by Jennie Lucas
Enfolding her hand in his own, he drew her toward the palatial hotel, where they were whisked inside by the waiting staff.
As Eve walked through the exquisite lobby, past soaring gilded arches and the sweeping staircase, she became slowly aware of men’s heads whipping around to stare at her, almost like spectators following a tennis match.
It would have been funny, if she hadn’t felt like the yellow ball.
Why were they staring at her?
What was wrong with her?
The doorman gaped at her, then jumped to open the door.
The male clerk did a double take from the elaborate desk before he looked away, clearing his throat.
The group of Italian businessmen crossing the lobby weren’t so discreet. Three young men in pinstriped suits stopped in place on the marble floor, staring at her with open jaws. One man jabbed another in the ribs with a grin. Speaking rapidly in Italian, he started to come toward her. His friend stopped him by grabbing his wrist, gesturing toward Talos with palpable fear. Apparently too cowed by Talos to approach her, all three men continued to stare at her, murmuring soft words of appreciation.
Eve felt vulnerable.
Exposed.
Her cheeks went hot beneath all the scrutiny. She was grateful when Talos took her hand and led her toward the elevator. She could feel all the men in the lobby stare after her, hear their mournful sighs meld with the click of her stiletto heels on the marble floor. They were probably staring at her backside right now.
Her neck broke out into a cold sweat.
Why were they staring at her?
Then in a flash, she knew.
The dress.
The tiny red dress that she’d taken from her bedroom closet in Buckinghamshire. Compared to the rest of the wardrobe, she’d thought it the simplest, easiest choice, comfortable and casual. It had seemed like a nice, though somewhat small, sundress in stretchy fabric. And since she apparently owned no comfortable shoes whatsoever, she’d chosen the black stiletto sandals, which at least wouldn’t squeeze her toes. After her shower, she’d brushed out her dark hair and tentatively put on the lipstick in her handbag.
She’d hoped she would get used to her own clothes, feel confident in them.
Boy, had she been wrong.
Though the knit fabric was indeed soft and stretchy, it was no match for her pregnant breasts, which spilled out quite distressingly over the top. The stiletto heels made her legs very long but also caused her hips to thrust forward and sway with every commanding step.
Comfortable? Casual?
Her clothes cried out for male attention, and no matter where they went, men’s eyes centered on her. No matter their nationality, no matter their age or profession, men couldn’t stop staring!
She didn’t just look trashy, she realized with a horrified intake of breath. She looked like a tart who got paid by the hour!
When the penthouse door finally closed, and the teenaged bellhop left them with one last surreptitious, appreciative glance at Eve’s breasts, she let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank heaven, she was finally alone with Talos!
Then she realized…
She was alone with Talos.
Nervously, she glanced around the lavish suite. Beneath the frescoed ceiling, a crystal chandelier sparkled over the old paintings, marble fireplace and gilded furniture. Thick, tasseled curtains parted at the wide windows to reveal a veranda that overlooked the canal. Multiple rooms graced the suite, including a living area and elegant bathroom.
But there was only one bed.
The enormous four-poster stood at the center of the suite. Eve couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“Shall we go to dinner?” Talos purred from behind her.
Red-faced, she whirled around to face him, praying he wasn’t able to read minds.
“Dinner? Out?” Thinking of all those leering masculine eyes, she shook her head desperately. “I don’t really feel like going out tonight.”
“Perfect,” he said with a sensual curve of his lips. “So we’ll stay in.”
He came another step toward her, larger and more powerful than any man had a right to be. This royal suite was the size of a house, and yet he somehow filled every inch of the space, filled it to a breaking point. And if he did that to a four-thousand-square-foot suite…
She could only imagine what he’d do to a woman.
No! she wouldn’t think about that. Her cheeks flushed with heat. Nervously, she turned toward the window, feeling for all the world like a teenage virgin. She looked out the window across the sparkling water toward the Venetian island on the other side of the lagoon. She could see hotels, palazzos, ferries. She could see parked black gondolas rise and fall in the water in the wake of each passing speedboat bringing tourists to St. Mark’s Square.
She felt him touch her shoulder.
“Is this the same hotel we stayed at before?” she stammered. “When we first met?”
“I stayed here alone,” he said, looking down at her. “You refused to come up to my suite.”
She whirled around to face him. “I did?”
“I tried to change your mind.” Reaching down, he caressed her cheek. She took a deep breath at the gentleness of his touch, of his woodsy masculine scent that caused such shivers down her body. He said softly, “You resisted me.”
“I did?” she blurted out. “How?” Then she blushed.
He gave a low laugh. His featherlight fingertips moved down her cheek toward her lips. He touched her so softly that she had to strain to feel him, almost as if he weren’t quite touching her—forcing her to rise to meet him, whether she willed it or no. His fingers ran softly above the length of her tender bottom lip.
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
“You made me chase you. Harder and longer than I’ve ever chased any woman. No woman has ever been—will ever be—your equal.”
As he pulled away from her, Eve’s heart was pounding, each rise and fall of her breath shallow and quick.
His dark eyes gleamed down at her as if he knew exactly the tumult he’d created inside her. He was only maybe ten years older than her, and yet he somehow made her feel as though he had twice her strength and about a thousand times her experience!
“So. Shall we go out?” He glanced back at the bed. “Or stay in?”
Stay in this penthouse suite, which for all of its square footage suddenly felt tiny? Spend the evening alone with this powerful man, who made her feel such strange things, knocking her world off-kilter?
“I changed my mind. Let’s go out!” she blurted, then blushed at her own nervousness. She felt like a shy young girl, a million miles out of her league.
“So you’re hungry after all.” At his low laugh, she knew she’d betrayed herself again, but she couldn’t help it. Casually, he took her white trenchcoat from the closet, slinging it over one arm. He placed his other hand possessively against the small of her back, and his light touch made her sizzle all over.
Eve almost sighed with the relief of leaving the gorgeous suite—with its enormous bed—safely behind them.
As she followed him out of the hotel into the dusky streets of Venice, she didn’t know it would be a classic case of out of the frying pan, into the fire.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE sun was starting to set in earnest, giving the twilight a pink-and-orange glow with a rapidly chilling autumn bite in the air. As a light fog blew in from the lagoon, Talos reached for Eve’s hand.
His hand wrapped around her smaller one, their naked palms pressing together, and she gave an involuntary shiver that had nothing to do with the cooling night.
He paused on the walkway between the piazzetta and the canal. “Cold?”
She nodded, because how could she tell him the truth? How could she tell him that his every touch exhilarated and frightened her in equal measure?
“That won’t do.” Behind his head, she could see the Byzantine white domes, arches and sharp spires of St. Mark’s Basilica. S
unset caressed his handsome face in warm reddish-pink light. “Here.”
He took the trenchcoat he’d carried on his arm and wrapped it around her. He was so handsome, she thought in a daze as she tied the belt of her coat. So starkly powerful, wearing a black wool coat over a black tailored shirt and black pants. For a moment, she just looked at him, catching her breath.
Then a group of young men walked past them and she heard a low whistle. She looked down and blushed, realizing her slim-fitting white trenchcoat covered her red dress completely. With her legs and collarbone bare, she must look as if she were naked beneath it!
She bit her lip. “Maybe we should take a taxi?”
“The restaurant is close,” he said tersely. “Just on the other side of the square.” He took her arm, placing it over his own. His eyes were dark as he looked down at her. “Come.”
It was incredibly romantic, watching the sun lower over the Grand Canal. Romantic, but not comfortable. Her black stiletto heels twisted her ankles as she walked, but that wasn’t the worst thing. She was continually aware of men staring at her as they passed by the walkway. And Talos was aware of it, too. She could tell by the way he held her arm tightly, glowering at any other man who came too close or stared too long. He was like a lion ready to fight, to kill, to protect his female.
Eve felt vulnerable. Like a gazelle about to get ripped to shreds for some lion’s dinner. What difference did it make which lion?
She looked up at Talos beside her. Something about him scared her in a way she didn’t understand. It was because she couldn’t remember him, she told herself. If she did, surely she wouldn’t be afraid…?
Behind them, she saw a shadowy figure following at a discreet distance. Nervously, she licked her lips, tasting lipstick flavored like wax and roses. “There’s someone following us.”
Talos glanced back, then relaxed. “Kefalas.”
“Your bodyguard?”
“He’ll only come if needed.”
“But—”
“It’s necessary.” He looked down at her. The slant of the setting sun cast his brutally handsome features in a roseate glow as he added roughly, “Just to protect you from all your Italian admirers, it seems.”
“I don’t like the attention,” she whispered. “I don’t want them to stare at me.”
She could tell by the twist to his lips that he didn’t completely believe her. Her cheeks burned pink. She wished she were covered from head to toe in a padded snowsuit.
Her clothes had to change, she thought.
Talos escorted her into a small hotel overlooking the Grand Canal, to the restaurant in the back which had a lovely wide terrace with a view of the water. The restaurant was packed, but somehow they were immediately taken to the best table.
Across the simple candlelit table, they shared an amazing meal of seafood risotto and tagliolini with scampi. The food was a sensual experience. As she finished her risotto, licking her fork with satisfaction, she felt his gaze upon her. And even as the cool night breeze drifted across her bare shoulders and legs, she shivered with sudden heat.
Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, she looked away. Across the black shadows of gondolas in the water, she saw a beautiful white domed church lit up in the night.
“That’s Santa Maria della Salute,” he said quietly. “You loved it last time, too.”
“Last time?”
“Don’t you remember this restaurant?”
“Should I?”
His dark eyes flickered at her in the candlelight. “We came here on our first date.”
The waiter brought the dessert of tiramisu, but as she took her first bite of the sweet cake, she could hardly taste it. With a deep breath, she set down her fork. And met his eyes.
He reached for her hand over the table.
“I am glad I found you,” he said in a low voice that made her tremble from within. “Glad you’re here now.”
He was still being so kind and loving to her. She could hardly understand it. She covered her face with one hand.
“You must hate me,” she said in a low voice.
His fingers seemed to tighten by reflex over her other wrist. “Why do you say that?”
Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “Because I can’t remember you! You are my lover, the father of my child, and you’re being so kind to me. You’re trying so hard to help me remember. But it’s useless, all useless, because my brain—won’t—work!”
Her voice choked as tears spilled down her cheeks. Aware she was making a scene, desperate to escape all the eyes on her—now those of the women, too, as well as the men—Eve pulled away from him. Throwing her linen napkin on the table, she ran outside.
Talos caught up with her a few moments later, her coat in his arms.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. He kissed her temple and she felt his hands in her long, loose hair. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” she choked out, gulping back tears. She looked up at him. “How can I be with you and not remember?”
“You need to calm down,” he said in a low voice. “This can’t be good for the baby—being pushed all over Venice.”
“You haven’t pushed me. You’ve been gentle and wonderful.” She wiped the tears away angrily. “It’s my fault. All mine. Dr. Bartlett said there’s no physical reason that I shouldn’t remember. So what is it? What’s wrong with me?”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should go back to London. See that specialist—”
“No.” His dark gaze caught hers, sensual and intense. He cupped her face with his hands. “You don’t need any doctors. You just need time. Time and care. And me. I remember enough for both of us. Marry me, Eve. Make me happy.”
Her face felt warm where he touched her. His eyes fell to her mouth, and her lips tingled beneath his gaze as if he’d touched her with his hands. And immediately, her whole body felt sparked, consumed by raging fire, like dry tinder sparked by lightning.
Behind him, she saw the famous Piazza San Marco, toward the tall red campanile and the famous domed white basilica that was as exotic as anything in Cairo or Istanbul. The hour was late, the night was magic, the tourists had melted away into the mists, leaving the two of them alone, drenched in moonlight beside the water.
He was going to kiss her.
She wanted him to kiss her. Ached for it.
As he slowly lowered his head to hers, her whole body vibrated, leaning forward, yearning…
But as she closed her eyes and leaned up for his kiss, she suddenly found herself standing five feet away from him.
She could see the rapid, hoarse rise and fall of his breath as he stared at her in the moonlight with eyes so dark they seemed black.
“What is it, Eve?” he said in a low voice. “Why did you jump away?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered helplessly over the lump in her throat. “I want to kiss you, but for some reason, I’m…afraid.”
He gave a sudden low laugh, a sensual, knowing sound that caused a rumble to echo off the waves of the water. “You’re right to be afraid.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, unable to look away.
Reaching for her hand, he kissed her palm. “This fire could consume us both.” Slowly, he kissed each knuckle of her hand, causing zings of pleasure to curl up and down her body. “Once I start kissing you, I might never stop.”
A shudder of pleasure went through her at those words. Pleasure…desire…fear.
But his face was so strangely dark in the moonlight.
She couldn’t blame his mood, she told herself. Not when she’d been so weepy a moment before!
“Come,” he said in a low voice. “It’s late. Time for bed.”
For…bed?
Her knees shook beneath her as he led her back to the hotel. She barely noticed the beautiful sights of Venice, the lights on the gondolas or the islands across the water. All she could see in her mind’s eye was t
he penthouse suite waiting for them.
The bed waiting for them.
Biting her lip, she glanced at him sideways through her lashes. He was so breathtakingly handsome and strong. But beyond just his incredible sexiness, he was a good man. He’d been nothing but loving and patient. He hadn’t been angry or hurt about the fact she couldn’t remember him. No, his only focus had been on making her comfortable. On helping her.
No, that wasn’t true. He wanted something else.
He wanted to marry her.
The father of her child, a handsome, powerful Greek tycoon, wanted to marry her. So why couldn’t she accept? Why couldn’t she at least let him kiss her? Why wouldn’t her body let her?
You’re right to be afraid.
She heard more low whistles and muttered appreciation in Italian as they passed a new group of young men. Clenching his hands, Talos started to turn toward them. His whole body seemed abruptly tight and angry, almost enraged. He meant to fight them all, she realized. He was suddenly bruising for a fight.
Frightened, she stopped him with a gentle touch on his wrist. “Can I have my coat back?” she implored. “I’m so cold.”
He instantly turned back to face her. “Of course, khriso mou.” Looking down at her, he tenderly wrapped the coat around her. For a moment, she was lost in his dark gaze. He took her hand in his own. “I’ll get you back to the hotel.”
Eve exhaled, relieved she’d distracted him before he could start a fight with those young Italians. From the look on Talos’s face, she’d been afraid. For them. He’d been taut with fury that seemed far beyond what their fairly innocent provocation had deserved.
But she wouldn’t allow it to happen again. As they walked past the doorman and into the lobby, Eve vowed she would change her wardrobe completely.
Once inside their penthouse suite, Talos immediately released her hand. When she came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, after brushing her teeth, he didn’t even glance up from the sleek desk near the window where he was working on his laptop. Through the window behind him, she could see the twinkling lights of ferries crossing from the Adriatic Sea.