. Her hair had been scraped back in two plaits and her face scrubbed free of make-up, and she'd known she'd looked nothing like the glamorous, scantily clad girl he had met the night before.

  'I could say. . .where are we going for the weekend?' he drawled mockingly. 'But then again. . .' his dark eyes nar­rowed angrily on her pale face '. . .perhaps I just came to wish you a happy eighteenth birthday.'

  Still in shock, Willow ignored his comment about the weekend and thanked him politely, much to her own amazement.

  Stony-faced, he demanded to know why she'd never told him she was so young. She responded petulantly with, you never asked, and he grunted like a wounded bear. He then demanded to know why she had lied to him and let him think she was the new student in the house. Again she told him with quiet reason, 'You asked me if I was staying and I was.'

  With his temper rising to boiling point, he pointed out that he would never have slept with her if he had known how young she was, or that she was a virgin. Embarrassed, Willow told him to keep his voice down. Then with a sud­den flash of inspiration she informed him that she had sim­ply planned it as something to do when she came of age, adding that she'd thought an older man would be better as he was likely to be more experienced.

  His rage barely contained, he demanded how she could treat the loss of her innocence so lightly. He tried to per­suade her to keep in touch with him, by telephone or letter, and suggested they meet up again
in India, anywhere. When that didn't work he demanded curtly that she keep in touch with him just in case there were any repercussions from the night they had spent together.

  Not once did he mention his fiancée, and it was left to Willow to angrily point out, 'Really, Theo, I think you are overdoing it a bit. I bet you didn't say that to the woman who shared your bed the night before me.' She caught the flash of something very much like guilt in his eyes, and knew Dianne had told the truth. Then, with a casualness that pleased her battered heart, she told him he had nothing to worry about, pointing out that he had used protection and that there was always the morning-after pill, implying she had taken one.

  At that he stiffened and took a hasty step back, his dark eyes hard and blank. 'Well, then, you are right, there is obviously nothing more to be said.' He made a throw-away gesture with his hand palm up. 'Except I am glad I could be of service,' he drawled mockingly.

  At that moment her flight was finally called. 'My flight. . . No hard feelings, Theo,' she said with a cool smile and took his hand and shook it.

  Surprised, he looked at her hand holding his, and then slowly unwound his strong fingers. 'Have a nice life, Willow.' And then he left.

  'So what do you think, Willow? Are you agreed?'

  Blinking back to the present at just the right time, Willow still couldn't face the anguish she had suffered after Theo had left her that day. 'Yes.' She looked up across the table into the shrewd grey eyes of Ben Carlavitch.

  You haven't been listening to anything that has been said.' His handsome face turned into a rueful smile. 'A bit dampening to a Hollywood mogul's ego.' He grinned.

  She grinned back. He really was a very attractive man, and about thirty-five, she guessed. 'Yes, I did,' she lied. 'And if my publisher is happy, then so am I.'

  'Whoever he is, he is a very lucky man,' he said with a wry smile. 'I just hope he appreciates you. If not, give me a call.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  The doorman held open the taxi door and, sliding out, Willow called goodnight to Louise, who was sharing the cab with her. She glanced up at the impressive entrance to the hotel, and shivered slightly in the cool night air. It was almost midnight, and Willow felt sure that Theo Kadros would have given up waiting for her long ago. She certainly hoped so. She had accompanied the others to a smart Italian restaurant after they'd left the meeting with Carlavitch, and had toasted her success with champagne. Willow had de­liberately chattered on long after their meal was finished, lingering over the coffee, but finally there had been no al­ternative but to return to her hotel.

  Walking quickly into the lobby, Willow made a beeline for the girl at the reception desk and asked for her room key.

  'Thank you.' She almost snatched it from the reception­ist's hand in her hurry to get away, and, spinning around, she walked straight into a hard, masculine body. A strong arm closed around her waist, and she slowly lifted her head, her blue eyes clashing with dancing black.

  'You don't need to bowl me over, Willow, you did that years ago,' Theo said in a deep, husky drawl, and smiled wickedly down into her startled eyes.

  'You're still here,' she blurted. Suddenly conscious of the hard length of his body against her own, Willow took a hasty step back. For a brief second she thought he was not going to release her, but then to her relief his arm fell from her waist and she was free.

  Her wary gaze skidded over him. He was wearing an elegantly tailored beige suit with the jacket open. The loosely pleated trousers hung low on his lean hips and faith­fully traced his long legs. At some time during the evening he must have discarded his tie as his white silk shirt was open at the neck, revealing the tanned column of his throat and just the slightest hint of black chest hair.

  A vivid mental image of her much younger self, leaning over his broad, naked chest teasingly tugging at the tiny black curls, flashed into Willow's mind. She swallowed hard and dragged her gaze back to his face.

  'But of course I'm still here, Willow.' His dark eyes captured hers. 'I promised to buy you a drink and talk over old times, and I am a man of my word,' he declared smoothly.

  His hypnotic gaze had a paralysing effect on her usually quick brain and before she could refuse a large hand cupped her elbow and she was suddenly walking along by his side. How did he do that? she wondered. She hated this man but one look from him and her senses stirred in inexplicable awareness, the blood instantly flowing quicker through her veins. Disgusted with herself, she snapped, 'It will have to be quick, Theo.'

  'Don't worry, the champagne is already on ice.' And with a speed that left her breathless she found herself stand­ing in a lift.

  'Wait a minute.' Willow took a step back and came up hard against the rear wall of the suddenly very small box. Theo's hand left her elbow. 'I thought the bar was on the ground floor.'

  'The hotel bar is crowded tonight. I thought after the hectic day you have had you would prefer to relax in pri­vate,' he explained.

  'No, not really,' Willow responded. Private with Theo Kadros was high up there with her worst nightmare! 'I am rather tired, actually.'

  In the close confines of the lift she was intensely aware of him. He was leaning against the wall, his posture re­laxed, and the heady scent of his cologne or just the essence of the man teased her nostrils. The effect of his body brush­ing lightly against her side was having a chaotic effect on her pulse rate. Common sense told her not to antagonize him; the sooner she could escape from his powerful pres­ence, the safer she would feel. 'Perhaps we could have a drink another time.'

  'Surely, as an author who plots hair-raising murders of the goriest kind, you cannot be afraid of joining me for a nightcap in my suite?' Theo prompted with the sardonic lift of one dark brow.

  'No, of course not,' she denied, and hoped he did not realise she was lying. 'But it is getting late and I really am very tired,' she reiterated.

  With a quick glance at the slim platinum watch on his wrist, Theo looked down into her guarded blue eyes. 'Two minutes to twelve. What a coincidence—exactly the same time as when we first met. I don't recall you complaining of tiredness then, Willow. Quite the opposite, in fact.'

  All arrogant male sophistication, a sensual smile curved his firmly chiselled lips, inviting her to share the memory. But Willow was not fooled for a minute. She was no longer a silly teenager easily blinded by the sheer animal mag­netism of the man, and she responded accordingly.

  'Don't remind me.' She tried for a sophisticated smile of her own. 'I try never to dwell on the past but prefer to look to the future.'

  He paused as the lift doors opened, splaying his hand on the small of her back and urging her out. 'Then I suppose the possibility of recreating our first meeting, minute by minute, is a no-no,' he said drolly.

  'It certainly is,' she snapped, jerking her head back to look up into his darkly handsome face. She saw his teasing expression, and caught the wicked glint of amusement in his dark eyes. For a brief moment he looked years younger, and she was transported back to the night they had met. Remembering his easy humour as he danced with her, talked and joked with her, she could not prevent her lips twitching in a reciprocal smile. She had to give him full marks for nerve and, shaking her head, she shot back with, 'In your dreams, Theo.'

  He took out a key and opened the door to his suite, glancing down at her. 'Good, I was beginning to think you had forgotten how to genuinely smile. And don't worry, Willow, I am not going to jump on you. I'm perfectly re­spectable, almost staid, in my old age. Honest!' He grinned and walked across the room to where an ice bucket stood on a small table. 'Take a seat and let's toast your success, as two old friends should.'

  Sinking down onto an over-stuffed sofa, Willow tried to relax. She was a woman with a successful career and per­fectly capable of looking after herself, nothing like the im­pressionable teenager she had once been. She was worrying about nothing; it was just as Theo said—a drink between old friends. Well, not exactly friends, she corrected. They were two people who had sp
ent one explosive night to­gether nine years ago. It still puzzled her why Theo had bothered following her to the airport that day; maybe he had thought it was the polite thing to do, even for someone of his low morals.

  She studied him stealthily through the thick veil of her lashes. Light glinted on the silver wings of his thick black hair, highlighting his autocratic profile, a straight blade of a nose, with a square chin and firmly chiselled lips. The intervening years since their first meeting had been good to him. The laughter lines around his gorgeous eyes and the lines bracketing his mouth simply added character to an almost too beautiful face. He had shed his jacket and she noticed how his silk shirt fitted immaculately over his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Narrow-hipped and long- legged, he had the perfect male triangular torso.

  He also had the kind of presence and dangerous good looks that made him stand out in any crowd. Add immense wealth and an air of virile masculinity and he was irre­sistible to the opposite sex. . .and he knew it. This was why he felt confident enough to joke about his age. Theo would be a handsome devil till the day he died, and the thought of him did nothing for Willow's body temperature.

  She watched his brows draw together in concentration as he expertly opened the champagne, and for a second the breath caught in her throat. She had seen the exact same expression on Stephen's face, and suddenly Willow's eyes turned to blue ice. She had been in danger of forgetting just how much of a threat Theo Kadros was to her life. Straightening up in the seat, she held out her hand to take the flute of champagne he offered with a cool smile on her face. 'Thank you.'

  The sofa depressed as he lowered his long length down beside her, and, turning slightly, fixed her with his gleam­ing black eyes. 'To The Mole who turned into a swan.' Willow's blue eyes widened in surprise, and he grimaced slightly. 'My English is not perfect. I think I probably got the phrase wrong. But you know what I mean. Con­gratulations, Willow.'