Hot-Blooded Husbands Bundle

by Michelle Reid

  ‘Talk, instead of sitting there just thinking it!’ he rasped at her suddenly.

  She looked at him, saw the glint of impatience, detected the pulsing desire to crawl inside her head. Well, too late, she thought bitterly. He should have tried crawling in there three years ago!

  ‘What do you want, Leandros?’ she demanded coldly. ‘I presume you must have a specific reason for tracking me down—other than to slay my character, of course.’

  ‘I was not trying to slay anything. I was attempting to…’ He stopped, his mouth snapping shut over what he had been about to say. ‘I wanted to apologise for this morning,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Apology accepted.’ But as far as Isobel was concerned, that was it. He could go now and good riddance.

  He surprised her with a short laugh, shook his dark head then relaxed into his chair. ‘Bitch,’ he murmured drily.

  It was not meant to insult, and oddly she didn’t try and turn the remark into one.

  Maybe this was a good time for Vassilou to bring them both fresh cups of coffee. He smiled, murmured a few polite pass-the-time-of-day phrases to which Leandros replied. Then, as he was about to leave, he turned back to send Isobel a teasing look. ‘You never mentioned your handsome husband to me. Shame on you, pethi mou,’ he scolded. ‘Now see what you have done to my son? His hopes are dashed!’

  With that he walked away, leaving her alone to deal with Leandros’s new expression. ‘Never?’ he quizzed.

  ‘For what purpose?’ She shrugged. ‘Our relationship had no place here.’

  ‘You mean I had no place here—other than to keep eager young waiters at bay, of course,’ he added silkily.

  Without thinking what she was about to do, Isobel lifted her left hand up with the intention of flashing her wedding ring, which to her made the statement he was looking for without the need of words.

  Only the ring wasn’t there. Tension sprang up, her ribcage suddenly felt too tight. No ring, no marriage soon, she thought and tugged the hand back onto her lap as an unwanted lump of tears tried to clog up her throat. Leandros looked on with his eyes faintly narrowed and his expression perfectly blank.

  ‘Vassilou was making a joke.’ Impatiently she tried to cover up the error.

  ‘I know it was a joke,’ he answered quietly.

  ‘Then why have you narrowed your eyes like that?’ she flashed back.

  ‘Because the young waiter in question has been unable to take his eyes from you since you sat down at this table.’

  ‘You’ve been watching for that long, have you? What did you do, hide behind a pillar and take snapshots every time he smiled at me?’

  ‘He smiled a lot.’

  She sat forward, suddenly too tense to sit still. She was beginning to fizz inside again, beginning to want to throw things at this super-controlled, super-slick swine! ‘Why don’t you just go now that you’ve made your apology?’ she snapped, and picked up her coffee-cup.

  Those luxurious lashes of his lowered to the cup; he knew what was going through her head. She’d done it before and thrown things at him when he’d driven her to it. Punishment usually followed in the shape of a bed.

  But not this time, because she was not going to give him any more excuses to jump on her, she vowed, and took a sip at her coffee. It was hot and she’d forgotten to put the sachet of sugar in that she found necessary when drinking the thick, dark brew the Greeks so liked.

  ‘Where is the lover?’

  ‘What…?’ Her head came up, green eyes ablaze because she was at war.

  With herself. With him. She didn’t know any more what was going on inside. She wished he would go. She didn’t want to look at him. She did not want to soak in the way his head and shoulders were in a shaft of sunlight that seeped in through a gap in the striped awning above. She didn’t want to see strength in those smooth golden features, or the leashed power in those wide shoulders.

  He was gorgeous. A big, dark Latin-hot lover, with a tightly packed body lurking beneath his white shirt that could turn her senses to quivering dust. She could see a hint of black hair curling over the gap where he’d undone the top few buttons of the shirt. She knew how those crisp, curling hairs covered a major part of his lean torso. His rich brown skin was gleaming in the golden sunlight, and the sheen of sweat at his throat beneath the tough jut of his chin was making the juices flow across her tongue.

  He was a man whom you wanted taste. To touch all over. A man whom you wanted to touch you. His hands were elegant, strong, long-fingered and aware of what they could do for you. Even now as they rested at ease between the spread of his thighs they were making a statement about his masculinity that sent desire coursing through her blood. His mouth could kiss, his eyes could seduce, his arms could support you while you flailed in the wash of rolling ecstasy the rest of him could give to you.

  In other words he was a dark, sensual lover and she suspected one did not need personal experience of that to know it. A few weeks spent on his yacht in Spain and Diantha Christophoros must know it by osmosis. He was not the kind of man to hold back from something he wanted—as she knew from experience.

  ‘The blond hunk with the lazy smile,’ he prompted. ‘Where is he?’

  She blinked again and lowered her eyes. Oh, the temptation, she mused, as she stared at her coffee. Oh, the desire to say what was hovering right on the end of her tongue. ‘His name is Clive and he’s a physiotherapist.’ She managed to control the urge to draw verbal pictures of Clive left sleeping off an hour’s wild sex.

  But her heart was still hammering out the temptation. She heard Leandros utter a soft, mocking little laugh. ‘That cost you,’ he taunted softly. ‘But you had the sense to weigh up the odds of my response.’

  ‘How is Diantha?’ she could not resist that one.

  Touché, his grimacing nod reflected. ‘I have changed my mind about the divorce,’ he hit back without warning.

  ‘Well, I haven’t!’ she responded.

  ‘I was not aware that I gave you a choice.’

  ‘I don’t think you have much control over my choice, Leandros,’ she drawled witheringly. ‘Why have you changed your mind?’

  ‘Simple.’ He shrugged, and with a bold lack of conscience lifted his hands enough for her to see what he was talking about. Pure shock sent a whole tidal wave of sensations washing through her.

  ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’ she gasped in stunned reaction as heat poured into her cheeks.

  He grimaced as if he agreed. ‘I cannot seem to help it. I have been like this since you walked into my boardroom today. So, no divorce,’ he explained. ‘And definitely no other lovers until I get this problem sorted out.’

  The problem being her and his desire for her, Isobel realised with a choke and incredulous disbelief that this was even happening.

  ‘You are so excitingly beautiful,’ he murmured as if that justified everything.

  ‘But a bitch,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I like the bitch. I always did. It is part of your attraction I find such an irresistible challenge. Like the warning-red hair and the defy-me green eyes and the sulky little mouth that threatens to bite when I step out of line.’

  His eyes were dark on her, his tone serious, the fact that he had already stepped out of line all part of what was beginning to burn between them. ‘Everything about you I find an outright irresistible challenge,’ he continued in a smooth, calm tone that could have been describing the weather, not what turned him on. ‘When you walked into my boardroom this morning wearing leather, of all things, and it is thirty degrees out here, it was a challenge. When you sat there spitting hatred at me I don’t know how I remained in my chair as long as I did before I leapt. I surprised myself,’ he confessed. ‘Now you sit here in military-style trousers and a T-shirt with your hair stuck in that pony-tail and you challenge me to crack the tough-nut you are pretending to be.’

  ‘It’s no pretence. I am tough,’ she declared.

  ‘So am I. And yo
u can leap on me and try scratching my eyes out if you want to, but what I want will be the end result.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me what you want!’ Isobel sliced back at him. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea where you think you are going with this!’

  ‘I want you, right at this moment,’ he answered without hesitation. ‘I thought I had made that absolutely clear. I want to close my mouth around one of those tight button breasts I can see pushing against your tough-lady top and simply enjoy myself,’ he informed her outrageously. ‘Though I would not protest if you dropped to your knees, unzipped my trousers and enjoyed yourself by taking me into your mouth—only I don’t think the setting is quite right for either fantasy.’

  ‘I think you’re right, and I’ve had enough of this.’ She got to her feet. ‘Go to hell with your fantasies, Leandros.’ She turned to leave.

  As he’d done once before today, he moved with a silent swiftness that gave her no room to react. His hand curled around her wrist and with the simplest tug he brought her toppling down onto his lap. Her stifled cry of surprise slithered through the humid air and had a table of interested witnesses turning their way.

  To them it must look as if she’d dived on Leandros rather than been pulled there, she realised, even as his eyes told her what was coming next.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she tried to say but it was already too late. His mouth crushed the refusal, then began offering an alternative to both his fantasies with the help of his tongue.

  It lasted short seconds, yet still she was too lost to understand what was happening when he broke the kiss, then quite brutally sat her back on her own chair again. Dizzy and dazed, flushed and shaken, she watched as he climbed to his feet. For a horrible moment she thought it was him who was going to walk away now and leave her to the humiliating glances.

  Was that why he’d come here, tracked her down like this and said what he had just said, just to pay her back for the way she had walked out on him this morning?

  His hand dipped into his trouser pocket then came out again. Something landed on the table with a metallic ping. Money. She began to feel as if she had walked into hell without realising it. Had he thrown money down on the table to pay for the pleasure of treating her like this?

  Stinging eyes dropped to stare and took long seconds to comprehend what it was they were staring at. Leandros sat down again. She couldn’t breathe or think. Lifting her eyes, she just stared at him, her mouth still pulsing from the pressure of his kiss and her heart beating thickly in her throat.

  Yes, Leandros thought with a grim lack of humour as he watched her flounder somewhere between this stunning moment and the kiss. You might be in shock, and you might be unable to believe I’ve just done what I did in broad daylight and in public view of anyone wanting to watch. But just keep watching this space, my beautiful wife, because I haven’t even begun to shock you.

  I should have done it years ago. I should have taken you by the scruff of your beautiful, stubborn, tough, slender neck and dragged you back into my life.

  He was angry. Why was he angry? he asked himself. And knew the answer even before he asked the question. Every time he touched her she fell apart at the very seams with her need for him. Each time their eyes clashed he could see the hurt burning in hers because she was still so in love with him.

  Which all added up to three empty, wasted years. Because if he’d faced her with their problems three years ago they would not be sitting here like two damned fools fighting old battles with new words. They would be in a bed somewhere enjoying each other in the traditional Greek way. There could even have been another child to replace the one they’d lost, sleeping safely in a room close by.

  And she would certainly not have let another man touch her! How could she do that anyway? he extended furiously.

  ‘Put it back on,’ he instructed, even though he knew she was incapable of doing anything right now.

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Not your choice.’ He was back to choices. ‘While you are married to me you will wear my ring.’

  ‘We are about to end our marriage,’ she protested. ‘What use is a wedding ring in a divorce?’

  But even as she made that bitter statement he could see his kiss still clinging to the swollen fullness of her lips. The tip of her tongue could not resist making a sensual swipe across them in an effort to cool their pulsing heat. He mimicked the action with his own tongue, saw her breath shorten and her throat move convulsively. The old vibrations came to dance between them. The air became filled with the heady promise of sex. They had been here before, felt this before. Only then they had been eager to follow where those senses led them.

  Now…?

  ‘It means nothing any more,’ she said and broke eye contact.

  Was she referring to the ring or the sexual pull? he mused, and decided to deal with the former because the latter, he knew, was going to take care of itself in the not too distant future.

  Leaning forward, he brought his forearms to rest on the top of the small wooden table, forcing a wary glance from her because she wasn’t sure what was coming next. Once he had her gaze, he drew it down with the slow lowering of his lashes and let her watch as he worked his own ring free from his finger then placed it next to hers.

  She was so very still he knew she understood what he was doing. The pulse in his throat began to pound. The two rings lay side by side in the sunlight, one large, one small, both an exact match to the other, with their gloss smooth outer surface and the inner circle marked by an inscription that said My heart is here.

  How could he have forgotten that when he’d stood upon the deck of his yacht in San Estéban complacently making plans to finish their marriage? How could she have forgotten it when she tossed her ring back at him with such contempt earlier today? They had done this together. They had chosen these rings with their arms around each other, and hadn’t cared how soft and stupidly romantic they must have appeared as they’d made the decision to have those words inscribed in those inner circles so they would always rest next to their skins!

  ‘Now tell me it means nothing.’ He laid down the rasping challenge as he watched her face grow pale. ‘If you can bear to walk away and leave your ring on this table, then I will do the same. If you cannot bear to do that, put it back on your finger and we will talk about where we can go from here.’

  Her tongue made a foray of her lips again. His teeth came together with a snap to stop him from moving close enough so his own tongue could follow in its wake. She was his, and the sooner she came to accept that the sooner they could work out their problems.

  ‘The divorce—’

  ‘The ring,’ he prompted firmly.

  She swallowed tensely. The mood began to sizzle with the threat of his challenge and her defiant need to get up and walk away.

  But she could not do it. In the end and with a lightning flash of fury, she reached out, snatched her ring up and pushed it back onto her finger.

  It went on easily because it belonged there. The next lightning bolt came his way. ‘Now what? Do we go back to your office and talk divorce settlements again?’

  Her waspish tone didn’t hide anything. She was shaking all over and almost on the point of tears. She wanted him. She could not let him go. His ring was back where it belonged and he’d never felt so good about anything in a long time. Picking up his own ring, he slid it back where it belonged then sat back with a sigh.

  ‘No,’ he answered her question. ‘We go somewhere more private where we can talk.’

  Her look poured scorn all over that lying suggestion. She knew what he was intending. She was no fool. ‘Try again, Leandros,’ she murmured bitterly.

  ‘Dinner, then. Tonight,’ he came back. ‘We will drive out of the city to that place you like in the mountains. Eat good food, drink champagne and reminisce over the good points in our marriage.’

  His mockery flicked her temper to life, and he was pleased to see it happen because it was just the mood h
e was pushing for. Put Isobel in a rage and you had yourself an easy target, because as one guard fell the others quickly followed. So he relaxed back and waited for the sarcastic, What good points? to come slashing back at him. But what he actually got threw him completely.

  ‘Sorry, my darling,’ she drawled. ‘But I already have a date tonight.’

  Just like that it was his own temper deserted him. The lion inside him roared. He retaliated with swift and cruelly cutting incision. ‘And there I was about to break my date with Diantha for you. But—no matter, you may bring your lover; we will make it a foursome. Maybe we will go home with different partners. Who knows?’ He added a casual shrug. ‘Maybe I will ache like this for Diantha and all my problems will be solved.’

  He knew the moment he had shut his mouth that he had made some terrible tactical mistake. She’d gone so white he thought she might be going to faint away on him and her eyes stood out like two deep green pits of pain. She was standing up, not in anger, but on legs that did not wish to support her.

  ‘I was referring to my mother,’ she breathed, and this time she did walk away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  YOU little liar, Isobel accused as she made good her escape. You meant what he thought you meant. What you didn’t expect was the counter-thrust that punched another hole in your stupid heart!

  But he wasn’t coming after her, which probably meant they were back to square one, she thought heavily. Why am I here? Why am I letting him get to me like this? A three-year long separation should have dulled these wretched emotions out of existence!