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 eyes turned to blue ice. She had been in danger of forgetting just how much of a threat Theo Kadros was to her life. Straightening up in the seat, she held out her hand to take the flute of champagne he offered with a cool smile on her face. ‘Thank you.’

      The sofa depressed as he lowered his long length down beside her, and, turning slightly, fixed her with his gleaming black eyes. ‘To The Mole who turned into a swan.’ Willow’s blue eyes widened in surprise, and he grimaced slightly. ‘My English is not perfect. I think I probably got the phrase wrong. But you know what I mean. Congratulations, Willow.’

      Their glasses clinked and she hastily took a sip of the sparkling liquid, forcing herself to keep smiling. There was nothing wrong with his English, and he was perfectly well aware of the fact. So why the pretence? The use of her schoolgirl nickname ‘Mole’ worried her too. She certainly had not told him about that and it made her wonder just how much Theo actually knew about her.

      ‘So tell me, what made you start writing?’

      ‘Well, as you are obviously aware, my nickname at school was Mole, which I might add I hate. I’m surprised that a man of your intelligence needs to ask any more,’ she said dryly.

      ‘Humour me,’ he prompted, discreetly refilling their glasses.

      Why not? Talking about her work was a much safer subject than reminiscing about their brief past, Willow thought. She told him how she got her first book published, and deftly fielded his questions about where she lived now. She returned the query and asked where he lived. Theo confirmed what she already knew, that he spent most of his time jetting around the world, but that his actual home was in Greece.

      ‘You have a very busy life,’ Willow murmured, her blue eyes lifting to his. ‘But you seem to thrive on the pressure.’

      Theo gave a nonchalant shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘I work hard and play hard.’ Moving towards her, he casually slid his arm along the back of the sofa behind her, much too close for Willow’s comfort.

      ‘Well, your lifestyle would not suit me,’ she blurted. The friendly atmosphere between them seemed suddenly fraught with tension. ‘I like a quiet life spending time in one place. I don’t like travelling.’ She knew she was babbling but could not seem to stop. ‘I don’t like change.’ His broad shoulders were angled towards her, and she was starkly aware of the aggressively male body beneath the immaculately tailored silk shirt, and the length of his muscular thigh lightly pressing against her leg.

      ‘I can respect that,’ Theo murmured, ‘in some in-stances—for example, your hair.’ Willow could not prevent the involuntary jerk of her head as his hand stroked casually over the back of it. ‘I am glad you were never tempted to have it cut.’

      ‘Yes, well, my grandmother was very traditional. My mother’s job took her all over the world so Grandma virtually brought me up, and she would never dream of cutting my hair. When she was a child her parents were quite strict. They never worked on Sunday, certainly had no television, and the females of the family were not allowed to have their hair cut.’

      She stopped and, picking up her glass from the table, she gulped down the rest of the champagne. A foolish thing to do, she realised, because Theo had been quietly topping her glass up. Her brain went into idiot mode when he was around, and nervous tension was making her tell him much more than he needed to know. She glanced up at his handsome face with wary, suspicious eyes. She had to stop rambling on, and get out of here quick before she really let something slip.

      ‘My thanks go to your grandmother. It would be sacrilege to cut such beautiful hair,’ Theo murmured and raised a dark sardonic eyebrow. ‘But surely, Willow, you aren’t trying to tell me that a woman of your age and beauty could be content with all the restrictions your grandmother adhered to? For instance, I am sure there must have been many men in your life since we last met.’

      ‘No. Yes, well…’ She faltered, her voice dying away beneath his mocking gaze. Suddenly anger came to her rescue. He had some nerve asking about her love life given he was the world’s worst playboy. ‘Only one,’ she snapped, thinking of her son, Stephen.

      Theo gazed down at her with an enigmatic gleam in his dark eyes. ‘I’m inclined to believe you.’

      ‘Thanks,’ she said with an edge of sarcasm in her tone. In the sophisticated world he inhabited people changed their lovers as often as their clothes. ‘But enough about me.’ Willow realised that she desperately needed to change the subject, and fast. ‘So tell me, what is your sister, Anna, doing now?’

      ‘Ah, yes, Anna,’ he said blandly, the gleam of mockery in his gaze. Her blunt attempt to change the subject had been noted, but he was prepared to humour her. ‘Anna is now married and the proud mother of two delightful daughters. As their uncle I spoil them rotten, or so Anna tells me.’

      Willow immediately knew it had been a big mistake to ask. The sensual tension simmering underneath what she hoped was a cool, attentive expression vanished and she was now flooded with guilt. She had never thought of Theo as the sort of man who would like children. But it was obvious by the softening of his features and the humour in his eyes as he spoke of his nieces that he adored the girls. How much more would he adore his own son?

      ‘You must visit her some time. She will be delighted to see you again.’

      ‘Yes,’ Willow said, leaping to her feet. ‘Maybe some time, but now I really must go.’ The champagne and the companionable chat and, Willow realised, she had been falling under the sophisticated charm of the man all over again. Theo was an enormous threat to her life and she had to remember that.

      Theo rose to his feet and placed two hands on her slender shoulders. A disturbing surge of awareness skated down her spine. ‘I think Anna always felt a bit guilty she did not do more for your eighteenth birthday. She was under the impression that you left the party early and went to your room because you were bored. I didn’t enlighten her,’ he concluded with a broad grin, his dark eyes inviting her to share the memory.

      Watching his lips part over brilliant white teeth, Willow found herself remembering just how incredible those firm lips had felt on her own mouth and body. She felt heat curl and grow inside her, awakening sensations she didn’t want to feel. Mortified by her own instant reaction, she fought back the total body blush that he had aroused in her, with his reminder of just whose room she had shared.

      She tilted her chin and bravely held his gaze. But she could do nothing about the long-forgotten sensations that had begun to flare to volatile life inside her. ‘Tell Anna from me she has nothing to feel guilty about,’ she said, forcing her voice into an approximation of polite concern. ‘And, pleasant though the last hour has been, I really see no point in getting in touch with Anna again. We only met the once, and I have never heard from her since. I think it would be better to keep it that way.’ And that includes you, she implied, but never said. She wasn’t that brave.

      Theo was a highly intelligent man—let him draw his own conclusions. She refused to recognise the sudden pang of regret that squeezed her heart. Theo Kadros was banned from her life, however handsome, however tempting, and her own innate honesty forced her to admit, on a purely sexual level, that she was indeed tempted.

      ‘Now you really must excuse me, I—’ she began.

      ‘If you thought like that then I am surprised you agreed to have a drink with me,’ Theo murmured, his dark eyes narrowing intently on her upturned face. ‘And very flattered.’ His astute gaze dropped to the lush curve of her mouth and his hands tightened slightly on her shoulders. ‘So why did you, I wonder?’

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