Irresistible Greeks: Red-Hot and Rich. Кэрол Мортимер

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      Markos chuckled huskily when he saw the chagrined expression appear on Eva’s face immediately after she had accepted his invitation. ‘Sometimes instinct can be stronger than logic, hmm…?’ he suggested mischievously.

      ‘And sometimes instinct can be a complete pain in the—!’ She broke off with a grimace. ‘I’ll meet you here, if that’s okay?’

      ‘Because you do not wish me to come to your apartment?’ Markos guessed easily.

      ‘Not at all.’ She frowned her irritation. ‘I’ll probably have some preliminary sketches and colour charts to bring over for you to look at by then, anyway,’ she added briskly.

      It was in an effort, no doubt, to put their relationship back on a businesslike footing. A businesslike footing Markos felt sure Eva had previously decided they wouldn’t even be having. Her visit here this evening had been in response to Markos’s threat of two days ago rather than any real intention of working for him.

      ‘Bring them, by all means. I had intended to arrive at the party at about nine o’clock, so if you were to come here at eight, that should give us time to look at your sketches before we leave.’

      ‘Fine,’ Eva agreed tersely—and realised she had just committed herself to the redesigning of his apartment.

      She looked so annoyed with herself for doing so, so irritated, that Markos didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her.

      ‘It is no good, Eva, I have to kiss you again!’ He groaned as he moved to put his arms lightly about her waist. ‘Just once, hmm?’ he encouraged throatily, lowering his head slowly towards hers. She seemed too surprised to protest.

      Markos was determined not to send Eva hurtling off into the night this time, so he restrained his need to devour her and kissed her slowly, lightly, tasting her lips as she stood stiffly in his arms rather than giving in to the desire to swing her up into his arms and carry her off to his bedroom.

      He kept a tight rein on his control until he felt the first quiver of Eva’s response and she began to return that kiss, her lips parting hesitantly as her hands moved up to rest lightly against his chest. It was the most erotic and yet at the same time most frustrating kiss of Markos’s life, as he allowed Eva to set the pace of their passion rather than take control as he usually did.

      He was finally rewarded for his restraint as he felt Eva relax in his arms and she began to kiss him back in earnest.

      Markos groaned low in his throat as he felt the press of her breasts against his chest, the softness of her hips nestling against his arousal. Her hands moved up over his shoulders until her fingers became entangled in the thickness of hair at his nape and the kiss turned hungry.

      Markos wrenched his mouth from hers in order to seek out the dips and hollows in her bared throat, his breath moving across her skin in a fiery caress as his hands moved restlessly up and down the length of her spine, igniting trembling desire wherever they touched.

      Eva’s breasts felt full and hot, and between her thighs she was aching in need for the touch of Markos caressing hands—’No!’ She pushed her hands against his chest and held herself away from him, her breathing ragged and deep as she stared up at him in increasing horror. ‘This is not what I want, Markos.’

      His arms remained like steel bands about her waist. His eyes were dark green pits of hell, his breathing as ragged as her own as he obviously fought for control. ‘What is it you want, Eva? Tell me and it shall be yours,’ he promised fiercely.

      What Eva wanted was to go back to her previous numbness, to the place where her emotions had been as colourless as the décor in this apartment rather than the blazing colours of fire!

      She breathed shallowly. ‘I want to collect my things and leave.’

      ‘But you will come back on Saturday?’

      Eva knew that she shouldn’t—that she should consider running instead, as far and as fast as her car and credit card would take her. Which, considering the money currently in her bank account, was a very long way.

      But, having finally stood up to Jack three years ago and put an end to the torment of their marriage, and then remained living and working successfully in New York despite the fact that Jack had made it clear he would rather she returned to England—probably so that he could forget he had ever made the mistake of marrying her in the first place—she had no intention of being forced to leave now just because Markos Lyonedes was making life uncomfortable for her.

      She straightened determinedly. ‘I’ll come back on Saturday.’

      ‘That is good.’ Markos’s smile was still strained as he indicated she should precede him out of the kitchen to collect her things from the sitting room.

      What was good about it? Eva wondered slightly dazedly once she was safely back in her car, driving back to her apartment. It couldn’t possibly be ‘good’ that minutes ago she had been so physically aroused by Markos that she wouldn’t have cared if he had laid her down on the coldness of the black and white tiled kitchen floor and taken her right then and there…

CHAPTER SIX

      ‘OH, no…! Markos, turn the car around!’

      ‘What—?’ Markos turned his head to give Eva a startled glance from where he sat behind the wheel of his car on Saturday evening, driving them both to the party.

      She clutched at the arm of his black evening jacket. ‘Turn the car around—now—and get us out of here!’ she repeated fiercely as she released his arm to stare up in horror at the brightly lit house at the end of the short gravel driveway.

      There was already a car in front of them, and one had just turned into the driveway behind them too, effectively blocking any move on Markos’s part to do as Eva asked and turn the car around.

      ‘What’s wrong, Eva?’ He reached out with his free hand to clasp one of hers, instantly aware of how cold that hand was, considering the warmth of the summer evening.

      What was wrong? Eva had just realised that the party Markos was taking her to was at the home of her ex-father-in-law—that was what was wrong!

      Why hadn’t she realised sooner?

      More to the point, why hadn’t she asked Markos on Thursday whose party it was and saved herself—and Markos—all this embarrassment? As it was, Markos’s black Ferrari was now effectively trapped between two other cars, making immediate escape impossible.

      Maybe she should just get out of the car and walk back to the city?

      Oh, yes, very practical—considering she was once again wearing three-inch-heeled sandals, black this time, to match with the black tube of a dress she wore, in which the length of her legs was very visible beneath the short hemline. Not only was it impractical, but if she tried to hitchhike a ride back into the city she was more likely to be taken for a hooker than a hitchhiker; she doubted too many drivers would recognise the black dress for the expensive designer label silk that it was.

      So she couldn’t walk back to the city, and she couldn’t accompany Markos into the party either. She moistened the dryness of her lips before СКАЧАТЬ