The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (120 page)

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Authors: Helen Bianchin

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Collections & Anthologies, #Contemporary Women, #General

BOOK: The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections)
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She was incapable of uttering a word, and he brushed a gentle finger over her lower lip.
‘You talk too much.' He reached for the clip of her seat belt, released it, then he slid out from behind the wheel and led her towards the restaurant.
It was peaceful to sit overlooking the huge pool with its lagoon bar, and the buffet offered a superb selection which proved too tempting for Michelle to resist.
‘Feel better?' Nikos queried when she declined dessert and settled for coffee.
‘Yes,' she answered simply.
‘We need to discuss whose apartment we share.'
‘I don't think—'
‘Yours or mine?'
‘Are you always this dictatorial?'
‘It's an integral part of my personality.' The waiter presented the bill, and Nikos signed the credit slip, added a tip, then he drained the last of his coffee. ‘Shall we leave?'
Within minutes Nikos turned the car into the street housing both their apartment buildings, and she opened her mouth to protest when he swept down into the car park beneath his building.
‘Come up with me while I collect some clothes.'
She turned towards him. ‘I don't like people making decisions for me.'
His expression assumed an inflexibility, accenting the vertical grooves down each cheek, and his mouth settled into a firm line. ‘Get used to it,
pedhi mou.'
Michelle rode the lift with him to the uppermost floor. ‘We're going to have to draw a few ground rules,' she insisted as she entered his penthouse apartment.
It was beautiful, marble tiled floors, Oriental rugs, imported furniture and exquisite furnishings. Interior decorating at its finest.
‘Make yourself comfortable,' Nikos bade. ‘I won't be long.'
There were a few framed photographs positioned on a long mahogany table, and she crossed to examine
them. Family, she perceived, noting an elderly couple pictured in one, while the others were presumably siblings with a number of young children.
She knew so little about him, his background. Why, when his family obviously resided in Europe, he chose to spend part of his time in Australia.
Which inevitably led to how long he intended to stay on this particular occasion. Weeks, or a month or two? With business interests on several different continents, he wouldn't remain in one place for very long at a time.
Nikos returned to the lounge with a garment bag hooked over one shoulder, and a hold-all in his hand.
‘Two sisters,' he revealed, anticipating her question. ‘Both married. One lives in Athens, the other in London. My parents reside on Santorini.'
‘While you wander the world.' She could imagine the high-powered existence he led. International flights, board meetings, wheeling and dealing.
‘I have houses in several countries.'
‘And a woman in each city?'
‘I have many women friends,' he said with dry mockery.
Now why did that suddenly make her feel bereft? Did she really think
she
was different? Special? Get real, an inner voice mercilessly taunted. You're simply a momentary diversion.
With determined effort she spared her watch a glance and turned towards the door. ‘Shall we leave?' She needed some space and time away from him. ‘You can drop me off at the Gallery. I'll give you a key to my apartment.'
Minutes later he drew the car to a halt outside the Gallery. ‘I'll pick you up at five.'
She was about to argue, but one look at his implacable expression was sufficient to change her mind, and she refrained from saying a word as she handed him her keys, then she slid out, closed the door, and trod the bricked path to the Gallery's main entrance without so much as a backward glance.
If Emilio was surprised to see her, he didn't say so, and she went straight through to the office and booted up the computer.
With determined resolve she set her mind on work, and refused to give Nikos Alessandros a second thought.
Until he appeared with Emilio in the doorway a few minutes after five.
‘Time to close down for the day,
cara.'
Michelle saved the data, closed the programme and shut down the machine. Without a word she collected her bag and preceded Nikos out to the car.
It was a bright summer's evening, the sun was still warm, and she could easily have walked. She wasn't sure whether it bothered her more that her freedom of choice had been endangered, or that Nikos had nominated himself as her protector.
Or perhaps she was more shaken at the thought of sharing her apartment with him. Last night... Hell, she didn't even want to think about last night!
Nikos parked in the bay next to hers, and they rode the lift to the fifteenth floor in silence.
Nikos unlocked her apartment, and she swept in ahead of him.
‘Fix yourself a drink if you want one,' Michelle suggested politely as she tossed her bag down onto the coffee table. ‘I'm going to shower and change.'
She entered her bedroom and went straight to the walk-in wardrobe. If he'd
dared
invade her space by hanging his clothes here...
He hadn't, and she told herself she was glad as she entered the shower.
Half an hour later she caught up an evening purse and paused in front of the cheval mirror to briefly examine her appearance.
The emerald-coloured evening pantsuit complemented her slim frame and highlighted her eyes. Minimum jewellery and an upswept hairstyle presented an essential sophisticated image, given that Saska would undoubtedly appear at her stunning best.
Michelle took a deep breath, released it, then joined Nikos in the lounge.
His appraisal was swift, encompassing, and caused a shivery sensation to scud across the surface of her skin.
She offered him a brilliant smile. ‘Do you think Saska will be impressed?'
He didn't offer a word as he crossed the short distance to her side, and her eyes widened as he cradled her face, then settled his mouth on hers in passionate possession.
When he lifted his head she wasn't capable of saying so much as a word.
‘Better,' he drawled. He touched the pad of one finger to her lips. ‘Lipstick repair.' The edge of his
mouth curved. ‘Although personally, I prefer the natural look.'
‘Don't overdo the play-acting,' she managed evenly. ‘I doubt Saska will be fooled.'
It was just after six when they reached the nominated restaurant, and within minutes Emilio and Saska joined them in the lounge bar.
As Michelle predicted, Saska could have stepped from one of the fashion pages of
Vogue
. In classic black, the style was deceptively demure...a total contradiction when Saska removed the fitted bolero top to reveal the dress was virtually strapless, with a thin shoestring strap over each shoulder.
‘It's a little warm in here, don't you think?'
Oh my. Were those generous curves for real? They just begged to be shaped and caressed by a man's hand.
She caught Emilio's eye, saw the faint glimmer of amusement apparent, and prepared to shift gears into ‘compete' mode.
This was, Michelle accorded silently, going to be quite an evening!
‘Michelle,' Saska almost purred. ‘One hopes you no longer suffer from your headache?'
The faint emphasis gave the malady quite a different interpretation. ‘Nikos took good care of me.'
How was that for an understatement? If Saska . were to guess the manner in which he'd cared for her, the sparks would surely fly!
It was fortuitous the maître d' chose that moment to indicate their table was ready, and within minutes the wine steward appeared to take their order.
‘C
HAMPAGNE?' Saska suggested. ‘We should drink to our continuing friendship.'
‘Yes,' Michelle agreed with a winsome smile. ‘Why don't we do that?'
‘Nikos and I go back a long way.'
‘So he told me.'
Saska's eyebrow arched. ‘I imagine you know I was married to his best friend?'
‘You must miss him very much,' she said gently. Saska deserved some compassion. It would be devastating to be widowed at any age, but for someone so young, the loss must be terrible.
Eyes dark and faintly cloudy regarded Michelle with contrived steadiness. ‘Dreadfully. But life moves on, and so must I.'
With Nikos, Michelle deduced. She could hardly blame Saska for pursuing the possibility. Nikos was a man among men, irrespective of his wealth, status and social position. As a lover... Just the thought of what she'd shared with him was enough to melt her bones.
Nikos ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon, and together they perused the menu, their choices varied as they deliberated over a starter, main and dessert.
The waiter presented the champagne with a flourish,
eased off the cork, then part-filled each flute before setting the bottle in the ice bucket and retreating.
‘To old friends,' Saska said gently, touching the rim of her flute to that of Nikos'.
His answering smile was equally gentle, then he silently saluted Emilio and turned to Michelle.
‘To us.'
His eyes were dark, and so incredibly sensual, she had to consciously prevent her eyes dilating with shock.
Her mouth shook slightly as he caught her hand and linked her fingers with his.
He'd missed his vocation as an actor. If she hadn't known better, she could almost believe he meant the light touch on her arm, the slight brush of his fingers against her cheek. The warmth of his smile, the way his eyes gleamed with latent emotion.
Together, they decided on a selection from each course, gave their order, then discussed a range of topics from art to travel as they sipped champagne.
Emilio added authenticity to Nikos and Michelle's ‘romance' with anecdotes from his years as an art student in France.
‘Remember,
cara?
That little café on the Left Bank, where the waiter plied you with coffee and pledged his undying love?'
Saska looked from one to the other, her fork poised as she posed a question. ‘You studied together and shared accommodation?'
Michelle wrinkled her nose, then laughed, a faint husky sound that was unintentionally sexy. ‘Yes,
with four other students. Communal kitchen, bathroom. Tiny rooms. It was little more than a garret.'
‘But you adored it,' Emilio endorsed. ‘Too much coffee, too little food, and too much discussion on how to change the world.'
‘You lived in a garret?' Saska queried in disbelief. ‘With little money? Didn't your parents help you?'
‘Of course. Except I didn't want a nice apartment in the right quarter, with smoked salmon and caviar in the fridge.'
‘She gave all that up for the baguettes, sardines, and cheese.'
‘And wine,' Michelle added with an impish smile. ‘It was fun.'
‘Pretending to be poor?'
‘Dispensing with the trappings of the rich,' she corrected with quiet sincerity. ‘Had I not done that, my time in Pans would have been very different'
‘Yet you managed to meet Nikos.' Saska gave a faint disbelieving laugh. ‘I cannot imagine him slumming it.'
‘We met at the home of mutual friends,' Nikos drawled, embellishing the original fabrication.
‘It was one of those rare occasions when we ventured into the sophisticated arena of the rich Parisians,' Emilio revealed with droll cynicism.
‘So you were at the party, too?'
‘As Michelle's bodyguard,' he declared solemnly. ‘She rarely left home without me. And no,' he added quietly at Saska's deliberately raised eyebrows. ‘We were never more than just very good friends.'
‘And now you're business partners.'
Emilio inclined his head in mocking acquiescence. ‘Our friendship is based on trust. What better foundation to establish a business?'
‘How—quaint,' Saska acknowledged. ‘Pretending to be impoverished students, then returning home to open a Gallery.'
You don't get it, do you? Michelle queried silently. We needed the struggle, the very essence that combines naked ambition with the perspicacity to survive and succeed. A nebulous element that shows in the art as something more than talent. We wanted to be able to recognise that flair through personal experience, not as judgmental eclectics.
It was perhaps as well the waiter delivered the starter. Although she wasn't so sure as Nikos played the part of attentive lover by tempting her with a morsel of food from his plate.
It was relatively easy to take up his challenge by spearing a succulent prawn from its bed of lettuce and offering it to him from the edge of her fork. She even managed to adopt the role of temptress with a melting smile, which brought an answering gleam and a flash of white teeth as he took a bite of the fleshy seafood.
Michelle daren't glance in Emilio's direction, for if he acknowledged her performance with a surreptitious wink she would be in danger of subsiding into laughter, and that would totally destroy the illusion.
Saska was not about to be outdone. Although her attempts to gain Nikos' attention were infinitely more subtle with the light touch of her hand on his arm,
the few ‘remember' anecdotes that served to endorse a long friendship.
Michelle had to concede it was a fun evening, for she enjoyed the nuances, the interplay, and the elusive rivalry, albeit that on her part it was contrived.
Or was it? There was nothing false about her reaction to Nikos' touch. Or the warmth that radiated through her body when he smiled. The brush of his lips caused a spiral of sensation encompassing every nerve cell.
It provided a vivid reminder of the exquisite orgasmic experience they'd shared, and the need to recapture it again.
Which would be the height of foolishness. Sexual gratification was no substitute for lovemaking. It was something she'd vowed to uphold. Selective sex with someone she cared for, and who she believed cared for her. It didn't sit well that last night she'd broken her own rule.
They chose to decline dessert in favour of the cheeseboard, and lingered over excellent coffee.
Michelle was surprised to see it was after eleven when they parted outside the restaurant, and she offered her cheek for Emilio's kiss.
‘Brava
, darling,' he murmured close to her ear, then offered, ‘Your performance was incredible. See you in the morning.'
Saska followed suit by pressing her lips to Nikos' cheek, then lightly, briefly on his mouth. ‘We must do this again soon.'
Nikos' smile held warmth. ‘We'll look forward to it.' He caught Michelle's hand and threaded her fingers
through his own, then brought it to his lips. ‘Won't, we?'
Oh my, he was good. She offered him a melting smile. ‘Of course. Thursday evening there's a charity ball being held at the Marriott.
Maman
is on the committee. I can arrange a ticket if Saska would like to join us.'
Saska didn't hesitate. ‘I'd love to.'
Nikos waited until they were seated in the car before venturing with silky amusement, ‘Do you delight in setting the cat among the pigeons?'
Michelle turned towards him and offered a stunning smile. ‘Why,
darling, Maman
will be gratified at the sale of another ticket, and Saska will enjoy the evening.'
‘And you,
pedhaki mou
,' he drawled. ‘What will you enjoy?'
‘Watching you,' she responded sweetly.
‘Playing the part? Isn't that what we all do on occasion? In business, socially?'
‘You do it exceptionally well.'
‘Let me return the compliment.'
‘In the interest of establishing our pseudo relationship, the evening was a success.'
He didn't answer as he negotiated an intersection, and she lapsed into a silence that stretched the several minutes it took to reach her apartment building.
‘There's no need for you to stay,' Michelle declared firmly as he rode the lift with her to the fifteenth floor.
‘We've already settled this issue.'
‘Last night was different.' The lift came to a halt and she retrieved her key in readiness.
‘No.'
She crossed the carpeted lobby to her apartment and unlocked the door.
‘What do you mean—
no?'
‘Your apartment or mine,' Nikos reiterated hardily. ‘It's irrelevant. But we share.'
‘I doubt Jeremy will attempt to enter the building, and even if he did, he'd never get past my front door.'
He thrust a hand into each trouser pocket, and looked at her with open cynicism. ‘You don't think he's sufficiently devious to disguise himself as a delivery messenger?' He continued before she had a chance to answer. ‘Or utilise some plausible ploy to get past reception?'
A week ago none of these possibilities would have entered her head. Now, she had good reason to pause for thought. And she didn't like any of the answers.
‘You're not prepared to give in, are you?' she queried wearily.
‘No.'
She didn't say a further word, and simply turned and walked through to the kitchen. She needed a drink. Hot sweet tea to take the edge off the champagne and an excellent meal.
Michelle filled the electric kettle and switched it on, then she extracted a cup, teabag, sugar and milk, and stood waiting for the water to boil.
She was conscious of Nikos' presence, and all too aware of him silently watching her actions as she
poured hot water into the cup, sweetened it and added milk.
If he stayed there much longer, she'd be tempted to throw something at him.
She discarded the spoon into the sink, and looked at him. Then wished she hadn't.
Eyes that were dark and frighteningly still held her own captive, and she felt like an animal caught in a trap.
Everything faded into the background, and there was only a mesmeric quality apparent as he closed the distance between them.
‘Fight me, argue with me,' Nikos berated silkily. ‘But don't turn your back and walk away.' He lifted a hand and caught hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger, then tilted it. ‘Ever.'
It was impossible to escape that deep assessing gaze, and her own anger lent an edge of defiance.
‘Don't say a word,' he warned with deceptive mildness, as she opened her mouth to give vent to his actions.
‘Why?'
His mouth angled over hers, then took possession in a kiss which tore the breath from her throat as he plundered at will.
Then the pressure eased, and she almost cried out as he began an evocative tasting with such sensual mastery it was almost all she could do not to respond.
A flame deep within ignited and flared into vibrant life, until her whole body was consumed with it, and she wound her arms up around his neck, leaned into him, and simply went with whatever he dictated.
It was a long time before he gradually broke contact, and she could only look at him in stunned silence as he lightly traced the swollen contours of her mouth.
‘There's no one here to observe the pretense,' Michelle said shakily, and his smile held musing warmth.
‘Who says it's a pretense?'
His hand brushed across her collarbone, back and forth in a hypnotic movement, and she bit back a gasp as he settled his lips at the base of her throat.
‘Let's not do this,' she pleaded fruitlessly, and felt his mouth part in a soundless smile.
‘Frightened?'
‘Scared witless,' she admitted.
He savoured the sweet valley between her breasts, then slowly nibbled his way back to her lips. ‘Don't be.'
She had to stop him now, or she'd never find the willpower to break away.
‘Last night was a mistake,' she said desperately, and almost died at the force of his arousal.
‘Something which felt so good could never be a mistake.'
Michelle made a last-ditch effort. ‘Foolish, then,' she amended.
‘What makes you say that?'

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