Page 38 of The Greek Tycoon's Baby Bargain

Xandros didn’t do love—not the adult kind between man and woman—he’d never pretended to. He loved his babies and that was growing day by day—but there was never going to be anything deeper left over for her. And maybe she shouldn’t expect there to be—for he’d never made any promises to her, had he? So he wasn’t breaking any. Surely it wasn’t fair to blame him for falling short of her expectations.

Yet if they carried on deepening the relationship through sex then she would be lost—she knew that for sure, because that was what happened to women. They used sex as an expression of their love in a way that men didn’t need to and sometimes they got hurt. And if she did that she wasn’t simply putting herself at risk—but the whole steady emotional landscape which the twins needed. More than needed.

So could she do it—deny what she most craved? Xandros in her arms every night—bringing her the pleasure which only he could? It was tempting. Of course it was. But it was also dangerous. Surely too dangerous to even contemplate?

If she allowed their physical relationship to resume—then wasn’t she placing herself in jeopardy of that old, needy Rebecca returning? The one who used to tiptoe around him trying to gauge what his mood was. Because there was no room in her life for someone like that any more. It had been glaringly obvious that when she had done that he’d lost respect for her—hell, she’d lost respect for herself—so why would any sane person elect to go right back there?

The alternative was pretending. That the sex was just sex and that she didn’t love him. Pretending to be flippant and pretending that she didn’t care. But she did. Of course she did. She had never stopped loving him, not really—and she was damned if she was going to live a lie. What kind of example would she be setting to Andreas and Alexius if she did?

So tell him. Don’t play stupid games. Xandros is an intelligent man and he’ll accept what you say. He’ll have to.

‘Last night…’

‘Ah, ne—last night,’ he echoed huskily. ‘Last night.’

Somehow she kept her smile. Not too wide and slightly impersonal, she thought—because she didn’t want them to fall out. This wasn’t a feud, after all, but a practical solution to a troublesome area of their lives. ‘Was a mistake,’ she said.

Xandros narrowed his eyes. ‘A mistake?’

‘And one which must not be repeated,’ she forged on—as if forcing herself to chew a whole mouthful of poison before swallowing it. ‘Xandros, we can’t carry on sleeping together.’

His first flippant thought was to murmur that he didn’t intend to do much sleeping, because he didn’t think for a moment that she meant it. Women never refused him—and Rebecca had always been like soft putty within his experienced fingers. But something in her violet eyes warned him that this was different. That she did mean it.

His mouth hardened.

She could not mean it!

Desire urged him to place his hand on her bare arm—knowing that just a simple touch should ensure that she would dissolve beneath it—but a far fiercer streak of pride stopped him. Did she think that he would beg? He? Beg? His mouth curved into a cruel smile. Why, let him withdraw and then let her see how long she could sustain her opposition to what they both wanted. Soon she would be begging him to take her once more!

But as the days passed Xandros discovered that Rebecca did not beg—and neither did she sulk—and he found himself caught up in an unfamiliar cloud of confusion. She was perfectly polite and sweet. She continued to be an exemplary mother. She even had intelligent observations to make about the international news. If he had been interviewing her for a job, he would have found himself highly impressed—but he was not interviewing her for a job. He wanted her back in his bed! And he wanted her now!

‘Rebecca,’ he growled, over breakfast one morning—before his trip to the Greek Embassy, where he had promised the Ambassador that he would consider designing a new library for the building.

Rebecca glanced up from her yoghurt, steeling herself to look at him. He was wearing a creamy linen suit and tiny droplets of water sparkled like jewels in the depths of the ebony hair. His skin glowed golden-olive with life and vitality and she thought that she had never seen him look quite so vibrant. Or so gorgeous.

‘Yes, Xandros?’

‘This cannot go on!’

She pushed the yoghurt away. ‘What can’t?’

‘Do not play the innocent with me, my beauty!’ He slammed his coffee-cup down and the delicate white china seemed to shimmer dangerously in its saucer. ‘Or perhaps that is your sport? To play games with me? To see how exquisitely you can increase my desire for you?’

Rebecca swallowed. Her fingers were shaking and she prayed he would not see—because she needed to be strong in her resolve. She needed to. ‘I’m not playing games with you, Xandros,’ she said truthfully. ‘I told you how I believed our relationship would best endure and my stance on that has not changed.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry.’

He wanted to slam his fist on the table—to tell her that she was not sorry! Or that she had no need to be sorry when the situation could be so sweetly reversed at any given time. But he saw her calm and unswerving gaze and realised with an already heavy heart that she meant it.

All day, thoughts of her obsessed him—in a way which was completely alien to him. Several times he had to ask the Ambassador to repeat himself and he was completely indifferent to the way that the First Secretary kept crossing and uncrossing her legs—showing a very obvious glimpse of bare flesh above the silk of her stocking top. In fact, his mouth curved in such obvious distaste that he was pleased to see her tugging at the hem of her skirt in response.

That night he had dinner with a friend who was over from New York, but he remained distracted throughout the meal. He had wondered whether Rebecca might quiz him about his whereabouts when he arrived home, but to his surprise, and then to his fury, she did not.

Moodily, he went and found her in the nursery, sitting chatting quite happily with one of the nurses and smiling widely at him when he walked in with a face as dark as thunder—which only dispersed when he picked up Andreas and held him close.

And as he met a steady pair of violet eyes over the top of the baby’s silken head he recognised that retreating from her would not work—and a cold fear began to clamp its icy fingers around him. Fear! Yes, fear—real and present. For Xandros a strange and unwelcome sensation and yet one which he was discovering was shockingly recognisable from a past he had buried for much too long.

For the next two nights he did not sleep more than thirty minutes at a stretch—several times rising from his bed to go in search of her. And every time he halted, his hand falling away from the door handle to clench beside the taut, tense shaft of his thigh. Recognising that it would be wrong to try to use the cloak of darkness to conceal the turmoil in his mind. Or to seduce her when her body was soft and receptive with sleep.

He sat working in his studio while he chose his moment with all the precision and care for which he was renowned in his professional life. The two daytime nannies he’d insisted on employing to give Rebecca an occasional break decided to capitalise on an unexpected spell of sunshine by taking the boys for a stroll in their prams.

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