The Greek Tycoon's Virgin Mistress Page 7

  ‘Your coffee’s here,’ he murmured, gesturing to the tray he had set on the low table in front of him. ‘And I made some sandwiches. I noticed you didn’t eat much at the restaurant.’

  ‘My God, don’t tell me you were spying on me. I can look after myself, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed.’

  The softly spoken comment caused her to blush as she recalled how he had rescued her from Jack Bailey’s clutches. Anxious to avoid his quizzical gaze, she lifted the napkin from the tray and discovered a pile of sandwiches neatly arranged on a plate.

  He’d even taken the trouble to trim off the crusts, she noted. She was so used to fending for herself that the simple gesture caused a prickling sensation behind her eyelids. It was a long time since she’d felt cared for and for some ridiculous reason she felt like crying. With a faint air of desperation she bit into a sandwich. It was true that she had barely touched her dinner and she was surprised to find she was hungry.

  ‘I can’t manage all of them,’ she muttered stubbornly when she lifted her eyes to find him watching her eat, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Was he always right? Damn him.

  ‘Come and sit over here and I’ll help you out,’ he replied, patting the empty space on the sofa. It seemed churlish to refuse and she reluctantly moved next to him, perching awkwardly on the edge of the cushion, her body tensed and ready for instant flight.

  ‘I had no idea you were so domesticated,’ she commented coolly as she helped herself to another sandwich.

  Damon shrugged. ‘I don’t have a problem dealing with the mundane things in life. Like you, I value my independence and at home I employ the minimum of staff.’ He paused fractionally and then added, ‘My wife was a great believer in equality between the sexes and she made it clear from day one of our marriage that she wouldn’t run around after me like a traditional Greek wife.’

  Anna was aware of a peculiar buzzing sensation in her ears. The room tilted alarmingly and she inhaled sharply, desperate to drag oxygen into her lungs. She couldn’t faint; it would be so…pathetic, she told herself furiously. Her sandwich suddenly seemed to be made of cardboard and she had to force herself to swallow her mouthful.

  ‘I didn’t know you had a wife,’ she said sharply when she could trust herself to speak. She felt physically sick as a variety of emotions threatened to overwhelm her, chiefly anger, she acknowledged grimly. If he was married, what was he doing here in her flat, and why had he kissed her?

  God, did he really think he was so irresistible that she would agree to become his mistress, knowing that he had a wife in the background?

  ‘She died eight years ago.’ The statement was flat and unemotional and Anna’s startled gaze flew to his face.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know,’ she mumbled, unaware that he could read each fleeting emotion that crossed her face—shock and confusion mixed with sympathy and a faint hint of relief. ‘Was it an accident, or was she ill?’

  ‘A tragic mix of both—Eleni suffered from asthma but it was controlled by medication, or so we believed. There was no indication in the days before her death that her condition had worsened. She was her usual, vibrant self when I left on a business trip,’ Damon explained. ‘She was an artist and it seems that while she was alone in her studio at the top of the house she suffered a particularly severe attack and couldn’t get to her inhaler in time. By the time the housekeeper found her it was too late, she was already dead.’

  ‘Oh, God! How awful. You must miss her,’ Anna whispered.

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ he offered quietly. ‘Life moves on—it has to. But it took a long time to come to terms with the tragedy of a young life so cruelly taken, especially when Eleni had so much to live for.’ He hesitated fractionally, as if he was about to say something else, but then continued—

  ‘Perhaps losing her so unexpectedly is the reason that I’m determined to seize every opportunity. Life isn’t a dress rehearsal,’ he murmured, staring at her intently with eyes that were so dark she felt as though she could drown in their depths.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated helplessly. The words seemed totally inadequate and, overwhelmed by emotion, she placed her hand on his arm, wanting to comfort him. Damon reached out and ran a finger lightly down her cheek before cupping her chin and tilting her face to his.

  ‘Don’t,’ he bade huskily as a solitary tear over-spilled and slid down her face. ‘You have an unexpectedly compassionate heart, pedhaki mou.’

  He couldn’t disguise the faint note of surprise in his tone and she jerked back as if he had slapped her.

  ‘What did you expect—that I was the spoilt, haughty supermodel the press like to portray?’ she demanded sharply. ‘The Ice Princess with a retinue of willing lovers? Is that why you’re here, Damon—You assumed I’d agree to a meaningless sexual liaison with no messy emotions to screw it up?’

  She broke off, unable to hide the hurt in her voice. Damon had earned a reputation as a playboy with a penchant for nubile blondes, and she was just one in a long line of women who had attracted his passing interest. But beneath the surface he was obviously a man capable of deep emotions. She didn’t doubt that he had loved his wife. She’d heard evidence of it in his voice when he’d spoken of Eleni; had seen it in the sudden softening of his expression when he’d mentioned her name.

  It was ridiculous to feel so betrayed, she told herself angrily. And obscene to feel jealous of the young Greek girl who had captured Damon’s heart and whose life had been cut so tragically short.

  ‘If I’d simply wanted sex, there are a number of options I could have chosen,’ he growled, the rigid line of his jaw warning her that he was struggling to keep his anger in check. He didn’t add that any one of those options would have been easier than pursuing a woman who seemed hell-bent on rejecting him.

  If he was frank, he had believed that Anna would succumb to the undeniable attraction between them with a minimum of effort on his part. He had been guilty as charged of believing the gossip about her numerous, short-lived affairs and he was honest enough to accept that initially he’d simply wanted to take her to bed.

  Okay, he still did, he acknowledged impatiently. His desire for Anna was fast becoming an obsession. He would like nothing better than to unfasten the belt of her robe, part the bulky material and discover her slender curves with his hands and mouth.

  Instinct told him that her resistance would be minimal. Even now, the anger mirrored in her stunning blue eyes was mixed with a shimmer of awareness that she could not hide. It would be easy to close the distance between them and capture her mouth, initiate a sensual exploration until her defences crumbled and she responded to his kiss with the desire that he sensed matched his own.

  Something held him back; the shadows in her eyes and the slight tremor of her bottom lip that she sought to control by catching the soft flesh with her teeth. On a physical level there was no doubt in his mind that Anna would respond to him. In his thirty-eight years he had enjoyed numerous sexual liaisons, some casual and others that had meant more to him. His marriage had meant the world, but Eleni was dead and in the years since her death he had found no reason to deny himself the pleasure of female company.

  He knew without conceit that he possessed both the skill and sensitivity to ensure Anna’s sexual pleasure, but mentally she would withdraw even further behind the barriers she had erected. A small voice in his head urged him to simply take what he wanted and to hell with the consequences, but he glimpsed the naked vulnerability in her eyes and realised with a jolt of surprise that he would hate to hurt her.

  ‘We seem to have got off to a bad start,’ he ventured quietly. ‘I think we both harboured preconceived ideas about each other. Can’t we wipe the slate clean and start again?’

  Anna stared at him, unable to disguise her confusion. ‘Why do you want to?’ she demanded suspiciously.

  ‘Because you intrigue me more than any woman I’ve ever met,’ he replied honestly. He trapped her gaze,
his eyes clear and candid as if he wanted to prove that he had no hidden agenda. ‘And because you are so very lovely, Anna mou, that I can’t keep my eyes off you. Even when I’m not with you, you dominate my thoughts.’

  How did she respond to that? Anna wondered wildly as her heart lurched in her chest. He was practised in the art of seduction but his words held a ring of sincerity about them, rather than a glib statement designed to fool her. Dared she trust him? Wasn’t he just the same as every other man she’d met—fascinated by her image but uninterested in the real Anna?

  ‘Someone once told me that men would only ever want me for one thing,’ she burst out, her stark admission taking them both by surprise. She didn’t know what had induced her to reveal the poison that festered in her brain and her eyes darkened when she recalled her stepfather’s taunts.

  ‘You’re a little sex-pot Annie, the embodiment of every male fantasy. Forget that rubbish about respecting your mind—every man who ever looks at you will only be interested in your body.’

  ‘You don’t believe that, surely?’ Damon demanded. The someone she’d spoken of had obviously set out to wreck her self-esteem and it seemed they’d done a good job. ‘Your looks are only one part of you, teamed with intelligence, wit and an obvious compassion for others.’ He cupped her face once more and stared into her eyes. ‘Who was he?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Who hurt you so badly that he made you doubt your self-worth?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Anna mumbled, desperately trying to evade his gaze that seemed to burn into her soul. ‘He’s in the past.’

  ‘Yet he still exerts power over you. Was he a lover who resented it when you ended the relationship and sought to destroy your confidence?’ Damon saw the shudder that ran through her, glimpsed the trace of fear in her eyes and his jaw tightened. ‘Did he hurt you—physically?’

  The thought was enough to make him want to commit murder. He was shocked by the strength of his fury, but the idea that anyone could lay a finger on her in anger filled him with revulsion.

  ‘Just leave it, Damon; it’s not important.’ Anna jerked out of his grasp and jumped to her feet, sending the contents of her coffee-cup flying. ‘Damn it, now see what you’ve made me do,’ she snapped as she attempted to blot the pool of coffee with a napkin. ‘I think it’s time you left.’

  She didn’t want to talk about the past and was already regretting her impulsive statement. How could she convince Damon that she was in control of her emotions when she’d allowed him to glimpse the chinks in her armour?

  Damon wisely said no more as he slung his jacket over his shoulder and followed her along the hallway to the front door. He sensed the fierce tension that gripped her, noted the way her eyes seemed too big for her heart-shaped face, and once again he was overwhelmed with the urge to protect her. Far from being the Ice Princess that the press portrayed, she was near to breaking-point, so emotionally fragile that he could not prevent himself from reaching out to smooth her hair back from her temple.

  ‘I mean you no harm, Anna, I swear it,’ he vowed in a low tone.

  The shimmer of tears caused his gut to clench and he watched as she waged a silent battle in her head. Murmuring a husky imprecation, he halted the trail of moisture that trickled down her cheek with his thumb pad and lowered his head to brush his lips gently across hers.

  She stiffened but did not pull away and he deepened the kiss a little, allowing his tongue to make a tender exploration of the contours of her mouth. Still she didn’t reject him, but neither did she respond—just stood, trembling, her body poised for flight.

  His one thought was to ease the rigid tension that gripped her. She’d had one hell of a night, he acknowledged grimly as he recalled her struggles with the drunken lout in the restaurant. No wonder she looked as though she would shatter at the lightest touch.

  With infinite care he stroked his tongue against the tight line of her lips and felt a quiver run through her. He hadn’t expected her to respond, but to his delight she hesitantly opened her mouth to allow him access to the sweetness within. Triumph flooded through him, tempered with a degree of caution. It was tempting to wrap his arms around her and draw her close but he forced himself to clench his hands by his sides so that the only contact between them was mouth on mouth, the gentle sweep of his tongue as he deepened the kiss until it became a sensual tasting that he wanted never to stop.

  When at last he lifted his head, Anna could only stare at him, too stunned to utter a word. She was shaking; not through fear or revulsion, but with the desperate need to have him draw her up against the hard wall of his chest. She wanted to feel him, wanted to revel in the brush of his thighs against hers. She wanted to touch him and have him touch her, but now he was stepping away from her, ending the kiss that had shattered her belief that she would never feel sexual desire.

  ‘I’m going to be out of the country for a few days and it’s possible I may not be back in time for your race, so I’ll wish you good luck now,’ he said in a matter-of-fact tone as he turned and opened the front door.

  ‘Thank you—I’ll see you…some time,’ Anna murmured dazedly.

  ‘You can count on it, pedahaki mou.’

  The gleam in his eyes promised her they were at the start of a journey that could only have one destination. The knowledge should have sent her running for cover but instead she was filled with a strange sense of anticipation.

  She wanted him, she admitted, feeling a tremor run through her. But it was so new and unexpected after all the years when she had convinced herself she was cold and passionless. Damon had just proved that she was neither, but the barriers in her head had built up over a long time and the thought of lowering them terrified her.

  She waited until he had disappeared down the stairs and then closed the door, returned to the sitting room and collected the tray as if she were running on autopilot. A glance at the clock showed that it was past midnight.

  She had a magazine shoot booked for early the next morning, followed by another training session at the track. Sleep was imperative but proved elusive as she tossed and turned beneath the sheets. Damon, and her response to his kiss, filled her mind. But her dreams were fractured with images of him as a loving husband whose heart belonged for ever to his tragic young wife.

  The charity half-marathon around Hyde Park attracted fevered media interest, due mainly to the number of celebrities taking part. Spurred on by the cheering crowd, Anna crossed the finish line in under three hours and felt euphoric at the knowledge that she had raised a huge amount of money for the children’s charity.

  She spent the next day quietly relaxing and only ventured out to the health spa for a massage, which worked wonders on her aching muscles. Early evening saw her indulging in a long, hot soak until her peace was shattered by the strident peal of the doorbell. She was half inclined to ignore it and lay back and closed her eyes, but the caller was persistent and, cursing beneath her breath, she hauled herself out of the bath, wrapped a towel around her, sarong-style, and marched down the hall.

  ‘You have a habit of getting me out of the bath,’ she snapped, fighting to control the frantic race of her pulse when she opened the door a fraction and discovered Damon leaning indolently against the frame.

  ‘If only that were true, pedhaki mou,’ he murmured throatily, his dark eyes glinting with amusement and another more disturbing emotion as his gaze slid over her damp body, barely concealed beneath the towel. ‘But it’s a habit I’d very much like to acquire.’

  Damn him. He was incorrigible, Anna thought, unable to prevent her lips from twitching. She had never met anyone like him before and, although she was loath to admit it, she’d missed him.

  ‘What do you want, Damon?’

  ‘To offer my congratulations,’ he said blandly. ‘I only arrived back in England an hour ago and I’ve come straight from the airport, but I heard the news of your success in the charity race and I’m delighted to be able to give you this.’

  He handed her a cheque
made out to the charity and Anna’s eyes widened as she stared at the figure scrawled in black ink.

  ‘You weren’t joking, then?’ she questioned faintly.

  ‘Did you honestly doubt my commitment?’

  There was no answer to that and Anna was suddenly conscious that she couldn’t expect him to remain on the doorstep indefinitely. Slowly she opened the door wider for him to enter and clutched her towel to her as if it were a life raft thrown to a drowning man.

  He’d made no mention of her joining him for dinner, as he’d threatened when he’d first agreed to sponsor her. Perhaps he had forgotten, or was no longer interested, she thought a shade bleakly.

  ‘The charity will be overwhelmed by your generosity,’ she told him huskily as she glanced again at the cheque. ‘I can’t quite believe it, but I’m surprised you’ve given it to me now.’

  ‘Before I’ve held you to your agreement to have dinner with me, you mean?’ His expression was one of gentle amusement, as if he understood the reasons for her uncertainty. ‘I was rather hoping that you would agree to dine with me because you want to, rather than seeing it as a form of blackmail,’ he added, plainly remembering her furious accusation on the night of Kezia’s dinner party.

  Sneaky didn’t begin to describe him. It was little wonder that he had a reputation as the most wily man ever to set foot inside a boardroom, she thought darkly. In the interests of self-preservation she ought to tell him to get lost but the words wouldn’t come and instead she stared up at him, the inner battle she was waging evident in the sapphire darkness of her eyes.

  ‘Dinner seems the least I can do when you’ve been so incredibly…kind,’ she responded at last, colour stealing into her cheeks at the way his eyebrows lifted quizzically. His look told her that kind was not a word usually associated with Damon Kouvaris, yet she didn’t doubt his compassion.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. You’ve got half an hour,’ he told her cheerfully, striding down the hall and into the sitting room as if he owned the place.