Savage Seduction

The mouth moved again in its curious smile. ’Why, for dinner, of course.’

‘I’m having dinner with you?’

‘Of course. Don’t you want to?’

Which he asked with all the casual arrogance of a man who knew damned well that of course she wanted to have dinner with him! Who wouldn’t? Jade had never experienced this overwhelming at- traction before; it made you weak and it made you powerless. And she wasn’t really sure whether she liked the feeling or not. Besides which—wouldn’t it be totally foolhardy to go tripping off with him? Why should he presume that she’d just drop every- thing and have dinner with him? And what hap- pened after dinner? What did he expect? Did he assume that because she was English she was going to fall into bed with him?

‘What makes you think I’ll say yes?’

He gave a slow smile, then raised that olive- skinned hand to her face. ‘These,’ he said softly, as he indicated her eyes. ‘They give me one answer and one answer only. Then this—’ And a finger brushed negligently over the bow of her mouth. ‘It trembles with anticipation. And—’ and here the eyes changed, the spark in their ebony depths be- coming a feverish flame ‘—there are other outward signs of how much you want to see me again, but we will not go into those. Not now.’

She was innocent, but she knew exactly what he meant. She had been unsuccessfully trying to ignore the hot tingling as her tiny breasts thrust against the still damp material of her bikini top. The tips were as painfully hard as metal and yet the pain was bearable, pleasurable even, and her eyelids dropped to hide her confusion. She knew what she wanted, what she clamoured for. She clamoured for his touch. And, oh, heavens—wasn’t it desperately shameful to want a complete stranger to touch her intimately? To run those strong brown fingers all over her pale breasts and to linger on the soft swell of her belly? Her cheeks burned.

He moved his hand beneath her chin, so that their eyes were locked on a collision course. In his eyes she could see reflected the febrile glitter in hers. ’I’ll pick you up at seven,’ he said huskily.

It wasn’t fair, thought Jade. For a man to wield so much power over women—all women, she rec- ognised with a violently jealous flare. I’ll bet he never has to ask twice, she thought, with a sudden inexplicable anger, and was determined that in this, at least—she would be different. ‘No, I can’t,’ she said stubbornly and immediately saw a momentary flare of irritation before it was replaced by a ques- tioning look.

‘You’re busy?’

‘That’s right.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he said quietly.

‘Why, of all the—’

But he cut her off with an arrogant shake of his black head. ‘Listen to me, Jade,’ he said quietly. ’You return to England shortly, yes?’

‘In three days,’ something compelled her to tell him.

‘So.’ The hand was still holding her face with gentle strength. ‘We can either play foolish little games with each other. Or…’

‘Or?’

His eyes narrowed; his expression was rueful— as though he was reluctant to complete the sentence.

‘Or we can follow our hearts,’ he said simply.

If anyone else had said it, she would have told them that they were being ridiculously corny, that no one said things like that and meant them, and yet it was the most romantic thing she’d ever en- countered, and Jade felt a warm glow suffuse every pore of her body.

She stared up at him, a lost cause for assertive womanhood. ‘OK,’ she said, giving him a faltering smile as she looked into his eyes. ‘I’ll see you at seven.’

‘Until seven,’ he said, his hand falling from her face as he strode swiftly from the courtyard.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_f92d94f5-33de-5c40-b85d-5682ae94a652)

IN THE five hours until Constantine collected her, Jade experienced just about every mood-swing in the book. What the hell was she playing at? He could be anyone—anyone at all!

What did she know about him?

Absolutely nothing.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. She knew his name and his nationality. Knew instinctively that he had a million times more experience than she had. And she also knew that he was the most devastating man she’d ever set eyes on.

But what was he thinking about her? Was he down in the village even now, boasting to his friends that the English girl had agreed with insulting speed to go out with a man she scarcely knew? Did men respect women who capitulated quite so easily?

Jade sighed. Suddenly, it became very important that he did respect her. I don’t want him thinking I’m like this with everyone, she thought gloomily. But if she tried to tell him that—then wouldn’t it bolster his already appallingly healthy ego?

She sighed again.

She didn’t really have any option but to go. She didn’t know where he lived, so there was no way she could duck out now. She supposed that she could always tell him that she’d changed her mind when he arrived at seven to collect her.

And yet…

Somehow she didn’t see that as a realistic scenario at all. For a start, she wanted to see him, so her words would have the hollow ring of insincerity. And secondly, she couldn’t really see him letting her get away with fobbing him off. She imagined him taking her ruthlessly into his arms, black eyes glimmering like a pirate, to kiss away every single objection she could think of.

Jade shivered as she walked into her bedroom. She would go, but her choice of garment would be crucial. Something demure, something which would definitely not give him the wrong idea…

The only trouble was that the clothes chosen for holidays in baking hot destinations tended to be all the things which weren’t demure. Light, filmy fab- rics. Lots of bare flesh on show. Oh, heck. Jade surveyed the six or so dresses she’d brought with her. She tried them all on, and each one in a differ- ent way made her achingly aware of her own body, unless… she stared at her naked reflec- tion… unless Constantine had done that. Because never before had she been so conscious of the soft swell of her breasts above the slender line of her waist. Breasts which tightened just at the very thought of him. She remembered his comment about pale, pale skin when compared to his, and once again, with a lucidity which was shocking, given her inexperience, Jade closed her eyes and pictured her breasts laid bare. With a dark head bending to take each one in turn, to suckle with delectable sweetness as the dark waves of his hair teased and tickled her flesh…

Jade stared in the spotted mirror in horror, to see her nipples rucking into tight twin peaks, and she drew her hands over them to cover the shock- ingly sensual image with her palms, but even that didn’t help, because she found herself wanting them to be his hands touching her, and she turned away from the mirror, sick with disgust.

But, after she had finally chosen an outfit, she managed to calm down. If she hadn’t trusted him, then she’d never have accepted a date with him. And though he might look all strong and compel- ling charm, she also knew that the Greeks were courteous and charming to visitors. There would never need to be attentions forced… Frankly, she doubted whether he’d had to use an ounce of per- suasion in his life. Which left it up to her to modify the pace.

He was bang on time.

Jade was sitting in the courtyard, reading, when his shadow fell over the pages of her book, and she looked up, unable to keep the smile off her face as she registered his narrow-eyed appreciation of her appearance.

‘Hi,’ she said softly.

‘Hello,’ he echoed. His voice was equally soft, and there was another brief flash of appraisal in his eyes as his gaze swept over her.

She wore a white sleeveless silk T-shirt, together with an ankle-length skirt in layers of white, swirling voile. The starkness of the colour empha- sised the pale golden glow of her skin. At her waist was a soft leather belt of dark green, with an intricately scrolled silver clasp. On her feet were strappy leather sandals in the same green. She had left her hair loose, to fall down her back in a pale waterfall, and at her ears and throat and wrist she wore heavy and intricate silver jewellery.

‘You look wonderful,’ he said quietly.’

She took in the snowy white of his shirt, tucked into dark, tapered trousers. His hair was still damp from the shower, falling into tendrils around his beautifully shaped head. ‘So do you,’ she said honestly.

He looked slightly bemused for a moment, and then he laughed, a deep and rich and glorious sound. ‘Do you know,’ he mused, ‘that’s the first time a woman’s ever said that to me?’

Her cheeks hot, she stared down at her pink- painted toenails, wondering what in the world had made her come out with something like that. His women usually played it cool, obviously, she thought, and a spear of jealousy shot through her. ’I don’t know what came into me—I don’t usually say things like that either,’ she said, her tone more defensive than she’d intended.

But his voice was warm, caressing, forcing her to meet his eyes. ‘Don’t apologise. That’s the magic of the island,’ he said softly. ‘Working her spell on young lovers.’

Oh, lord. He had got the wrong idea. Well, it was about time she put him on the right track. Jade took a deep breath. ‘I think you’re assuming rather a lot, Constantine,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ve agreed to have dinner with you—that’s all, and I have absol- utely no intention of becoming your lover. And if that’s what you had in mind for the end of the evening, then perhaps you’d better leave right now.’

His eyes darkened, glistened like two fragments of hell’s coal. She saw a muscle begin to work with ominous regularity in the side of the olive cheek, saw his mouth tighten into a hard slash, and then shedid know the meaning of fear, saw suddenly the face of a ruthless man behind the shatteringly handsome mask. All power and strength.

‘Is that what you think?’ he gritted in a low, furious voice. ‘That I am one of these men who expects sex as a form of payment for buying a woman dinner?’