Niko's Stolen Bride

by Lindy Corbin

  She looked up and caught him staring at her. “Niko,” she said urgently, pointing at the chocolate that slipped down his fingers, “you’re melting everywhere.”

  Yes. Yes, he was.

  Damn. He was in deep trouble.

  Chapter 4

  Kara waited outside the public lavatory in Mallory Square while Niko washed the chocolate ice cream off of his hands. Her own cone was long gone. She’d eaten as much of it as she could manage while he’d dragged her down the street to find a place to wash his hands, then thrown the rest in the closest trash can. It might have been funny if she hadn’t caught that instant of raw passion that blazed across his features before he turned away to toss his cone to the sea gulls who swarmed upon it with guttural calls.

  It was a good thing she was going home tonight.

  She sighed as Niko emerged just as a trio of giggling teenagers passed by. They stared and whispered, their high-pitched voices echoing back to her.

  “Totally hot.”

  “Yeah, what a hunk.”

  She’d tried to avoid acknowledging it, but the man was a babe magnet. And totally off limits. Technically, he was her step-uncle, she thought with a grim internal laugh. What would his family think if they realized that she’d had a desperate urge to lick that chocolate ice cream off his fingers and then continue licking her way up to those firm lips? Not the typical behavior expected of a relative.

  Niko touched her arm, as if to gain her attention. Foolish man. As if she hadn’t spent every second of the afternoon so aware of him that her muscles ached from the strain of holding herself away from the temptation his body presented. She’d thrown herself into a whirlwind of sight-seeing activity to avoid thinking of the intimate contact she desperately desired. She felt a flush in her cheeks.

  What was wrong with her? Yesterday, she’d been ready to promise in front of family and friends that she would never stray from Frank till death did they part. Today, she was fighting impulses that she’d seldom ever felt before, much less acted on. The stress of last night. The heat of the afternoon. The awkwardness of spending the day with a stranger. They were all fine excuses, but did little to explain the pattern of her feelings or the pull of sexual temptation.

  It was possible these had little to do with her unbalanced emotions and more to do with Niko himself. After all, she had been drawn to the temptation he represented from the moment they met. His voice was smooth and honeyed, as intimate as a caress, as was his gaze when it moved over her. She had felt his appraisal several times that afternoon, almost as if he’d touched the glittery top that stretched across her breasts, smoothing down past the shorts that were snug over her hips to the pink-painted toenails on her sandaled feet.

  She’d heard of men that no woman could resist. Legendary lovers, heroes of stage, screen and literature. She had believed it to be no more than myth. Until now.

  “It’ll be a couple more hours before the sun sets. Is there anything else you want to see or would you like to go back to the ship? We could grab a shower and change clothes.”

  Water cascading down his body, followed by little soap bubbles drifting across the width of his broad chest.

  A deep internal ache started inside her as she imagined those bubbles slipping down his abdomen and catching in the soft black hair on his thighs. “A shower would be great. I’m a little tired and my feet are starting to hurt.” And she was starting to hallucinate. It was time to get out of the sun. “Those lounge chairs on the top deck are calling my name. Eduardo told me there’s a rolling shade that can be pulled over them. Can we sit there and watch the sunset?”

  He breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Great idea. I hate to admit it, but I was beginning to have trouble keeping up with you.”

  Yeah, right. The man had the stamina to run a triathlon or indulge in an extended session of vigorous sex. If they’d met in different circumstances….

  She brought the thought to a jarring stop. Under no circumstances would he ever have been interested in her. Greek gods seldom came down from Mt. Olympus to amuse themselves with ordinary beings and when they did, things went badly for their human consorts.

  There was nothing special about her that would attract a man like Niko. She hadn’t even been able to keep Frank by her side. Sudden depression settled around her, and she found she was too tired to refute his polite statement. “We had an early start,” she agreed, hoping that he would accept that as the reason for the sag of her shoulders.

  Niko guided her back along the pier with a hand in the small of her back. It was more crowded now as people began to congregate for the sunset ritual. More street vendors and performers had begun to gather as well. A small group surrounded a man who was breathing fire while a woman on stilts wound her way through the press of people, hawking a tumbling act that had just started farther down the dock. The breeze had stalled and the smell of food cooking was strong as they passed a stall selling fried scallops.

  He stopped in front of a man who was squatted on the concrete of the pier with only a small blanket on the ground in front of him. On it was displayed a selection of bracelets and necklaces made from some natural material that looked like hemp but was finer, each decorated with small colored beads or shells. The man was dressed in wide legged pants and a loose cotton shirt that had once been bright orange, but was faded to an uneven tan. His feet were large and bare, though a pair of sandals sat beside him. Niko spoke to him in what sounded like Spanish or was perhaps the Creole spoken on some of the islands in the Caribbean. The man broke into a smile that showed a silver tooth and answered in heavily accented English.

  “Anything you want, Mon.” He gestured at the sun that dipped slowly toward the horizon. “I got the time if you do.”

  Niko reached to pull her closer to the man, out of the flow of the crowd, his arm a warm band around her waist. “He’s going to make you a bracelet or an anklet, if you prefer.” he said, his breath brushing against her cheek. “Do you like blue?”

  Kara turned to look at him, searching for some hint of why he decided to stop for this particular street vendor. There was nothing in the relaxed set to his lips to indicate anything but a casual inclination to purchase something from the man. Perhaps he thought the vendor needed the business a bit more than the others because he didn’t own the black velvet display board that some did or perhaps he’d seen something in his work that was special. Either way, she was willing to go along with his plan. It would be her one memento of the day.

  “Love it,” she announced, smiling down at the man. “An anklet please.” She held her foot out toward him. “Do you need to measure?”

  “Na,” he drawled thumping his chest. “I’m good.”

  He was. His hands moved with speed, fashioning an intricate design. As he worked, he bounced on the balls of his feet to some internal music that seemed to help him concentrate. The anklet he wove was unlike the simple ones on the mat. First, he separated the threads into even smaller sections, then slipped on tiny blue beads, twisting and knotting until he’d formed a row of small circles, each set with a small white bead in the center. It was a beautiful piece of work, rather like a row of small blue flowers.

  She’d read once that blue flowers were the symbol of desire and love during the Romantic movement of the late 1800s. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze tracked to Niko. Not a piece of information that a man would normally tuck into memory. Even if he’d known, it was unlikely that it meant anything.

  When the man was done, he handed the anklet to Niko with a sly wink.

  Niko held the piece of jewelry between his large fingers as if it were made of precious gems. He pushed his sunglasses up, his head bent toward her as he presented the anklet. “Do you love it?” he asked. His voice was like a gentle stroke down her spine. “You must only wear it if you love it.”

  She looked from the wicked glint in his eyes to the anklet. She certainly didn’t love it, but when he spoke in that low, sexy tone, she found herself wanting to agree t
o anything. Everything.

  He laughed softly, breaking the tension of the moment. “I’m teasing you. When I was in college, I spent a summer on the Greek island of Mykonos, working in a jewelry store. That was a line that seemed to work when my customers were undecided.”

  It had worked on her as well. She could easily imagine buying a very expensive piece of jewelry from him then going back later for a matching set of earrings, just to hear him say it again.

  Niko went to one knee on the dock’s concrete surface. Grasping her calf, he gently lifted her foot and placed it on his raised knee. She drew a deep breath and steadied herself by leaning to grip his shoulder. She could feel the bunch and release of his muscle as he fastened the jewelry around her ankle then slowly placed her foot back on the ground.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as she released him and he stood up.

  It was stupid, she knew, but somehow she felt that the bracelet had branded her as Niko’s woman. She glanced at the vendor, looking for confirmation that this design was special, but his attention was distracted by an older woman who passed by, obviously a friend since he flashed broad white teeth and threw out a comment. She laughed and swirled her long, multicolored skirt as she walked on.

  Flipping out a bill, Niko slipped it to the man who smiled again and stashed it in his shirt pocket.

  “May you have a blessed day,” the street vendor said with a final nod of his head.

  Kara looked back to respond in kind but saw that he was already reaching for another strand of beads, his head bobbing up and down as he sang softly to himself. She shook her head at the strange encounter before allowing Niko to guide her along the pier again.

  This time, he led the way, using the width of his shoulders to break through the crowd that was fast becoming dense. She followed close behind, without touching him any more than she could help. It seemed safer that way. It was a relief when the crowds thinned as they reached the grounds of the hotel where the yacht was berthed. Potted palms with blooming flowers at their bases dotted the boardwalk. The clink of glasses and a rumble of voices came from a nearby restaurant. A pelican perched on the railing, its beady eyes following them as they passed.

  Rounding the corner of one of the buildings, they were confronted by a large, white tent that covered the walkway, its lightweight fabric panels pulled back and fastened with large pink bows. Inside, round tables were covered with white cloths and decorated with tulle in shades of light and dark pink. Flowered centerpieces graced each table, while crystal wine glasses glinted in the late afternoon glow of the sun. Along the quay, chairs were set up in straight lines, facing an arbor festooned with flowers and more tulle, awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom for the perfect sunset ceremony.

  A choked exclamation escaped Kara and she stopped. It was too much, too close to the image of her own wedding arrangement. She’d planned the event for months, choosing the table place cards embossed with the perfect silver script, the wine, the champagne, the cake with dual layers of cheesecake and white chocolate, the flowers and the dress. Every night she’d sat in her apartment, focusing on making this a perfect day. Frank had offered little to the process, even refusing to make the decision on where they would live after the wedding. While she’d been busy, she’d lost not only her groom but her moment to shine. It was a sickening waste of time, energy and money. Her legs wobbled at the knees with the distress.

  With a muttered curse, Niko turned and tried to shield her from the sight, but it was useless. There was no way to get to the yacht without walking past the tent.

  “It’s all right,” she said softly, straightening her shoulders. “I’m all right.”

  His gaze raked her face, the muscles in his jaw standing out as his teeth clenched. “Like hell you are.”

  Wrapping one hard arm around her waist, he hustled her along the pier. At the gangplank of the Black Magic, he lifted her and carried her across.

  “Put me down,” she yelped as her feet dangled over the water. “I can walk.”

  He ignored her, his arms hard bands under her knees and across her back. Eduardo appeared instantly as if he’d been awaiting their return. He slid open the darkly tinted glass doors as Niko carried her up the short flight of stairs into the main cabin. The look of concern on the older man’s face nearly brought the tears that had been threatening and she turned her face into Niko’s shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. Thankfully, George was nowhere in sight.

  Niko spoke to Eduardo, who nodded and stepped back on the outer deck, sliding the doors closed behind him with a soft swoosh, shutting out the late afternoon sunlight. Only then did Niko set her down, releasing her legs first so that she slid slowly down the length of his body and rested against him with her feet on the floor. He held her there with one arm around her waist. With the other hand, he stroked down the length of her back from shoulder to waist then trailed his fingers up to do it again.

  “Don’t think about it,” he said quietly.

  Kara looked up. His face quivered in the sheen of tears that blocked her vision. “I can’t help it. It’s just that–”

  She wanted to tell him, but the idea was so freshly formed in her mind that she couldn’t force out the words. Frank, she’d just realized, had never cancelled the lease on his apartment or asked that she give up hers. He had put off the decision on where they would live after they were married. In the rush of wedding plans, it had not been a concern. Now, it seemed glaringly obvious that he’d never been sure he could go through with the ceremony. He had kept his apartment as an escape route.

  She’d been such a fool. Too lost in the dream of marriage to realize that she was like Cinderella. Midnight had struck and her beautiful dress was exposed for the rag it really was.

  “I was so blind,” she said on a broken sob. “I just wanted to get married. It was all I talked about for–”

  “Did you want to be married? Or did you want to be married to Frank?”

  She was still for a moment. As the import of his words sank in she pushed against his chest, stepping out of his arms. “Leave me alone.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Kara starred at Niko, taking in the stiff set to his shoulders and the thin line of his lips, but she was too wrapped up in his words to be concerned with the emotions that seemed to drive him. “Of course, I love him. Do you think I would have agreed to marry him if I didn’t?” The sarcasm in her tone bordered on rudeness, but she couldn’t stop it, really didn’t try.

  “It happens.”

  “Maybe in your world, but not mine.” It was well known that wealthy people sometimes married for business reasons or to forge an alliance with other powerful families, but for her, love was the only reason. “Don’t you understand?” she asked, her voice breaking on the words. “Haven’t you ever felt the overpowering need to have someone to share life’s ups and downs? To find that special someone who will always be there for you?” She had thought she was close to achieving that level of comfort and security with Frank, and then it had been ripped away.

  “Yes.”

  The one word was low and painful to hear. Strain pulled down the corners of his mouth, and a shadow of something resembling past pain clouded his eyes.

  Understanding surfaced as she remembered that his brief marriage had ended so badly that he moved to Greece to avoid any reminders of the woman. Kara had not delved further into what had happened. Now, she wished she had.

  Was there something about her situation that mirrored his? Is that why he had agreed to spend the day with her?

  Anguish slowly rose in her, making it hard to breathe, threatening to suffocate her. There was a ringing in her ears and she wondered if she were going to pass out. She needed to get out. Out of the room. Off the ship. Away from everything and everyone that reminded her of Frank.

  The sheer physical presence of the man in front of her didn’t help. Her awareness of him increased her discomfort. The warmth of his hands when he touched her, the hard muscles of h
is chest, the deep silky tones of his voice initiated an answering vibration in her. She wanted him, she realized. Wanted to touch him and sooth away his remembered pain, then let him sooth away hers. She longed to have him caress her with his big hands, drag her against the solidity of his chest and use those lovely sensuous lips to bring her to a peak of responsiveness that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Shock rocked her back on her heels. She turned sharply and strode to the window, wrapping her arms across her chest. Consciously, she erased all thoughts and focused inward as she’d learned to do years ago in a yoga class. She drew deep, slow breaths then released them. Being away from Niko brought a return of sanity that she badly needed. She must be misunderstanding her own body’s signals. This purely sexual attraction wasn’t something she’d ever felt. It was too soon after Frank. It was the wrong man.

  Niko followed her, destroying her brief moment of equilibrium. Standing just behind her, the heat emanated from his tense muscles touching her cool, bare arms like a living blanket. She swung to face him, her gaze brushing across the stairs in the corner that led to her cabin – and escape.

  He made a sharp gesture with his hand. “Enough,” he said, his voice low and rough. “This thing with Frank is done. You must move on and salvage what you can.”

  She felt the blood draining from her face. As true as the words were, it was a reality she wasn’t ready to face. Frustration boiled just underneath the surface of her skin, fretting the edges of her consciousness. It wasn’t fair that her life was ripped apart like this while Frank walked off with her pride and dignity.

  “I’m going below to shower now.”

  Niko didn’t budge. He stood with his legs slightly apart in a stance that he must have adopted from years of riding on ships. He crossed his arms, the material of his shirt stretching, emphasizing the size of his biceps. The ridged muscle of his thighs looked stout and immovable. His posture, his attitude, the set of his jaw told her that he wasn’t a man to be tossed about in a storm of emotions. He set a path and forged his way through to the end, no matter what adversity he ran across on the journey.