The Best Man's Guarded Heart

‘He had moved back to working predominantly with porcelain in the year before he died. I’ve never known what to do with all his work, I didn’t want to sell it...’ Unexpected emotion cut off the rest of what he had been about to say.

Soft violet eyes held his. ‘This can’t be easy for you.’

He glanced away. ‘He would like it that his work is being used for Christos’s wedding.’

With that he walked back to the main workshop, wanting to put some distance between him and this woman who kept unbalancing his equilibrium. Frustration rolled through him. What was it about Grace that made him break all his own rules?

He had another ten minutes before he had to leave. There were a few small boxes yet to open.

He unwrapped a small rectangular parcel first, and found inside, wrapped in a soft cloth, a pair of silver sandals. ‘These are unusual florist’s supplies.’

‘My sandals!’ She dropped the flowers she was working on and took the slender sexy heels from him.

Imagining Grace’s enticing legs in the sandals, he felt his blood pressure skyrocket. In need of distraction, he went back to opening the next box.

‘The shop didn’t have them in my size so I had them delivered here...’ Her voice trailed off and then she said in a low, desperate voice, ‘Don’t open that box.’

But she was too late. His fingers were already looped around two pale pink silk straps. He lifted the material to reveal a sheer lace bustier.

With an expression of absolute mortification Grace stared at the bustier, and then down at the scrap of erotic pink lace still left in the box, sitting on a bed of black tissue paper. Odds on it was the matching panties. Red-hot blood coursed through his body.

‘Yours, I take it?’

For a moment her mouth opened and closed, but then she grabbed the bustier and the box and walked away.

She kept her back to him as she bundled the bustier back into its box. ‘It’s for the wedding, but I’m not sure I’ll wear it.’

Time for him to leave—before he burst a blood vessel. ‘I have afternoon calls I have to get back to.’ He made it as far as the door before he turned back. ‘Grace?’

She turned around towards him.

‘Wear it.’

He walked away as her lips parted in surprise. He had never wanted to grab a woman and kiss her senseless more in all his life.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_b18da7e7-2a59-55c6-8953-3b99c1035913)

GRACE REACHED FOR the bell clapper, feeling the ladder wobbling beneath her.

‘What in the name of the devil are you doing?’

She jerked at the sound of Andreas’s irate voice beneath her and the precarious ladder swayed wildly. A startled yelp from deep within her shot out into the evening air, but mercifully the ladder was steadied before it toppled to the ground.

She dared a quick glance down. A livid Andreas was gripping the side bars, one foot on the bottom rung.

She swallowed hard, uncertain as to what was more daunting: this fury, or the heat in his eyes earlier when he had lifted up her bustier. Heat that had ignited a yearning in her that had left her breathless and just plain exasperated. They didn’t even particularly like each other. Why, then, did she feel as though she was about to combust any time she came into contact with him?

‘I’ve decided that the chapel needs some extra decoration in addition to what I’d planned, so I’m making a garland that will hang from the bell tower down to the ground. I need to measure the exact length.’

‘Aman! You are breaking my nerves! You shouldn’t be doing this alone; the flagstones are too uneven.’

He was right, but she wasn’t going to admit it. ‘I’m fine—it’s a quick job.’ To prove her point she knotted twine around the bell clapper and then dropped the twine spool to the ground before climbing down the ladder. She avoided looking at him and instead pulled the twine out to the angle she wanted the garland positioned at on the wedding day. Cutting it to the desired length, she ignored his infuriated expression. ‘I need to climb back up and untie the other end.’

He gave an exasperated sigh and scaled the ladder himself, dropping the twine when he’d untied it. Back on the ground, he unlocked the extension ladder she had borrowed from Ioannis and collapsed it down.

Then he studied her with incensed eyes, his mouth a thin line. ‘Don’t try that again.’

Of course she would. But she wasn’t going to get into an argument with him. ‘Was there something you wanted?’

His gaze narrowed. The uncomfortable sensation that he could see right through her had her grabbing the twine off the ground and asking, ‘Is it okay if I use some of the rosemary and bay growing on the terraces for the garland?’

He considered the long length of twine sceptically. ‘Is it really necessary? I thought you were under pressure timewise?’

She was, but it was these final touches that would make her work stand apart. ‘I’ll find the time.’ She paused and gestured around her. ‘I want the flowers to do justice to this setting.’

Set on a rocky promenade beyond the golden sandy beach, the tiny whitewashed chapel with its blue dome had a dramatic backdrop of endless deep blue seas and skies.

His jaw hardened even more, and she winced to think about the pressure his poor teeth must be under.

‘My guess is that Sofia would prefer her bridesmaid not to be in a plaster cast on her wedding day for the sake of a few flowers.’

Wow, that was a low blow. ‘If you’ll excuse me? I need to finalise my plans for the chapel’s bespoke floral arrangements—or, as you call them, “a few flowers”.’

His mouth twisted at her barbed comment. ‘It will be dark soon.’

‘I won’t be long.’ When he didn’t move, she added, ‘You don’t need to wait for me.’

‘And have you getting lost on the way back? No, thanks. I don’t want to have to spend a second night rescuing you.’

With that he turned and went and sat on the low whitewashed wall that surrounded the chapel terrace.

Behind him the deep blue sea met the purple evening sky; it was a postcard-perfect image of the Greek Islands but for the scowling man who dominated the frame.

* * *

Grace circled the terrace outside the chapel, all the while taking notes, scribbling into her notebook. Every now and again she would glance in his direction and throw him a dirty glare. Which he was just fine with. Because he was in a pretty dirty mood himself. In every sense.

All afternoon he had been plagued with images of her wearing that sexy lingerie. The bustier hugging her small waist, lifting her breasts to a height and plumpness that demanded a man taste them. Those skimpy panties moulded to her pert bottom... Hell, he couldn’t go there again. His call to the Cayman Island planners had been a washout as a result.

She had already put in a twelve-hour day, with less than five minutes taken for lunch. Did it really matter this much what the flowers looked like? Did anyone even notice the flowers on a wedding day?

‘Why does this wedding mean so much to you?’

She turned to him in surprise, her notebook falling to her side. The long length of her golden ponytail curled over one shoulder and his fingers tingled in remembrance of its softness and her delicate sensual scent last night. His gut tightened. Those legs were once again driving him crazy with images of the chief bridesmaid that he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of.

He dated some of the most beautiful women in Athens. Why was he so drawn to this out-of-bounds woman?

Eventually she walked over and sat on the wall beside him. She left a significant gap between them.