His Love-Child: The Greek Tycoon's Love-Child / The Spaniard's Love-Child / The Millionaire's Love-Child. JACQUELINE BAIRD

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СКАЧАТЬ he is, he is a very lucky man,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I just hope he appreciates you. If not, give me a call.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE doorman held open the taxi door and, sliding out, Willow called goodnight to Louise, who was sharing the cab with her. She glanced up at the impressive entrance to the hotel, and shivered slightly in the cool night air. It was almost midnight, and Willow felt sure that Theo Kadros would have given up waiting for her long ago. She certainly hoped so. She had accompanied the others to a smart Italian restaurant after they’d left the meeting with Carlavitch, and had toasted her success with champagne. Willow had deliberately chattered on long after their meal was finished, lingering over the coffee, but finally there had been no alternative but to return to her hotel.

      Walking quickly into the lobby, Willow made a beeline for the girl at the reception desk and asked for her room key.

      ‘Thank you.’ She almost snatched it from the receptionist’s hand in her hurry to get away, and, spinning around, she walked straight into a hard, masculine body. A strong arm closed around her waist, and she slowly lifted her head, her blue eyes clashing with dancing black.

      ‘You don’t need to bowl me over, Willow, you did that years ago,’ Theo said in a deep, husky drawl, and smiled wickedly down into her startled eyes.

      ‘You’re still here,’ she blurted. Suddenly conscious of the hard length of his body against her own, Willow took a hasty step back. For a brief second she thought he was not going to release her, but then to her relief his arm fell from her waist and she was free.

      Her wary gaze skidded over him. He was wearing an elegantly tailored beige suit with the jacket open. The loosely pleated trousers hung low on his lean hips and faithfully traced his long legs. At some time during the evening he must have discarded his tie as his white silk shirt was open at the neck, revealing the tanned column of his throat and just the slightest hint of black chest hair.

      A vivid mental image of her much younger self, leaning over his broad, naked chest teasingly tugging at the tiny black curls, flashed into Willow’s mind. She swallowed hard and dragged her gaze back to his face.

      ‘But of course I’m still here, Willow.’ His dark eyes captured hers. ‘I promised to buy you a drink and talk over old times, and I am a man of my word,’ he declared smoothly.

      His hypnotic gaze had a paralysing effect on her usually quick brain and before she could refuse a large hand cupped her elbow and she was suddenly walking along by his side. How did he do that? she wondered. She hated this man but one look from him and her senses stirred in inexplicable awareness, the blood instantly flowing quicker through her veins. Disgusted with herself, she snapped, ‘It will have to be quick, Theo.’

      ‘Don’t worry, the champagne is already on ice.’ And with a speed that left her breathless she found herself standing in a lift.

      ‘Wait a minute.’ Willow took a step back and came up hard against the rear wall of the suddenly very small box. Theo’s hand left her elbow. ‘I thought the bar was on the ground floor.’

      ‘The hotel bar is crowded tonight. I thought after the hectic day you have had you would prefer to relax in private,’ he explained.

      ‘No, not really,’ Willow responded. Private with Theo Kadros was high up there with her worst nightmare! ‘I am rather tired, actually.’

      In the close confines of the lift she was intensely aware of him. He was leaning against the wall, his posture relaxed, and the heady scent of his cologne or just the essence of the man teased her nostrils. The effect of his body brushing lightly against her side was having a chaotic effect on her pulse rate. Common sense told her not to antagonise him; the sooner she could escape from his powerful presence, the safer she would feel. ‘Perhaps we could have a drink another time.’

      ‘Surely, as an author who plots hair-raising murders of the goriest kind, you cannot be afraid of joining me for a nightcap in my suite?’ Theo prompted with the sardonic lift of one dark brow.

      ‘No, of course not,’ she denied, and hoped he did not realise she was lying. ‘But it is getting late and I really am very tired,’ she reiterated.

      With a quick glance at the slim platinum watch on his wrist, Theo looked down into her guarded blue eyes. ‘Two minutes to twelve. What a coincidence—exactly the same time as when we first met. I don’t recall you complaining of tiredness then, Willow. Quite the opposite, in fact.’

      All arrogant male sophistication, a sensual smile curved his firmly chiselled lips, inviting her to share the memory. But Willow was not fooled for a minute. She was no longer a silly teenager easily blinded by the sheer animal magnetism of the man, and she responded accordingly.

      ‘Don’t remind me.’ She tried for a sophisticated smile of her own. ‘I try never to dwell on the past but prefer to look to the future.’

      He paused as the lift doors opened, splaying his hand on the small of her back and urging her out. ‘Then I suppose the possibility of recreating our first meeting, minute by minute, is a no-no,’ he said drolly.

      ‘It certainly is,’ she snapped, jerking her head back to look up into his darkly handsome face. She saw his teasing expression, and caught the wicked glint of amusement in his dark eyes. For a brief moment he looked years younger, and she was transported back to the night they had met. Remembering his easy humour as he danced with her, talked and joked with her, she could not prevent her lips twitching in a reciprocal smile. She had to give him full marks for nerve and, shaking her head, she shot back with, ‘In your dreams, Theo.’

      He took out a key and opened the door to his suite, glancing down at her. ‘Good, I was beginning to think you had forgotten how to genuinely smile. And don’t worry, Willow, I am not going to jump on you. I’m perfectly respectable, almost staid, in my old age. Honest!’ He grinned and walked across the room to where an ice bucket stood on a small table. ‘Take a seat and let’s toast your success, as two old friends should.’

      Sinking down onto an over-stuffed sofa, Willow tried to relax. She was a woman with a successful career and perfectly capable of looking after herself, nothing like the impressionable teenager she had once been. She was worrying about nothing; it was just as Theo said—a drink between old friends. Well, not exactly friends, she corrected. They were two people who had spent one explosive night together nine years ago. It still puzzled her why Theo had bothered following her to the airport that day; maybe he had thought it was the polite thing to do, even for someone of his low morals.

      She studied him stealthily through the thick veil of her lashes. Light glinted on the silver wings of his thick black hair, highlighting his autocratic profile, a straight blade of a nose, with a square chin and firmly chiselled lips. The intervening years since their first meeting had been good to him. The laughter lines around his gorgeous eyes and the lines bracketing his mouth simply added character to an almost too beautiful face. He had shed his jacket and she noticed how his silk shirt fitted immaculately over his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Narrow-hipped and long-legged, he had the perfect male triangular torso.

      He also had the kind of presence and dangerous good looks that made him stand out in any crowd. Add immense wealth and an air of virile masculinity and he was irresistible to the opposite sex… and he knew it. This was why he felt confident enough to joke about his age. Theo would be a handsome devil till the day he died, and the thought of him did nothing for Willow’s body temperature.

      She watched his brows draw together СКАЧАТЬ