Hot-Blooded Husbands Bundle

by Michelle Reid

  He was talking to all three of his site managers, and they instantly developed distinct masculine gleams in their eyes. ‘We heard all about the souvenir you brought back with you from the Caribbean,’ one of them teased him lazily, telling him also that the company grapevine was still working efficiently. 137

  This kind of man-to-man camaraderie was to be expected on building sites. One either sank or swam with it. Ethan usually swam.

  ‘The souvenir goes by the name of Eve Herakleides,’ he informed them dryly. ‘And if you value your jobs here I would suggest you curb the joky comments, because she also happens to be my future wife.’

  A stunned silence fell. Ethan looked at the three men and saw their slack-jawed trance. But their shock came nowhere near the shock that he found himself experiencing. He felt as if he had just stepped off a very high cliff.

  Had he really said that? Yes, he had said that, he was forced to grimly face the fact.

  They were looking at him as if they expected him to laugh now and withdraw what he’d said. After all, this had to be a classic example of building-site camaraderie where the jokes flew back and forth with quick-flitting wit that did not always need to tell the truth if the punch-line served got the right results?

  So—okay, this was supposed to be part of an elaborate deception, he tried to reason. But it didn’t feel like a lie. Was that why he was suddenly feeling as if he’d jumped into a free fall from a fatal height?

  ‘Nothing to say?’ he mocked, working like mad to keep the jaunty flow going now that he had opened his big mouth.

  ‘Congratulations,’ one man muttered uncomfortably. The others mimicked their colleague like puppets that had just had their strings well and truly jerked.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, while thinking Eve would have loved to be here to witness this. It placed the act she’d put on for her grandfather the day before yesterday right into the shade. ‘Be sure to make it a good whip-round for my wedding gift when the time comes.’

  They should have laughed then—told him what a fool he was for getting caught after managing to stay single for all these years. But their expressions had now shifted to something else entirely.

  What else? he puzzled. What exactly was now going on inside their heads while they stood there looking at him like that?

  Then it hit him. Leona. His free fall through space stopped abruptly as cold anger erupted in his breast. Did everyone in San Estéban suspect his relationship with Leona had been something other than what it was?

  Now he was glad that Eve wasn’t here to witness this scene, or every single suspicion she had about him and Leona would be buzzing around her possessive head.

  Oh, but he liked Eve possessive; he liked her weepy and vulnerable and high-tempered and snappy; he liked her wearing hot-pink, like the dress she’d had on in the bar on the beach, and she’d had painted onto the nails she’d drawn down his chest last night.

  Where the hell did he think he was going with this kind of crazy thinking? Crazy really said it. The last twenty-four hours in their entirety had been one long walk through insanity! But in those twenty-four hours, he realised he’d come to care a great deal what Eve thought about him.

  ‘So watch the snide remarks in her presence,’ he cautioned more seriously. ‘She’s special. I expect her to be treated as special. Make sure you pass the warning on.’

  And if this performance didn’t convince them that he and Leona were not an item, then what would?

  ‘Right, Boss,’ they said in solemn unison.

  As he left, Ethan wondered how long it would take for this juicy snippet of information to make it right round San Estéban?

  Eve was standing in the sunny lounge holding a picture frame between trembling fingers when she heard Ethan return. She was trying to decide whether to be hurt, insulted or just plain angry. She’d certainly been hurt when she’d picked up this frame, and had found herself staring at the tableau it presented of a beautiful woman standing with—not one—but four incredibly spectacular looking men!

  One of the men was Ethan. All of them looked ready and willing to worship at the woman’s feet. And why not? she acknowledged. The lady was really quite something special with her flowing red hair, exquisite face and the kind of smile that dropped men to their knees.

  ‘It was taken at Leona’s civil wedding in England,’ Ethan’s voice quietly informed her.

  Looking up she saw him standing in the archway. The jacket to his suit had gone but the tie still rested neatly against his shirt front. As always, he looked heart-stoppingly attractive, even with that guarded look he was wearing on his face.

  She looked away from him and back at the photograph. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she murmured huskily.

  His answering smile was more like a grimace as he walked forward to glance down at the photograph. ‘Victor Frayne,’ he indicated with a long finger. ‘Leona, of course, and Sheikh Hassan Al-Qadim. The giant is Sheikh Hassan’s brother, Sheikh Rafiq Al-Qadim—though he refuses to acknowledge the title,’ he added grimacing.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Long story. Remind me to tell it to you sometime—preferably before you meet him.’ Said with humour, there was nothing funny in the way he took the frame from her then stood frowning down at it before putting it back in its place.

  ‘Is there a chance that I’ll meet him?’ Eve was already stiffening her insides ready for the blow she thought was coming her way. If the Al-Qadim family were here in San Estéban…If they were staying in this same house then she was…

  ‘Not really,’ he murmured. ‘He goes nowhere without his brother, and his brother is cruising the Mediterranean as we speak.’

  ‘This is their villa, isn’t it?’ she stated.

  Did he hear the accusation in her tone? If he did, his face didn’t show it as he turned with what Eve read as reluctance from the photo to look at her. ‘It’s the company villa,’ he corrected. ‘Victor designed it, Leona furnished it. We all use it as a convenient place to live when we are here in Spain.’

  Convenient, just about said it for Eve, and her mind was suddenly tripping over itself as it painted lurid pictures in her head of Ethan and Leona in their convenient love-nest with dear Papa along as one lousy chaperone!

  ‘And where’s Leona now?’ she demanded.

  ‘With her husband on their yacht. Victor flew back to London yesterday, once he knew I was coming here to take over for him.’

  ‘So you thought, Why not bring Eve here and conveniently slot her in where Leona should be?’

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed at her waspish tone. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means,’ she lashed at him, ‘that I do not appreciate playing substitute to anyone!’

  ‘Substitute to who, exactly?’

  He wanted her to spell it out for him. Well, she could do that! ‘Leona’s clothes hang in the wardrobe,’ she told him. ‘The next bedroom to yours as a matter of fact!’

  ‘It bothers you?’ he murmured.

  ‘It bothers me.’ She nodded. ‘It more than bothers me that you dared to bring me here to your sordid little love-nest and make love to me in the same bed in which you probably made love to her!’

  His grey eyes narrowed some more and Eve was suddenly thinking about dangerous animals again, and felt the fizz of excitement leap inside.

  She was trembling like mad, Ethan noticed, and he was angry! ‘A small piece of advice,’ he offered thinly. ‘Loose talk is dangerous when the Al-Qadim family is involved. So hold your foolish tongue and listen. Leona and I are not, and never have been, lovers,’ he stated it with ice-cold precision. ‘Take that on board and heed it, Eve, because I won’t repeat it again.’

  But he would say that, wouldn’t he, to protect his true love? Eve had never felt so used in her entire life. ‘I’m leaving,’ she decided.

  He didn’t say anything, but just stood there looking at her through cold hard gun-metal-grey eyes.

  Her heart was bursting, because she di
dn’t really want to go. But she turned anyway and began walking towards the archway the led to the hall.

  ‘Back to Aidan Galloway?’ he fed silkily after her. ‘Back to the young bloods you can handle better than you can handle me?’

  She stopped. ‘At least Aidan cares about my feelings.’

  ‘By spiking your drink so he can enjoy you without needing to put much effort into it?’

  She swung round. ‘I told you it wasn’t Aidan that did that to me!’

  ‘Ah, yes, the other nameless young blood,’ he drawled, and Eve noticed that the cynicism was back. ‘Funny how you remembered him only after I threatened to tear Galloway limb from limb.’

  He still didn’t believe her about Aidan! she realised. ‘It was Raoul Delacroix who spiked my drink!’ she insisted furiously.

  Raoul Delacroix. Any other name, Ethan was thinking, and he would have laughed in her lying face! But he was recalling the look on Raoul’s face as he’d turned away from her in the bar at the beach. He was recalling the stinging sensation he’d experienced at the back of his neck, that reminded him he didn’t like what he’d seen on the young Frenchman’s face.

  ‘And I don’t know what right you think you have to throw my love life back at me when nothing could be more sordid than the set-up you have going here!’

  ‘Leave Leona out of this,’ he bit at her.

  ‘Leave Aidan out of it!’

  Stalemate. They both recognised it for what it was. She was standing there shimmering with offence and fury and he was standing there simmering in the midst of a jealous rage! He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t bring himself to accept that in forty-eight short hours she could have actually brought him down to this.

  ‘Go if you are going,’ he said as the damning remark to come straight out of that last angry thought.

  She turned—but not before he had seen that heart-shaped pink mouth that had a propensity to pout, quiver, and her eyes sparkle with the promise of tears. Hell, he cursed, when he knew what was going to happen: he was going to give in. He could feel it bubbling up inside him, hot and out of control.

  ‘But—I’m coming with you.’ The decision itself set his feet in motion. As he strode towards her he saw his ring sparkling on her finger when she lifted her hand up to brush a tear from her cheek.

  My tears, my ring—my woman, he claimed possessively. He took all three, grabbing his woman around the waist, crushing the ring in the clasp of one of his hands, and spinning her about so that he could lick the tears from her cheek. ‘Anywhere,’ he murmured, while he did it. ‘Hotel, an apartment in San Estéban. We can even take one of the other villas if that’s what you prefer.’

  Preference didn’t really come into it, Eve thought helplessly. She preferred not to love him this badly. But she did. Bottom line. ‘I would prefer it if Leona Al-Qadim didn’t exist,’ she told him honestly.

  ‘Forget Leona,’ he muttered impatiently.

  ‘If you forget Aidan,’ she returned, determined to maintain some level of balance around here.

  She looked into his eyes; he looked into hers; both sets were angry because they were giving in. Their bodies liked it though, Eve noticed. They were greeting each other like hungry lovers.

  ‘So, where are we going to go to continue this?’ His voice rasped with impatience, his body pulsed with desire.

  The fact that hers was doing the same thing made the decision for her. So she reached up, touched her mouth to his, and remained that close while she murmured, ‘Here seems very convenient, don’t you think…?’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE little minx. An absolute witch, sent to torment the life out of him, Ethan was thinking irritably. There was nothing convenient about having Eve Herakleides running riot through his life.

  The telephone rang. He picked it up. ‘What?’ he barked.

  It was his secretary in London. Sitting there behind his desk, Ethan dealt with a list of queries while his angry gaze remained fixed on the little scene taking place outside his site-office window, where Eve stood laughing, surrounded by a whole rugby scrum of big, tough, very much hands-on builders wearing yellow helmets, dust-covered steel-capped boots, tight tee shirts and jeans.

  And what was Eve wearing?

  Hot-pink. It was her favourite colour, he had come to realise during the last ten days. Today it was hot-pink trousers that skimmed her hips and thighs and stopped just above her slender calf muscles, and a baby-pink top that left a lot of golden midriff on show.

  Too much midriff. ‘I don’t know about that, Sonia,’ he murmured. ‘I can’t be sure I’ll be back in London to attend that meeting. You’d better ask Victor if he can do it.’

  Eve’s hair was up in a natty little twist that did amazing things to the length of her neck, and in profile she looked like the sweetest thing ever to be put onto this earth. Every time she moved he saw his ring flash in the sunlight. Every time she laughed he saw his men almost fall to their knees.

  ‘I know they wanted me,’ he rasped out testily. ‘But they can’t have me.’ 145

  I’m already engaged, he thought, to a woman with no sense of what’s right or proper to wear on a building site! In the last ten days he’d also come to realise the full meaning of the term engaged.

  ‘Heard anything from Theron Herakleides?’ he thought to enquire.

  There was another person who was irritating the hell out of him. Since their tough talk in the Caribbean, he hadn’t had a single peep out of Eve’s grandfather. His own letter formally withdrawing his submission for the Greek project had not been acknowledged. The promised contract making sure Ethan didn’t get his greedy hands on the old man’s money had never appeared. No one at Hayes-Frayne could get to speak to Herakleides, and even Leandros was complaining that the Greek had dropped off the face of the earth. As far as Ethan could make out, Theron was only answering calls from his precious granddaughter. She’d been talking to him every day, but even she couldn’t get him to come clean as to what he was going to do about the Greek project. He’d just said, ‘I’ll see you in two weeks.’ Then it had been one week. Now it was down to just a few days.

  Their official betrothal. His ring on Eve’s finger winked at him. ‘Nothing,’ he heard his secretary say.

  The ring sparkled again as Eve lifted up her hand to brush some dry plaster from one man’s bulging bicep. The guy grinned a very macho, very sexy, Spanish grin. Ethan felt his gut tighten up in protest. Abruptly finishing the telephone conversation, he stood up and knocked on the window-pane.

  Eve turned. So did the men. She sent him a wide white brilliant smile. The men’s smiles were more—manly, as in, You lucky devil, Mr Hayes.

  ‘He wants his souvenir back,’ he heard one man say to the others.

  Eve laughed, as she had done from the first time she’d heard herself referred to as that. She liked it. Damn it, he liked it! He liked what it did to him when she sent him that teasing little smile that said, Some souvenir, hmm?

  He was in love with her. He’d known it for days, weeks, maybe even months. She filled his every thought, his every sense, his every desire. He looked at her and felt a multitude of conflicting emotions, none of which on their own could adequately describe what he was having to deal with inside.

  Bidding a light farewell to her macho fan club, she began walking towards his office door. He watched her come, watched her soft mouth take on a different look that was exclusively for him. It was a kiss, a sensual kiss, offered to him from a distance. She was a flirt; she was a tease; he found himself wearing an irresistible grin.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded though, the moment she came into the cool confines of his air-conditioned office. ‘I thought we’d agreed you would keep away from the site so you don’t cause accidents.’

  She laughed; she thought he was joking, but Ethan wasn’t sure that he was. Heads turned when Eve walked by. The fact that those heads were on bodies with feet balancing on ladders or on scaffolding made it dangerous.
<
br />   ‘I needed to ask your advice about something.’

  ‘Try the phone.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be a grouch.’ She pouted up at him as she walked around his desk. Then she boldly pulled the cord that closed the sunblinds across the window and reached up to transform the pout into a kiss that wound its tentacles around him and left him wanting more.

  I love this man, Eve thought, as she drew away again. I love him so much that I daren’t let myself think about Athens and the fact that we have only three days to go before we are expected there.

  It was frightening. She held his cheek, looked deep into his eyes and wished she knew how much of what they relayed to her was just sexual desire and how much was still rooted in pretence. What she did know was that they had been so happy here. No spats, since the first day. No mention of anything likely to start a war.

  Except for Grandfather, of course. He was discussed on a daily basis. But never in a way that could remind either of them of how this whole thing had started out.

  ‘Was that it?’ he prompted. ‘You wanted my advice on how well you kiss?’

  Eve refocused her attention and saw one of his eyebrows had arched and his mouth was wearing a lazily amused smile. It would be the easiest thing in the world to say yes, and leave it at that, keep the rest until later when he came home.

  But keeping Ethan on his toes was her aim in life. So, she said airily, ‘Oh, no. I already know what a great kisser I am.’

  Stepping away from him, she applied her surprise tactics by unzipping her trousers and peeling them back from her hips. ‘What do you think?’ she asked innocently.

  Innocent was not the word Ethan was thinking as he stared down at her silk-smooth abdomen. He was thinking, Minx, again. Outrageous and unpredictable minx. For there, nestling in the hollow of her groin, just above the tantalisingly brief panty line, and right on the spot of an erogenous zone he knew so well he could actually feel its response against the flat of his tongue, lay a heart. A small red painted heart.