The Greek's Blackmailed Wife. Sarah Morgan

opened her mouth and her tongue flickered out to moisten her lips. His dark gaze homed in on the gesture with the speed of a heat-seeking missile and suddenly she was holding her breath. Remembering.

      His eyes lifted back to hers and she felt the tension throb between them, the atmosphere so taut that it threatened to snap at any moment. His eyes dropped to the tiny pulse in her neck and then moved lower still, resting on the soft swell of her breasts under the cream silk blouse.

      Did he know?

      Did he know what effect he had on her? Fighting the temptation to lift her hands and cover herself, Lauranne stood still, helpless to prevent the hardening of her nipples and the growing ache in her pelvis.

      Imprisoned by that shimmering dark gaze, she felt herself melt inside, hypnotised by a force too powerful to resist.

      Sexual awareness throbbed between them and then he swore softly in Greek and dragged his gaze away from her, a muscle working in his lean, bronzed cheek.

      Of course he knew, she thought helplessly. Hadn’t he always known? He’d recognised her response to him before she had. And that was hardly surprising. A man as experienced with her sex as Zander knew everything there was to know about female reactions. He was able to detect the most subtle of signs and know exactly when to make his move.

      ‘Farrer would never be able to satisfy a woman like you.’ His harsh statement took her by surprise and she gaped at him, stunned by his unspoken implication that he would be the only male to ever fulfil that task. ‘You’d trample all over him.’

      ‘Not every woman is vulnerable to your particular brand of Neanderthal machismo,’ she said bitterly and then wished she hadn’t because he was across the room in less than two strides, pulling her against him in a powerful movement that reminded her that she was talking utter rubbish.

      She was extremely vulnerable and she always had been where Zander was concerned.

      ‘Let’s test that theory, shall we?’ His dark eyes shielded by impossibly long lashes, he gazed down at her, muttered something in Greek and then brought his mouth down on hers in a kiss of such savage urgency that she had no time even to whimper a protest.

      Her mouth opened under the determined pressure of his and then she was kissing him back, her tongue tangling with his, her hands sneaking upwards to lock in his silky black hair.

      It was wild and hot, the kiss of a man seeking to stake his claim, and she responded in full measure, her hips grinding against his in an effort to draw herself closer to the very centre of his masculinity.

      How she’d missed this—

      How she’d missed him.

      It was as if their bodies recognised each other, drawn together by a force more powerful than the mere physical. She felt him shudder and then he was lifting her onto the desk, curling her legs around his muscular length so that they were held together in the most intimate way possible.

      ‘Not vulnerable?’ He growled the words against her mouth and yanked her closer so that she felt the hard throb of his erection against her most sensitive flesh. ‘Does he make you feel this, Lauranne?’

      Heat exploded in her pelvis and she squirmed closer still, frustrated by the barriers that still remained.

      And then suddenly he released her, uttered a savage curse and extracted himself from the coil of her body with decisive force, leaving her to clutch dizzily at the desk for support.

      Her whole body throbbed with a sexual need that she hadn’t felt for five long years and for a second she stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend why he had ended something so utterly perfect. Then her passion-clouded brain flickered slowly to life and humiliation set in.

      He’d ended it because the kiss had had nothing to do with chemistry and everything to do with revenge. She’d dented his ego and he was punishing her.

      What was she doing?

      This man was her enemy. Without thinking she’d issued another challenge, this time to his sexuality, and he’d responded by kissing her in anger, using passion as a punishment, not a seduction. The moment his mouth had crushed hers she’d been clinging to him, swept away by a primitive sexual need that she’d only ever felt with this man.

      Was she really that shallow?

      ‘I hate you,’ she whispered, but the words were meaningless even to her because the lips that formed them were soft and swollen from his kisses and the eyes that glared at him were still hazy with passion.

      ‘I don’t care.’ He stepped away from her with all the grim satisfaction of a male who had very definitely proved his point. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. We’ll discuss terms over dinner.’

      Dinner?

      She stared at him, muted by the shivers that still affected her body.

      ‘What?’ He lifted a smooth, dark eyebrow in her direction. ‘No smart remark? No refusal? No, you’re the last man on earth I’d eat dinner with? This isn’t going to be much fun if you’re so compliant, agape mou.’

      ‘Why d-dinner?’ Still shocked by the intensity of her response to him, her brain seemed to have slowed to a virtual halt.

      He dealt her a wry smile. ‘Despite the fact you claim not to be vulnerable to me, I suspect that the only way you and I will ever be able to conduct a conversation of any length, agape mou, is if we meet in a very public place. Hopefully the presence of an audience will curb our natural instincts to strip each other naked.’

      She stared at him, shattered at being confronted with such an unpalatable truth. How could she have responded like that? She should have slapped his handsome face, instead of which—

      ‘I have absolutely no trouble resisting you,’ she croaked and he smiled.

      ‘Of course you don’t.’

      His eyes dropped to her breasts and she was suddenly painfully conscious that her nipples were pushing against the thin fabric of her blouse, visible evidence of her arousal.

      Resisting the temptation to cover herself, she lifted her chin, trying to salvage a trace of dignity from the wreckage of her pride.

      ‘I don’t want to discuss terms.’ She wasn’t going to let him threaten her. ‘I have nothing to say to you, Zander, in private or in public.’

      ‘Then I’ll do the talking.’ Totally indifferent to her protests, he strolled casually towards the door and then paused, a hint of danger in his glittering dark eyes as he focused his attention on her one more time. ‘Oh, and a word of warning—’ his voice was quiet but she tensed, detecting the steel under that deceptively soft tone ‘—if you want to have a civilised evening, then don’t mention Farrer.’

      Civilised?

      She almost laughed.

      How could an evening with Zander ever be civilised? He was the least civilised person she’d ever met.

      ‘I won’t be mentioning anything because I’m not meeting you.’

      Black eyes slammed into hers, holding her captive. Like two fighters in a ring they faced each other, the atmosphere antagonistic and highly charged.

      ‘Don’t play games with me, Lauranne,’ he warned softly. ‘The stakes are high. Seven-thirty. And you know well enough that if you’re not here, I’ll find you.’

      With that he turned and strolled out of the room with the same degree of cool authority with which he’d entered it.

      Lauranne stared after him with helpless hostility, unsure whether to scream or cry. For five years she’d successfully locked her past away. She’d managed to get on with her life. And then Zander had sauntered back into it with his hot black eyes and his arrogant ways and all her attempts to forget what they’d shared, their marriage, were ground to dust. One frantic, febrile kiss later and suddenly her emotions were free again.

      When