Page 16 of The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife

‘Of course.’

Did his question mean that perhaps he was reconsidering? That he would let her stay after all? Behind her back, Becca crossed her fingers secretly. She didn’t know what she would do if Andreas still insisted that she leave.

‘You should sit down.’

She waved a hand towards the nearest chair, cursing the way that, in her own eyes at least, her fingers’ unwanted tremor gave away too much to that cold-eyed scrutiny.

‘And would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?’

‘Wine?’

It was a deliberate provocation and a wicked gleam in his black eyes told her that he was testing her. But he moved towards the chair just the same.

‘You’re just out of hospital after a nasty accident. Do you think wine is a good idea? How about thinking of something else?’

‘I would but you’d probably veto that as well,’ Andreas tossed at her surprisingly lightly, but Becca noticed that he took the seat she’d indicated all the same.

He sank down into it with every appearance of ease and lounged back, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles. He looked as if he was simply relaxing but there was a slight tightness to his mouth, a shadow on his skin that reminded her he was still convalescent. Pushing back her own chair, she got hastily to her feet.

‘I’ll get you some water, then.’

‘If that is all that you’re offering…’

Andreas’ reply stopped her in mid-flight to the kitchen, and she froze for a moment before she turned slowly back again. Had she heard right? Was that note in his voice what she thought it had been?

Was it possible that Andreas was actually flirting with her?

She realised what had happened. She had taken the route in the conversation that she would have done when they were together and an argument had broken out. She had stood up for herself, refused to give in to his anger, then she had moved the subject away and on to another topic entirely—and Andreas had followed her. Just as he had used to do when they were together, he had let himself be eased out of his bad mood and into another, very different one.

But was this different mood any less dangerous than before?

There was one thing she did know and that was that the way to make Andreas reveal his hand when he was determined to keep it hidden was to challenge him—call his bluff. And although he might not remember her or their life together, this was still Andreas, wasn’t it? She had to know where she stood and she thought she knew the way to go about it.

‘Water…’ she said firmly, hoping she sounded more confident than she actually was as she headed into the kitchen.

He didn’t need a drink—well, definitely not water, Andreas reflected as Becca marched into the kitchen, hunted around and found some bottled water in the fridge, but if she wanted to get him water then he was quite happy to let her. Anything so that he could watch her, enjoy the sway of her hips in the delicate blue dress as she walked, the way her breasts swung gently as she bent down to look in the fridge, the neat, precise movements of those soft hands—the hands he still remembered resting on his when she’d stood beside his bed—as she twisted open the bottle of water.

The truth was that he enjoyed sitting here and watching her move around his home, letting her take care of him. He was even enjoying his body’s instinctive reaction to having her around. The insistent clamour of his senses, the way he became hard just watching her might be frustrating and uncomfortable on one level, but at least he felt alive in a way that he hadn’t known since the accident. She was a hell of a lot more attractive than Leander or Medora, his devoted but matronly housekeeper. Medora might be the closest thing he had ever had to a mother, but she wasn’t a delight to watch like this woman.

This beautiful woman.

This beautiful, sexy woman.

This beautiful, sexy woman whom he wanted more than…

Hell and damnation, how could he say that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted her in the time they had been together, when he only remembered the smallest part of that time? The first weeks after they had met. And the most vivid memory he had of that time was of wanting this woman in his bed, just as he did now.

So was anything different in any way? He just knew that he wanted her so badly that it had made him act like a fool.

Andreas sighed and raked both his hands through his hair as he went back over the way he had behaved, the way that he had lost his temper so completely when he had seen Becca with Leander. Seen them talking together—laughing—flirting, he had believed. His anger had been like a red mist before his eyes. A burning mist that had pushed him into action without stopping to think.

But now that he’d calmed down he was going to have to apologise to his PA for snarling at him like a savagely jealous dog guarding a particularly juicy bone.

Andreas’ mouth twisted wryly.

Jealous?

Was that how he felt when he was jealous? The problem was that he had nothing to compare it with. He couldn’t honestly say if he had ever felt like that before. Had he ever been reduced to that sort of fury because he thought someone else had what he wanted? Had he set out to ruin a good thing because he felt so savagely angry?

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