The Greek Bridegroom

‘The art, or a day in the life of…?’

‘Both.’

‘Floral artistry comprises a good eye for colour and design, shapes appealing to the customer’s wants and needs, the specific occasion.’ If he wanted facts, she’d supply them. ‘Which blooms suit, room temperature, the effect the customer wants to achieve.’

She lifted her shoulders and effected a light shrug. ‘Knowledge where exotic out-of-season stock can be bought and how long it takes to air-freight it in. And the expense involved. Unfortunately there are always those who want the best at minimum cost.’

‘I’m sure you manage to apprise them that quality comes with a price?’

‘Don’t be fooled by Ana and Rebekah’s petite stature,’ Luc drawled. His mouth curved into a warm smile. ‘I can assure both sisters pack a powerful verbal punch.’ He turned towards Ana and brushed light fingers down her cheek. ‘My wife, especially.’

‘It’s a defence mechanism,’ Ana responded sweetly. The waiter removed their plates, and Rebekah’s gaze shifted to Jace in a deliberate attempt at dispassionate appraisal.

Superb tailoring emphasised an impressive breadth of shoulder, and the deep blue shirt with its impeccably knotted silk tie accented his olive textured skin.

All she had to do was look at him, and warmth flared to uncomfortable heat as her mind spun into overdrive, remembering how it felt to have his mouth on hers. From there it was just a step away for her mind to spiral out of control, imagining what lay beneath the trappings of his conventional attire.

Don’t go there. Dear heaven, what was wrong with her? No one, not even her ex-husband in the heightened throes of pre-marital passion, had been able to arouse such an intense reaction.

She was conscious of every breath she took, and co-ordinating cutlery with morsels of food and the actual eating process was fraught with nervous tension.

Was Jace aware of her inner turmoil? Dear God, she hoped not.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she mentally chastised. You’re only sharing dinner with him, and acute vulnerability could be conquered…couldn’t it? Or at least successfully masked. Besides, Jace Dimitriades was only a man like any other man, and hadn’t Brad been charm personified in the beginning? Only to turn into a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Except instinct warned comparing her ex-husband to Jace Dimitriades was akin to associating an ill-bred canine with a powerful panther.

There was a part of her that wanted to replace her cutlery, stand to her feet, and leave. Retreat to the safety of her car, return to her apartment with her sanity intact.

Except such an action was a cop-out, and besides, what excuse could she present? Act, she commanded silently. You deal with people every day in the shop and utilise psychological skill to handle difficult customers. How difficult could it be to deal with Jace Dimitriades for a few hours? There was the added advantage of Ana and Luc’s presence to provide a buffer. It should be a breeze.

Fat chance! She felt about as relaxed as a cat on hot bricks!

Why hadn’t she listened to her initial instinct and remained adamant at not doing this? Because she cared for her sister. At least, that was the simple answer. The more complex one didn’t bear contemplating.

Maybe some wine would loosen her nerves a little, and she indicated the wine steward could fill her glass. Seconds later she took an appreciative sip, and felt the grape’s delicate bouquet slip into her bloodstream.

It was a relief when the waiter presented the next course. Her appetite was non-existent, and although her meal was a decorative vision in cuisine artistry, her tastebuds appeared to be on strike.

Travelled south for the duration, she accorded with silent wry humour, aware to an alarming degree just where they’d chosen to settle.

Eat, she commanded silently. Focus on the food. The evening would eventually come to a close, and she’d never have to place herself in this position again.

She may as well have told herself to go jump over the moon for all the good it did, for she was supremely conscious of every movement he made. The economical use of his hands as he apportioned each morsel of food. The way the muscles at the edge of his jaw bunched as he ate. His hands were broad, tanned with a sprinkling of hair, the fingers tapered with neatly shaped nails.

How would those hands caress a woman’s skin? Lightly skim the silken surface, discover each pleasure pulse and linger there?

Her mind came to a screeching halt. What was the matter with her? She couldn’t blame the wine, for she’d only consumed a few sips, and alternated it with chilled water.

‘You have an early start in the morning?’ Luc queried solicitously.

Could she conceivably use that as an excuse to slip away soon? ‘I have to be at the flower market around four-thirty.’

Jace’s gaze narrowed. ‘Every day?’

‘Six out of seven.’ It didn’t bother her. Never had, for she was a morning person. However, after a fourteen-hour day on her feet anything less than six hours’ sleep and she was wrecked.

‘I’ll order coffee.’ Luc signalled the waiter, and she joined Ana in choosing tea, all too aware coffee would keep her awake. How long had they been here? Two hours? Three?

They were almost done, and within half an hour she’d be free to slip behind the wheel of her car and drive home.

Wonderful, she determined as Luc fixed the bill, and she stood to her feet, collected her evening purse, and followed Ana to the foyer.

Her skin prickled in awareness of Jace’s close proximity, and it took considerable effort to move at a leisurely pace. She could almost feel the warmth of his body, and her own stiffened at the light touch of his hand at the back of her waist as they gained the pavement.

‘I’ll see you to your car.’

‘I had a valet attendant park it for me.’

Ana tilted her face as Jace leant down to brush his lips to her cheek. ‘Luc and I can give you a lift back to the hotel.’

‘I’m sure Rebekah won’t mind.’ Jace straightened and shot his cousin a measured look. ‘I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’

Rebekah uttered a silent prayer that Luc would intercede, only the deity wasn’t listening. Ana leant forward and brushed her lips to her sister’s cheek, accepted Jace’s affectionate ‘Goodnight’, then she moved with Luc towards their car.

It was so smoothly effected, she could hardly believe she’d been cleverly manipulated. His hotel was en route to her apartment. Given she had to pass right by the main entrance, it would be churlish to refuse.

However, her mind screamed in silent denial as she waited for the attendant to fetch her car. She didn’t want to be alone with him, ever, and especially not in the close confines of her MG sports car.

What had prompted him to suggest it when she’d been so painstakingly polite all evening? She hadn’t flirted, or given him any reason to think she coveted his attention.

Dammit, just get in the car, drop him off at the hotel, then that’ll be the end of it. Ten, fifteen minutes was all it would take.

There wasn’t a lot of leg-room, and it gave her a degree of satisfaction as he folded his lengthy frame into the front passenger seat.

Rebekah didn’t waste a second, and she gained the street, then headed towards Double Bay. Idle conversation, simply for the sake of it, wasn’t on her agenda, and she didn’t offer a word as she took liberties with the speed limit.

Ten minutes and counting.

It was a beautiful late-spring evening, the dark sky a clear indigo sprinkled with stars. Cool, sharp temperatures promised another fine day, and she directed her mind to the shop’s orders and the stock she’d need to purchase from the markets.

It didn’t work, for she was supremely conscious of the man seated beside her. In the close confines of the car she was aware of the subtle tones of his cologne, the clean smell of his clothes…and the faint male muskiness that was his alone.

Rebekah felt the tell-tale prickle of her skin as her body began an unbidden response. There was warmth, and heat pooled deep inside, intensifying with damning speed as her pulse accelerated to a crazy beat.

His hand rested on one knee, which was close, much too close to the gear-shift, making it impossible not to touch him whenever she changed gears. Avoiding contact without appearing to do so required care, and she wondered if he sensed her disquiet.

What if he did, and he was silently amused? Oh, dammit, just drive. In another five minutes she’d be free of his disturbing presence.