His unsophisticated declaration rang through the air and Emma thought how she would have responded if he’d made it a few days ago. How she would have flung herself in his arms and shouted yes, yes, yes! Wasn’t it strange how, in life, timing was everything?
She cared for Zak—cared for him deeply enough to call it love—and something told her he cared for her, too. Because deep down she wasn’t foolish enough to think that he’d followed her back to England just because his pride had been hurt. But she realised that they both had to be sure about their feelings. Surer than just a few passionate words tossed out in the wake of a blazing row. There was too much to lose—for both of them.
He’d been hurt, and she couldn’t bear to see him hurt again. And she was thinking about herself, too. Why would she lay herself open to unnecessary heartache if such a thing could be avoided?
‘I’m sorry, Zak.’ She looked at him, her gaze very steady. ‘You’ll have to try harder than that.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘HOW hard?’ questioned Zak.
Emma set her mouth into a firm line as the bus juddered its way up the busy London street, not quite believing that they were sitting side by side like this, their thighs almost touching. And that she was finding her determination to keep him at arm’s length, the biggest temptation of her life. But if she’d been that determined, then she wouldn’t have agreed to let him accompany her home after their spat in Xenon’s office, would she? ‘I haven’t decided.’
‘Now you sound like a dominatrix,’ he said softly.
‘In your dreams.’
He let that one go—mainly because he was aware that she was giving him a second chance and he didn’t want to blow it. They were sitting at the top of a red double-decker bus which was taking them to Emma’s flat, having left the Granchester. Her idea. But there had been a lot of her ideas floating around this morning—and Zak realised that, for once, he was letting someone else call the shots.
‘You know, I’ve never been on a London bus before,’ he observed.
‘Always chauffeur-driven cars, I suppose?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Then the experience will be good for you.’
He smiled as they passed the silver-encrusted gates of Hyde Park. He still hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t even touched her. But then, she still hadn’t forgiven him and there remained the very bleak possibility that she might not.
‘So why are you taking me to your apartment?’ he questioned.
‘Because it suddenly occurred to me that you don’t even know where I live. You’ve never even seen my home. We’ve been living in some kind of bubble, Zak—with hardly any contact with the outside world.’
And Zak realised with an ache that he envied her that. Because he didn’t really have anywhere he thought of as home. There were the luxurious suites he kept in all his hotels, which he’d customised with the odd painting or piece of furniture. And there was the island he owned in the Myrtoan Sea, with the beautiful house not far from the beach—but when was the last time he’d been there? At least Emma had somewhere that she thought of as completely hers.
‘I suppose there’ll be loads of your ex-husband’s paraphernalia there?’ he growled.
‘Such as?’
He shrugged, trying to rid himself of this dark feeling of jealousy that she’d actually been married to someone else. Because he’d never done jealousy before—at least, not until he’d thought that his brother had landed himself the most knockout blonde in the world and that he would have to spend a lifetime suppressing the way he felt about her. ‘Platinum discs. Music awards. That kind of thing.’
‘It’s not a shrine, Zak,’ she said quietly. ‘Nearly all Louis’s stuff had to be sold off to pay for his mother’s medical care and the debts from his gambling and drug habit.’
Her simple words made all his jealousy melt away—and in its place rushed a great wave of protectiveness, so that suddenly he wanted to catch hold of her and tell her that he would protect her. That he would keep all the harsh, dark realities of life away from her door—until he realised that to do that would be to insult her. Because hadn’t she done a pretty good job of overcoming those hardships—all on her own?
The bus began to slow and Emma stood up. ‘We’re here,’ she said, inadvertently brushing against him so that just for one brief moment he caught a drift of roses and vanilla—a scent which transported him back to the lazy bliss he had known in her arms. Gritting his teeth behind a grim smile, he followed her down the narrow stairway of the bus until they were standing on a shiny, rain-soaked pavement.
‘Where are we?’
Emma laughed. ‘It’s Hammersmith—not Mars! But I guess you’ve never been here?’
‘You’re saying that my horizons are limited?’
‘I think we’ve both been guilty of having limited horizons,’ she told him truthfully as she led the way up the stairs at the front of the large and rather ugly red-brick house. People were often surprised when they first saw where she lived—as if they expected the ex-wife of a famous rock-star to be living in some palatial mansion with golden taps and leopard-skin sofas.
But Emma had walked away from her marriage with only the most humble of settlements and she was proud of the home she’d created. The rooms were high-ceilinged and spacious and there were many of the original features still in place. She’d painted the walls a flat, putty-coloured shade, which provided just the right neutral backdrop for each carefully chosen piece of furniture.
Zak looked around, aware of a sense of peace settling over him. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said softly.
She smiled, some of the tension leaving her body—aware that his praise meant a lot to her, whether she wanted it to or not. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. But your taste has never been in any question, Emma—that’s one of the things which makes you so good at your job.’
She looked at him. ‘And what are the other things?’
He shrugged. ‘A fearlessness which makes you stand up to your brutish boss?’
‘You’re not brutish,’ she protested as the last of her anger began to trickle away.
‘Oh, yes, I am,’ he answered. ‘Or maybe I can amend that to the past tense. Was brutish—but not any more. You see—you take the brutishness right out of me, Emma Geary.’
His grey eyes blazed and Emma felt a fierce wrench of longing. It would have been so easy to cross the room and to fall into his arms. To wrap her arms around his neck and tangle her fingers in his thick black hair, the way she’d done so many times before. But something told her that would be the wrong thing to do. That desire had often clouded all the getting-to-know-you bits. And that if they couldn’t do this other stuff—the everyday and often mundane stuff—then they didn’t have a hope in hell.
‘Coffee?’ she questioned as they walked into the sitting room.
Coffee was the last thing he wanted. All he wanted was to kiss her. To somehow make that tight little look disappear from her face. To lose himself in her sweet embrace. And then tumble her down onto that squashy-looking velvet sofa in the corner and make love to her. But Zak recognised that he was going to have to continue to let Emma call the shots, no matter how much his masterful instincts fought against it.
He nodded his agreement. ‘Perfect.’
She turned and left the room, where he could hear the sounds of china being clanked around and cupboard doors being opened and closed. Ordinarily, he might have run his eyes over the books which were lined up on the shelves, but he was finding it hard to concentrate on anything. Even the street scene outside was nothing but a muted blur to his preoccupied gaze.
Minutes later, Emma returned with a tray on which stood a cafetiere of strong dark coffee and she poured them each a cup, which neither of them touched.
She was looking at him and once again he was struck by the dark blue shadowing of her eyes—stark against her pale skin. ‘Did you know that Nat’s in love?’ he questioned, watching her reacti
on very carefully.
‘He texted me something on those lines.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘And do you approve? Or will you be going out of your way to separate them?’
‘Ouch,’ he said wryly, meeting the candid sweep of her gaze and realising that she still hadn’t forgiven him. ‘I guess I deserve that.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘Actually, I haven’t met her and I know very little about her—other than that she’s Greek and he’s there with her at the moment.’
‘Then maybe you do approve?’ she ventured.
‘It’s none of my business who he marries.’ He met her gaze. Held it with the intensity of his own. And prayed that she could read the truth in his next words. ‘I’m not doing the control thing with other people any more. I was a fool to ever think I could.’
The room was very quiet and Emma’s heart turned over as she stared into the brooding contemplation of his grey eyes. ‘Not a fool, Zak,’ she said softly. ‘Never that. You only wanted to protect him, the way you’d been protecting him all your life. But Nat’s an adult now and he has to do it all on his own. You have to let him go.’
A terrible pain tore through his heart as he thought of another scenario—one which was just as likely. ‘And what about you, Emma?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Am I going to have to let you go, as well? Has my controlling nature and my instinct to push you away succeeded? Am I too late?’
She shook her head, her throat too thick with emotion to speak—and maybe he realised that because he crossed the room to stand before her, but didn’t pull her into his arms with his usual wild passion. Instead, he framed her face with his hands—more tenderly than he’d ever touched her before.
‘Am I?’ he repeated, because she needed to be sure about this. And he needed to show her that he was capable of humility, as well as love. ‘Am I too late?’
‘No, Zak,’ she whispered. ‘You’re just in time—and I’ll stay with you for ever. That’s if you want me to.’
‘And what else would I want?’ he questioned simply. ‘When I love you so much?’
‘Oh, Zak.’
He swallowed down the stupid lump which had risen in his throat. ‘Is that the only response I get to the declaration of my life?’
Biting back her tears, she nodded, still too overcome to speak. And besides, she didn’t want to tell him that she loved him merely as a sort of tit-for-tat thing, because surely he knew by now that she loved him with all her heart? But perhaps she ought to tell him anyway …
‘Zak,’ she whispered.
‘Shh.’ His smile was soft but his lips were hard as they claimed hers in a kiss.
Zak realised that the most important moments in his life had all been about Emma—but none was quite as profound as that first kiss they shared after he’d told her that he loved her.
EPILOGUE
THEY were married in the wedding room at the Pembroke, because it seemed crazy not to—although to Emma the idea felt a little spooky at first.
‘Why spooky?’ Zak had questioned curiously, his fingers stroking idly through her long hair.
‘Oh, because it’s almost as if, in my subconscious, I was designing it for me.’ She glanced over at the statue of the Greek goddess, Aphrodite—which the trade press had made so much fuss about—and she smiled. Maybe she had.
In fact, she was exactly the four-hundredth bride to marry there—because she’d wanted to enjoy the two of them just being together for a while, and because the Pembroke was currently the place for couples to exchange their vows. The waiting list was over a year long and Zak’s competitors were eyeing him with ill-concealed envy. There had been a big spread in one of the financial magazines all about the Greek tycoon with the ‘Midas touch.’ But he told anyone who’d listen that it was his fiancée’s touch which turned the world to gold. His ‘chrisi mou.’ His golden one.
It was a big, noisy Greek wedding and it seemed to symbolise the warmth of a family life which neither of them had ever had. Nat was there with Chara, his fiancée. A very different Nat from the one Emma had left behind in London. When he’d discovered that she and Zak were in love, he had squared up to his big brother—threatening to pulverise him if he ever harmed one hair of Emma’s golden head, or made her cry.
And Zak had let him. He had stood there and taken it. It had been sweet and rather primitive to watch, thought Emma. Like two mighty beasts of the jungle each marking out their own territory.
Leda came too, with Scott, her face wreathed with smiles—although she did murmur, ‘I can’t believe it!’ as she leaned forward to give Emma a congratulatory kiss.
Zak and Emma honeymooned on his beautiful island in the Myrtoan Sea, just off the southernmost end of the Peloponnese. It was the island which the Constantinides family had once owned—and then lost—until Zak had bought it back again. He gifted it to Emma on the morning of their wedding and she looked at him with shining eyes and some bemusement.
‘But why? Why are you giving me this?’
‘Because I want you to own a part of my country,’ he replied simply. ‘And therefore, a part of me.’
What woman wouldn’t thrill to such a declaration? thought Emma delightedly as she wound her arms around his neck.
It was later that same year, during Nat’s own wedding to Chara, that Emma discovered she was pregnant—but not wanting to detract from the newly-weds’ excitement, she waited until they were back in England before she told Zak the news. In fact, she waited until she’d done two tests and the doctor had told her that she was in the best of health. And still she felt as if she had to keep pinching herself—as if she couldn’t quite believe how lucky she was.
The Garden room at the Granchester had just been awarded another Michelin star and Zak and Emma were going there for a celebratory lunch being hosted by Xenon—to the place where their love affair had started.
Outside the main entrance, she paused for a moment and laid her fingers on his arm.
‘Zak?’
He turned to look down at her, his eyes tender—wondering if this much contentment could possibly be good for a man. ‘Mmm?’
‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Sounds big.’
‘It is big.’ She paused. ‘Or rather, I will be—in a few months’ time.’
His eyes widened. ‘Emma?’
‘Zak?’
‘You’re having a baby?’
‘I am.’ She grinned. ‘Actually, I’m having your baby.’
With a small moan of joy, he gathered her in his arms, looking down at her for one intense and loving moment. ‘Thank you,’ he said softly, in a voice which wasn’t quite steady, before he began to kiss her.
She clung to him as if it were the first time they’d ever kissed—but with Zak, every kiss felt a bit like that—and Emma lost herself in the passion of the moment.
She forgot that they were on a busy pavement and that the rest of the guests would be waiting. She forgot everything except the feeling of being in his arms and the sheer joy of their mutual love—until suddenly she became aware that cars were tooting at them. The cacophony of sound was difficult to ignore and, reluctantly, they drew apart as a lorry pulled up alongside them—and a boy of about sixteen leaned out of the passenger window.
‘Oi!’ he yelled. ‘Why don’t you two get a room?’
Zak smiled as he looked up at the glittering frontage of the Granchester hotel before turning back to his wife. ‘Somehow,’ he murmured, ‘I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.’
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or
any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
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® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Sharon Kendrick 2012
ISBN: 978-1-408-97400-1
Table of Contents
Cover
Excerpt
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Copyright
Table of Contents
Cover
Excerpt
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Playing the Greek's Game Page 14