Greek Tycoon, Waitress Wife. Julia James

waiting for him to make the decision for her.

      He did. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then that is settled. All we need decide now is where you would like to eat. Would you like to choose somewhere?’

      He was, he knew, offering her the choice in order to make her feel more in control of a situation that was overwhelming her.

      The look of uncertainty in her eyes deepened yet more.

      ‘I…I don’t really know anywhere in London,’ she said.

      He smiled. ‘Fortunately, I do.’

      Carrie made no answer. She couldn’t. His smile had come out of nowhere, and it electrified her. Dazzled her. Then it was gone, leaving her nerves tingling. Alexeis took another mouthful of champagne, and the movement triggered her to do so as well.

      ‘So, you have the advantage of my name, but not I of yours,’ he said encouragingly.

      ‘It’s Carrie—Carrie Richards,’ she answered, almost hesitantly.

      Was she reluctant to give him her name? The novelty again intrigued Alexeis, as did the faint colouring of her cheeks. Women were usually eager for him to know who they were, glad to draw his attention…

      ‘Carrie,’ he echoed. He lifted his glass in a toast. ‘Well, Carrie, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance,’ he said, with a smile.

      She bit her lip, still in a daze about the whole adventure, not seeing the way her gesture made his eyes focus on her mouth. She took another swallow of her champagne, feeling it fizzing warmly down her throat. It seemed to have fizzed into her veins as well. Suddenly she felt buoyant, as if everything were getting light around her. The dejected anxiety and depression she’d felt about losing her job, the bleak loneliness of living in London, seemed far away now, and she was glad and grateful. Grateful to the man who had dispelled it.

      ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, suddenly thrilled at the prospect.

      ‘My hotel is by the river, and it has a very good restaurant, with a three-starred Michelin chef,’ said Alexeis.

      A look of sudden dismay crossed Carrie’s face.

      ‘Oh, I can’t! I can’t go into a restaurant—I’ve just realised! I mean—I’m still wearing this stupid uniform, and I haven’t got any proper clothes with me!’

      Alexeis gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘That won’t be a problem. Trust me.’

      He smiled at her again. In the dim interior light, just for a moment, she felt a stab of unease go through her. Not just uncertainty. His smile had seemed, just for a moment, to be amusement at some private source of humour. Then he was speaking to her again, and the moment passed.

      ‘Have you always lived in London?’

      She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve only been here a few months.’

      ‘It must seem very exciting to you.’ It was the sort of thing that seemed appropriate to say to a girl as beautiful as she was, at the peak of her youth.

      But she gave a quick shake of her head again. ‘No, I hate it!’

      He looked taken aback. ‘Why?’

      ‘Everyone is so rude and unfriendly, and in a rush, pushing all the time.’

      ‘Then why do you stay here?’

      She gave an awkward half-shrug. ‘It’s where the work is.’

      ‘There are no waitresses in your home town?’

      She looked as though she were about to say something, then stopped herself. Alexeis wished he hadn’t said what he had, lest she think it sarcastic. He hadn’t meant it to be—he was simply surprised that a girl as beautiful as her had expressed so strong a dislike of London. She must have men flocking around her, and she could take her pick from them!

      Even as the image formed in his mind he felt himself react. What he was doing was on impulse, he knew, but even with that allowance he still recognised his reaction. He didn’t want her taking her pick of other men. Then his hackles retracted. While she was with him she would have eyes for no one else.

      And nor would he…

      There was no doubt in his mind about that, at any rate.

      He let his gaze wash over her. She really did have something. He wasn’t sure what, but it was growing on him with every passing moment.

      ‘So where is your home town?’ he asked, returning to the conversation. She was still uncertain about what she was doing, he could tell—and, again, the novelty of that uncertainty intrigued him. He knew of no women who had ever been in the least bit uncertain about their reaction if he showed the slightest interest. They positively bit his hand off when he took them up! They didn’t bite their lip in that incredibly softly sensual way…

      Another reaction took him, and he had to subdue it. It was far, far too soon for that! Now was only the time for gentling, for drawing her to him, for making her feel at ease—making her lose that last vestige of caution that would only encumber his plans for the evening.

      ‘Um—it’s Marchester,’ she said. ‘It’s a small town, sort of in the Midlands.’

      Alexeis had barely heard of it, and was little interested, but he made some anodyne reply, and continued the conversation with bare attention. He was far more interested in watching how a strand of her blonde hair had worked loose and was caressing her cheek, how her profile was etched against the windowpane. He was also impatient to arrive at the hotel and get her opposite him at a dining table, in a good light. Indulge himself in appreciating her soft beauty.

      The car seemed to crawl the rest of the way, but eventually it drew up under the portico of the hotel—one of London’s most prestigious, with breathtaking views over the Embankment.

      As the driver opened his door, Alexeis crossed around the back of the car and helped her out, holding his hand to her. She took it tentatively, and it added, yet again, to her novelty value. Then his eyes were on the slender length of her black-stockinged leg, below the hem of her raincoat. She seemed to hug it more tightly around her as he escorted her into the hotel. She glanced around almost nervously.

      ‘Don’t worry—I won’t subject you to a crowded restaurant,’ he assured her. ‘There is a much quieter place to eat upstairs.’

      He guided her towards the bank of elevators, and in a moment they were being whisked upstairs. She had gone back to biting her lip again, he noticed.

      Suddenly a pang struck him. Should he really be doing this?

      Then she looked across at him and gave him a tentative smile, as if seeking reassurance. Something kicked through him, and his own uncertainty vanished. Her smile was enchanting—

      He found himself smiling back at her. Giving her the reassurance she was silently seeking.

      ‘It will be all right,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

      The flicker was in her eyes again. ‘It’s just that…just that…’

      ‘It’s just that I’m a complete stranger and I picked you up off the street.’

      The blunt way he said it made her cheeks colour. But he had done it deliberately, spelling out her fears, her apprehension and unease.

      ‘But think about this,’ he went on, and his eyes held hers. ‘The Irish have a saying—“All friends were strangers to each other once.” Is that not true? We were not formally introduced to each other by mutual acquaintances—but so what? If I’d met you at a party I’d still have wanted to invite you to dinner. What difference does it make how we got to know each other?’ His voice changed, something in his eyes changed, and something inside her shimmered and caught, like a soft flame lit deep, deep in her being. ‘Now we do know each other. And over dinner, I trust, we will get to know each other more. But nothing, absolutely nothing, will happen