The Millionaire's Virgin. Sophie Weston

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      Jeans and a T-shirt might have been a practical choice, but smart navy trousers and a tailored white blouse made Lisa feel more in control. The sex-stripping pop socks and boring flat shoes were an inspiration, and, with her hair scraped back into a pony-tail, she was satisfied that she had done everything possible to strip anything lightweight from her appearance. A slick of clear lip-gloss was her only concession— but then she sucked it off again. No point in playing Zagorakis’s game—she’d stick to her own.

      The angry words she had been rehearsing all the way down from her bedroom died the moment she entered her den. The room had been transformed. Candles had been lit, and were flickering on every surface. Champagne was cooling in a bucket… and on a low table between the two sofas a platter of fresh seafood emitted a faint, salty tang. Another mouth-watering aroma said the bread in the wicker basket was still warm, and, inside a crystal bowl nestling in a dish of ice, yellow butter pats were asking to be slathered over one of the crisp, golden crusts. And she was hungry—starving, in fact, Lisa realised, praying her stomach wouldn’t rumble.

      ‘Can I tempt you?’

      Transferring her gaze to Constantine Zagorakis’s dark, slanting eyes, Lisa stared at him coldly.

      ‘A few prawns, perhaps?’ he murmured, reaching for a plate.

      He was baiting his hook with a lot more than seafood, Lisa suspected, seeing the smile hovering around his mouth.

      ‘What’s the matter?’ He put the plate down again.

      Lisa had been distracted momentarily. She was sure she had just heard two sets of footsteps leaving the apartment; two voices mingling as the front door closed.

      ‘Where are you going now?’ he said.

      Lisa looked down at the hand on her arm. Zagorakis released her at once. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘I must have been mistaken—’

      ‘Mistaken?’

      ‘I thought I heard Vera leaving.’

      ‘Your housekeeper? You did.’

      ‘No.’ Lisa shook her head. ‘Vera would have come to say goodnight to me before she left.’

      ‘Not if she was being discreet.’

      ‘Discreet?’

      His shoulders eased in a shrug. ‘It’s no trouble for my chauffeur to take her home. He passes her door—’

      Raising one hand, Lisa silenced him. ‘Let me get this straight. You sent my housekeeper home?’

      ‘It’s getting late.’

      ‘I would have called a taxi.’

      ‘I thought I’d save you the trouble.’

      ‘Trouble?’ Trouble had come through her door at nine o’ clock that morning and she hadn’t got rid of him yet.

      ‘That’s all right with you, isn’t it Lisa?’

      Lisa? She wasn’t going to let him get to her, even though he was asking one thing while his eyes were suggesting something else. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing her shrink from the prospect of being alone with him either. ‘Yes, Tino, that’s absolutely fine with me—’

      ‘Good.’

      He seemed pleased to have got that out of the way, and then her guard must have dropped because he raised her hand to his lips and dropped a kiss on the back of it.

      ‘I realise it’s late.’ He tried for contrite. ‘Do you forgive me?’

      Lisa snatched her hand away. ‘Do you always march uninvited into other people’s homes?’

      His lips pressed down ruefully, attractively…

      ‘I’m sorry, Lisa, I thought we had both earned some downtime.’

      He was sorry? She didn’t think so. But since when could someone brush a hand with his lips and set a whole body on fire?

      ‘Don’t you ever relax?’ he pressed, his perceptive gaze refusing to release her.

      ‘When I’m given the opportunity.’

      ‘Surely you must get out of this starchy uniform of yours, and kick back once in a while?’

      ‘Surprisingly, I tried to do that very thing this evening. I took a long, warm bath, slipped into a comfy robe, and came down here… to relax.’

      ‘Touché,’ he murmured softly.

      Lisa sighed with frustration. Technically, Zagorakis was her guest—and she couldn’t forget that his money could rescue her company. She couldn’t afford to be too rude to him—and the food did look delicious…

      ‘Why don’t you let me choose something for you?’ he suggested, picking up the plate again.

      ‘I can manage, thank you. Really, you don’t need to—’ Raising her voice, she was forced to insist, ‘Give me that plate.’

      ‘Certainly.’

      By the time she went to take it from him it was loaded with delicacies—but he kept his grip on it, so that she was bound to him by a too-small china plate… and when he stubbornly resisted her attempt to pull it free she could feel her cheeks start to burn. ‘You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble.’ She tugged a little harder, refusing to give him the upper hand.

      ‘It was my pleasure, I assure you.’

      ‘Why exactly?’

      ‘Perhaps you deserve a little spoiling. Perhaps we both do.’

      It was hardly the answer she had been anticipating—and certainly not when it was delivered in that frank and engaging way. His eyes were so deep she was in danger of drowning in them, and they were standing far too close. The warmth of his body was curling round her like a seductive cloak and she could almost forget that, as far as Bond Steel was concerned, Constantine Zagorakis was arch enemy number one—

      Breaking eye contact, she pulled away.

      ‘Champagne?’ he said pleasantly.

      She was still fighting off his powerful sexual aura. But then common sense kicked in: definitely no champagne. She loved it, but she wanted to keep her wits about her. What she should do was go to the kitchen, fill a jug with iced water, and pour it over both of them. ‘Thank you, I’d love a glass of champagne.’

      The expression in his eyes should have brought her to her senses. She was on the point of crossing an invisible line, a line she knew she always had to stay behind. She only had to remember her mother’s fate to know that she could lose everything, if she ever allowed her senses to take the lead… but she couldn’t risk antagonising Tino Zagorakis. He was a formidable business opponent, and on a personal level perhaps even more dangerous… but forewarned was forearmed—and one СКАЧАТЬ