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      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      EPILOGUE

      COMING NEXT MONTH

      PROLOGUE

      NIKOS NIARCHOU’S VISIT to the London offices of the Niarchou Leisure Group was the subject of intense excitement among all the staff. All the staff bar one, Kezia thought impatiently, as she crossed the reception area and was assailed by the overpowering smell of furniture polish.

      ‘Anyone would think we were expecting a visit from royalty,’ she muttered to Jo Stafford, her colleague from the PR department, as they stepped into the lift.

      ‘A visit from the company chairman is as good as,’ Jo replied seriously. ‘It’s over a year since he last came, and the MD is sweating buckets that we make a good impression. Nik Niarchou demands high standards from every member of staff, from top management down to office junior. You must remember him,’ she added, when Kezia failed to look suitably overawed.

      ‘I joined the company just after his last visit. I remember there was a lot of talk about it, but I’ve never met him so I’m afraid I don’t know what all the fuss is about.’

      ‘You must have heard about him, though,’ Jo protested. ‘His reputation in the bedroom is almost as legendary as it is in the boardroom. The gossip columns can’t get enough of him—but let’s face it: he’s a gorgeous Greek multimillionaire who has the added attraction of being single. It’s not surprising he grabs the headlines—especially now he’s decided to settle permanently in England. Apparently he’s bought some fantastic stately home in Hertfordshire called Otterbourne House, and there’s a queue a mile long for the position of lady of the manor.’

      The lift stopped at Kezia’s floor and she stepped out. ‘You’d better point this demi-god out to me when he arrives. It could prove embarrassing if I don’t recognise him,’ she added dryly.

      ‘You’ll know him,’ Jo assured her with a grin. ‘Nik Niarchou is unlike any man you’ve ever met. Trust me, he’s unforgettable.’

      Kezia hurried past the front desk of the PR department and shook her head at the sight of the receptionist, who was measuring the length of each tulip stalk before placing the bloom carefully in a vase.

      The whole place had gone mad, she thought irritably, and all because of one man. How great could he be? Jo had described Nikos Niarchou as some sort of Greek colossus, but it was amazing how blinding the lure of money could be. In reality he was probably short, balding and middle aged—with a paunch, Kezia added for good measure. However, there was no denying the fact that as company chairman, Mr Niarchou was supremely powerful. It was reputed that he had impossibly high standards and she prayed that her boss, Frank Warner, would actually make it into the office on time and sober this morning.

      By ten-thirty Frank hadn’t shown up, and she was panicking. She had worked as PA to the head of the Niarchou Group’s public relations department for the past year, and had to admit that the job was not quite as she had anticipated. Her boss was struggling to cope with an acrimonious divorce and a drink problem. She wasn’t sure which one had triggered the other, but she couldn’t go on covering for him for much longer without other members of staff noticing. She was fond of Frank, but right now she could cheerfully boil him in oil, Kezia thought darkly as she walked along to the coffee machine and stared down at the car park, searching for his car. There was no sign of him, and with a groan she headed back along the corridor.

      ‘Damn it, Frank, where are you?’ she muttered, halting abruptly in the doorway of her office as a figure swung round from the window.

      Her first impression of the man who turned towards her was his exceptional height. He was easily five inches over six feet tall, she estimated, unable to drag her gaze from the formidable width of his shoulders. His black, impeccably tailored suit sheathed a lean, hard body, and she noted the impressive muscle definition of his abdomen visible beneath his silk shirt. As if in slow motion she lifted her eyes to his face—and swallowed as the full impact of his handsome face overwhelmed her. Razor-sharp cheekbones, a square jaw that hinted an implacably determined character, and a mouth that was wide, full-lipped and innately sensual.

      Jo had been right, Kezia acceded numbly. Nikos Niarchou was unlike any man she had ever met.

      There was no doubt in her mind that the man who was watching her with the silent stillness of a predator was the head of the phenomenally successful Niarchou Group. He possessed an air of authority teamed with a barely concealed impatience. But nothing had prepared her for his raw sexual magnetism—or her reaction to it.

      ‘That’s a very good question, Miss Trevellyn. Where exactly is Frank Warner?’

      His voice was deep timbred, with a pronounced Greek accent that was so sexy it made her toes curl. Get a grip, she told herself fiercely, irritated by the discovery that she seemed to have lost the power of speech.

      His dark eyes travelled over her in a slow appraisal, noting the simplicity of her grey skirt and white blouse, and Kezia crossed her arms instinctively over her chest, longing for the protection of her jacket. Her clothes were smart and practical, but beneath his intense scrutiny she was aware that her blouse gaped fractionally over her breasts and her skirt clung faithfully to her curvaceous hips and rounded bottom. His gaze moved lower and skimmed her legs in their sheer black hose before trawling up again, and she had the feeling that he had mentally stripped her bare, leaving her exposed to his gaze.

      With a huge effort she forced herself to relax and moved further into the room. ‘You have the advantage of knowing my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours—Mr…?’

      ‘Niarchou—Nikos Niarchou.’

      The gleam in his eyes warned her that he was amused by her pretence that she did not know his identity. He dismantled her air of cool efficiency with humiliating ease, and she blushed as she proffered her hand to formalise their introduction.

      ‘And you are Kezia Trevellyn, Frank’s personal assistant.’

      His hand closed around hers and instantly engulfed it. She had expected the contact to be brief and impersonal, but incredibly he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against her fingers. It was electrifying; she almost literally felt sparks shoot down her arm. Her whole body

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