The Greek Tycoon's Virgin Wife. Helen Bianchin

much.’

      Why hadn’t she expected him to be here tonight? Xandro Caramanis represented serious money…very serious money.

      Naturally he would have received a coveted invitation.

      He moved to her side. ‘A painful memory, do you think? Or a warning?’

      ‘Perhaps both?’

      ‘Not exactly comfortable viewing.’

      ‘No.’

      His height and breadth of shoulder made her think of a warrior…and wondered if the male body beneath the fine tailoring hid powerful musculature.

      Somehow artificial enhancement and Xandro Caramanis just didn’t mesh.

      The thought did nothing for her peace of mind.

      She should excuse herself and move away. To remain attempting idle conversation didn’t appeal. Besides, she didn’t need the added tension.

      Ilana turned slightly towards him, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

      His facial features were compelling, with arresting bone sculpture, an intensely sexual mouth and dark eyes that saw too much.

      ‘You look tired.’

      ‘How kind of you to care,’ she managed with intended facetiousness.

      ‘Does it bother you that I might?’

      ‘Not in the least.’

      His soft laughter was barely audible. ‘Have dinner with me.’

      She thought of the banana she’d hastily peeled and eaten as she rode the lift down to the basement car park, and the few gulps of bottled water, followed by orange juice, champagne and exotic canapés. Hardly an adequate meal.

      Where was the harm in light, careless banter in a room filled with guests? ‘Will it damage your ego if I refuse?’

      His mouth curved into a musing smile. ‘I’ll accept a raincheck.’

      ‘I wasn’t aware I’d requested one.’

      ‘Next week,’ Xandro continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

      ‘I’ll be in touch.’

      ‘When you’ve checked your social diary?’

      He regarded her steadily. ‘Name an evening.’

      Instinct warned she was treading dangerous territory. He possessed a waiting, watching quality that made him impossible to read. ‘And you’ll set aside any previous obligations?’

      ‘Yes.’

      Her stomach executed a backward flip, trembled a little, then didn’t rest easy.

      He didn’t move, didn’t touch her…but she felt as if he did. Everything faded from her vision, and the noise, the filtered music grew silent.

      The air between them seemed electric, and for a moment she could have sworn time stood still.

      How long did they remain there in silence? Seconds, a minute? Two?

      Then she saw his features relax, his mouth curved a little at the edges, and she became aware his attention had shifted slightly.

      ‘Liliana.’

      The sound of his voice brought the large room and its milling occupants into focus, and she felt the tension begin to ebb from her body as she slowly turned towards her mother.

      What just happened here?

      Nothing.

      Something. She sensed it…felt it.

      ‘Xandro.’ Liliana’s smile was genuine. ‘Have you seen anything you like?’

      You’re wrong.

      Oh, for heaven’s sake. Get over it. He’s playing a game…and you’re it.

      The challenge.

      Like he has so few in his life, he needs to hunt the unattainable?

      ‘Yes. Something I intend to reserve for myself.’

      He was talking about a painting…wasn’t he?

      Or had the flute of champagne addled her brain and she was the only one who imagined a hidden meaning?

      Coffee, hot, strong and sweet. Preferably black. It might clear her head…and keep her awake. Which she didn’t want, when she desperately needed a reasonable night’s sleep.

      She could excuse herself and leave. Liliana knew how hectic the past few weeks had been, and how many more long hours she still needed to put in before awards night.

      Yet stubborn pride stiffened her spine, and she indicated the far end of the spacious gallery. ‘There’s something I want to have another look at.’

      Ilana had the instinctive feeling she didn’t fool him in the slightest as she offered a dismissive smile before turning to thread her way through the guests.

      She ensured she maintained a leisurely pace, and pretended a genuine interest. She smiled, pausing every now and then to exchange pleasantries with an acquaintance.

      Talking the talk, she reflected a trifle wryly. Working the room. Accepting good wishes for the upcoming design awards.

      How long had she been here? Two hours…a little more?

      It was almost ten when she caught Liliana’s attention and indicated her intention to leave.

      One of the bouncers stepped forward as she exited the main entrance. ‘Is your car parked close by, miss?’

      ‘Not far from my own.’ The male voice was far too familiar. ‘We’ll walk together.’

      She didn’t want his company, didn’t need to suffer his disturbing presence. ‘I’ll be fine.’

      Touch me and I’ll hit you, Ilana vowed silently as she stepped out briskly. If he’d deliberately timed his exit to coincide with her own…

      She made no attempt at conversation, and it irked unbearably he chose silence, when she so badly wanted the opportunity to snub him.

      How long did it take to reach her car? Minutes…five at the most, and she breathed a faint sigh of relief as she deactivated the alarm and reached for the door, only to have her hand collide with his own.

      Warm, hard, strong beneath her fingers, and she snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned by a flame.

      ‘Thank you.’ Two polite, succinct, stilted words as he pulled open the door for her to slide in behind the wheel.

      Xandro leant forward and placed a business card on the dashboard. ‘My private cellphone number.’

      An invitation to call him?

      Offer her business card in exchange for his?

      As if!

      Ilana slid a key into the ignition and fired the engine as he closed the door, aware as she drove away the mild headache she’d harboured for the past half-hour had turned into a full-blown migraine.

      Great. That was all she needed.

      Too little sleep, too much tension…

      It was a relief to reach her apartment, undress, remove her make-up and pop a couple of painkillers.

      Tomorrow, she reflected as she hit the pillow, was another day.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ORDERED CHAOS REIGNED in the workroom.

      Fingers flew, soft and not-so-soft curses registered beneath the music flowing from one of the city’s popular radio stations, the steam iron hissed in harmony with the rain hitting the tin roof.

      Ilana checked schedules,