Page 39 of The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife

And he had been fool enough to let his lust for her drown out all thought of common sense. One tug on the golden chain of sensuality that tied them both together and he had fallen straight into bed with her. Right where she wanted him, it seemed.

But why? What did she want from him? Not just sex, that was obvious. She had to have something else up her sleeve.

So what had happened between her and her precious Roy Stanton? Because something must have done to bring her here, like this, when she had vowed that she would rather die than come back.

‘On second thoughts…’

He turned towards the door, where his black towelling robe hung. Grabbing it, he tossed it roughly in Becca’s direction, not caring that it overshot by several metres and landed on the floor on the other side of the bed.

‘Put that on. I’ve had enough of the sight of you.’

Liar, his conscience reproached him. Hadn’t today—the past couple of days—taught him anything? He could never get enough of the sight of her, the feel of her, the taste of her. He doubted if he ever would. The truth was that passion made him a fool where Becca was concerned and that was a feeling he didn’t like one little bit.

‘And then we talk. You can start explaining just what the hell you are up to.’

‘I’m not “up to” anything!’ Becca protested, struggling to get off the bed and reach the black robe, while at the same time keeping the sheet securely wrapped around her.

‘No?’

‘No!’

‘It seems that way to me. You surely don’t expect me to believe that you turned up here out of love for me—to beg me to take you back? No—I thought not,’ he added when he saw the way her face changed, her lips pinching tight together. ‘So you’ve obviously come for something, and I want to know what.’

And when he did know he would take a great delight in throwing his rejection of her request right back in her face, Becca told herself as she tried once more to grab the black robe. She’d really messed up this time. What had possessed her to fall into bed with him like that, forgetting all about the reasons why she was here? She should have known that there was a chance that something like passionate lovemaking—passionate sex, she amended painfully—together with the fact that she’d been wearing the lavender costume that had practically been the last thing he’d seen her in, would be likely to stir his memories, if not actually bring them right back. She would never be able to forgive herself if she threw away Daisy’s chance of the life-saving operation because of her own foolish passion.

She had the robe in her hand now, but when it came to pulling it on, while still holding on to the sheet that was wrapped round her, she found the situation was impossible. And it was made all the worse by the fact that Andreas stood, dark and devastating, on the far side of the room, watching her through cynically amused black eyes.

‘You might have the courtesy to look away,’ she flung at him in indignation, knowing that the struggle she was having was making her face look pink and flustered.

‘Why?’ he shot back, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest as he met her furious glare with icy calm. ‘Did you do that for me? Did you look away when I got out of bed—or before that? Did you insist on covering your own eyes then?’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it? Then will you please tell me how? I’d like to know why it’s fine for you to ogle me when I’m naked but not for me—’

‘I did not ogle!’ she flashed furiously.

‘Seemed that way to me. I could almost feel your hot little eyes on me all the way across the room. But then I am not so much of a hypocrite as to pretend to a rush of false modesty so soon after I have been—what is it you say?—rolling around in the sack just a short time before.’

‘It’s not a pretence! I—I don’t feel right that way. Not any more.’

‘Not any more,’ Andreas echoed darkly and the cynicism of his tone made her tense instinctively, waiting for the brutal lash of his tongue in quick response.

To her surprise it didn’t come. Instead, Andreas’ face closed up, setting hard and cold until it looked as if his features were carved from granite, his eyes just polished jet.

‘My apologies,’ he declared in a tone that made a mockery of the polite words. ‘In that case, I will wait for you downstairs. I think we would both feel more capable of holding this discussion on more neutral territory. I’ll make us some coffee—you’ll be…what? Five minutes?’

That ‘five minutes’ was an order, not a suggestion, and, leaving Becca still fighting to find a way to respond that didn’t make her look petty or weak, he turned on his heel and walked out.

She could almost hear the steady ticking of some imaginary stopwatch as she listened to his footsteps going down the landing.

CHAPTER TEN

SHE made it downstairs in seven minutes.

She had been determined not to let Andreas think that he could just click his fingers and she would jump to do as he said. But all the same, stirring it too much by keeping him waiting deliberately was not a clever idea. His temper would only darken by the minute and, as he had already started out with it almost as black as it could be, she didn’t want to take unnecessary risks.

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