Black Widow Bride (9 page)

His eyes became serious, intent. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Apprehension flooded Rebecca. She hoped it wasn’t what she’d been dreading. Did he suspect…?

Had he worked it out? No, he couldn’t have. He’d have given some sign surely. But the gravity of his expression worried her as the seconds dragged past and still he didn’t answer.

Just when her nerves reached breaking point, he sighed.

“It’s something I don’t want to admit. Something I’ve been fighting for longer than I care to think about.”

“What is it?” she asked in a rush.

He didn’t reply.

The taut pallor of his face scared her. She pinned on a bright smile. “Come on, fess up. It can’t be that bad.”

Or could it? Was something wrong with Soula? But, no, she’d spoken to Soula only half an hour ago, and the older woman had sounded upbeat, joking that she would be dancing soon, that certainly she would not need a wheelchair.

Could it be…? Was something wrong with Damon? Horror swept her. She thought wildly of James, of the shock after his diagnosis.

“Are you ill?” She blurted it out and could have kicked herself when his eyes widened.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I want you, Rebecca.” He blurted the words out and a blaze of colour stained his angled cheekbones. Her knees went weak at the sight of the naked emotion that flamed in his eyes. Then the controlled mask dropped back into place and she thought she’d hallucinated.

She blinked. Once. Twice. But the remote, powerful businessman remained. Unshakable, hardly the kind of man who would utter such a stark statement with so much haunting desperation.

“What did you say?” she whispered at last as the seconds stretched and the silence grew more strained.

“I want to make love to you.” His voice was flat, his face expressionless. He could’ve been talking about something mundane, something he didn’t particularly care much about.

Except she’d seen that hectic, passionate flash of emotion. And a telltale flame of fire still seared his cheeks.

Disbelief floored her. “You can’t.”

“I’m a man, you’re a woman. Why not?” A hint of amusement warmed his eyes, softening his impassive face.

“No.” She shook her head wildly.

“Yes.”

Spreading her hands apart, she shrugged helplessly. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He challenged. “And don’t think you can come up with a reason I haven’t already thought of and dismissed.”

“But—” What was she supposed to say? He’d caught her so off guard she couldn’t even think straight. “You don’t even like me.”

He met her eyes levelly. “You’re quite right. I didn’t think I did.”

She flinched, his honesty stinging. “So how can you even contemplate sleeping with me?” There was confusion. Yet somewhere in a deep, hidden part of her, she felt the first hint of rising excitement.

Damon wanted her.

“I’m beginning to accept that I must like something about you to want you.” A ghost of a smile lit his eyes.

Outrage replaced euphoria. “Well, tough! You’ll just have to live with the wanting, because nothing is going to happen between us. It can’t.” Did he honestly think she was going to take the scraps that he was throwing to her? Did he think she was that desperate?

Probably.

And he was right. Because she had no pride where Damon Asteriades was concerned. All he had to do was snap his fingers and she came running. Just witness her presence here in Auckland. Witness her presence here in this restaurant today. She’d known it would be a bad idea to spend time with him. But had that stopped her accepting his invitation to lunch?

No. Of course not.

Where Damon Asteriades was concerned, she had the survival instincts of a moth circling a bright flame. But she wasn’t ready to be burned alive by him quite yet. No, he was going to have to work a hell of a lot harder. After all, she’d been waiting for him for what seemed like a lifetime. He wasn’t going to knock her feet out from under her with a stark statement that he wanted to make love to her. She wanted more. Much, much more.

“Rebecca, stop resisting. I want you and I’m going to have you—the sooner you accept it, the better.”

God, but he could be arrogant! “No way. I’ve been to hell and back because of you before and it’s not a place I’m in a hurry to visit again.”

He snorted. “You’ve got that wrong, koukla. You almost sent me to eternal damnation. You did everything you could to cause upheaval in my life. I meant nothing to you—I don’t believe that for a second—it was the challenge that I represented.”

You meant everything to me. You were my world, my universe, and you didn’t give a damn about me! But she didn’t say it aloud.

Instead she shook her head and laughed disbelievingly. “I’m not falling for this.”

What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to think? The man who stirred more emotion within her than she’d known existed wanted her. But he fiercely resented the need for her. She’d have to be stupid to take him up on it.

But she was incredibly tempted.

Fool!

Turning him down was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. She cast around, struggling to find the words that would drive him away forever.

He reached over the table, covering her hand with his. “Would it help if I told you that over the past few days I’ve grown to admire you immensely? That I think you have courage and tenacity and a compassion that I am only starting to discover? That I’ve seen a caring side of you I never knew existed? That I’m starting to think that I may have judged you too harshly sometimes and that I’m sorry for that.”

His eyes glowed with sincerity and a warmth she’d never seen before. Underneath his hand, hers felt safe, protected.

Oh, God.

“That I’m starting to like you very much indeed. And that I’d like to get to know you better. Much, much better.”

Inside she’d turned to mush. His words pooled in the empty hole below her breastbone and created a warm glow. A hesitant joy started to blossom. She turned her hand upward and threaded her fingers through his.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I rather think it would.” And she was half relieved, half frustrated when the waitress arrived at that moment with their main course.

They spent the balance of the meal exploring common interests, neither alluding to the bombshell Damon had dropped. Yet the knowledge of his declaration lay behind every glance, every exchange, and the air between them simmered.

He made her feel like a starry-eyed teenager on her first date. Ridiculous. She had to stop this. If Damon realised how bad she had it…

Rebecca laid her fork down with a clatter, glancing around to avoid meeting Damon’s eyes until she’d managed to mask the elated anticipation in hers.

The windows were covered with heavy navy drapes printed with pale flowers that should have looked awful but instead echoed the gardens outside. In the corner stood a grand piano, and along the walls hung exquisite paintings of country scenes. The high ceiling gave a light, airy feel to the place.

“You know,” she said suddenly, “this place would be perfect for the wedding.”

Damon looked around. A quick dismissive glance. Then she felt the heat as his gaze returned to her face. “You are probably right.”

She tried to ignore the pull of his attraction, focused on the idea she’d had.

“No probably about it. It is perfect!” Rebecca felt the familiar rising excitement which signified that a plan was coming together. “It would mean a smaller guest list than what your mother has planned. But it could work. This room would easily hold four hundred, and the covered veranda could seat another two hundred at least. The gardens are magnificent—Demetra would be in rhapsodies.”

She turned to Damon. The instant their eyes met, a shock of awareness arced between them. He gave a slow smile that made her heart turn over. “I can see why you were so good at this business. You have a knack for matching people to places.”

“No.” She brushed his praise aside, tried to still the thumping of her heart. “It’s just listening and observation.” But the way he was looking at her intensified, until heat crept into her cheeks.

“You must know all the places, so where would you choose to get married?”

“I didn’t know this one,” she pointed out. “I have you to thank for that.”

His smile stretched, lighting his eyes with a warm, intimate glow. “I cheated. It’s only been open for a couple of years. Before that it was a private estate. You couldn’t have known about it. You were up in Northland when it opened. Now tell me about your dream wedding.”

“My dream wedding?” She stared at him, bemused.

“You used to successfully plan everyone else’s—” he grinned “—dream occasions. What would you do for yourself?”

She laughed. “I blew it. Aaron and I had a civil wedding. No big deal.” Aaron had wanted to get married the instant she’d said yes. There hadn’t even been time to think, much less plan an elaborate A-list wedding.

Something moved in his blue eyes. “Okay, then fantasize. Tell me what you wish you’d done.”

“My fantasy wedding…” Rebecca paused a moment, looking away from the beautiful blue gaze to gather her thoughts. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t need all this.” She gestured to the high sash windows, the rich country-house decor. “I’d want something simple, just a ceremony and some time afterward with the man I married—the man I loved.” She threw him a quick glance. “Too often weddings are tense occasions, and the bride is stressed half to death. I’d want time with the man I love to reflect on the solemn importance of the vows we’d just taken. I’d want them to be very, very permanent.”

She could see she’d surprised him with her outburst. He looked startled. She’d revealed more about herself than she’d ever intended. For a moment she thought he was about to argue with her. To lighten the mood, she gave a light laugh and a shrug. “A fantasy is all it is. I won’t be getting married.”

“Why not?” He was frowning now, his eyes a clear, cool blue.

“I’ve already been married.”

The blue clouded over. “That’s a good reason not to marry again?”

She didn’t want to talk about her marriage. Not to Damon. She shrugged again. “So what other reason is there? Children, I suppose. I’ve already got T.J.”

“That’s not the only reason people marry. There are things like companionship, understanding, love—”

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe in all that fairy-tale stuff, Damon?” Rebecca interrupted, her smile sharp as she struggled not to let irony creep through.

“That’s why Savvas and Demetra are getting married.” He sat back, stirring his coffee.

“Yes, but they aren’t like us. We’re realists. We’ve seen the grittier side of life. Marriage is a financial deal, exchanging wealth for fidelity, the promise of children, isn’t it?” It hurt to play devil’s advocate, but it was nothing more than what Damon believed.

“God, you are cynical.” He glared at her. “But even if you believe that, there’s still sex. That’s another reason people like you and me—” he drawled the words “—marry.”

“Sex?” That one word was all it took. Her heartbeat took off, thundering inside her rib cage, her breathing shallow.

“Yes, hot sweaty sex. Body rubbing against body—”

“Oh, that kind of sex,” she interrupted with a dismissive flutter of her hand, determined to put a stop to this before she started to pant, before he saw what he was doing to her. “But, Damon, I don’t need to marry, I simply need to take a lover for that kind of sex.”

Damon went rigid, his face a tight mask.

“And there have been many lovers?”

If he only knew!

She fluttered her eyelashes. “I never kiss and tell.”

“No, of course you don’t!” Disbelief underscored his derogatory words. “But you do kiss?”

“Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly. “I can kiss.”

The next thing she knew, he was out of his chair, beside her, leaning over. And then his mouth slanted across hers.

And she went up in flames.

There was no tenderness. It was a kiss that burned with hunger, desperation and need. He tasted of coffee, of cream, of everything she’d ever desired.

When he finally pulled away, he said slowly, “Oh, yes, you can kiss, all right.”

There were betraying flags of heat across his cheekbones, his breath came in rapid bursts and his eyes glittered.

“Perhaps it is time you took a lover,” he said darkly.

“Perhaps,” she replied, bravely holding his gaze. “I’ll need to start looking around.”

“Oh no!” He was shaking his head, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “No, koukla, you will look no farther than me. I am going to be your lover.”

The moment the car swept into the drive of the Asteriades mansion, Rebecca sat up, muttered her thanks and, before they’d come to a standstill, bolted from the car. Hurrying to her room, she spent the next couple of hours—until Demetra and T.J. came home—making lists of what would be needed for the wedding, calls that needed to be made about bridesmaids’ dresses, flowers, catering. Anything to keep busy and stop herself thinking about Damon’s outrageous proposition. Anything to keep her as far away from him as possible.

I am going to be your lover.

The arrogant statement still rang in her ears that evening as she helped T.J. into the bath. Contrarily, she was almost disappointed that Damon hadn’t followed up, hadn’t battered down the door to find out where she’d hidden herself all afternoon.

He was messing with her head. Why hadn’t he sought her out?

Why had he made such a passionate proclamation in the first place?

He hated her.

But he’d said he’d actually come to like her. Rebecca closed her eyes to block out the confusion that whirled round and round inside her head. Without end. When she opened them again, T.J. was staring at her, holding out a soapy sponge. She took it and started to wash him.

“Mummy,” T.J.’s piping voice cut into her dilemma. “Demetra’s going to get big, fat fish with shiny—” he hesitated “—skin.”

“Scales,” Rebecca corrected automatically. T.J. had returned from his day with Demetra happy, tired and covered in mud, showing no sign that he’d missed her at all. Rebecca had heard all about the ducks in the park pond and about the fishpond he’d helped the workmen dig out at Demetra’s soon-to-be home.

Her mind slid back into the rut it couldn’t get out of. How could Damon change from hate to something as insipid as like? And how dare she be so grateful that he actually liked her, that he wanted to get to know her better. How could she be tempted to settle for that?

Damon said he wanted to be her lover. Why?

Yet, deep in the throbbing darkness of her womb, she knew. Chemistry. This thing between them that would never rest until it was sated. Liking her, getting to know her, was nothing more than a line.

A line to get her into his bed. Somehow he’d fathomed what she wanted more than anything in the world—his respect, his admiration…to be liked by him.

Pathetic.

A splash of water brought her back to reality. T.J. giggled. She gave a mock growl and pulled his wet, wriggling body toward her. With one hand she reached for a towel and swaddled T.J., patting him dry.

What on earth was she going to do?

“And Demetra’s got a net to the pond so the birds can’t eat the fish.”

She dragged her attention back to T.J. “No, if a heron took them, that would not be good.” She started to towel T.J.’s hair.

“We fed ducks at the park. Very greedy ducks,” he said reprovingly. “Demetra said next time we’ll take two breads.”

Just a few days and already T.J. was at home here in the bosom of Damon’s family. It would be a wrench when the time came to go back home. He would feel bereft. Rebecca pressed a hasty kiss to the top of his head as misgivings quaked through her.

“Mummy, can we make a fishpond? Get some fish? And ducks? Please?”

“We’ll see.” Rebecca tried to smile. Perhaps a pond would help him adjust to the separation. T.J. was at that age where creatures and water fascinated him. He kept her on her toes during excursions, feeding ducks in the park ponds and peering into rock pools at the sea’s edge. In a couple of years she’d have to buy him a fishing rod.

That was when he was going to miss having a father. What did she know about fishing, about hooks and sinkers and bait, after all? Rebecca sighed and hung up the towel. When she turned around, she saw T.J. had put on his pyjama bottoms back to front. She moved to help him.

“No, me do it,” he said with a three-year-old’s fierce determination.

She shook her head. Her baby was growing up—too fast—with no father figure to give him guidance. But he had her. He didn’t need anyone else. And, as she had told Damon earlier, she had no reason for marrying. Ever. Especially not for sex.

And she was not going to be Damon’s lover.

The weekend passed in a rush. On Saturday, Rebecca ushered T.J. into the dining room to find Damon had discarded his corporate attire and was wearing a pair of faded Levi’s, a Ralph Lauren T-shirt in plain white…and a devastating smile aimed right at her.

Her stomach started doing somersaults.

“On Monday, I fly to L.A. on business, so I thought we might go for a picnic today.”

Her heart sank. “But I wanted to spend time with T.J. I’ve barely seen—”

“Of course T.J. will come, too.” Damon gestured to a wicker hamper she hadn’t noticed. “Jane has already filled that with treats.”

“Picnic, picnic,” T.J. chanted, jumping up and down.

“He’ll love that,” Rebecca said, wondering why Damon was doing this.

They spent the day at Goat Island, a marine reserve an hour’s drive out of Auckland. The sun was hot enough to prickle, and the sea frothed onto the curve of beach below the pohutukawa trees.

“It’s hard to believe the city is so near,” Rebecca commented as she and Damon stood in the shallows, the sea sand squishing through her toes and T.J. squealing with delight when blue mau-mau flashed between his ankles.

“When he is older, he can snorkel to the island.” Damon pointed at the rocky outcrop that gave the reserve its name and sheltered the bay from the open sea.

Rebecca laughed. “He’ll love that. He’s a real water baby.”

At noon they ate the delicious fare Jane had prepared, and afterward Rebecca lazed on a towel, her head propped against a beach bag, watching Damon and T.J. build sand castles. T.J. bubbled with joy and Damon, well, Damon took her breath away. From behind the protective cover of her sunshades she eyed the hard curves of his chest muscles, the flat abs and the muscled thighs kneeling in the sand. Her breathing picked up. She couldn’t deny the effect he had on her.

Finally she admitted the truth to herself: she wanted him. She glanced away and focused on the waves licking the beach and struggled to remind herself that Damon was downright dangerous. She’d drowned in his attraction before. Why should it be any different this time?

Yet later, when he invited her out to dinner, she called herself all kinds of fool and accepted with a flush of pleasure. That night, after T.J. had been put to bed, they paid a short visit to Soula, leaving Demetra and Savvas to babysit. Soula took one look at the layered gypsy-style skirt and off-the-shoulder top that Rebecca wore and her gaze sharpened.

“You two going out?” she asked coyly.

“We have reservations at Shipwrecks. I promised Rebecca seafood tonight—”

“We took T.J. to Goat Island for the day,” Rebecca said hastily, before Soula got the wrong idea. “I bewailed the fact that we could not fish in the reserve. So Damon insisted on taking me out for dinner.”

“I see,” Soula smiled sphinxlike, leaving Rebecca to wonder what she did indeed see.

Dinner passed in a haze. Damon was wonderful company. His eyes gleamed with appreciation when she spoke and he laughed often, his lips curving into that smile that made her knees go weak.

Rebecca had to remind herself that she had no intention of being charmed, of allowing Damon Asteriades to become her lover. Yet she didn’t want the evening to end. But she knew it would and she rather suspected she knew how he intended it to end. So she was more than a little disconcerted when he said good-night to her outside her bedroom door without even brushing his lips across her cheek.

On Sunday morning he was waiting, a trip to the zoo planned this time. T.J. was in his element. He ran around, his eyes wide as he gazed at lions, elephants, rhinos, while Rebecca spent the day trying to keep her eyes off Damon. He appeared unaware of her growing tension, laughing with T.J. at the antics of the spider monkeys and the otters, oblivious of her acute sensitivity to the lightest brush of his hand.

That evening, after T.J. fell into bed, sun-flushed and tired, Rebecca couldn’t help wondering where it was all going to end…and what on earth had happened to Damon’s declaration that he wanted her.

After a hectic day escorting Demetra to half a dozen dress designers, Rebecca was surprised to find Damon at the dinner table on Monday night. Demetra was regaling Savvas and Damon with stories about how terrible the day had been, how she’d been tangled in yards of fabric and had pins stuck into her. Rebecca started to laugh.

“It’s all your fault,” Demetra accused, her eyes sparkling.

“Admit it—you enjoyed yourself.” Rebecca sat down between Savvas and Damon. T.J. was already in bed, fast asleep.

“Much more than I thought I would,” Demetra conceded. “You knew what I would like.”

“That’s my job.” Rebecca grinned at Demetra. Then to Damon, she said, “I thought you were flying out on a business trip today.” She glanced down at the slice of melon on her plate. The last thing she wanted was Damon cottoning on to the fact that his every movement obsessed her.

“He was supposed to go to the States,” Savvas responded. “But he’s delayed it. He’s got everyone in a flap about it because he needs to meet one of our American stakeholders.”

“Next week.” Damon’s voice was short. “I told you I’ll go next week.”

“I can’t understand what’s so important that you have to be in Auckland this week.”

“Don’t worry yourself about it,” Damon said in a peculiar tone.

Rebecca shot him a casual glance and froze. He was staring at her, his eyes burning. Her breath caught. Her pulse started to hammer. And she knew.

She was the reason he’d postponed his trip. Disjointed thoughts whirred round in her brain. So why hadn’t he made a move on her? Why the outings with T.J. on the weekend and the dinner out if all he wanted was hot, sweaty sex?

She wished she could see inside his head, fathom what he was thinking.

But his intentions became no clearer with each day that followed. Each evening Damon would come home, play a little with her and T.J. and Demetra—sometimes Savvas would be there, too—and afterward he’d take her out. Once it was to see a movie she’d idly mentioned wanting to see, a couple of times he took her to dinner and on Thursday night he took her to a jazz concert. He was attentive, amusing and charming—a far cry from the hostile, critical man of the past. Rebecca was discovering a side of him that she’d never known existed. A side of him that made her crave more time in his company.

This was what she’d wanted—Damon to like her. For herself.

So that she could tell him the truth, so that he would believe she’d done what she had for the best reasons in the world, a little mischievous voice whispered. Because she’d wanted to spare him. But the man staring at her oozed confidence and power and far too much sex appeal for his own good. Her heart jolted. The blue eyes seared her, making her burn up inside and convincing her to push aside the little voice. Just a few days longer, she told herself, then she’d tell him. A few precious days to treasure this connection between them.

Because she knew it wouldn’t last.

By Friday night Rebecca was ready to crack. It had been a busy week and she’d gotten lots done on the wedding. But it wasn’t the wedding that had her in a tizz, it was Damon. Aside from the occasional hand under her elbow, he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t kissed her, and it was driving her mad.

She was confused. Out of her depth.

And she suspected he knew it.

They were meeting at seven on the deck for a drink. She’d forgotten to ask what they were doing tonight, forgotten to check if Demetra and Savvas could babysit T.J. No doubt Damon had it all under control. Like everything else in his life—including her.

Rebecca wasn’t sure if she could endure another night out with the perfect escort…leaving her uncertain and yearning for more afterward.

It was seven o’clock on the dot when Rebecca stepped out through the ranch sliders onto the spacious raised deck overlooking the long sunken pool that reflected the crimson rays of the sinking sun.

Something tightened in Damon’s chest as she paused, stilling for an instant before she stepped forward. A pair of black pants in a soft fabric swirled around her legs, and she wore high strappy sandals that made her look tall and lithe and incredibly sexy. His gazed moved up to the peacock-blue shirt that hugged her lush breasts, lingering briefly at the unbuttoned vee neckline where a blue opal set in gold dangled against her creamy skin. His brows contracted at the sight of the expensive pendant. Soon she would be his. She would wear jewellery he bought for her, not baubles from other men.

He leashed the primal wave of possessiveness that flooded him and jerked his eyes back to her face. “A punctual woman,” he drawled. “A pearl beyond price.”

She looked unsettled. Then she smiled her slow, sexy smile and heat kicked through him. He forgot about the opal, about the man who’d bought it for her.