Pregnant By The Commanding Greek. Natalie Anderson

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      ‘It’s a temporary arrangement,’ he said brusquely. ‘On the condition that you walk him. You feed him. I do nothing but provide the space.’

      The sizzle she felt was just her, right? She gave herself a mental shake. Just because he was insanely good-looking didn’t mean she had to turn into a twittering ditz. She’d pull herself together and get the job done. ‘You want me to—’

      ‘Morning and night obviously. Yes.’ He turned that cool demeanour on her and dared her to object.

      Ettie was so stunned, she couldn’t help questioning him. ‘Why can’t you walk him?’

      The coldness that entered his expression now stunned her. ‘We’ll find a more permanent solution in a few days. In the meantime, there’ll be no disturbance to the other residents.’

      She was shocked. ‘You really want me to—’

      ‘Do I really need to repeat myself?’

      ‘No. Of course not.’ She stilled, annoyed with his superciliousness. Usually she’d say ‘sir’, but she was struggling to suppress her rebellion and tell this guy what for again. He couldn’t walk or feed the dog himself? Was he for real?

      And yet he’d just offered up his own space to ensure Toby’s safety and security, so that the vulnerable little dog could stay.

      * * *

      What the hell had forced that foolish suggestion from him? Leon Kariakis smothered his growl and gritted his teeth. He didn’t want anything to do with the dog. The ancient, arthritic creature was most probably incontinent and most definitely going to be a pain. Except he was a sweet-looking thing with the saddest eyes Leon had ever seen, and there was no way he could resist reaching out again to soothe the boy with a gentle pat. As he pulled back, he inadvertently brushed his fingers on Antoinette’s arm. He glanced up to her face. Sea-green, luminous, emotion-drenched eyes glared back at him.

      Why was she looking so angry again now?

      He was the one who ought to be put out. And truthfully he was still oddly angered by her assumption he was the selfish bastard who’d issued the instruction to destroy the innocent creature. Somehow he wanted to make her pay for the conclusion she’d so swiftly, and unjustly, leapt to.

      Not somehow.

      His body knew exactly how he wanted her to pay. He wanted her to keep looking at him with those overly emotional green eyes, but not with anger and judgment. He wanted to see hunger and willingness. Desire.

      Basic instinct roared. Because he knew it was there within her too. She’d studied him anew once she’d realised her error. And she’d responded on the same basic level as he had—the sparkle of awareness in her eyes, the flush in her face, had given her away.

      He wanted her beneath and about him. His primal response to her passion shocked him. He wanted her in the most animal, basic of ways.

      It was the most inappropriate thought of his life. Lusting after her was wrong. He was staying in the building for only a week or so to understand its processes first-hand before deciding on what changes needed to be made. The last thing he should do was flirt with one of the staff who was literally in his firing line. She was off-limits and he was never that out of control. Ever. This was a situation that required a swift conclusion. Yet he couldn’t resist getting involved directly.

      ‘You’ll need to bring the dog and all his accoutrements.’ He checked his watch and then glanced back at her.

      ‘Yes, of course.’ She lifted her chin.

      The action didn’t make her any taller. She remained a smidgeon shorter than the average woman and slight through the shoulders. Her dark blonde hair was swept off her face into a loose, messy ponytail and her wide green eyes offered unusually clear reflections of her feelings.

      She wasn’t the sleek automaton he’d envisaged when he’d been told about her. She wore barely any make-up—as far as he could tell, there was little more than a slick of lip gloss. Yet her skin was smooth, unblemished and glowing. The uniform black trousers and monogrammed T-shirt she wore did little to reveal much of her figure, but what they did show was slim and the suggestion of fit. His overall impression was of supple, fresh femininity. He’d been accosted by another of the more elderly residents in the lift this morning who’d been at pains to tell him that Antoinette Roberts was the only reason he’d remained at Cavendish House in recent years.

      One look at her and Leon understood why.

      But she wasn’t his type. She’d spoken to him in a way no one else dared to. Tearing strips off him with blunt, brutal honesty, not stopping to censor herself or having the slightest hesitation in telling him what she really thought. Her heart wasn’t just on her sleeve, she was waving it on a flag in front of him.

      It was extremely novel. In his life, communicating emotions had not only been discouraged, but also punished. As his parents had ruthlessly taught him, any kind of emotional display was a weak loss of self-control.

      Yet he didn’t want Antoinette to start picking her words with care now. He liked knowing, without any uncertainty, exactly what she was feeling. And it was her fierce protectiveness that riveted him. Like a lioness protecting a lone cub, she’d held her corner and not given an inch, no matter the possible personal cost to herself. She’d fully expected him to fire her. But Leon knew people made mistakes. He’d give her one chance to redeem herself.

      ‘Be on time. Always. I don’t like to be disturbed,’ he said roughly.

      ‘I can be discreet,’ she answered defiantly.

      He simply stared at her. As if she could come into his apartment unseen? Unheard? As if she could ever be anything but disruptive?

      A thread of wicked amusement trickled through him as she stilled in the face of his silence. He knew the exact moment she mentally replayed her words and realised an alternative innuendo. The same intimacy-drenched scenario he was imagining. A deep rose burnished her creamy skin—her cheeks, her neck, even the small hint of skin he could see at the vee of her high-collared T-shirt. But then he registered the rebellion in her gaze again—together with her less than subtle attempts to suppress it.

      He didn’t want her to suppress anything.

      The urge to haul this petite emotional tornado close and kiss her into a frenzy of desire almost felled him. Grimly he fought the need to provoke her into taking everything else she might want from him. He knew he could. He saw the awareness in her eyes. Women found him attractive and sex was a fun relaxant. But he’d bet that sex with Girl Friday here wouldn’t be as much fun as mind-blowing. If the incandescence of her anger was anything to go by, in bed she’d be unrestrained and utterly responsive.

      Sex of the best kind. The kind that was irresistible.

      He knew she felt the sparks. They were why she’d flushed over her choice of words. Why she’d trembled at his inadvertent touch before. Why she was looking at him with unrestrained rebellion now. Because she didn’t want this chemistry either. And that irritating rejection was precisely why he couldn’t resist making what he knew would be a massive mistake.

      He roughly pushed the request past the tightness in his throat. ‘I want you in my apartment in one hour.’

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