Page 14 of The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife

His pure white shirt was worn casually loose, clinging to broad, straight shoulders and falling softly over the leather belt at his waist, the narrow hips. The fine cotton contrasted sharply with the hardness of taut muscle underneath, the pale colour throwing the golden tones of his skin into sharp, devastating contrast. His jeans had been worn and washed so many times that they were faded and rubbed, actually beginning to rip in places, and clinging with an almost sensuous closeness to the long, powerful legs. The hems were frayed where they fell over long, narrow feet, the toes curling slightly on the polished wooden floor. He looked much more like some untamed, unsophisticated Greek shepherd, or perhaps a fisherman, rather than the urbane and powerful multimillionaire he actually was. And, when he was dressed as simply and as casually as this, it was the sheer physical power of the man that hit home hard and strong, knocking her off balance fast with his appeal to the most primitive, most basic part of her female nature. Her blood was pulsing in her veins so much that she almost missed it when he spoke again.

‘Pack up and get out.’

‘But you said—’

‘I know what I said and I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need a woman in my life and certainly not one who’s going to spend her time flirting with the rest of my staff.’

Flirting…

Well, at least there was one tiny hint of something that might give her a hope that all was not lost. Flirting, he’d said. So if a touch of jealousy was his problem, then perhaps the game was not up after all. Perhaps there was still a chance that he hadn’t realised the truth about who she was.

It would be a bitter irony if he had. After the moment of weakness when she’d fled the bedroom in a panic, she had finally managed to get a grip on herself. It was the thought of Daisy that had done it. The memory of the tiny, frail little body she had last seen inside a hospital incubator, wires and tubes seeming to be attached to each tiny limb, to every inch of the baby’s skin. She could still hear in her head the doctor’s voice, giving them the terrible, the soul-destroying truth.

Daisy was a desperately sick little baby. To save her life she needed a vital operation—an operation that was so new, so experimental that only one surgeon in America had ever performed it successfully. If they could find the money…

Becca shuddered inwardly as she recalled the overwhelming despair that she and Macy had suffered at that moment. There was no way…no way but one.

Daisy’s plight was what had brought her to speak to Andreas in the first place. Surely, even hating her as he did, her ex-husband could not harden his heart against the tiny girl. If only she could stay here long enough for him to regain his memory so that she could ask him for help. That image had stiffened her spine and brought her downstairs fired by a new determination to succeed. It had even given her the courage to tell Leander a version of the truth. That Andreas had been asking for her and so she was here to take care of him.

To her delight and amazement Leander had not only supported her idea, he had even got straight on the phone to the agency to tell them the nurse they had been asked to provide would not be needed.

‘After all,’ Leander had said, ‘who better to care for a man than his wife?’

Leander, Becca decided, had a strong sentimental streak in him. But, as he had never met her when she had been in his employer’s life, then he obviously didn’t know that sentimental was the last way that Andreas would feel about his particular wife. But she didn’t disillusion him. Having Leander on her side was more than she could hope for, and just that one small gesture of support had made her feel that she could stay. That she might just be able to handle this—and hope to save baby Daisy as a result. She had even started to relax just a little.

But that had been before Andreas had appeared in the room, stiff-necked and scowling, with dark fire in his eyes, and ordered her to pack up and go, destroying all her hopes in a single moment.

‘I wasn’t flirting.’

Somehow she imposed the control she needed over her voice and made it sound calm and just a trifle indignant. She had to keep the pain of the last eleven months out of her voice. That would give her away for sure.

But Andreas’ current lover—the mistress he assumed her to be—would feel much more able to cope with his temper and his jealousy.

‘No?’

The mocking lift of one black eyebrow questioned her response in a way that almost shook her confidence. But she couldn’t let him get to her. For Daisy’s sake she had to be strong—for Daisy’s sake she had to make sure that she stayed here. ‘No!’

The forceful emphasis got his attention, making those deep-set eyes widen just for a moment before his handsome features settled back into their expression of cynical scepticism.

‘Can I point out that you were the one who told me to come downstairs…?’

The affronted tone was a good idea. It was quite clear that he hadn’t expected her indignation and was decidedly taken aback by it.

‘The one who lo…’

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