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The Mediterranean Tycoon. Margaret Mayo
Читать онлайн.Название The Mediterranean Tycoon
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Автор произведения Margaret Mayo
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Издательство HarperCollins
And it was suddenly clear that he was equally hungry for her! She was now his victim. And yet, even as she stared at him in chilling horror, the smile changed. It became a warmly welcoming one, a friendly one, nothing in it to suggest that he had designs on her. Had she imagined it? Was she becoming neurotic because of her own unstoppable, unwanted emotions?
‘I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.’ He came hurriedly down the steps as she climbed out of the car, damningly attractive in an open-necked shirt that revealed a scattering of dark curly hairs on his hard-muscled chest. ‘Let me help you unload.’
‘Where’s Nikos?’ asked Ben eagerly as he too scrambled out.
‘Already in bed,’ Andreas answered. ‘He tried to wait up but sleep got the better of him.’
‘I’m not tired,’ said Ben bravely, at the same time fighting back a yawn.
‘In that case you can carry some stuff up to your room,’ snapped Peta when she saw that he was going to dash indoors empty-handed.
Her tone was sharper than she’d intended and she saw Andreas frown. She oughtn’t to have rounded on her son; it wasn’t Ben she was annoyed with—it was herself for imagining something that wasn’t there. Andreas couldn’t care less about her; he was interested only in Nikos’s well-being. That was what she was here for, nothing else, and she’d do well to remember it.
Once all the stuff was piled into their rooms he offered Mrs Middleton’s help to unpack but Peta declined. ‘I can manage,’ she said tensely.
‘As you wish,’ he agreed with a laconic shrug. ‘When you’ve put Ben to bed come and join me. I’ll be in my study.’
There was a lot to unpack and it took her ages; Ben was asleep before she’d finished, but even then she was reluctant to go downstairs.
She remembered the room, quite a big room, oak-panelled with an immense desk across one corner. In front of the window, with excellent views of the landscaped gardens, were two easy chairs, and it was in one of these that she found him.
He’d left his door wide for her to walk in, though she tapped on it first to alert him to her presence. ‘Welcome to your new home,’ he said to her now. ‘I think this calls for a celebratory drink. What would you like?’
Peta didn’t much care for alcohol; it held too many bad memories. She’d had wine on the day of the conference, but only because she hadn’t wanted to cause a fuss, and even then she’d taken only a few sips. ‘A soft drink, I think. Coke or lemonade, I don’t mind which.’
She sat down on the chair next to him, stifling the tingle of electricity that alerted her senses to the very real danger he posed.
‘Are you sure that’s all you want?’
Peta nodded and turned her head to watch Andreas as he walked to a cunningly concealed bar and flipped the top off a bottle before pouring Coke into a glass.
‘I really do appreciate what you’re doing for me,’ he said when he returned to his seat, handing the drink to her.
Their fingers touched and Peta jumped, some of the Coke going down her clean white skirt. She swore beneath her breath.
‘How clumsy of me,’ said Andreas swiftly.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she assured him, conscious of the sudden heat in her cheeks. ‘I’d best go and change; rinse it out before it stains.’
‘You are coming back?’ he asked, and for the first time Peta noticed lines of strain on his face. He was probably apprehensive about how things would work out with her and Nikos, and all the problems at work wouldn’t help either, and here she was worrying over her own stupid reactions.
‘Of course,’ she agreed with a faint smile, even though she’d actually planned on staying upstairs, where it was safer. At the office she could ignore his sexuality and concentrate on the work in hand. Here it was a different story. The trouble was, if she didn’t go back down he’d more than likely come charging up to see where she was.
She had not realised when she’d agreed to take the job as Nikos’s nanny that she would spend any time with Andreas. It was too intimate, too disturbing, too everything. The blood fairly sizzled through her veins, and the thought of them sitting close together watching the sky darken as the sun went down was enough to send her frantic with fear.
Peta deliberately took her time rinsing the skirt, and when she finally plucked up the courage to rejoin Andreas it was to find him fast asleep in his chair, legs outstretched, his head resting on a cushion. The perfect excuse to creep upstairs, she thought, but somehow her legs wouldn’t carry her away. She stood there looking at him, drinking in the beautiful, sculpted lines of his face, the way his hair curled crisply around his ears, the fullness of his lips, curved upwards at the corners as though he was having a pleasant dream.
It wasn’t long before her eyes wandered down to the rise and fall of his chest. The dark hairs, some of which she could see at the V of his shirt, were visible through the fine silk. Her fingers itched to touch. He had a tremendous body, finely honed, with not an ounce of superfluous fat anywhere.
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