The Greek's Bought Wife

‘Nothing to say?’

Tina cast his profile a measured look. In the semidarkness of the car’s interior his facial features were all angles and planes.

‘I’m all talked out.’

‘That bad?’

Bad didn’t work for her, for the evening had been superficially pleasant. Except she’d been all too aware of the well-hidden undercurrents associated with the marriage and its celebration.

‘Everything was absolutely fabulous.’ She transferred her attention to the scene beyond the windscreen, focusing on the well-lit street and the cars traversing it.

‘Definitely overkill.’

Did his voice hold a tinge of humour, or was it just her imagination?

The day began to catch up with her…the trepidation, doubts, together with several nights of insufficient sleep. It became almost impossible to keep her eyes open, and after a few minutes she didn’t even try.

Tina recalled stirring, and settling into a more comfortable position…then nothing as she sank into deep, dreamless slumber.

When she woke sunlight was edging through the wooden shutters, and for a few seconds she had no idea where she was. Then memory returned, and with it the knowledge she was in a large bed in the suite Nic had allocated her in an upstairs wing of his home.

The first shock was registering the time…the next, becoming aware she’d been divested of her clothes, with the exception of bra, briefs, tights and half-slip.

Dammit, he must have carried her indoors and put her to bed.

Great. So much for personal privacy.

Shower, dress, something to eat, then she’d be out the door and on her way to Double Bay…in less than an hour. Hopefully without encountering Nic Leandros.

She almost made it. Would have if she hadn’t encountered Nic in the kitchen about to pour what was presumably his second coffee for the morning.

‘Sleep well?’

No one had the right to look so darn good at this hour. Freshly shaven, hair groomed, dark trousers, blue shirt and dark blue tie, suit jacket loosely folded over the back of a chair: Nic projected an enviable aura of power.

Tina sent him a telling look. ‘You should have woken me last night, instead of putting me to bed.’

‘You don’t believe I tried?’

‘Not hard enough.’

She hadn’t stirred once…as he’d lifted her from the car, carried her upstairs, nor when he’d laid her down onto the bed and carefully removed her shoes and outer clothes. Tiredness related to pregnancy?

He indicated the carafe. ‘Coffee?’

The aroma teased her senses, taunted her with anticipation of how it would taste, and she shook her head. ‘Can’t have caffeine.’

His gaze narrowed fractionally as he took in her pale features, the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

‘You’ll find several blends of tea in the pantry.’ He swept a hand towards the refrigerator. ‘Fix whatever you want to eat.’

‘Don’t have time.’ Memo to self: unearth or buy an alarm clock.

His gaze sharpened. ‘Make time.’

Tina rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll grab some fruit and yoghurt when I open the boutique.’