Bought by the Greek Tycoon

by Jacqueline Baird

  He smiled down into her eyes. 'I realised on the day we visited the house on Zante, lying on the bed in your aunt's bedroom, that I loved you,' he said huskily, and Jemma could scarcely breathe. 'Later on the beach I had to listen to you quite calmly say that I didn't believe in love, and I wanted to tell you then but I knew it was too soon.' His arms tightened around her and he looked deep into her eyes. 'You lied to me when you told me you didn't know your aunt's lover, and that hurt because it proved you didn't trust me.'

  Jemma stiffened. 'You're guessing now,' she muttered, very flushed, and he smiled at her with knowing eyes.

  'I've studied you minutely, but forget it; you don't need to tell me. I vowed then I would do everything in my power to earn your trust and hopefully your love.'

  Jemma dared not believe it. Luke was such a smooth operator, so plausible and convincing, and yet held in his arms she almost did believe him. 'You said there was no such thing as love, that it was only another word for lust.' She looked frowningly up at him. 'You also said you were sick of me, so why should I believe your apparent change of heart now?' she asked.

  'I said a damn sight too much,' Luke muttered, his mouth twisting. 'How can I make you understand? Any dumb idea I ever had about love went out of the window the moment I set eyes on you. You were the woman of my dreams, but it turned into a nightmare when you said you were married. I spent a year trying to forget you—a celibate year. Finally, in desperation, I dated Davina—and then I met you again, and I swear I've never touched Davina since. She paid a surprise visit to my office to wish me a happy birthday, but I made her leave before I spoke to you. Do you think I could speak like that, make love with another woman the way I do with you?' he demanded harshly. 'You are my love, my passion, my life.'

  She remembered the passion, the gentleness, the myriad ways he had made love to her, and her heart squeezed in her breast. Was he telling the truth?

  'When I forced you to marry me I told myself it didn't matter that you were still in love with Alan. I wanted you, I knew we were very sexually compatible, and I thought we could base a marriage on that. But I very quickly realised I was wrong. I loved you, and I wanted much, much more from you.' He put a hand under her chin and tilted her head right back. 'Look at me, Jemma,' he commanded, and she looked into his blazing silver eyes and wondered how she had ever thought they were cold. Because they were burning right now, with a need and a pain that made her heart stutter.

  'I am a very possessive man, and it shames me to say it, but I was insanely jealous of your dead husband.'

  'You broke my locket deliberately,' Jemma murmured.

  'If he had been alive I would have broken his neck. That's how despicable I am,' he responded immediately.

  Jemma's eyes widened to their fullest extent. Luke's face was haggard and drawn, as if he was suffering some mental torture. 'You don't mean that, Luke.'

  'Maybe not. But when I dashed back from New York that last time I was determined to tell you how I truly felt, because after our intimate conversation I was convinced that I was finally getting somewhere with you—especially as you'd agreed to look for a house.'

  'I thought you meant for us, but then afterwards I thought it was your way of telling me to leave,' Jemma interjected.

  'You were right the first time.' Luke attempted a smile. 'But when I found you in tears in your old home something snapped inside me.' He closed his eyes for a moment in remembered anguish, then opened them again. 'God! Jemma, can you ever forgive me? I very nearly took you without your consent.'

  'No!' Jemma cried. She couldn't bear to see the torment in his eyes. 'You didn't. You were angry at first, but I was with you all the way,' she said, blushing furiously, the hope in her heart growing by the minute.

  'Thank you for that. But I realised then that I couldn't trust myself around you, that I had to leave.'

  'But you said you were sick of me. I saw the disgust in your eyes,' Jemma couldn't help reminding him.

  'I was disgusted at myself. I was never sick of you. I quoted Proverbs—"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick"—and that was how I felt. The sex was wonderful, but I was getting more and more desperate—hoping that you'd come to love me. I'm a selfish man and I wanted all of you. Body and soul. I wanted to be the centre of your universe. I'd tried everything I could to make you love me, and nothing had worked. My hopes were in shreds and I had to leave before I destroyed what little feeling you had left for me.' His hand fell from her chin. 'I'm not surprised you never told me you were pregnant; you're probably afraid of me.'

  Jemma could not bear to hear her proud, indomitable Luke sounding so humble. 'Afraid of you, Luke…never,' she said with a smile. If she wanted him she had to let go of her fears and trust that he was telling her the truth.

  'I hope you mean that, Jemma,' he said fiercely. 'Because I'm going to be around you and our baby for a very, very long time.'

  He hadn't stayed humble for long, Jemma thought, smiling to herself. Sliding her hands up over his chest, she linked her fingers around his neck. Swaying into him as far as her bump would allow, she pulled his proud head down to hers, her pulse racing at her own audacity. 'That's fine by me,' she breathed. 'I like the idea of the man I love being around me and our child.' She saw the shock in his eyes, and then his mouth closed over hers in a hungry open-mouthed kiss that was incredibly tender, yet erotic.

  'Tell me,' Luke pleaded, lifting his dark head, one hand winding through the soft strands of hair that tumbled down her back, the other hand curving around her nape. 'Tell me this is for real.' His cheekbones were flushed and his silver eyes gleamed with a feverish light. 'Tell me again you love me.'

  She pulled back a little. 'I love you, Luke.' Her full lips parted in a beaming smile and her pulse raced even faster as she heard his groan of satisfaction. He kissed her with a deep, urgent desire that touched her soul. His hand moved from her nape to stroke over her breasts, and then down over the hard mound of her stomach.

  'I shouldn't be doing this.' He groaned again. 'You're pregnant.'

  'Yes, you should,' Jemma said, her breasts swelling beneath the soft fabric of her dress, warmth coursing through her veins and exciting every nerve in her body. 'But not here—upstairs,' she murmured, and he lifted her tenderly in his arms and carried her where she said. Then he slid her gently to her feet and stepped back a pace. He looked at her in silence for what seemed an age, his eyes darkening until they resembled the deepest slate, and suddenly Jemma was nervous.

  'Do you like my bedroom?' she asked.

  'You fill my eyes. You fill my heart. You fill my mind to the exclusion of all else.' He reached for her shoulders and his hands shook as his fingers caught the slender straps and eased them down her arms, the white muslin pooling at her feet. 'My God!' he exclaimed huskily, his gaze roaming over her altered figure. 'I thought you were perfect before—but now, ripe with my child, you are…' He swallowed hard, his eyes filling with moisture. 'You are exquisite beyond belief.'

  'Luke…' she prompted hesitantly. She had never seen him so distressed.

  'You are heartbreakingly beautiful,' he said, and moved a hand to the back of her head, holding her close against his shoulder, stroking her long hair, his face hidden from her view. 'I don't deserve you, Jemma, but I love you madly and I always will' She felt his chest heave and tilted her head back, her golden gaze meshing with his. All her doubts and fears vanished at the love and need that blazed from his silver eyes.

  'Luke,' she said again, trembling, and his mouth moved hotly over her brow, her cheek and finally down to claim her lips. He lifted her and laid her on the bed as gently as if she was made of glass, and, shrugging out of his clothes, lay down beside her.

  His fingers stroked her breast, and a soft cry of pleasure broke from her. His head bent and his mouth took hers again, while his hands moved gently and unhurriedly over her naked flesh. Jemma reached for him, her hands shaping his shoulders and down the strong line of his back as passion flared deep inside her.


  'Jemma, my darling,' he murmured against her flesh as he caressed her with growing urgency. Her nails dug suddenly into his back and she heard his guttural groan as he finally possessed her.

  It was like nothing that had gone before—a true melding of body and mind, the rhythm of love gentle, growing in ever-building waves of passion to explode in a climax of absolute unity where all sense of self was lost in the wonder and glory of being one.

  Afterwards Luke held her in the curve of his shoulder, kissing her hair, his hand slowly stroking over her stomach, and said teasingly, 'Well, at least Theo will be pleased; his great-grandchild will get his old house.'

  'What?' She glanced up at him and saw the laughter in his luminous eyes. 'You mean you weren't pleased?'

  '"Pleased"' doesn't begin to describe the depths of my love for you. I love you more than I can say, Jemma.'

  'Then show me again.' She grinned, and he did.

  EPILOGUE

  It was September, with the sun blazing out of a clear blue sky and the sound of childish laughter echoing in the heavy air. Jemma leant over the balcony of their bedroom, smiling to herself as she watched Theo, Milo and her son Alex splashing about in the pool below.

  All those months ago, alone and pregnant, she could never have imagined such happiness.

  'Jemma, it's after nine. Maria's packed an overnight bag for you; all you have to do is get ready.' Luke came up behind her and slipped an arm around her waist. 'This is our second wedding anniversary, remember, and we have to get going.'

  She cast him a droll look. 'You've reminded me it's our wedding anniversary at least three times since midnight.'

  Luke smiled down at her, a reminiscent gleam in his silver eyes. 'Yes, and I will again—I promise,' he chuckled. 'But not right now; the helicopter's on its way and I want to get there before nightfall. I have a surprise for you.'

  'Are you sure Alex will be okay on his own?'

  'On his own!' Luke arched an eyebrow at her. 'You are joking; with a staff of six who dote on him, and Theo and Milo totally besotted with him, our son will not have a second to call his own.'

  'Yes, you're right,' she said, turning in his arms and planting a swift kiss on his chin. 'I'll go and shower.' She saw the flash of interest in his grey gaze. 'On my own.'

  She laughed and spun out of his arms. 'We're in a hurry, remember?'

  Jemma was still smiling when she turned on the shower. The last fourteen months had been sheer bliss. They divided their time between this fabulous house outside Athens and Wisteria Cottage in England, with occasional visits to the holiday home on Zante. Their son Alex had been born at Wisteria Cottage with the help of a farmer's wife—much to Luke's dismay. He had arranged for a top London hospital, but baby Alex had not wanted to wait. He'd come into the world the day before their first wedding anniversary, the image of his father, with a mass of black hair, crying lustily.

  Turning off the shower, Jemma dried herself and dressed casually, as Luke had instructed, in white cotton trousers and a navy and white Donna Karan shirt. Yesterday the house had been full of friends and neighbours with their children, for Alex's first birthday party, and amid all the excitement he had actually taken his first few steps.

  'Damn it, Jemma, come on—the helicopter is waiting.' Luke appeared at the bedroom door, wearing tailored Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt. He looked gorgeous and vibrant and Jemma couldn't have wished for a more devoted and sexy husband. Even if he did get a bit impatient at times.

  An hour later, after a protracted goodbye to Alex, they headed for the helicopter parked in the grounds. Luke was muttering darkly, 'We're only going away for one night, for heaven's sake.' Jemma smiled to herself; he had spent as much time hugging and kissing Alex goodbye as she had.

  Jemma was surprised when the helicopter landed and they stepped out onto the roof of the hotel on Zante where they had spent their wedding night. She glanced quizzically up at Luke as he took her hand in his and led her down into the hotel. It was a nice thought, but not a very original surprise. They dined here frequently when they stayed at the house in the bay.

  'I know what you're thinking.' Luke looped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. 'But this is not the surprise—simply the safest and nearest place to land.'

  'So where are we going?'

  'Patience, woman.'

  But her patience was wearing very thin after a short car ride which deposited them at the steps that led down to their very own holiday home.

  Luke stopped at the base of the steps and grinned, his grey eyes gleaming with wicked humour. 'Now we come to the good part; I get to blindfold you.'

  He looked gorgeous with the sun gleaming on his black hair, his handsome face relaxed in a smile. 'This wouldn't have anything to do with kinky sex, would it?' Jemma asked.

  'Shame on you,' Luke mocked. 'The very opposite, in fact.' Jemma made a small moue of disappointment as he tied a black scarf around her eyes and, with a guiding hand around her waist, led her forward. She felt the paving beneath her feet, and then soil before he stopped.

  'This is it,' he announced, and removed the blindfold from her eyes. 'I hope you like it.'

  She was standing by the rockery she had built for her aunt, and, looking up, she gasped. Six feet up, cut into the cliff face, was an oval niche lined with blue mosaic tiles and containing a perfectly sculptured statue of the Madonna and child. Tears flooded her eyes, and unashamedly she let them fall.

  Luke's arms wrapped around her. 'I know you said your Aunt Mary would have liked a gravestone but she didn't think it was right somehow. I thought you might like this instead.' His hand rubbed up and down her back. 'I'm sorry if I was wrong. Please don't cry. I can't bear to see you cry,' Luke groaned against her hair.

  Jemma tilted back her head, a tremulous smile on her lips, her eyes swimming with tears of joy tinged with sadness for what the statue represented. She knew Luke loved her, he had shown her in a thousand ways, but that her formidable husband had had the sensitivity to think of such a marvellous present overwhelmed her. 'You weren't wrong, Luke. I love it—and I love you,' she said, her heart in her eyes. 'I would never have thought of it, but I'm sure Aunt Mary would have approved; it's the most wonderful surprise ever.'

  'It's a Greek thing, I suppose,' Luke husked, and brushed his lips against hers, then slipped his tongue into the sweet moistness with an ever-deepening pleasure. Finally, when he lifted his head to let her breathe, he added, 'I must confess I do have another motive for bringing you here.'

  'You do?' Enfolded in the warmth of his embrace, his aroused state very evident against her belly, her pulse racing and her heart overflowing with love, she had a good idea what he had in mind.

  She wasn't exactly wrong…

  'Yes, it's a family tradition I want to revive,' he said, nuzzling her neck where the pulse beat heavily in her throat, his hand stroking over her breast. 'Theo was conceived on this beach, and so was my mother. With your agreement, I want our next child to share the tradition.'

  Nine months later, Lucy Marie did…