Beauty and the Greek (7 page)

‘What do you think you're doing?' Beth demanded, slapping at the hand that had slipped to the curve of her behind.

He gave a low husky chuckle and advised her to play nice, adding, ‘Because you love me.'

A little choking cry emerged from her lips as he physically hauled her closer again. ‘You love yourself.' He chuckled again, the low throaty sound making her stomach muscles quiver. ‘I can't do this.'

‘You are doing this,' he retorted. ‘Now, is this so bad?' he asked as her curves somehow insinuated themselves snugly into the angles of his hard male body.

Beth found it alarming that her body seemed to be acting independently of her brain. ‘But—'

He turned his head and pressed a finger to her parted
lips. ‘Elizabeth, if you don't shut up I'll have to kiss you again.' His glance drifted to the full lush outline of her rosy lips and he found himself half hoping she would defy him.

Was that a threat or a promise? Beth wondered. Ever since it had happened, she had determinedly not thought about the moment his mouth had come down hard on her own. Now the mental barrier tumbled and it all came rushing back, the memory so clear, so detailed that it felt as though it was happening again.

She stared up at him, eyes half closed, pupils dilated as she relived the kiss in relentless detail. The smoky smouldering gleam in his densely lashed eyes as his head lowered, the fragrant warmth of his breath, the texture of his firm lips, the sensuous movement of his mouth and finally the erotic invasion of his tongue. In an attempt to delete the shameful memory of her enthusiastic response, Beth covered her eyes with her hand.

Theo slowly unpeeled her fingers one by one until he held her small hand between his own.

Their eyes held for a tense moment.

Beth broke the moment with a stiff little nod of assent. ‘I'm ready.' For what? queried the voice in her head.

A slow grin spread across his lean features. ‘Good girl.'

The verbal equivalent of a pat on the head. The patronising note of approval in his impossibly sexy voice made Beth grit her teeth and resort to sarcasm.

‘I live to serve,' she gritted, averting her gaze from the disturbing gleam in his eyes.

‘That's the spirit; just think sex slave and we're home and dry,' he murmured.

Beth knew that thinking it would be a mistake but she did anyway and the images that flashed through her mind threw her into a state of hot-cheeked confusion.

T
AKING
advantage of the moment, Theo bent his head and kissed her, a mere brushing of his lips against her own but it was enough to drive the last coherent thought from her mind and the strength from her knees.

While she was still blinking he led her into the room. Smaller than the main restaurant, this room was decorated in a similar art deco style, but Beth was oblivious to the décor, desperately conscious of the arm like a steel band that sealed her to his side in a lover-like embrace; she could only see the people seated around the table staring at her.

Convinced she might as well have
fake
emblazoned in neon along her forehead, she decided this moment had
graceful faint
written all over it. Though, as the moments of high anxiety in her life had not previously found release in graceful swoons but less graceful throwing up, the floor opening up and swallowing her would make a very acceptable substitute.

She tensed, waiting, fully anticipating that, any moment now, Andreas would indignantly demand to know what she was doing in that ridiculous get-up instead of double-checking those figures he needed on his desk by the morning.

But he didn't. When she glanced his way, Beth saw that he was staring at her, but with a total lack of recognition
and also, she realised with a little flutter of shock, male appreciation.

Kissed and lusted after—being irresistible turned out to be quite unsettling.

Could it be this was actually going to work?

‘Theo, you are late.'

Beth knew from the photo on Andreas's desk that the woman who reproached Theo was their mother, though, with her trim figure and smooth face, Daria Carides, as she was since her remarriage, looked too young to have grown sons.

Theo uncoiled his arm from around Beth's waist but retained her hand as he walked with her over to his mother and kissed the cheek she offered him.

‘Sorry about that, Mother.' He glanced towards Beth and smiled, saying, ‘We were…held up.'

The intimate smile suggested the hold-up had not involved a traffic jam but more carnal activities. Beth had no doubt that this had been his intention.

Theo met her reproachful glare with a grin that carried no regrets.

Daria watched the interplay, then looked her son up and down critically before pronouncing, ‘You are too thin.'

Beth was glad of this small respite while the table's attention was momentarily diverted from her and amused to see Theo Kyriakis, who was spoken of in reverential terms in financial circles, a man feared and admired in equal measure, in the role of chastised meek son, though she couldn't totally agree with the maternal assessment.

Theo was, it was true, greyhound lean—the body she had recently been clamped to had not appeared to carry an ounce of excess flesh—but
thin
implied weak and scrawny; his tall athletic frame, all bone, sinew and muscle, was any
thing but weak. His every movement suggested a restrained power and strength.

Realising she was staring at him with what might appear to the casual observer to be longing, Beth lowered her gaze hurriedly.

Theo had to be used to the stares, though most were probably not as objective or clinical as her own, because even she recognised he did have a sexual charisma that was off the scale—all a bit too obvious and in-your-face for her, but Beth could see why there was never any shortage of candidates, eager to satisfy his healthy libido.

And his family were all meant to think she was one of them, that she was sleeping with him.

That was the role she had agreed to play. The important thing, she told herself as she suppressed a childish impulse to announce a denial to the room, was that she knew the truth—did it actually matter that these people looked at her and saw another notch in his bedpost?

Yes, it did!

She envied now, more than ever, Theo's complete indifference to the opinion of others.

Maybe she was just a prude?

She might even be frigid? Both were accusations that had been levelled at her by her last boyfriend. Did dinner and a trip to the cinema give the awful Clive boyfriend status? She had been totally taken in by his studious, unthreatening appearance—he had turned out to be a groper.

Beth knew she wasn't what people would call highly sexed but she didn't actually think she was prudish, though she accepted that being brought up by an elderly grandparent with very old-fashioned ideas had always set her apart from her contemporaries.

‘You're like your father,' Daria sighed. ‘You just burn
it off… You should slow down. And who is this, Theo?' Daria turned her attention to Beth.

In response to the question, Theo held out his free hand towards Beth, who reached out without thinking and found herself standing with both hands enfolded in a firm warm grip.

Tugging her towards him, Theo pulled her into his body and announced, ‘This is Beth.' He stopped short of banging his chest, but the audible mixture of pride and possessiveness in his voice had much the same effect and made his mother look at Beth with increased interest.

Managing to tear her gaze from the warmth in Theo's eyes, Beth flashed a quick shy smile around the people sitting at the table.

‘She can speak?' Daria asked lightly

Beth flashed him a look. ‘When I can get a word in edgeways.'

At the sound of her low voice, Andreas, who had been staring at her with a puzzled expression, suddenly slapped the side of his head and exclaimed, ‘It's my Beth!' He blinked in an almost dazed fashion as his gaze slid from the top of her head to her designer-shod feet as he half rose to his feet before subsiding back into his chair. ‘What have you done to yourself?'

Noticing for the first time the attention his comments had drawn, he gave a sheepish shrug and said, ‘Beth works for me.' His glance slid to his brother. ‘I had no idea that you were…' Andreas's voice trailed away as once more his gaze made the journey from her toes to the top of her gleaming head. He swallowed hard and muttered something under his breath.

A woman? Beth thought, her lips twisting into a small wry smile as she recalled Theo's prediction that Andreas's eyes would pop out of his head—they were!

Mostly it was irritating when Theo was right but, on this occasion, she didn't mind. It was soothing to her ego to be noticed.

She was conscious she ought to be enjoying this moment of triumph more than she was but, for some bizarre reason, while the brother she had been crazy about for years was staring at her with open-mouthed appreciation, all she was conscious of was the tall brooding presence of the other brother standing silently beside her.

‘Beth, this is my mother and her husband, Georgios.' The thick-set man with grey-streaked hair and nice eyes smiled and got to his feet.

Daria Carides smiled warmly and said, ‘Beth—what a charming name—come sit by me, dear.'

Beth found herself looking to Theo for guidance. He nodded imperceptibly and, after a pause, she took the empty chair beside his mother. It said a lot for her state of mind that she was relieved when Theo sat in the chair beside her.

The relief changed to something else when she felt his iron-hard thigh push close against her own. She felt no desire to examine this new feeling; instead, she shifted sideways in her seat to break the contact.

Georgios Carides said something in Greek to Theo as he retook his own seat. Beth knew from odd comments that Andreas had let slip that he had a problem with the man his mother had married soon after the death of her first husband.

Watching Theo's relaxed manner as he laughed in response to his stepfather's comment, it seemed that he did not share his brother's reservations about the older man.

‘Andreas you know, and, of course—' Theo paused, his glance sweeping over the woman sitting beside Andreas, ‘—Ariana. You have met Beth?'

Ariana delivered a practised smile but the barely repressed fury glowing in her blue eyes as they swept across Beth's face sent a real bunny-boiler message.

Beth smiled back, determined not to let the other woman know how spooked she was.

Beth was far too practical to believe in premonitions of danger but she did not resist the protective arm that Theo placed around her shoulder. It was actually possible she might have leaned into him and it felt good when his thigh pressed once more into her own.

‘So, Beth, my dear, how long have you two known one another?' Daria flashed her elder son a teasing look and asked, ‘Was it love at first sight?'

‘No, I thought he was the rudest, most arrogant man I had ever met.'

‘And I thought she was a prudish prig.'

Andreas, who had listened to this exchange with a petulant frown, shook his head. ‘Neither of you breathed a word; how long?'

‘These things sometimes take no time at all.'

Under the table, Beth kicked his shin and said, ‘So have you set a date?'

Having successfully diverted the conversation away from herself, Beth listened with half an ear to the discussion of spring weddings and designer wedding gowns. The starters had been removed and they were halfway through the main course and the conversation, dominated by Ariana, still revolved around weddings. Beth, who had not contributed to the discussion, jumped when directly asked her opinion by Daria.

Daria repeated her question. ‘So what would your perfect wedding be, Beth?'

Beth, who started at the sound of her name, responded without considering her reply. ‘I don't think it really matters
what sort of wedding you have; it's what comes after that counts.'

‘I thought all little girls dreamed of floating down the aisle,' Georgios teased.

‘Well, I think that's kind of refreshing,' Andreas said, seemingly oblivious to the icy dagger glare his fiancée was giving him as he gave Beth a warm look. ‘You know,' he mused, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, ‘I just can't get over it; at work you look so different, and your hair, and—'

‘Andreas—' his mother laughed ‘—the girl can hardly wear an evening dress to the office.'

‘No, it's more than that. I just can't get over it.'

‘I suggest you do.' The level look Theo flashed his brother made the younger man straighten up. ‘There is no mystery,' Theo added as he reached out and covered the small hand that lay on the snowy tablecloth with his own. Beth started slightly and he applied warning pressure before he lifted her hand. ‘Even today, some beautiful women think they have to hide their beauty to be taken seriously.' Pressing a kiss to her palm, he retained her hand.

Beth expected people to fall about laughing but instead they appeared to treat Theo's crazy comment seriously.

Andreas was staring at her like a man who'd just been hit over the head with something hard and heavy. ‘Yes, she is…' He cleared his throat, lowered his gaze to his plate and added, ‘I mean
you
are. Beautiful, that is, Beth.'

Beth was sure she would have enjoyed the moment a lot more had Ariana not been glaring at her in a way that made her want to request the knives on the table be removed. As it was, she felt inclined to ask Andreas why, if she was so beautiful, he had never noticed before.

‘Surely it's not still that bad,' Daria said, permitting her
self a discreet smile as her glance slid to the hand that Theo held pressed to his heart.

‘How many times have you heard people say “I wonder who she slept with to get the job?”' her husband inserted.

‘Well, I think it's a sad reflection on modern society,' Andreas said.

‘Well, I've never had a problem being taken seriously,' his fiancée interjected.

‘But not all women are as…confident as you are, Ariana,' her future mother-in-law observed quietly. She turned to Beth and asked, ‘Have
you
never been tempted to trade on your looks, Beth?'

Beth pulled her hand from Theo's and tucked it safely in her lap. ‘No, I haven't,' she was able to respond with total honesty. She didn't dare look at Ariana; she almost felt sorry for her—
almost
.

She smiled at the waiter who took away her plate and took a sip of her wine, losing control of the glass as she returned it to the table and spilling wine on the tablecloth.

Under cover of mopping up the spill with her napkin, she looked across at Andreas, who gazed back innocently, though his lips did twitch when her eyes widened.