A Deal at the Altar. Lynne Graham

Bee countered, taking in the sardonic glitter of his eyes, the hard, uncompromising bone structure and that stubborn sensual mouth. It was very much the face of a tough guy, resistant to any counsel but his own.

      ‘Next you’ll be telling me you can read my fortune from my palm,’ Sergios retorted with mocking cool.

      Bee walked out of his office in a daze. He had said he would consider her proposition. Had that only been a polite lie? Somehow she didn’t think he would have given her empty words. But if he was seriously considering her as a wife, where did that leave her? Fathoms deep in shock? For since Bee had automatically assumed that Sergios Demonides would turn her down she had not, at any stage, actually considered the possibility of becoming his wife …

      CHAPTER TWO

      FOUR days later, Bee emerged from the gates of the primary school where she worked and noticed a big black limousine parked just round the corner.

      ‘Miss Blake?’ A man in a suit with the build of a bouncer approached her. ‘Mr Demonides would like to offer you a lift home.’

      Bee blinked and stared at the long glossy limo with its tinted windows. How had he found out where she worked? While wondering what on earth Sergios Demonides was playing at, she saw no option other than to accept. Why queue for a bus when a limo was on offer? she reflected ruefully. Had he come in person to deliver his negative answer? Why would he take the trouble to do that? A man of his exalted status rarely put himself out for others. As a crowd of colleagues and parents parted to give Bee and her bulky companion a clear passage to the opulent vehicle self-conscious pink warmed her cheeks because people were staring.

      ‘Beatriz,’ Sergios acknowledged with a grave nod, glancing up from his laptop.

      As Bee slid into the luxury vehicle she was disturbingly conscious of the sheer animal charisma that he exuded from every pore. He was all male in the most primal sense of the word. Smell the testosterone, one of her university friends would have quipped. The faint tang of some expensive masculine cologne flared her nostrils, increasing her awareness. She felt her nipples pinch tight beneath her bra and she went rigid, deeply disconcerted by her pronounced awareness of the sexual charge he put out. Her shielded gaze fell on his lean masculine profile, noting the dark shadow of stubble outlining his angular jaw. He was badly in need of a shave. It was the only sign in his otherwise immaculate appearance that he was nearing the end of his working day rather than embarking on its beginning. Aware that her hair was tossed by the breeze and her raincoat, skirt and knee-high boots were more comfortable than smart, she was stiff and awkward and questioning why because as a rule her sole concern about her appearance was that she be clean and tidy.

      As the limousine pulled away from the pavement Sergios flipped shut his laptop and turned his arrogant head to look at her. His frown was immediate. She was a mess in her unfashionable, slightly shabby clothing. Yet she had flawless skin, lovely eyes and thick glossy hair, advantages that most women would have made the effort to enhance. For the first time he wondered why she didn’t bother.

      ‘To what do I owe the honour?’ Bee enquired, watching him push the laptop away. He had beautiful shapely hands, she registered, and then tensed at that surprising thought.

      ‘I’m leaving for New York this evening and I would like you to meet my children before I go.’

      ‘Why?’ Green eyes suddenly wide with confusion, Bee stared back at him. ‘Why do you want me to meet them?’

      A very faint smile curled the corners of his wide sensual mouth. ‘Obviously because I’m considering you for the job.’

      ‘But you can’t be!’ Bee told him in disbelief.

      ‘I am. Your father played a winning hand sending you to see me,’ Sergios fielded, amused by her astonishment, which was laced with a dismay that almost made him laugh out loud. She was a refreshing woman.

      Her well-defined brows pleated and she frowned. ‘I just don’t understand … you could marry anybody!’

      ‘Don’t underestimate yourself,’ Sergios responded, his thoughts on the enquiries and references he had gathered on her behalf since their last meeting. He had vetted her a good deal more thoroughly than he had vetted her flighty sister, Zara. ‘According to my sources you’re a loyal, devoted daughter and a gifted and committed teacher. I believe that you could offer those children exactly what they need—’

      ‘Where did you get that information from?’ Bee asked angrily.

      ‘There are private investigation firms which can offer such details within hours for the right price,’ Sergios fielded with colossal calm. ‘Naturally I checked you out and I was impressed with what I learned about you.’

      But I wasn’t seriously offering to marry you, she almost snapped back at him before she thought better of that revealing admission and hastily swallowed it back. After all her father’s threat still hung over her and his financial security was integral to her mother’s support system. Take away that security and life as her mother knew it would be at an end. Suddenly Bee was looking down a long, dark, intimidating tunnel at a future she could no longer predict and accepting that if Sergios Demonides decided that he did want to marry her, she would be in no position to refuse him.

      ‘If your cousin’s children are disturbed, I have no experience with that sort of problem,’ Bee warned him quietly. ‘I have no experience of raising children either and I’m not a miracle worker.’

      ‘I don’t believe in miracles, so I’m not expecting one,’ Sergios said very drily, resting sardonic golden eyes on her strained face. ‘There would also be conditions which you would have to fulfil to meet my requirements.’

      Bee said nothing. Still reeling in shock at the concept of marrying him, she did not trust herself to speak. As for his expectations, she was convinced they would be high and that he would have a very long list of them. Unhappily for her, Sergios Demonides was unaccustomed to settling for anything less than perfection and the very best in any field. She dug out her phone and rang her mother to warn her that she would be late home. By the time she finished the call the limousine was already filtering down a driveway adorned with silver birch trees just coming into leaf. They drew up outside a detached house large and grand enough to be described as a mansion.

      ‘My London base.’ Sergios shot her a rapier-eyed glance from level dark eyes. ‘One of your duties as my wife would be taking charge of my various homes and ensuring that the households run smoothly.’

      The word ‘wife’, allied to that other word, ‘duties’, sounded horribly nineteenth century to Bee’s ears. ‘Are you a domestic tyrant?’ she enquired.

      Sergios sent her a frowning appraisal. ‘Is that a joke?’

      ‘No, but there is something very Victorian about mentioning the word wife in the same sentence as duties.’

      His handsome mouth quirked. ‘You first referred to the role as a job and I prefer to regard it in the same light.’

      But Bee very much liked the job she already had and registered in some consternation that she was literally being asked to put her money where her mouth was. She had done what her father had asked her to do without thinking through the likely consequences of success. Now those consequences had well and truly come home to roost with her. As she accompanied Sergios into a sizeable foyer, he issued instructions to the manservant greeting him and escorted Bee into a massive drawing room.

      ‘Unlike your sister, you’re very quiet,’ he remarked.

      ‘You’ve taken me by surprise,’ Bee admitted ruefully.

      ‘You look bewildered. Why?’ Sergios breathed, his bronzed eyes impatient. ‘I have no desire for the usual kind of wife. I don’t want the emotional ties, the demands or the restrictions, but on a practical basis a woman to fulfil that role would be a very useful addition to my life.’

      ‘Perhaps I just don’t see what’s in it for me—apart from you buying my father’s hotels