by Sandra Scott
Again, Sly shrugged prettily, her well-sculpted body shifting to adjust to Jayson’s question. “I did this for him.”
“For who?”
“Stefano, silly. He put me up to this.” Sly took a moment to refasten her blouse. Patting the buttons primly, she leaned forward. “The plan is to seduce you away from Dr. Andra.”
15
“Stefano!” Andra gasped. “What are you doing in here?”
He sat across the room, looking both at home and formidable in the small settee nestled in the corner beside the balcony windows.
The late-morning sunlight spilled partially across his skull, giving the illusion the light made up half his face, the other half created from the shadows. His long legs stretched forth to cross at the ankles, while his outstretched arms traveled the length of the chair’s armrests.
Upon her appearance, his hands gripped the armrests’ ends, causing his knuckles to turn white. He studied her intently, as if she were a foreign specimen to be examined, dissected, and then discarded into an experimental junk pile for instantaneous removal.
Nervous, she darted her dry tongue over her dry lips.
He looked lethal and powerful and projected the aura of a man most would dare not cross. His lean frame was as taut as that of an uncaged beast ready to spring on her at any second, and there he was, unrestrained, inside her room, and they were alone.
She was afraid.
The earlier scene in which she’d begged Jayson not to leave flashed inside her head; it shamed yet simultaneously toughened her. Her husband’s frowning face lingered inside her thoughts, and she bravely straightened from the defensive stance she’d curled into upon discovering Stefano.
She lifted her chin. “Stefano, I asked you—what are you doing here?”
At his withering glance, she cleared her throat to speak with greater authority. “What do you want? I thought you were meeting with Jayson this morning.”
Unhurriedly, he uncrossed his legs and rose to his full height, saying nothing. His dark eyes moved, roaming her entire length, his expression a mask of disgusted interest. At his assessment, she nearly lost her courage and took a step backward; instead, she drew herself up further, returning his steely look.
“I’ll ask you once more. Why are you here?”
“I should ask the same of you,” Stefano finally replied. “Why are you here, hmm?”
At his deep, carefully pronounced accent, a tremor streaked through Andra’s core. His voice reminded her of something dark and mysterious, a deadly unknown, yet it was powerfully alluring, as if a targeted object had no choice but to draw nearer and find out whether it was heading for certain death or, upon contact, would experience a sensation so pleasurable it would die anyway from the sheer ecstasy of encountering it.
To her trepidation, Stefano descended upon her.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, watching his approach. She refused to give in to her fear and stood her ground. “You understand perfectly why I’m here—I’m your brother’s wife. He wants me with him.”
Andra’s voice trailed off when he stopped to glare at her from what seemed a great height. She tilted her head to stare directly at his stony visage and realized her mistake. Her eyes were immediately lost in his.
She had to admit that her hateful brother-in-law was one sexy specimen.
She cried out when he suddenly grabbed her upper arm and pulled her close, causing her nose to collide with his chest. She found herself breathing deeply, her nostrils taking in the subtle scent of his morning aftershave beyond his polo shirt. Irrespective of his aggression, she wanted to run her itchy fingers through the springy hairs that peeked out from his open collar.
“So you’re my brother’s wife?” he asked, his tone deceptively serene.
Stefano dipped his head toward hers, their lips close yet not touching. His bodily aroma was immediately replaced with the cool hint of minty toothpaste.
For a brief second, she thought Stefano might cover the miniscule gap between them and kiss her; the notion made her both repulsed and weak with expectation.
“We shall soon see.”
His words sounded like a threat.
Her blood boiled. Its heat succeeded in pushing her fear of him away—and she tried to do the same with his body. To her frustration, his grip tightened. She was unable to wrench her arm loose, and her alarm levels rose until she found herself in a shoving frenzy.
“Let me go!”
Too late, she realized her struggles had loosened her robe, giving him more than a glimpse of her nakedness underneath.
Stefano’s breathing became shallow. He grabbed her wrists and, with a powerful jerk, twisted her arms behind her, pinning her hands to the small of her back. He forced her captured body forward.
“I said let me go!” she wheezed. “You …”
Words failed her. Through her fury, Andra realized her nakedness now meshed against her brother-in-law’s hard body.
16
At Sly’s words, Jayson bolted from his chair. In shock, he stormed across the room and loomed over her. Appearing not at all intimidated, she stared up at him. Unconsciously, he switched from English to Greek.
“What do you mean Stefano asked you to seduce me?” At Sly’s silent shrug, Jayson shook his head in disbelief. “No. I know my brother acts as if he doesn’t care for Andra, but he wouldn’t dare do anything—”
“Oh, wouldn’t he?” Sly interrupted, also transitioning smoothly to their native language. She stood, walked around Jayson, and peeked out the office door. After glancing both ways, she pulled back and gently closed them in. As she twirled to face him, her skirt billowed sexily about her legs. “So why am I here? I believe you know I’m telling the truth.”
Speechless, Jayson returned to Stefano’s desk, but he chose to remain standing, his eyes once again staring across its surface and through the window. This time, he didn’t flinch when Sly’s arms encircled him, for her embrace was more of a sister’s than a seductress’s.
“Look,” she said. “Your brother can be extremely persuasive and demanding. He believes he will get his way if he works on you from different angles—me and him. I don’t believe in what he’s trying to do—yet I understand where he is coming from.” Sly squeezed his waist briefly before letting go. She returned to her chair. “This is what Stefano wants.”
Jayson sighed angrily. “But this is not what I want.” He scanned important paperwork that signified his family’s legacy in the olive oil industry. He resisted the impulse to take a huge stack and, in a temper tantrum, tear the papers to shreds. “This is my life. I have a right to live it any way I want to. To marry whomever I want!”
“I agree. However.” Sly paused until Jayson reluctantly faced her. “You are acquainted with your brother, aren’t you? He will stop at nothing until he wins—whether it’s keeping you here or breaking apart your marriage. If he had to choose, I believe he would prefer the latter.”
“Why?” Jayson said, mostly to himself. “Why can’t he accept Andra? Why doesn’t he like her?”
The younger woman stared across the room; her hesitance to answer was clear, yet even clearer was her expression of pity. Momentarily, she graced him with a wistful smile. “Because sometimes we hate that which we cannot have.”
“Huh?” Jayson asked. “What do you mean?”
Ambiguously, Sly shook her head. She then rose from her chair. “Jayson, you must not tell your brother what I just told you.”
“And why not?” Jayson fumed. In an instant, he realized denial was now much too dangerous a place in which to stay put. “Stefano and I need to have this out—the sooner the better.”
“What are you—a teenager?” she asked with a smirk. Her expression grew serious as she retraced her steps back to him. Placing a palm against his chest, she used one finger to lightly tap its center.
“You must reason clearly as an adult. You’re reasoning with the emotions of your heart, not the logic inside your head.”
Knowing she was right, Jayson took a calming moment to breathe in and out. Once he focused back on her, his expression turned dubious. “Okay, Sly, so what do you suggest?”
“The only way to truly win this battle against Stefano is to not let him believe you are on to him. Let him think you’re ignorant to his schemes,” she said. Thoughtfully, she fingered a strand of shiny hair. “You must figure out a way to undermine them, understand? Do a Trojan-horse thing on him.”
Jayson had to admit what Sly suggested made sense. Folding his arms, he leaned back against the desk and took a closer look at her. “I’m wondering—how did you get to be so smart at your age?”
She grinned. “My training has been years of experience hanging around your brother; I followed him around like a little puppy dog, hoping to get a few crumbs of his affection.”
Jayson nearly returned her grin. Then the thought of his brother’s plot, and the part Sly nearly played in it, prevented his smile. He frowned. “What’s in this for you? Why are you helping me to defeat the love of your life?”
Abruptly, Sly’s youthful face took on a hard edge. “In order for me to win, you must win—and Stefano must lose.”
Sly spun and headed for the door. Before turning the knob, her hand rested upon it. “And in order for you and me to win, J. J., we must separate him from the thing he now wants most.”
Jayson lowered his hands to clutch the desk’s edge, his knuckles turning white from the power behind his grip. “And what would that be? The destruction of my marriage?”
“No,” she said. After opening the door, she paused to give him a shrewd green-eyed stare. “You are still using juvenile logic and not thinking with your brain. It is bigger than you’re willing to imagine. Much bigger.”
Jayson watched Sly silently close the door in his face.
For the first time in a long time, maybe since he was a small kid, he was afraid.
17
Hearing the knock at his hotel suite’s door, Hog set his drink on the bar’s counter and strolled toward the door. Once he swung it open, his mouth stretched wide into a welcoming grin. In appreciation, he skimmed the shapely physique attached to the lovely face framed outside the doorway.
“Well, good morning! Come on in.” He stepped aside and waited as the blonde hesitated before crossing over. She jumped when he closed the door and quickly encircled her waist with a one-armed embrace, pulling her farther into the room. “I’m so glad you took me up on my invitation to meet outside the airport. A single man can get pretty lonely traveling abroad.”
Clutching a white strapless purse to her chest, Sapphire pulled away to distance herself. Her eyes darted about the suite in nervous curiosity, her wary expression gradually transforming into admiration at her surroundings.
Seconds ticked by as he watched her wide-eyed stare.
“You like?” he asked once she’d scanned the entire area. “Are you impressed?”
She gave him a tiny smile. “Very. I knew you were well off, but …”
Hog chuckled modestly and headed for the sitting room, which doubled as his personal bar area. Behind him, he heard no movement. Casually, he sidled to the counter and reached for the scotch bottle. Curious as to whether he’d succeeded in projecting a nonthreatening air, he leaned backward to look past the threshold that separated them.
“Drink, darlin’?”
Her feet hesitantly carried her forward to stop a few feet away. “Okay,” she replied.
Her answer satisfied his curiosity. Nodding his approval, he threw ice cubes into his glass and saturated them with equal parts liquor and water.
“Scotch and water’s what I’m having, but I can fix you something else if you like.”
“Seven and Seven, if you have it.” After pausing, she added, “Light on the alcohol, please.”
Motioning her toward the couch, he brought over their drinks. Sapphire took the cold glass with a nervous hand and straightaway took a sip.
Standing over her, Hog studied her tan loveliness. His eyes drank in her sapphire-blue eyes, long golden hair, and ears adorned with large hoop earrings. His eyes lowered to inspect her body, which was now minus her work uniform. She sported a white silk blouse printed with bright flowers of red, yellow, green, and a blue that matched her eyes perfectly. Sunshine hip-hugger slacks and white sandals completed her outfit.
Although what she wore was fetching, Hog would’ve welcomed the sight of her flight uniform. Maybe they could do a little role-playing—the sexy flight attendant and the rich rustler. His eyes returned to her blouse to examine breasts slightly smaller than he preferred.
But they would do.
She coughed nervously under his scrutiny.
“So,” he said, sitting down on the couch next to her, “is Sapphire your real name, or did someone hang it on you because of those gorgeous eyes?”
Unevenly, she took another sip. “You got it,” she said, looking edgy and wistful at the same time. “My father gave me that nickname. You see, he was in the diamond business before he retired. Whenever he came across an exceptional gem at work, he would come home and say, ‘I found another sapphire almost as beautiful as my Sapphire’s eyes.’” She blinked back building tears. “My Christian name’s Carie Anne.”
Hog scooted over a bit closer. “Well, Carie Anne, I was hoping it was just a nickname. Couldn’t imagine you being a stripper on the side.” One eyebrow wriggled. “But then again …”
Her eyes studied him with a side glance only to widen when he moved in closer, but to Hog’s delight, she chose not to perform a countermove, probably out of courtesy so as not to offend him.
He liked good manners.
“I totally agree with your pappy. Looking into them eyes of yours is like opening a treasure chest and discovering rare gems.” He reached over and firmly plucked her drink and then her purse from her nerveless hands and placed them on the low coffee table. He boldly eliminated what little space remained between them and slid directly against her side. “Can I open your treasure chest and take a peek inside, Sapphire?”
As he placed an arm across the sofa behind her, her blue eyes ignited with red-hot fear. “Mr. Grainger, when you approached me at the terminal, I thought you said we were getting together so you could show me the sights of Greece.”
Hog smiled. “Call me Hog, my lovely one.” He reached over to entwine a thick strand of blonde hair around one finger and smelled it. It had a fresh, citrusy scent. “We’ll get to sightseeing later if we have time. But right now, I feel like doin’ a little bronco busting.”
Her confused sapphire-colored eyes stared into his. “Bronco busting? You mean riding a horse?” At his silent nod, she finally shifted her body away from him. “Where are you going to get a horse?”
“Come with me—I’ll show you.” Easily, Hog stood, turned, and grabbed Sapphire’s nearest hand, pulling her to her feet as well. With a firm grip, he led her a few feet to a closed door. “In here.”
Reaching out, he pushed the door open to display a king-sized bed, still unmade from his earlier rising.
Whimpering once, she tugged her hand within his tight grip, her body leaning away from him in an attempt to pull free. Easily, he jerked her body in front of his. Wrapping her waist in a steel-like embrace, her spine now snug against his chest, he forced her to face her destiny.
“No,” she whispered. She shook her head at the rumbled bed. “I believed you were a gentleman. Please.”
Hog grinned gratuitously as her words turned into a pitiful moan. He’d come to expect it from them all, but more importantly, he’d come to relish it.
A woman’s defeated whimper always infused him with power.
“I told that beautiful doctor on the airplane—remember, the one
who saved your life?—that you, my little filly, needed a man to break you like a stallion.” He nuzzled her ear. “And I’ve had plenty of experience.”
“Breaking horses?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
He chuckled ambiguously into her ear.
“No,” she pleaded, almost choking on the word. “I thought you were a decent man. I only agreed to go sightseeing with you.”
“So you shall, little lady. So you shall. As a gentleman, I’ll show you the sights right here.” His self-assurance grew when her frame went slack only to give way to violent spasms. Pushing her body forward, he kicked backward, shutting the door. “And if you’re good and quiet, I’ll make sure this breakin’ in will be worth your while.”
Behind the closed bedroom door, the first muffled slap sounded, cutting off Sapphire’s sobbing response.
18
“Don’t, Stefano,” Andra whispered, wishing she could free herself from his tight hold, slap his face, and retie her bathrobe. “Let me go now, and I won’t tell Jayson about this.”
Stefano’s eyes watched Andra’s mouth, they leisurely trailed across her lips that had gone completely arid. A strong impulse to wet them with a nervous tongue compelled her, and she nearly obeyed. Yet she resisted the urge, believing it might set off a chain reaction that would bring their mouths together.
His dark orbs delved back into hers. “You won’t tell him,” he said softly. “Your eyes speak it.”
“Yes, I will,” she said weakly, knowing he was right. Her simply being in Stefano’s arms would have hurt Jayson beyond anything else she could ever do to him. Still, she uttered her lie with false resolve. “I will. I promise.”
His slight smile refuted such a promise.
To her dismay, he chose to wet his lips, and afterward, she resisted her own temptation to rise on her tiptoes and kiss the glistening flesh. Instead, she pulled away from the captivating sight to return to his gaze. She immediately flinched under his fiery scrutiny as his eyes lowered to her breasts crushed intimately against him.