The Giannakis Bride

“Poppy’s condition remains unchanged.” He turned to where various decanters stood on a side table alongside a silver ice bucket containing an open bottle of champagne. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Am I allowed alcohol?”

She hoped she was. Normally not much of a drinker—an occasional glass of wine was her limit—just then she was rattled enough to latch on to anything that might fortify her.

“Let’s ask the expert,” he said, and flung an inquiring glance over his shoulder. “What do you think, Doctor? May she have a little champagne?”

Footsteps, light as a dancer’s, fell into the silence following his question, and a moment later the figure of a woman somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties appeared from the shadows of the moon-washed terrace beyond the French doors. “I don’t see why not. A glass or two of wine isn’t going to make any difference one way or the other.”

“Glahss,” she’d said, her well-modulated voice overlaid with a distinctly English accent.

Approaching Dimitrios, she held out her own empty crystal flute. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind a refill myself, if you’re offering. Might as well take advantage of a night off. It doesn’t happen often enough to go uncelebrated.”

Blond, petite and elegant in a pencil-slim black skirt and pale-pink blouse, she barely reached Dimitrios’s shoulder. Beside her, Brianna felt like an Amazon.

Dimitrios cupped her elbow and favored her with a smile so warm, it was a wonder the woman didn’t melt on the spot. “My dear lady, you may have as many refills as you please.” Then, managing to tear his attention away long enough to spare Brianna a cursory glance, supplied, “This is Doctor Noelle Manning, Brianna. She’s the head of the transplant team looking after my daughter. I decided it was a good idea for you to meet her as soon as possible, since she’s obviously much better able than I am to answer any questions you might have. And this,” he continued, swinging his gaze back to the diminutive Noelle with all due speed, “is my late wife’s sister, Brianna Connelly. You might have heard of her.”

He made it sound as if Brianna topped the FBI’s Most Wanted list, but if Noelle Manning noticed, she chose not to comment.

“Both heard of and seen in all my favorite magazines. Hers is not a face easily forgotten.” The doctor smiled and extended her delicate little hand. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how pleased I am to meet you, or how much is riding on your decision to come here.”

In the course of her career, Brianna had met more than a few dukes, princesses, reigning monarchs and celebrities. None had left her feeling as tongue-tied and awkward as this tiny, self-assured woman. “Thank you,” she managed, trying not to stumble over her reply. “I hope I’ll be able to help.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

“When will you begin the tests?”

“We’ll give you a few days to recover from your journey, then get started.” She steered Brianna to a couch beside the fireplace, took a seat on the one across from it and, tilting her head, asked, “How much do you know about the procedure, Brianna?”

“About as much as I know about my niece’s illness, which is next to nothing.”

“Brianna has other priorities,” Dimitrios remarked, pouring the champagne. “Aplastic anemia and bone marrow transplants don’t fall within her range of interests.”

“How would you know?” Brianna shot back, the barely concealed contempt she’d noted in his voice cutting as sharply as a knife sliding between her ribs.

He sauntered over to hand them their drinks, then dropped down on the couch next to Noelle Manning, close enough that his knee almost touched hers. “I know my daughter will turn three in another month, and this will be the first time you’ve met her.”

“And I explained the reason for that when you phoned.”

“I know only what you choose to tell me.”

“I think we all understand that time has a habit of slipping away from us,” Noelle interrupted smoothly. “What matters is that you’re here now, Brianna, and Dimitrios is very grateful for that.” She pinned him with a forthright stare. “Isn’t that right, Dimitrios?”

“Yes,” he admitted, looking a little shamefaced. “You’re our last hope, Brianna.”

“Well, not quite,” Noelle amended. “There’s always the chance of an anonymous donor being found, but that could take a very long time, and Poppy…”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. Her meaning was clear enough. Time wasn’t on Poppy’s side.

“I’m quite willing to begin the tests tomorrow,” Brianna said. “In fact, I’d prefer to. Surely the sooner we get started, the better?”

Noelle shook her head. “Donating bone marrow isn’t exactly a walk in the park, Brianna, and it would be unprofessional of me, if not criminally negligent, to allow you to go ahead without first making sure you have a thorough understanding of all that’s involved.”

“If it’s a matter of money—”

“It has nothing to do with money,” Dimitrios cut in sharply. “Your expenses will be covered.”

“But I can afford—”

“So can I.”

He was impossible. Arrogant, intransigent and just plain unpleasant! Why she’d once thought, even for a minute, that he was a man she could love, escaped her.

Pointedly ignoring him, she met Noelle’s calm gaze. “Can we discuss this at another time? Privately?”

“Of course. I was about to suggest exactly that. Tomorrow, if you’re up to it, although I understand if you’d rather wait another day. Crossing ten time zones in twenty-four hours is a bit much.”

“I’ve been doing it for years and trained myself long ago to sleep on airplanes.”

“Then it’s a date. Say about noon? I’ll be through surgery by then.”

“Noon will be fine.”

“Good. You’ll arrange for your driver to bring her to the clinic, won’t you, Dimitrios?”

He grunted assent and stared moodily into his glass. Unperturbed, Noelle smiled and raised hers. “Cheers, then. Here’s to you, Brianna, and a long and happy relationship with your niece.”

About to swallow a mouthful of whatever it was he was drinking, Dimitrios almost choked on it instead.

CHAPTER TWO

HE WAS behaving like a boor, knew it and couldn’t help himself. And all because she hadn’t changed, and watching her, noticing again the perfect posture, the graceful movement of her body, was driving him crazy.

He’d hoped that, like Cecily, she was beginning to lose her looks. Fat chance. If anything, she was more beautiful than ever. The same long, luscious legs and narrow, elegant hands. The same flawless ivory skin and thick, shining fall of ebony hair. The same amazing ice-blue eyes, whose clear, heavily lashed glance could paralyze a man’s mind and leave him drooling like an idiot.

Erika served lamb for dinner. Flavored with rosemary and roasted on a spit over an open fire to succulent tenderness, it was one of his favorites, but that night, he could hardly keep it down. Brianna, of course, ate with her customary restraint, refusing the potatoes and helping herself to only a small portion of the meat, although she made inroads on the salad. She barely touched her wine and passed on the honey-and-fig compote dessert. Only Noelle ate with any relish, packing away a surprising amount of food for such a little woman.

After the meal they returned to the living room, and although neither guest took him up on his offer of metaxa, they both accepted coffee. “What’s it like, being a world-famous model?” Noelle asked, settling herself kitty-corner from Brianna on the couch.

“Very hard work, very long hours and not nearly as glamorous as most people think.”

“Sounds a bit like my life.”

“Hardly,” Brianna said, with exactly the right degree of charming modesty. “I wouldn’t presume to compare the two. Unlike you, I don’t have any special skill or expertise. I’ve certainly never saved a life.”

“You might. And that you’re willing to try puts you on a pedestal in my eyes. As for your not having any special skills, I rather doubt that’s true. It must take enormous patience and stamina to meet the artistic and, I imagine, often conflicting demands of photographers and couturiers.”

Brianna gave an elegant little shrug, a studied response designed to draw attention to her upper body, he was sure. Why else would she have chosen to wear a dress that left one shoulder bare? “On occasion, yes.”