The Best Man's Guarded Heart (9 page)

His fear that something was wrong was immediately put to rest when Christos assured him that he was just calling to check that everything was in place for tomorrow. With a jolt Andreas realised that his usually laid-back brother was nervous—
very
nervous, in fact. Guilt pricked against his skin. Yes, he had fulfilled his best man duties so far—including organising a bachelor party last week in Athens—but had he really been there for Christos?

When he thought of the calls Grace shared with Matt and Lizzie, full of warmth and genuine concern and interest, he realised how amiss he had been—both recently and in the past few years. Three days ago he had had no idea that the hopeless romantic he had rescued at the airport would cause him to pause and take stock of his own life.

He deliberately went through a detailed breakdown with Christos, of everything the planner and Grace had done for tomorrow, and then ran through the itinerary for the day again. But as he spoke he got increasingly distracted. A man had approached Grace. He sat down beside her—much too close for Andreas's liking. What was he playing at? And why the hell was she smiling back at him, being so friendly?

Jealous fire raged through his veins. But then Grace turned around and pointed at him. The other man gave him an uncertain smile and backed off. Unbelievably, twice more this happened during the course of his conversation with Christos, before he was able to end the call.

* * *

Grace smiled up in relief when Andreas returned. The call had been much longer than she'd expected and she was hungry...for food
and
his company.

His earlier ease was gone, though. His expression was tense, and his eyes barely reached hers.

‘Our table is ready in the restaurant.'

She followed him out on to the terrace and then down stone steps to a lower level terrace. Their table was next to a glass balustrade which gave unending views out on to the Aegean and to the lights of the towns to the west. The whole terrace was awash with candles on white tabletops and storm lanterns on the white concrete floors.

Andreas recommended the house special, lobster spaghetti, which they both ordered—along with a bottle of the local
assyrtiko
white wine.

Throughout the ordering process Andreas seemed distracted, and once their waiter had left she asked, ‘Is everything okay?'

‘Do you usually get so much attention when you're out?'

Perplexed, she sat back into the cushions of her chair. ‘What do you mean?'

‘When I was on my call several men approached you.'

‘So?'

Cold eyes challenged hers. ‘Why?'

She recoiled for a moment, at the cynicism in his voice, but then she sat forward and challenged him back. ‘Why did they approach me? Oh, come on, Andreas, why are you asking me that? We both know why... They wanted to buy me a drink but I said no, that I was waiting for you.'

He made no response, but kept on staring at her sceptically.

Anger and disappointment collided within her and she said bitterly, ‘A few hours ago you said you trusted me. Were you lying?'

He still said nothing, and she knew this night was over.

She placed her napkin on her plate. ‘I don't feel hungry any longer. I want to go back to Kasas.'

She went to move, but his hand snapped around her wrist. His eyes were furious, but also shadowed with confusion.

‘Why did you refuse their drinks...? It's not as if we are a couple.'

She jerked back in shock. ‘Are you angry that I refused? Did you want me to accept?'

He shook his head vigorously. ‘Of course not... But there was nothing stopping you, so why didn't you?'

Totally bewildered, she answered, ‘Because I'm with
you
. Yes, we might not be a couple, but we
are
out together...why would I accept a drink from another man?'

‘To play mind games with me—to make me jealous.'

Frustration surged through her. ‘Good God, what do you take me for? I'm not that type of person. I don't play games. I don't hurt other people.'

For a while he stared at her, his jaw flexing. His mouth became a tight grimace. ‘I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.'

His remorse looked genuine, but he had some explaining to do and she wasn't going to let him off the hook. ‘If you're sorry, prove it to me. Explain what the last fifteen minutes has been about.'

A waiter arrived with their food, but Andreas spoke to him in Greek and the waiter walked away with the plates.

‘I told him we weren't ready and that we'd order again when we are.'

She nodded and waited for him to speak.

His hand rubbed against his cheek and then ran up into his hair, messing it up just the way she loved. Oh, why was she so attracted to this man who had
heartbreaker
written all over him?

* * *

Andreas felt sick to his stomach. He had behaved abominably. Grace deserved an explanation. But the thought of recounting the past was tearing him apart. His sense of self, his certainty of who he was, felt as unstable as the flickering flames on the candles at the centre of their table.

‘Two years ago I received a blackmail threat. A member of the paparazzi had photos of my wife making love to another man on his yacht.'

Grace's hand moved towards his but he pulled away. He didn't want her pity. They sat in silence and eventually he gazed towards her. There wasn't pity in her eyes, but anger. He frowned, and she answered his unspoken question.

‘I hope you reported him to the police and told
her
exactly what you thought of her. How could she have done that to you?'

Thrown by her outraged disbelief, he paused, unable to find an answer. Her outrage almost made him want to smile. Grace was a fierce protector; no wonder she'd taken on the task of protecting her siblings.

‘How could I have married her, more like.' The exact question his father had shouted at him, accusing him of bringing dishonour into the family.

‘What happened between you, Andreas...? Why did she do something so awful?'

‘When I confronted her she said she was lonely, that she hated living on Kasas, and the amount of travel I did.'

‘It doesn't sound like you believed her.'

‘I was away because the recession had taken hold.' Inhaling a deep breath, he arched his neck back and stared briefly up into the night sky; the stars seemed impossibly far away. ‘My businesses were struggling in the worldwide property crash, but I knew that, even though it was high risk, it was my opportunity to radically extend my asset base—which would firmly secure the future of the company. I travelled the world, persuading investment firms to finance my property deals. Unfortunately my ex did not agree with my expansion plans, nor the risks involved—and nor the way it curtailed our cash flow. So she had an affair with a man who could provide her with the lifestyle she had expected when we married—a man I had considered a friend.'

Grace considered him nervously and shuffled in her seat before saying, ‘You're a shrewd guy...'

‘So why didn't I know what she was like when we married? Because I believed her flattery.' His throat burning, he paused and then admitted, ‘I trusted her at a time when I was trying to deal with my uncle's death and the fight with my father that was causing me to lose my family.'

‘And you thought
she
could be your new family?'

She spoke so softly and with such emotion he felt the humiliation that had carried him through the conversation to this point evaporate. Only regret remained. ‘Yes.'

‘And your friend?'

A bitter taste grew in his mouth. ‘He knows to stay out of my way.'

Her eyes trailed above his left eyebrow. ‘That scar...'

‘He came off much worse.'

The flicker of a grimace crossed her face for a moment. ‘I'm sorry, Andreas. I'm sorry she caused you so much pain. Your friend too. I can't think of anything worse than being betrayed like that.'

‘It taught me a valuable lesson: that I can never again believe I truly know another person.'

She moved forward, passion burning in her eyes. ‘No, I don't agree. The timing of your marriage was terrible—you were grieving for your uncle. I think in normal circumstances most of us
can
know another person, even if it's just a gut instinct about them.'

‘People wear masks—they tell you what they think you want to hear.'

‘Let's put it to the test. How about me? Do you think I would cheat on a partner? On my husband?'

‘How would I know?'

‘Would I cheat, Andreas? Yes or no?'

Every fibre of his body knew that she wouldn't. But it was hard to admit that his long-held views were wrong—that in a few short days this woman had turned so many of them upside down.

He inhaled a deep breath and said tersely, ‘No.'

‘You're right. I wouldn't. Because when I marry it will be for love and because I respect my husband. I want a hundred per cent honesty and trust in a relationship. I will never lie, never play games... My marriage will be too important to me to ever even contemplate compromising it.'

‘Your husband will be a very lucky man.'

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I just need to meet him.'

Something hard kicked inside him at the thought of her married to another man. His mind jumped ahead to her leaving Kasas, leaving
him
. ‘When are you leaving?'

She tapped a fingernail on the bottom of her fork before she gazed up with a sad smile. ‘Monday.'

‘Two more days.'

Her smile faded.

His heart began to pound. Could he let her go? Could a brief passionate kiss be all that they ever shared?

CHAPTER SEVEN

L
ATER
THAT
NIGHT
, back on Kasas, Grace's heart did a funny little jump of delight when Andreas held her hand all the way from the helipad down to the villa.

When they entered the living room, the silence that had been with them for the entire journey home from Santorini continued to bounce between them. It was a silence born from the intensity of the connection they had shared tonight—a connection of emotional honesty.

Andreas opening up about his marriage had changed everything. He had let her into his world, trusted her. He had reached out to her. And she wasn't sure what to do with the emotional chasm that sat in her heart as a result. A chasm full of hunger to connect with him even further. To know him to the depths of his very being. A hunger to express her feelings towards him.

The chasm had her wanting to reach out to him, but she didn't know how. She was scared she would do the wrong thing. Her old self-doubts sat like a cloak on her shoulders.

‘Would you like a drink?'

Uncertainty had her dithering for an embarrassing few seconds before she said, ‘I think I should go to bed. It's almost two and I have to be up early. Thank you for a lovely night.'

His eyes searched hers for a moment before he nodded. But as she turned away he said, ‘Wait. I have something I want to give to you.'

He disappeared upstairs and, intrigued, Grace waited on the edge of the sofa where he had earlier fastened her sandals, a shiver running through her body when she remembered the tender touch of his hands on her ankle.

When he returned, he reached out and said, ‘Give me your hand and close your eyes.'

‘What are you up to?'

‘Just close your eyes. You'll see in a few minutes.'

Grace held out her hand cautiously, and it was just as well that he had told her to close her eyes as she did so anyway, involuntarily, when his fingers held her hand. His thumb stroked down the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. Goosebumps ran the length of her body.

In a low voice that had her jerking forward with a need to close the distance between them he said, ‘I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but...'

‘But what?'

‘We'll probably both be too busy.'

His fingernails lightly grazed against her skin and she giggled. ‘That tickles. What
are
you doing?'

‘Sit still. You wriggling like that isn't helping.'

Grace inhaled a deep breath and tried to ignore his fingertips stroking her wrist, the way that simple touch was setting her alight, making her yearn for more.

And then her body stilled, although her heart exploded in her chest as a sudden realisation hit home: the empty ache of loneliness that had been her constant companion for so many years was gone. With Andreas she felt whole, somehow. Safe and protected. Understood.

Panic flared inside her. She needed to see him.
Now.
‘I want to open my eyes.'

‘In a few seconds.'

His fingers continued to dance on her wrist and she had to squeeze her eyes to stop the burning temptation to fling them open and drink him in. They had so little time left together.

‘Now open them.'

On her silver bracelet sat a new charm—an intricate violet flower, its purple-blue design sitting between the miniature flower clippers and the violin that Matt and Lizzie had given her last Christmas. She wore the bracelet as a constant reminder of them; it felt right that Andreas's charm sat with theirs.

She ran a fingertip over the exquisite design. ‘It's so pretty...thank you. Why a violet?'

He gazed down at the charm. ‘Because it symbolises courage and intelligence.'

She couldn't stifle her giggle. ‘You just made that up! And anyway, it symbolises modesty.'

His brows knitted together in consternation. ‘Does it?' He gave her a sheepish look. ‘I definitely didn't buy it for that reason.'

His expression grew serious and he leaned over to touch the flower charm, his finger briefly brushing against her skin, sending every nerve-ending into a tailspin of desire.

‘I bought it to thank you on behalf of my family for everything you've done to make tomorrow special.' His fingers stilled on her wrist. His voice grew deeper. ‘And because it's the same incredible colour as your eyes.'

She stood up, her body shaking with the intensity of the emotions surging through her. It couldn't end like this. She couldn't walk away from him without being true to herself.

Her heart raced even faster, and though her stomach churned she forced herself to speak. ‘Stay with me tonight.'

Shock replaced the earlier heat in his eyes. ‘What?'

Had she misread this whole situation? But she had seen how he had stared at her all night, felt how he had held her in the bar when they danced.

A deep blush flashed on her cheeks and she went to leave.

He stood in her way. ‘Hold on—where are you going?'

She shook her head but kept it dipped down, too mortified to look him in the eye.

‘You can't ask a man to stay the night and then run away before he even has the opportunity to reply.'

Humiliation had her answering sharply, ‘Your expression was enough of an answer.'

‘
Aman
, Grace! The sweetest, sexiest woman I have ever encountered has just asked me to stay the night...and we both know that I should say no.'

He thought she was sweet and sexy... But he was saying no. So she was lacking somehow. Was it the gulf between them career and wealth-wise? Their different backgrounds? Or was it that she simply wasn't attractive enough?

Hurt and humiliation twisted in her chest. ‘Let's just forget this conversation ever happened.'

He ran a hand through his hair and a groan came from somewhere deep within him. ‘Trust me—I would like nothing more than to spend the night with you. But I can't. I'm not what you're looking for, Grace.'

‘Not in the long term, no...'

‘You're playing with fire.'

She shook her head vigorously. She knew what she was doing. She had never been more certain of anything in all of her life.

‘No, for the first time in many years I'm listening to what I really want.'

She paused, wishing she was brave enough to say everything that needed to be said. That she wanted fun and passion. Wanted to feel as physically close to him as she did emotionally. She searched for words, but everything seemed either too brash or needy.

And before she was able to find the right words Andreas stepped aside, his expression sombre.

‘
Kalinichta
...goodnight, Grace.'

* * *

Grace's footsteps disappeared along the upstairs corridor and Andreas sank onto the sofa, tiredly dragging his hands over his face.

Turning Grace down had been one of the hardest things he had ever done.

What had he even been
thinking
? A gorgeous woman had invited him into her bed and he had said no!

But there were so many compelling reasons for doing so. The future they would share as part of Christos and Sofia's lives. The future Grace wanted. Her tender, soft heart. So many logical and reasonable arguments for staying the hell away from her.

Why, then, was he sitting here with regret storming through his veins, angry at the recognition that the past two years he had been living a lie, pretending he was content in his life?

Three short days with Grace had shown him just how empty his life really was. Three days in which he had developed a bond with this woman such as he had never had before. A bond of understanding and trust.

He raked his hands through his hair. If he had the energy he would get up and pour himself a brandy. But telling Grace about his failed marriage had hollowed him out. He felt spent. However, it had also brought a lightness, the lifting of a burden he had carried on his own all this time. Her anger and understanding had touched him deeply. It had lifted some of his doubts and guilt. It had shown him that integrity
did
exist.

He respected everything Grace stood for. With her, there were none of the dramatics of his marriage, which had emotionally and physically drained him. Grace instead was intuitive and supportive.

And physically she drove him to despair.

Tonight, when they'd danced, her body had moved against his like a siren call. Her eyes had held a sexy promise, her mouth the whisper of endless pleasure.

They were both adults. Deeply attracted to one another. Why
shouldn't
they act on it if they were both clear on what the future held?

He stood and made for the stairs.

* * *

Grace scrubbed at her teeth, her back to the bathroom mirror. She couldn't bear to see the angry blush that still marred her cheeks.

How on earth was she going to face Andreas in the morning?

A knock sounded on her bedroom door and she leapt in surprise. It could only be one person. She turned and stared into the mirror. What was she going to do?

Her pride yelled at her to ignore him. He had made his position clear. She didn't need any further humiliation.

A second knock tapped on the door...slow and patient...like a man confident she would answer.

On the third knock she stalked to the door and yanked it open. ‘Andreas, I'm trying to sleep, to—'

He didn't give her an opportunity to finish her sentence. He marched into the room, shutting the door behind him, and forced her back against the wall. Only inches separated them. He reached out an arm and his palm landed on the wall to the side of her head. He loomed over her, his face taut, his body pulsating with frustrated desire.

His dark eyes devoured hers. ‘Did you mean it when you asked me to stay the night with you?'

She tried to answer but his gaze moved down her body and her words were swept away.

‘Did you mean it?' His words were a low growl.

‘Yes.'

‘I can't offer you anything, Grace. We have no future together.'

She ignored the way her stomach flinched at his reminder and looked him solidly in the eye. ‘I know.'

His hand reached out and sat on her waist. Slowly he drew her forward until their bodies met. She waited for his kiss, but instead he stayed gazing down at her, his hands following a torturously slow path around her body, sending jolts of pleasure to her core.

He lowered his head and kissed the tender spot at the back of her ear. She gave a low groan.

‘You're every man's dream...' He paused to trail kisses along her neck. ‘Beautiful, sexy, great legs...' His fingers played with the strings of her pajama vest top for a tantalising moment. ‘You smell like a summertime garden in the heat of the midday sun...'

His trail of kisses moved upwards, his stubble dragging lightly across her skin, yet another reminder of his forceful maleness. His mouth hovered over hers.

‘And you have the most gorgeous kissable lips.'

With that, he began a slow exploration of her lips that had Grace moaning, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders, desperate for him to deepen it.

She was close to tears when he did eventually deepen their kiss, and without warning he lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Still kissing her, he walked to her bed and together they fell down, Grace crying out in pleasure to feel his weight upon her.

* * *

The following morning Andreas woke suddenly, when the bed shuddered hard and banged against the wall.

‘Oh, that hurts...ouch...my knee...' At the foot of the bed Grace hobbled on the tiled floor, quietly muttering some low expletives.

‘Are you okay?'

She jumped when he spoke, and whispered, ‘Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I couldn't see in the dark and whacked my knee against the bedpost.'

Andreas sat up further in the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. They both turned away from its glare. A hand over his eyes, he asked, ‘Why are you dressed? It's still dark.'

‘I need to make a start on the bouquets and finish off the other prep work.'

‘What time is it?'

‘Five.'

‘
Five!
We didn't go to bed until two...to sleep before at least four. You can't function on less than an hour's sleep.'

She reached down and massaged her knee. ‘I'll be okay. I have to go.'

The anxiety in her eyes told him that she wasn't going to listen to reason. He would have to resort to other tactics.

‘Fine. But not until you come here and give me a kiss.'

She pondered his request with a frown, but then walked over and dropped a quick kiss on to his cheek.

She went to move away but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the bed. He rolled her over him and wrapped his legs around hers, holding her prisoner. She glared at him and he gave a small chortle.

‘What are you doing?' Her voice was a breathless low whisper. She pushed against him, but already desire was flooding her eyes.

His fingers dipped beneath her sweatshirt and into the waistband of her jeans. Her body jerked against his.

‘Grace Chapman, were you just about to leave without even saying goodbye?'

‘No!'

‘You're not a very convincing liar.'

‘I told you—I have to get to the flowers.'

‘And
I
say that you need some sleep. So, whether you want to or not, you're staying here with me.'

She pushed hard against him.

He shook his head. ‘You'll have to try harder than that.'

For a moment she considered him. But then she nodded her acceptance and he felt her body relax into him. He gave a low groan when her hand reached round and stroked along his spine. Her mouth, hot and warm, trailed kisses on his chest. Every cell in his body stirred.

His eyes closed of their own volition and he murmured into her hair, ‘You're not playing fair. We're supposed to sleep.'