LITMIR.BIZ

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felt that way, but he had to be realizing how truly useless she was. What would her next honest mistake be? Accidental poisoning?

      Maybe there was a reason her father had kept her so sheltered. Maybe he could see that left to her own devices, she was a danger to herself and others.

      “I suppose it’s obvious that I’ve never cooked before. Or used a dishwasher.”

      “Seriously?” he asked, trying to look surprised, but he was a terrible liar.

      She shot him a look.

      “Okay,” he admitted. “I sort of had that feeling.”

      “I appreciate that you choked down breakfast despite how awful it was.”

      He shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad.”

      “Yes, it was. We would probably both be safer if you cooked from now on.”

      “What makes you think I can cook?”

      “You can’t be any worse than me. I should stay as far away as possible from the kitchen.”

      “How are you going to learn if you don’t try?”

      “I did try, and I almost burned the house down! I’m useless.”

      He huffed out an exasperated breath. “What is it with you and this low self-esteem? You are not useless. And if you really would like to learn, when we get back to Texas we’ll enroll you in a cooking class.”

      She shook her head. “No, my father would never allow it. He considers it beneath me.”

      “Your father isn’t the one calling the shots. You’re married to me now, and you have a say in your own life.”

      At first, she thought he was just making fun of her, but then she realized he was serious. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. “If he finds out, he’ll be furious, and you still need his senatorial support.”

      “Let me worry about that.”

      He would risk his relationship with her father just so she could have a couple of cooking lessons? She narrowed her eyes, still not sure if she could trust him, wondering if this was some twisted game to him. “You’re serious?”

      “Yes. Very serious.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter. “Out of curiosity, what else has your father kept you from doing?”

      She considered his question for a minute, then said, “It would probably be easier to tell you what he did let me do, since it’s a far shorter list.”

      Mitch shook his head. “My father could be a real bastard, but I’m beginning to wonder if I didn’t have it so rough, after all.”

      It was the first time he had ever said anything to her about his family. Of course, she had never really asked. “What did he do to you?”

      “Suffice it to say, the slug to the jaw I took from Lance was nothing in comparison.”

      “Your father hit you?”

      “On a regular basis. But it sounds worse than it was. I got over it.”

      Why did she get the feeling he really hadn’t?

      “So, what are we going to do about dinner?” he asked.

      She looked over at the sink, at the remains of the lamb shank. “Don’t look at me. I’m not going anywhere near the stove until I get those lessons.”

      “In that case, why don’t we get dressed and go into the village?”

      That sounded like the perfect solution to her. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Chapter Seven

      What the hell was wrong with him?

      Mitch walked with Lexi down the dirt road to Tzia, the local village, wondering what the hell he’d been thinking today when he carried her into his bedroom. So much for treating this marriage like a business deal. But when she’d accused him of finding her repulsive, and he realized she actually meant it, that she wasn’t just manipulating him, the hurt look she wore had done something to his brain. What choice did he have but to show her how wrong she was?

      And what was all that crap about cooking lessons? Where the hell had that come from? He didn’t care if she could cook or not. But again she had looked so helpless and dejected. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Which was probably exactly what she wanted. But there was a small part of him that kept wondering, what if it wasn’t an act?

      She’d reached for his hand as they left the villa, and what was he supposed to do? Refuse to hold it? Tell her he didn’t think it was appropriate? They were married. He could feel himself getting sucked into…something, although as genuine as her feelings seemed to be, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that she had ulterior motives. They had agreed this was going to be business and nothing more, and he was determined to stick to that. As soon as they got back to Texas. He figured by then they would have gotten this nagging sexual attraction out of the way and would both be sick of each other.

      At least he hoped so.

      They reached the village just before sundown. As they passed under the arch leading inside, the beauty of the architecture stunned him. They strolled down cobbled streets lined with shops, crowded bars, and outdoor cafés. There was even a gallery whose front window boasted the works of famous Greek artists such as Tsarouhis, Fasianos, and Stathopoulos.

      After some browsing, they chose a quiet café at the north end of the village and sat outside under a thick blanket of stars. He ordered an ouzo and though he tried to convince Lexi to try it, she opted for a bottled water, instead. In D.C., she had always had a glass or two of wine with dinner.

      “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” he asked after the server left the table.

      “I’m sure.”

      “Wine or beer?”

      She smiled, a warm breeze blowing the hair back from her face. “Why, are you planning to get me drunk?”

      If he’d learned one thing in the past couple of days, it was that he didn’t need the aid of alcohol to have his way with her. They ordered their food, both choosing authentic Greek favorites, but when it came, Lexi just picked at it.

      “You don’t like it?” he asked.

      “No, it’s good. I’m just not very hungry.”

      As far as Mitch could tell, she’d barely eaten anything since they left the U.S., and maybe it was his imagination, but she looked thinner than she’d been that night in D.C. He didn’t remember her collarbones being so pronounced and her cheeks so hollow. He knew she was insecure, but would she drive herself to the point of anorexia? Or what if she was sick? Something more dangerous than airsickness and jet lag?

      “Is something wrong?” he asked.

      His question seemed to surprise her. “No, why?”

      “You’ve hardly eaten a thing since we left Texas. Are you sick?”

      There was the slightest pause before she smiled and assured him, “I’m fine, really.” But he couldn’t escape the feeling that she wasn’t being completely honest with him. Although, what reason would she have to lie?

      By the time they finished eating, most of the shops had locked their doors and the bars looked overcrowded and smoky, so they headed back to the villa with nothing but the full moon to light their way. The air had cooled and it was so silent, Mitch could hear the thump of his own heart.

      Once again, she reached for his hand and rather than fight it, he twined his fingers through hers.

      She surprised him by asking, “Did your father hit Lance, too?”

      His

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