She stared at him, trying to control her lips, but they parted anyway in a delicious smile and finally she laughed, a peal of laughter that brought heads swinging in their direction. She leaned over the table, too, and said confidentially, "I think, Mr. Constantinos, that I'll be as sweet and charming as it's possible for me to be!"
His hand left the flowers and darted out to capture her wrist, his thumb rubbing lightly over the delicate blue veins on the inside of her arm. "Being sweet and charming will also get you kissed," he teased huskily. "I think that I'll be the winner regardless! And I promise you that I'll kiss you hard if you call me mister again. Try to say Nikolas; I think you'll find it isn't that difficult. Or call me Niko, as my friends do."
"If you wish," she said, smiling at him. Now was the time to tell him about the shares, before he became too serious about his charming act. "But I want to tell you that I've decided to sell the shares to you, after all, so you don't have to be nice to me if you don't want to. I won't change my mind even if you're nasty."
"Forget the shares," he murmured. "Let's not talk about them tonight."
"But that's why you asked me to dinner," she protested.
"Yes, it was, though I haven't a doubt I could have come up with another good excuse if that one had failed." He grinned wickedly. "The little waif with the tear-streaked face was very fetching, especially as I knew a cool, maddeningly sophisticated woman was lurking behind the tears."
She shook her head. "I don't think you understand, Mr. Con—er—Nikolas. The shares are yours. There's no need to keep this up."
His lids drooped over the dark brilliance of his eyes for a moment and his hand tightened on her wrist. "Very well, let's discuss the damned shares and be finished with it, as you won't leave the subject alone. Why did you change your mind?"
"My financial advisor, Charles Welby, had already told me to sell rather than try to fight you. I was prepared to sell them, but your manner made me angry and I refused out of sheer contrariness, but as usual, Charles is right. I can't fight you; I don't want to become embroiled in boardroom politics. And there's no need for that outrageous price you mentioned, market value will do nicely."
He straightened, dropping her wrist, and he said sharply, "I have already given you an offer; I won't go back on my word."
"You'll have to, if you want the shares, because I'll accept market value only." She faced him calmly despite the flare of temper she saw in his face.
He uttered something short and harsh in Greek. "I fail to see how you can refuse such a sum. It's a stupid move."
"And I fail to see how you'll remain a billionaire if you persist in making such stupid business deals!" she shot back.
For a moment his eyes were like daggers, then laughter burst from his throat and he threw back his head in sheer enjoyment.
Oblivious of the many interested eyes on them, he leaned forward once more to take her hand. "You are a gorgeous snow queen," he said huskily. "It was worth losing the Dryden issue to meet you. I don't think I will be returning to Greece as soon as I had planned."
Jessica's eyes widened as she stared at him. It seemed he was serious; he was actually attracted to her! Alarm tingled through her, warming her body as she met the predatory gaze of those midnight eyes.
* * *
Chapter Three
The arrival of the wine brought her a welcome relief from his penetrating gaze, but the relief was only momentary. As soon as they were alone again, he drawled, "Does it bother you that I'm attracted to you? I would have thought you would find it commonplace to attract a man's desire."
Jessica tried to retrieve her hand, but his fingers closed firmly over hers and refused to let her go. Green sparks began to shoot from her eyes as she looked up at him. "I don't think you are attracted," she said sharply. "I think you're still trying to put me in my place because I won't bow down and kiss your feet. I've told you that the shares are yours, now please let go of my hand."
"You're wrong," he said, his hand tightening over hers until the grip was painful and she winced. "From the moment you walked into my office this afternoon, every nerve in my body has been screaming. I want you, Jessica, and signing those shares over to me won't get me out of your life."
"Then what will?" she demanded, tight-lipped. "What is your price for leaving me alone?"
A look of almost savage anger crossed his face; then he smiled, and the smile chilled her blood. The midnight eyes raked over her face and breasts. "Price?" he murmured. "You know what the price would be, to leave you alone…eventually. I want to sate myself with you, burn you so deeply with my touch that you will never be free, so that whenever another man touches you, you will think of me and wish me in his place."
The thought—the image it provoked—was shattering. Her eyes widened and she stared at him in horror. "No," she said thickly. "Oh, no! Never!"
"Don't be so certain," he mocked. "Do you think I couldn't overcome any resistance you might make? And I'm not talking about forcing you, Jessica; I'm talking about desire. I could make you want me; I could make you so hungry for my lovemaking that you'd beg me to take you."
"No!" Blindly she shook her head, terrified that he might really force himself on her. She wouldn't permit that, never; she had endured hell on earth because everyone saw her as a gold-digging little tart, but she would never let herself be reduced to the level of a kept woman, a mistress, all of the ugly things they had called her. "Don't you understand?" she whispered raggedly. "I don't want to get involved with you—with any man—on any level."
"That's very interesting," he said, his eyes narrowing on her face. "I can understand that you'd find your marriage duties to an old man to be revolting, but surely all of your lovers can't have been so bad. And don't try to pretend that you went into that marriage as pure as the driven snow, because I won't believe you. An innocent wouldn't sell herself to an old man, and besides, too many men claim to have…known you."
Jessica swallowed hard on the nausea that welled up in her and her head jerked up. White-faced, green eyes blazing, she spat at him, "On the contrary, Robert was an angel! It was the other men who left a bad taste in my mouth—and I think, Mr. Constantinos, that in spite of your money, you give me the worst taste of all."
Instantly she was aware that she had gone too far. His face went rigid and she had only a second of warning before the hand that held her fingers tightened and pulled, drawing her out of her chair until she was leaning over the table. He rose and met her halfway, and her startled exclamation was cut off by the pressure of his mouth, hot and hard and probing, and she had no defense against the intrusion of his tongue.
Dimly she could hear the swelling murmurs behind her, feel a flash of light against her lids, but the kiss went on and on and she was helpless to pull away. Panic welled in her, smothering her, and a whimper of distress sounded in her throat. Only then did he raise his punishing mouth, but he still held her over the table like that, his eyes on her white face and trembling lips, then he very gently reseated her and resumed his own seat. "Don't provoke me again," he said through his teeth. "I warned you, Jessica, and that kiss was a light one compared to the next one you will get."
Jessica didn't dare look up at him; she simply sat there and stared at her wine, her entire body shaking. She wanted to slap him, but more than that she wanted to run away and hide. That flash of light that she had noticed had been the flash of a camera, she knew, and she cringed inside to think of the field day the scandal sheets would have with that photo. Nausea roiled in her stomach and she fought fiercely against it, snatching up her wineglass with a shaking hand and sipping the cool, dry wine until she had herself under control again.
A rather uncomfortable-looking waiter appeared with the menus and Jessica used every ounce of concentration that she possessed in choosing her meal. She had thought of allowing Constantinos to order for her; in fact, he seemed to expect her to do so, but it had become very important that she cling to that small bit of independence. She
had to cling to something when she could feel the eyes boring into her from all corners of the room, and when across from her sat a man who made man-eating tigers seem tame.
"It's useless to sulk," he said now, breaking in on her thoughts with his smooth, deep voice. "I won't allow that, Jessica, and it was only a kiss, after all. The first of many. Would you like to go sailing with me tomorrow? The weathermen are predicting a warm, sunny day and you can get to know me as we laze about all day in the sun."
"No," she said starkly. "I don't ever want to see you again."
He laughed outright, throwing back his gleaming dark head, his white teeth flashing in the dimness like a wild animal's. "You're like an angry child," he murmured. "Why don't you scream that you hate me, and stamp your feet in a temper so I may have the pleasure of taming you? I'd enjoy tussling with you, rolling about until you tired yourself out and lay quietly beneath me."
"I don't hate you," she told him, regaining some of her composure despite his disturbing words. She even managed to look at him quite coolly. "I won't waste the energy to hate you, because you're just passing through. After the shares have been signed over, I'll never see you again, and I can't see myself shedding any tears over your absence, either."
"I can't let you continue to delude yourself," he mocked. "I'm not merely passing through; I've changed my plans—to include you. I'll be in London for quite some time, for as long as it takes. Don't fight me, my dear; it's only a waste of time that's better spent in other ways."
"Your ego must be enormous," she observed, sipping at her wine. "You seem unable to believe that I simply don't fancy you. Very well, if that's what it takes to rid myself of you, when you take me home we'll go upstairs and you may satisfy your odd little urges. It won't take much effort, and it'll be worth it to see the back of you." Even as the words left her mouth, Jessica almost jumped in amazement at herself. Dear heaven, how did she manage to sound so cool and disinterested, and say such dreadful things? What on earth would she do if he took her up on it? She had no intention of going to bed with him if she had to scream her silly head off and make a scandal that would force both of them out of the country.
His face had turned to stone as she talked and his eyes had narrowed until they were mere slits. She had the urge to throw up her arms to protect her face, even though he didn't move a muscle. At last he spoke, grinding the words out between his teeth. "You cold little bitch, you'll pay for that. Before I'm finished with you, you'll regret opening your mouth; you'll apologize for every word. Go upstairs with you? I doubt I'll wait that long!"
She had to get out, she had to get away from him. Without thinking, she clutched her bag and said, "I have to go to the ladies—"
"No," he said. "You aren't going anywhere. You're going to sit there until we've eaten, then I'll drive you home."
Jessica sat very still, glaring at him, but her hostility didn't seem to bother him. When their meal was served, he began to eat as if everything was perfectly calm and normal. She chewed on a few bites, but the tender lamb and stewed carrots turned into a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow. She gulped at her wine, and there was a flash of a camera again. Quickly she set down her glass and paled, turning her head away.
He missed nothing, even when it seemed that he wasn't paying attention. "Don't let it upset you," he advised coolly. "The cameras are everywhere. They mean nothing; it's merely something to fill the space in their empty little tabloids."
She didn't reply, but she remembered the earlier flash, when he had been kissing her so brutally. She felt ill at the thought of that photo being splashed all over the gossip pages.
"You don't seem to mind being the target of gossip," she forced herself to say, and though her voice was a bit strained, she managed the words without gulping or bursting into tears.
He shrugged. "It's harmless enough. If anyone is really interested in who I had dinner with, or who stopped by our table for a moment's conversation, then I really have no objection. When I want to be private, I don't go to a public place."
She wondered if he had ever been the subject of such vicious gossip as she had endured, but though the papers were always making some mention of him closing a deal or flying here and there for conferences, sometimes with a vague mention of his latest "lovely," she could recall nothing about his private life. He had said that he lived on an island…
"What's the name of the island where you live?" she asked, for that was a subject as safe as any, and she dearly needed something that would allow her time to calm herself.
A wicked black brow quirked upward. "I live on the island of Zenas, which means Zeus's gift, or, more loosely translated, the gift of the gods. I'm using the Greek name for the god, of course; the Roman version is Jupiter."
"Yes," she said. "Have you lived there for long?"
The brow went higher. "I was born there. I own it."
"Oh." Of course he did; why should he live on someone else's island? And she had forgotten, but now she remembered, what he had said about growing up wild on the island. "Is it a very large island? Does anyone else live there, or is it just you alone on your retreat?"
He grinned. "The island is roughly ten miles long, and as much as five miles wide at one place. There is a small fishing village, and the people graze their goats in the hills. My mother lives in our villa year round now; she no longer likes to travel, and of course, there's the normal staff in the villa. I suppose there are some two hundred people on the island, and an assortment of goats, chickens, dogs, a few cows."
It sounded enchanting, and she forgot her troubles for a moment as she dreamed about such a quiet, simple life. Her eyes glowed as she said, "How can you bear to leave it?"
He shrugged. "I have many interests that require my time and attention, and though I'll always look on the island as my home, I'm not quite a hermit. The modern world has its attractions, too." He raised his wineglass to her and she understood that a large amount of the world's attraction was in its women. Of course, on a small Greek island the young women would be strictly supervised until they wed, and a healthy man would want to relieve his more basic urges.
His gesture with the wineglass brought her attention back to her own wineglass, and she saw that it was nearly empty. "May I have more wine?"
"No," he refused smoothly. "You've already had two glasses, and you've merely pushed your food around on your plate instead of eating it. You'll be drunk if you continue. Eat your dinner, or isn't it the way you like it? Shall I have it returned to the kitchen?"
"No, the food is excellent, thank you." What else could she say? It was only the truth.
"Then why aren't you eating?"
Jessica regarded him seriously, then decided that he was a big boy and he should certainly be able to handle the truth. "I'm not exactly enjoying myself," she told him. "You've rather upset my stomach."
His mouth twitched in grim amusement. "You haven't upset mine, but you have without doubt upset my system in every other way! Since meeting you, I totally absolve Robert Stanton of foolishness, except perhaps in whatever overly optimistic expectations he may have had. You're an enchanting woman, even when you're insulting me."
She had never mentioned her relationship with Robert to anyone, but now she had the urge to cry out that she had loved him, that everyone was wrong in what they said of her. Only the years of practice in holding herself aloof kept her lips sealed on the wild cry of hurt, but she did allow herself to comment, "Robert was the least foolish man I have ever met. He knew exactly what he was about at all times."
Nikolas narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying that he knew you married him only for his money?"
"I'm saying nothing of the kind," she retorted sharply. "I won't discuss my marriage with you; it's none of your business. If you're finished with your meal, I'd like to go home now."
"I've finished," he said, looking pointedly at her plate.
"However, you've hardly even begun to eat. You need food to absorb some of the wine you've
had, and we won't leave here until you eat."
"I would bolt it down without chewing if that would free me from your company," she muttered as she lifted her fork and speared a morsel of meat.
He waited until she had the meat in her mouth and was chewing before he said, "But it won't. If I remember correctly, you have invited me upstairs when I take you home. To satisfy my 'odd little urges,' I think was how you phrased it. I accept your invitation."
Jessica swallowed and attacked another piece of meat. "You must have misunderstood," she said coldly. "I wouldn't let you inside my house, let alone my bedroom."
"My apartment will do just as well," he replied, his eyes gleaming. "Or the ground, if you prove difficult about the matter."
"Now see here," she snapped, putting her fork down with a clatter. "This has gone far enough. I want you to understand this clearly: I'm not available! Not to you, not to any man, and if you touch me, I'll scream until everyone in London hears me."
"If you can," he murmured. "Don't you imagine that I'm capable of stifling any screams, Jessica?"
"Oh?" she demanded with uplifted brows. "Are you a rapist? Because it would be rape, have no doubt about it. I'm not playing at being difficult; I'm entirely serious. I don't want you."
"You will," he said confidently, and she wanted to scream now, in frustration. Could he truly be so dense, his ego so invulnerable, that he simply couldn't believe that she didn't want to go to bed with him? Well, if he didn't believe that she'd scream, he'd certainly be surprised if he tried anything with her!
In one swift motion she stood up, determined not to sit there another moment. "Thank you for the meal," she said. "I believe it would be best if I took a taxi home, and I'll have Charles contact you Monday about the settlement of the shares."