Satisfaction: The Greek Tycoon's Baby Bargain

Warn the hotel? The husky timbre of his voice left her in no doubt as to how he would like her to greet him. Probably wearing a tight, satin bra and a pair of skimpy panties. She thought of the chicken pie she had laboured over. The apartment which was so clean, it looked as if she were about to start marketing it. And the little vase of lily of the valley which she had rather self-consciously placed next to her bed, which she planned to make up with clean and freshly ironed linen.

‘I’d much rather you came to me actually, Xandros.’

There was another pause. ‘To you?’

‘Yes. I’m cooking you dinner here. At my apartment. Just for a change.’

In New York, Xandros frowned and stifled a sigh. He didn’t want her cooking for him. He wanted her where he always had her—on tap and readily available. Quietly, he began to drum two fingers against the gleaming oak of his desk. ‘What is the point of wasting precious time cooking when there are so many more enjoyable ways of spending it?’ he questioned reasonably.

But Rebecca was determined—she could feel her resolve bubbling to the surface. She was no longer going to be just a compliant sex-object—available whenever and wherever. From now on they were going to be on a more equal footing—because that was how relationships moved forward.

‘Because I want to,’ she said stubbornly.

Oh, do you? ‘Then who am I to object?’ questioned Xandros, with silky carelessness. ‘In that case—I’ll come straight from the airport, and ring you when I’m on my way. How does that sound—satisfied now?’

But Rebecca was not left with anything remotely resembling satisfaction as he finished the call with a note in his voice she couldn’t ever remember hearing before. Instead, a terrible kind of foreboding had begun to make her stomach flutter and she felt as if she had stupidly brought down the curtain on the show, before the last act was properly over.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_614201dd-4f0f-5b8e-95b1-37335c7fb1d1)

XANDROS had been to Rebecca’s house before—but maybe he’d never looked at it properly. When a man was hot with desire it obliterated almost everything else and he had wanted her so badly. She had made him wait for so long that the sex had been dynamite. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her.

And now? His thumb jammed on the doorbell. Of course he still wanted her, but inevitably desire became corrupted. Life and circumstances began to muddy it. More damningly, women always had to try and change what was good—and to reach beyond that. Why did they always want more than you were prepared to give and thus to ruin it for themselves? Xandros felt his mouth thin into a grim line. They hid their duplicity and schemes behind their beautiful smiles and men allowed them to. Why, he would never forget the shock on his father’s face when his mother had announced she was leaving them. How could a man be such a fool not to have seen it coming? How could he and Kyros not have seen it coming?

Her front door flew open. Hair piled up on top of her head and an apron tied around the waist of her short cotton dress—this was Rebecca looking more functional than he had ever seen her. Her smile was bright, but he thought he could detect a wariness in her eyes. Had she recognised that she had pushed him into a corner and realised her folly too late?

But Xandros had played out this scene often enough in the past that he’d become a master of it and knew how best to deal with it. He had his props to hand, just as she had hers. He could hear the sound of music playing and smell something cooking.

‘Hello, Rebecca,’ he said softly.

‘Hello, Xandros.’ She stood there, almost awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do, or say. A fish out of water in her own home. ‘Won’t you come in?’

He gave an odd kind of smile as he walked into the tiny hallway and shut the door behind him. How he hated convention—the stultifying feeling that this kind of situation imposed on him. Trying to ignore the line of shoes which were lined up by the telephone—how cluttered!—he stared down into her violet-blue eyes. ‘No kiss?’ he mused.

She wound her arms up around his neck, her inexplicable nerves and his heady proximity making her tremble—but once his lips crushed down on hers, then all her vague fears were forgotten. How could they be otherwise? The seeking caress of his kiss and the hard contours of his body stirred her into instant longing as she gave herself up to his kiss and with a hungry groan he deepened it.

His hands began to rove experimentally over her body and once again he was taken aback by the intensity of his desire—his body felt like dry timber, her kiss the match which ignited it. He wanted her here, now—instantly. If he could have signed a pact at that moment to say that he wanted to spend the rest of his life inside her body, then he would have signed it willingly. ‘Oh, Rebecca,’ he groaned. ‘What is it that you do to me?’

‘X-Xandros,’ she breathed, because he was splaying his fingers luxuriously over her bottom and bringing her up against the hard cradle of his own desire.

‘Ne, agape mou? What is it that you want? Some of this? Ah, yes—you like that, don’t you? And this? Mmm? This, too?’

His fingers were teasing their way over her belly and he was drifting his mouth against her neck in a way which was making her shiver even more. She knew what he wanted—exactly the same as her—but tonight was going to be different. Tonight she wanted to feel more than just an object in his arms.

She pulled away from him, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating like crazy. ‘There’ll be time for that later—but I don’t want your supper ruined.’

How like a suburban housewife she sounded! But Xandros didn’t react. Didn’t she realise what she sounded like? Didn’t she realize how many times women had spoiled things for themselves through their own, warped ambition? ‘No, indeed—for that would indeed be a crime,’ he said gravely. ‘To ruin my supper.’

Rebecca smiled uneasily. ‘Come on through.’

Xandros walked into the sitting room, which had a dining area at one end, and a door leading into the tiny kitchen. It was smaller than his walk-in closet back in New York and once he had made love to her on that rather curious sofa while his chauffeur waited outside. But tonight the scene was very different and she had clearly gone to a lot of trouble.

Candles glittered everywhere and there was a small pot of flowers placed at the centre of the table, which was laid for dinner—every piece of cutlery and china seeming to be fighting for a little of the limited space. The smell of polish clashed with the heavy smell of something cooking, and Xandros forced a smile.

‘It smells delicious,’ he lied.

‘Does it? I hope you’re hungry.’

He guessed that now would not be a good time to tell her that he had eaten something on the plane. ‘Why don’t we have a drink first?’

‘Yes, of course—sorry, I should have asked. Would wine be all right?’

‘Some wine would be perfect,’ he said evenly, and took the bottle from her and began to open it. ‘Here, let me.’

The glasses were chinking like wind chimes as she put them down in front of them. Would he notice that was because her hands were shaking—and how stupid was that? Xandros was her lover and she was entertaining him for the first time—what was there to be nervous about?

He poured them both a glass and handed one to her. ‘What shall we drink to?’

To us, she wanted to say—but only a fool would have made a toast as inappropriate as that. ‘Let’s drink to happiness.’

He wanted to wince but sipped his wine instead, before putting put his glass down to dig deep inside his pocket to produce a small packet. He held it out towards her.

Wide-eyed, Rebecca stared at it, and then up at him. It looked like … ‘What’s this?’

‘Why not open it and see?’

A present? A present which looked awfully like jewellery? Carefully, she put her drink down and fumbled with the wrapping to reveal a pair of earrings. They were large amber ovals—simple and bright as syrup, set in plain silver—and she stared at them for a moment, her eyes blinking furiously because the gesture was so unexpected.

‘Put them on,’ he said.

They gleamed against her ears and reflected back the colour of her hair. ‘Oh, Xandros—they’re beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘But why have you bought me earrings?’

Something to remember me by. ‘Isn’t a man allowed to buy a woman presents?’ he retorted softly.

‘Well, yes, but …’ A timer starter pinging in the kitchen. ‘Damn!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’d better go and turn the oven off.’

‘Leave it.’

‘I can’t leave it—the pie will burn.’

‘Let it burn.’ He snaked his hands around her waist and brought her up close to him, seeing the violet-blue light from her eyes darken with desire as he began to kiss her.

But for once Rebecca couldn’t relax into it. Was that burning she could smell? After all her hard work? ‘The dinner …’

He said something soft and explicit in Greek as she pulled away from him.

‘Xandros, I must go and check the dinner.’

‘Must you?’