Bought by the Greek Tycoon

by Jacqueline Baird

  'The utter louse!' Liz exclaimed, and went on at length at the sleaziness of super-rich playboys.

  'My sentiments exactly,' Jemma said and, rising to her feet, added, 'Can we get out of here? I've had enough.'

  Jemma had dreaded telling her father, but she discovered she didn't need to. The following weekend she answered a knock on the door, expecting to show a couple around the house, but her father was standing on the doorstep.

  'Jemma, are you all right?' To her surprise he put his arms around her and hugged her. 'I'm so sorry. I'd hoped Luke would make you happy, not leave you like this.'

  She stepped out of his arms. That Luke had told her father he had left her was the final humiliation. 'Don't worry, Dad, your position in the company and the money from Luke are guaranteed,' she said, with a cynicism that was an instinctive defence against the painful emotions that threatened to engulf her.

  'I know—Luke told me. But can't a father worry about his daughter? You must be so upset.'

  'No, not really.' She denied her heartache. 'I always knew Luke had the attention span of a gnat when it came to women. Why do you think we broke up in the first place?' Luke wasn't the only one who could embroider the truth about their relationship. 'It was fun while it lasted, but no harm done. Now, really, Dad, much as I'd like you to stay, I have a couple coming to view the house any minute.'

  'You're selling the house? I don't blame you. Find something bigger in the luxury class; Luke can certainly afford to pay through the nose for his freedom.'

  And on that friendly note her father left. Jemma had to laugh.

  But there was very little laughter in the following weeks. She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, and it was all Luke Devetzi's fault. She had tried so hard to avoid the pain of loving him, but it had happened anyway.

  It was the first day of spring, and Jemma walked out of her doctor's surgery in a state of shock. She had made the appointment because she had fainted at work and Liz had bullied her into it.

  It was a miracle—she was pregnant! Elation bubbled up inside her. According to the doctor it was not uncommon to have some spotting in the first weeks of pregnancy—which she'd thought was a light period—and he had calculated she was just over three months pregnant. The timing could not be more perfect, Jemma thought, almost dancing along the street to her car. She had sold her house, and only the previous week moved into a delightful cottage with a large garden in Sussex. If she had harboured any doubts about her decision to move out of London and commute to work three days a week she didn't now. The move had brought her luck already.

  'So what did the doctor have to say?' Liz demanded as Jemma walked into the shop.

  'Follow me into the back and I'll tell you.'

  'What about Luke?' Liz asked some time later, when Jemma had stopped gushing over the prospect of being a mother. 'You'll have to tell him.'

  'No!' Jemma's reaction was immediate, and she hardened her heart against all Liz's arguments to the contrary. 'Oh, come on, Liz. I saw one of your trashy magazines not so long ago, although you tried to hide it, with that picture of Luke with the lovely Davina on his arm. Get real. He was adamant he never wanted to see me again. He sent my belongings from the apartment back to me by courier, for heaven's sake.'

  Liz shook her head. 'I didn't know that. What a jerk! But I still think you should tell him; he has a right to know he's going to be a father.'

  'If it will make you feel any better, I will if I see him,' Jemma said. And pigs might fly, she thought.

  A few weeks later Jemma received a letter from Theo. It was to tell her the renovations to the house on Zante were finished, and he hoped the fact she and his grandson had parted would not stop Jemma remaining his friend. She wrote back and told him she had instructed the caretaker to give him a key and allow him to use the house whenever he wished. She felt guilty. But, while she knew she couldn't keep her pregnancy a secret from Luke and Theo forever, she didn't want them to know just yet. Her emotions were still too raw.

  But Jemma got a nasty shock halfway through April, when she and Liz had one of their regular lunches.

  'Peter and I were at a business dinner recently, and Luke was there as a special guest. He was alone and he looked terrible. Well, obviously not terrible—he couldn't look terrible if he tried—he's too handsome! But he did look haggard.'

  'I'm not surprised with the life he leads,' Jemma said curtly.

  'He asked after you…'

  Jemma stiffened in her chair. Tell me you didn't say anything.'

  'No, I simply said you were blooming,' Liz said dryly.

  Jemma took maternity leave from the business the next weekend, telling herself it was because she wanted to be super careful of her unborn child. But, if she was honest, it worried her that Liz had met Luke in London. Since their parting she hadn't seen or heard from him, and that was the way she wanted it to stay. The allowance he had made her when they were together was still paid into her bank every month, but she ignored it. At four months her pregnancy was not yet obvious, and no one but Liz knew—which was the way she wanted it for as long as possible.

  She loved her cottage, she loved her garden, and she loved the miracle growing inside her. But her love for Luke she locked away in the darkest reaches of her mind. And if sometimes in bed at night it broke free, she made herself a glass of hot milk and thought of her baby. Jemma was a past master at burying her feelings—she had had plenty of practice…

  She heard the telephone ring as she looked for her keys in her purse, but by the time Jemma had opened the door and walked into the spacious hall it had stopped. Oh, well, if it was important whoever it was would ring back. She continued to the back of the house and the huge family kitchen-cum-diner. She placed the tin of paint she had bought on the breakfast table and stretched her back. She had finally decided to paint the nursery pale yellow.

  She had had a very productive morning—a visit to her new doctor for her six-month pregnancy check, and a trip to the shops to stock up on food for the next week. The house was four miles from the nearest town, tucked away up its own private lane with a copse of trees at one side. It had been built by the previous owner fifty years ago, when he'd married, and he had extended it haphazardly as his family grew until it contained five bedrooms, the master en-suite, and three bathrooms. Really it was too big for Jemma, but she had fallen in love with the place. She could sense the love and laughter in the very stones of the house.

  Grinning at the thought, Jemma went back out to her car and opened the boot to collect the rest of her shopping. She heard the telephone ring again, and missed it again. Not bothered, Jemma stowed the groceries away and made herself a cup of chamomile tea. Picking it up, she walked out of the back door and into the courtyard to look down over the acre of garden. The flowerbeds were a mass of glorious colour among the lush green lawns, and a deep sigh of contentment escaped her.

  She settled down on the sunbed beside the fountain in the centre of the courtyard and sipped her tea. The doctor had told her this morning that she was fine. The baby was fine. Life was fine. Draining her cup, she put her feet up, rested her hands lightly on her now protruding stomach and closed her eyes.

  Luke recognised Jemma's car, parked his own behind it, and got out. His face flushed with anger, he approached the front door of Wisteria Cottage and pressed the bell. He took a few steps back and looked up at the house. The wisteria was in full bloom, and was trained across the front of the house. A deep blue pantiled roof was inset with four dormer windows, their peaks topped off with wood carvings of flowers. He would have smiled if he hadn't been so furious. It was so Jemma's kind of house. He rang the bell again. She had to be in, but all he could hear was birdsong and the soft sound of insects humming in the hot June air. Impatiently he walked around the side of the house and discovered it was built with two wings. In between them was a courtyard, with a fountain in the centre.

  She was pregnant. Even from this distance he could see the swell of her stomach, and rage
welled up inside him, gathering the force of a tidal wave.

  She was lying on a sunbed, but even as he strode towards her she didn't move. He stopped and stared down at her, his anger laced with anguish. She was so beautiful she took his breath away, and he broke out in a cold sweat, nausea swelling in the pit of his stomach—all the symptoms of the lovesick fool he had hoped he'd put behind him.

  She was wearing a soft muslin dress with tiny shoestring straps; one had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the creamy curve of her breast. One slender arm lay at her side, her other hand rested protectively on the fine fabric covering the pronounced bulge of her stomach. She was carrying his child and she hadn't told him.

  'So it's true, Jemma.'

  She opened her eyes and thought she was dreaming. 'Luke…' she murmured drowsily. He was wearing chinos and a polo shirt and looked—'Luke!' she repeated, her eyes finally focusing sharply. This was no dream! Her heart started thudding as he stared back at her, his brows black and jagged above brooding, stormy grey eyes.

  'What the hell did you think you were doing, keeping your pregnancy a secret from me?' he demanded harshly.

  'I don't know what you mean: my pregnancy is no secret,' Jemma said, rising to her feet, the pain of their parting flooding back, and with it her anger. 'But, as you expressed a desire never to set eyes on me again, it's hardly surprising my condition escaped your notice,' she finished facetiously.

  Had she no idea what he had gone through the last few months? Sick with longing for her, and unable to sleep, he had worked every hour of the day and night in an attempt to block her from his mind. He'd made a mint of money in the process that he didn't need. But nothing had eased his need for Jemma. In desperation he had taken Davina out—just for dinner—but even that had been a disaster. Now Jemma was standing before him, defiance in her stunning amber eyes, and he had had enough.

  'Don't try my patience,' he snarled. 'You know very well what I mean. You never had any intention of telling me you were pregnant. I asked you when we parted if it was a possibility, and you lied and said no. But you're not getting the chance to say no to me again.'

  The expression of ferocious anger on his handsome face shocked Jemma to the core. His very presence shocked her. She became intensely aware of his iron-hard body, close to her own, and the scent of him, a mixture of expensive cologne and musky male. She had thought the more advanced stages of pregnancy would diminish her sexual awareness, but it didn't seem to be working!

  'I never lied to you. When you mentioned the possibility of me being pregnant. I was bleeding; something I've since learnt is common in the early stages,' she explained—though she didn't owe him an explanation. She didn't owe the swine anything!

  She took a step back, and stumbled as her leg hit the seat she had just vacated. With lightning reflexes Luke's arm wrapped around her waist, his hand splayed across the side of her stomach. I'm all right,' she snapped, and felt the baby kick against his palm. She saw his features soften and the anger in his eyes turn to awe as they met hers.

  'God—the baby kicked. Does it hurt you?' he asked huskily.

  'No, I'm fine,' Jemma managed shakily. At least she had been fine before Luke arrived. Now she was anything but! 'You can let me go now, and tell me how you found me and why you're here.'

  His arm fell from her waist and he gave her a sardonic glance. 'I'm surprised Liz didn't call to warn you; she seems to be the only person you allow close to you.'

  'Liz told you? I don't believe you. She wouldn't…' Jemma tailed off as she remembered the two missed telephone calls earlier on.

  'Don't worry; Liz didn't betray your trust, Peter did. I met him at a business party last night, and while we were having a whisky together he told me. As a father himself, he thought I deserved to know.'

  'Well, now you do.' Jemma managed a nonchalant shrug, but inside she was trembling. After nearly five months she had almost convinced herself that she didn't love Luke, and she certainly didn't need him. She had her new home and her baby to look forward to. But now that she had seen him again her carefully erected defences were in danger of being torn down. Already her nerves were on edge, and she was intensely conscious of him. He was leaner, the frown lines between his black, arched brows deeper, but his sexual magnetism was as potent as ever.

  'What do you want, Luke?' she asked carefully. She was legally still his wife, and he could make it very difficult for her if he chose to exercise his paternal rights over the child. He could destroy her tentatively constructed new life, and make any thought of rearing her baby on her own look very dodgy. At the very least he could insist on regular access to the child. 'And can you hurry up? I've already been in the sun long enough for one day.'

  'You're my wife and you are carrying my child,' Luke said with icy precision, and he scooped her up in his arms before she could even guess his intention.

  'Are you crazy? Put me down!' Jemma screeched furiously, but had to grasp his neck for support as he strode purposefully towards the house.

  'No. What I want is to protect you and my child, and you're right—you have had too much sun,' he told her as he shouldered through the door into the spacious kitchen. He slowly lowered her to her feet, his silver eyes flicking curiously around the room. 'This is nice.'

  'I'm not interested in your opinion,' Jemma shot back furiously. 'And I don't know what your game is, but I can tell you now you're wasting your time. I don't want you here.' Turning her back on him, she walked towards the sink, needing a glass of water to cool down.

  Luke caught her shoulder and spun her around, his determined silver eyes locking onto hers. 'You have no choice.' Where had she heard that before? she wondered with bitter resentment. Nothing had changed. 'I'm staying here for as long as it takes. For ever if I have to. I love you, and I'm damned if I'll let you go again.'

  Jemma stared up at him, amazed. She couldn't have heard him right. 'Say that again.'

  He ran a distracted hand through his black hair. 'I love you, Jemma. I always have,' he said, his deep voice thick with emotion.

  She heard the words and for a moment she almost believed him—until she felt her baby move inside her. 'No,' she said. 'No, I don't believe you.' How could she have forgotten even for an instant that Luke was a master manipulator who quite ruthlessly used his fierce intelligence and considerable power to get what he wanted? And he wanted her baby. 'You're lying just to get my baby.' And with the realisation came an equally abhorrent thought:

  Luke must have somehow discerned she loved him, and now he was offering her what he thought she wanted…

  'I have no reason to lie, Jemma. I'm the father of your child, and the baby is mine whatever happens between us. But it's you I love,' he insisted. Reaching for her, be eased her right up against the length of his body and added, 'It's you I need in my life—desperately. I've tried living without you and it was a living hell.'

  There was a harshness in his voice that touched her heart. She looked up into his eyes and saw deep emotion in the silver depths. She began to weaken. Dear heaven, she wanted him to love her so much… 'You have to believe me, because I can't let you go again.'

  His comment was like a douche of cold water; she'd been in danger of believing him—but no more. Suddenly all the emotion and resentment she had suppressed for months came bubbling to the surface. She placed her hands on his chest and forced some space between them.

  'You never let me go, Luke. As I recall, you walked out on me, declaring you never wanted to see me again—and I know why!' she spat. 'What kind of an idiot do you take me for? You come into my home, declare undying love for me, and expect me to fall at your feet. Well, I've got news for you. I can see through your little game with my eyes closed,' she raged. 'Do you think I don't know about Davina? I know you were dating her before you married me—the Davina who was with you when I called you on your birthday and you passed off as your PA. The very same Davina I saw you photographed with in a magazine recently.'

  His hands fell from he
r and he stepped back, dark colour staining his high cheekbones.

  'Don't bother denying it,' she jeered. 'I suppose the pair of you thought it was some sophisticated joke to pretend to be talking to me on the phone when she was the object of your sexy conversation. You know what? You make me sick. And as for your supposedly caring suggestion that I look for a house because you knew the apartment didn't suit me, why didn't you just tell me you wanted me to leave then? But, no, that was too simple for your Machiavellian mind. And to think I had actually decided to put the past behind me and make our marriage work. That sure as hell was one of life's little ironies.' She shook her head and laughed a bitter, humourless laugh. 'Oh, just get lost, Luke. I'm going to rest.' And with that she turned to walk out of the kitchen, shaking with the force of her emotional outburst.

  'Oh, no, you don't, Jemma,' Luke said, pulling her back in his arms. 'You're not running away now. You were actually jealous of Davina.' he stated, his eyes now gleaming silver with relief. 'Have you any idea how happy that makes me feel? Knowing that you've felt even a fraction of the jealousy that has gnawed at my soul since I met you?' Jemma opened her mouth to deny it, but he didn't give her the chance. 'Have you any idea how long I've waited to break through your super-cool control? How much I've longed to reach you on a deeper level? How often I lay in bed beside you sated with sex but knowing that you were keeping a wall between us, your deeper emotions locked away with your dead husband? You can't begin to know what it did to me. Me—Luke Devetzi—who never believed in love.' He gave her a look of wry self-mockery. 'And I fell hopelessly in love with a woman who was locked in the memory of her past love.'

  Jemma looked into his eyes, saw the vulnerability in the shimmering depths and caught her breath. This was a Luke she had never seen before, and she watched him with an aching uncertainty and a wary hope—because she wanted to believe him but was afraid of getting hurt again. 'So when did this momentous realisation come to you?' she asked, using sarcasm to protect her inner feelings.