Page 4 of Reunited By the Greek's Baby

Isla stiffened, knuckles whitening as she grabbed the velvet-covered couch.

That voice had an appalling impact. It conjured up memories of laughter and magic, moonlit nights by the sea. Of poignant happiness. She was sure that if she’d been standing her knees would have weakened at that deep cadence.

Rebecca, bless her, jumped up, expression militant. ‘I must ask you to leave if you can’t respect Isla’s right to privacy.’

For a woman who barely reached five feet, Rebecca showed no qualms facing down the well-built man who topped her by almost a foot and a half.

Isla’s heart swelled. How lucky she was to have such a friend. It was rare, having someone champion her. Orphaned as an infant, never adopted, she’d been alone all her life.

‘It’s okay.’ Isla got to her feet, waiting to see how she felt. ‘I’ll deal with him.’

Rebecca looked from her to the man whose shoulders filled the doorway. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘No need, Ms Burridge. I’ll do that.’ Behind him a bell sounded as the street door opened. ‘You have a customer.’

Rebecca surveyed him coolly. Finally she turned to Isla. ‘Call if you need me. I won’t be far away.’

Isla nodded and turned to the kitchenette in the back corner.

‘Sit down, Isla.’ His voice came from so close she knew he stood right behind her. ‘You need to rest.’

As if he cared about her!

Yet there it was again, sensation coursing from her nape down her spine, like a rolling wave of excitement. Or dismay.

Isla ignored it and flicked the switch on the kettle.

‘What Ineedis a cup of tea.’

She turned to reach for some mugs but found herself looking at a firm chin and squared jaw. She blinked, taking in the flat line of a mouth that she knew in repose was carved in sensuous lines. When it curled into a grin it could make her heart stop.

Isla breathed deep, searching for calm. But that indrawn breath tugged in more than oxygen. With it came a subtle scent that reminded her of a seaside grove of pine trees and warm male flesh.

Something turned over inside but she told herself it was her restless stomach.

Yet she wasn’t in a hurry to look higher. Her gaze lingered on his crisp white shirt and knotted tie of deep crimson silk, the cashmere coat across straight shoulders. So different to the jeans and short sleeved shirts he’d once worn.

This man oozed wealth and the assurance that went with it.

How had she never seen it before?

Because you had stars in your eyes.

Because you take people at face value.

Because you had no reason to believe he’d lie to you.

Isla stepped back abruptly, heart hammering.

‘Fine.’ Her voice came from far away but at least it was steady. ‘I take milk. Rebecca has milk and one sugar.’

He didn’t move. Just stood, waiting.

Inevitably, knowing it was unavoidable, Isla looked up.

Her breath backed up in her lungs. He looked every bit as gorgeous as before. The symmetry and strong planes of his face, the remarkable golden-brown eyes beneath dark brows, the hint of a cleft in one cheek that she knew deepened attractively when he smiled. The burnished olive skin. The dark hair that had flopped over his forehead, now cut short.

It was all familiar, evoking memories of intimacy and dreams, stupid dreams.

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