The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife. Annie West

charm any more.

      She raised her eyes to his and strove to ignore the sizzle of heat that blasted out at her.

      ‘There’s one more thing,’ she said, shuffling her feet as a wave of tiredness made her unsteady.

      ‘Of course there is. At last we come to it.’ There was contempt on his face and a sneer curved his sensual mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest. The action emphasised the power of his body, even in a superbly tailored evening jacket. He radiated sheer masculine force.

      She shook her head and then wished she hadn’t, when it took a moment to bring him back into focus.

      ‘I came to thank you,’ she said and held out her hand to him.

      That took him aback. He stared at her as if he’d never shaken hands before.

      ‘If it hadn’t been for you,’ she continued, ‘I’d be dead. You saved my life.’ Her lips curved in a tentative smile. ‘I never got to thank you for that, but I wanted you to know that I didn’t forget. I owe you so much.’

      ‘What nonsense is this?’ His brows furrowed heavily and he ignored her gesture. His face grew dark with anger.

      Disappointed, Tessa let her arm drop, her stamina seeping away at his abrupt rejection. The nervous energy that had kept her on the move for days bled away in a sudden rush, leaving her weightless and hollow.

      She ought to sit, regroup and gather her strength. But his eyes held her spellbound.

      ‘You have the temerity to come here and spin me such a tale? Do you take me for a fool?’ He stood up straighter, stretching to his full, formidable height. ‘I’m afraid for your sake I’m not that gullible. It takes more than a pretty face to convince me.’

      The muscles in Tessa’s abdomen tightened convulsively as if absorbing a physical blow—such was the repressed violence in him. She set her jaw and ignored the sudden glaze of heat behind her eyes.

      ‘In that case there’s no more to be said.’ Tessa dragged her gaze from his. So he didn’t accept her gratitude. That was his problem, not hers.

      What sort of man could be so lacking in charity or trust or even common courtesy?

      ‘I’ll be on my way, then.’ His face was a blur as she turned quickly to her backpack, propped against the wall. Giddiness rocked her as he stepped close, hemming her in.

      ‘I said, you won’t leave until we sort this out.’ He glared down at her, nostrils flared and jaw clenched, the epitome of male displeasure.

      ‘And I’ve said all I intend to say.’ Tessa snapped her teeth shut against the temptation to call him a bullying lout. ‘As far as I’m concerned we’ve covered everything. You’ve got your ring and it’s time for me to leave.’

      ‘Straight into the waiting arms of the paparazzi? I think not.’

      The Press? What would she want with the Press? Tessa had other concerns right now, like where she’d find a bed for the night. She hoped she had enough cash to tide her over. She hadn’t counted on a side-trip to Greece when she’d begun her journey in South America.

      It had been a stupid impulse after all.

      ‘I have no intention of talking to any paparazzi,’ she assured him. ‘So you can stop your fuming and step out of my way.’

      Slowly he shook his head and she read the speculation in his dark grey eyes. Speculation and something else she couldn’t put a name to. But it made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

      ‘You have no right to keep me here.’ Despite her rising anxiety Tessa’s voice sounded oddly muted, as if it came from a long distance away.

      His lips curved up in a sinister smile that sent a shudder rippling down her backbone.

      ‘What about the right of a husband?’ he murmured. ‘A husband long-deprived of his lovely wife.’

      He stepped close, bringing his powerful body flush against hers. His heat radiated into her, searing her through her shabby clothes. But it was the menace in his expression that sucked the breath from her.

      ‘You’ll find that here in Greece we take the responsibilities, and the rights of a husband very seriously.’

      Something sizzled in his eyes, molten hot and arresting. She felt her reaction to it, a feverish trembling, right through her body. That frightened her more than anything else.

      ‘Then I hope your fiancée knows exactly what she’s getting herself into.’ Tessa angled her chin up and met his eyes, glare for glare. But she had no hope of outfacing him. This man had all the self-confidence of a deity.

      ‘Enough! This is getting us nowhere.’

      ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ She sidestepped him and took a single pace towards her luggage. Then two things happened simultaneously: a large hand manacled her elbow and her shaky legs crumpled beneath her.

      She heard a rush of incomprehensible invective as the room tilted wildly and his dark eyes—large and disbelieving—swam before her.

      She stiffened her knees, bracing herself against the dizziness. But already he was bending, scooping her up in his arms and tucking her tight against his deep chest.

      He encompassed her. Those strong arms curved underneath, supporting her. His powerful chest cushioned her. And his eyes…his eyes meshed with hers, lustrous and compelling. She felt as if they looked into her very soul. Everything about him radiated male dominance: from the bunched muscles binding her close to the arrogant jut of his nose. Even the hint of dark shadow on his hard jaw reinforced the impression of primal machismo.

      And something else, something unsettling eddied around her, drawing her nerves to attention. It was the scent of his skin, she realised as she gazed at his mask-still features. Like tangy pine and earthy male. Intriguing. Inviting. Tempting.

      Blood pulsed loud in her ears as she stared at him. Her heart throbbed heavily, echoing the steady beat she felt deep inside his chest. Her mouth dried as the world shrank to just the two of them. Close, closer…

      ‘There’s no need for this,’ she whispered, surprised to find her voice so reedy. ‘I can stand.’

      She might not have spoken.

      ‘What have you been doing, starving yourself?’ One large hand splayed across her ribcage, right under her breast. His fingers slid experimentally across her ribs and back again, almost as if he were counting them. He scowled, his brows tilting at a ferocious angle.

      ‘When did you last eat?’

      ‘I had something on the plane.’ A cup of coffee and dry crackers somewhere over the Atlantic. Flying still made her nervous and that was all she’d been able to stomach.

      She looked into his dark gold face, into his gleaming, furious eyes, and felt a tightening in her chest, as if someone had squeezed her heart.

      ‘Christos! What did you intend to do? Make a grand entrance and then collapse at my feet in a bid for sympathy?’

      Tessa wriggled in his arms, trying to loosen his hold so she could stand on her own feet. But his grip remained firm and unforgiving.

      Anger surged through her. He had no cause to treat her like this. She’d only been trying to do the right thing, and she’d come all this way!

      So much for the famed Greek hospitality she’d heard about.

      ‘I have no interest in your sympathy, Mr Denakis.’ She spat out the words, tasting bitter disillusionment on her tongue. ‘I don’t know what your problem is. We don’t have a relationship. We never did. And,’ she cut across him as he opened his mouth to speak, ‘I’m not interested in meeting any journalists.’ She swallowed, trying to moisten her parched mouth. Her sudden burst of energy was fading fast. ‘Now I’d appreciate it if you’d put me down.’

      For