Mistress By Arrangement. HELEN BIANCHIN

much the same reason it would suit you.’

      She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘What makes you so sure?’

      ‘Body language,’ Nikos drawled.

      Her eyes flashed golden fire. ‘I can handle Jeremy.’

      ‘I don’t doubt you can.’ One eyebrow lifted. ‘The question is, do you want to?’

      ‘I don’t need anyone to fight my battles,’ she said dryly. ‘Any more than you do. So why don’t you cut to the chase?’

      ‘I thought I already had.’

      Her head tilted to one side. ‘You expect me to believe there’s a female you can’t handle?’ The prospect was almost laughable.

      ‘The widow of a very close friend of mine,’ Nikos enlightened her slowly. ‘Her husband was killed several months ago in a skiing accident.’

      ‘She is emotionally fragile, and genuinely misinterprets the friendship?’ Michelle posed. ‘Or has she become a calculating vixen intent on snaring another rich husband?’

      His expression imperceptibly hardened, a subtle shifting of muscle over bone that reassembled his features into a compelling mask.

      ‘You presume too much.’

      So she’d struck a tender nerve. Interesting that he didn’t answer her question.

      ‘You feel honour-bound to spare—’ She paused deliberately.

      ‘Saska.’

      ‘Saska,’ she continued. ‘Any embarrassment during what is a transitional grieving period?’

      ‘Yes,’ he declared succinctly.

      ‘I see.’ She regarded him thoughtfully. ‘And on the basis of one meeting, an appraisal of body language , you virtually kidnap me and suggest I have nothing better to do with my time than act out a part for your benefit.’

      ‘There would be a few advantages.’

      Topaz flecks shone in the depths of her green eyes, a silent evidence of her anger. ‘Name one.’

      ‘All of the pleasure and none of the strings.’

      ‘And a bonus, I imagine, if I’m sufficiently convincing?’ The flippant query slipped from her lips, and she glimpsed the faint edge of humour tilt the corner of his mouth.

      ‘I’m sure we can come to an amicable arrangement.’

      The entire evening had been a complete farce, including Jeremy’s behaviour. As for Nikos Alessandros... Impossible didn’t come close!

      ‘Just who the hell do you think you are?’ she demanded fiercely.

      His expression hardened slightly, and his eyes took on the quality of steel. ‘A man who recognises an opportunity, and isn’t afraid to seize it.’

      She could still feel the touch of his mouth on hers, his taste...and the way her senses had flipped into a tailspin.

      His indolent stance was deceptive. She had the instinctive feeling that if she turned away from him, he would simply reach out and haul her back.

      ‘Go find some other female,’ Michelle directed. ‘I’m not willing to participate.’

      She caught the dark glitter in his eyes, glimpsed a muscle tense at the edge of his jaw, and experienced momentary satisfaction at besting him.

      ‘There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?’

      Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘No, not a thing.’

      He examined her features with contemplative scrutiny. ‘In that case, we’ll take the lift to the ground floor and I’ll escort you to your apartment.’

      She wanted to argue with him, and almost did.

      ‘Wise,’ Nikos drawled.

      Michelle felt her stomach twist as they stepped into the small electronic cubicle. She was incredibly aware of the emotional pull, the intangible meshing of the senses.

      Seconds later she preceded him into the main lobby, passed reception, then emerged into the fresh evening air.

      Less than a hundred metres distant lay several trendy restaurants and cafés, each with outdoor chairs and tables lending the area a cosmopolitan air.

      Michelle’s apartment building was situated fifty metres distant on the opposite side of the road, and when they reached its entrance she paused, a polite smile widening her lips as she turned towards him.

      There was nothing to thank him for, and she didn’t make a pretense of doing so. The polite smile was merely a concession.

      ‘You forgot something.’

      She caught the purposeful gleam in those dark eyes an instant before hands captured her face.

      His head descended and his mouth covered hers in a kiss that plundered deep, savouring the inner sweetness without mercy, his tongue swift and incredibly clever as he took his fill.

      This was skilled mastery, she registered dimly, and a silent gasp of outrage remained locked in her throat as he cupped her bottom and brought her close up against him so that she was in no doubt of his arousal.

      Potent, shimmering heat sang through her veins and pooled at the centre of her feminine core. She could feel the thrust of her breasts as they swelled in anticipation of his touch, their tender peaks hardening into sensitive buds craving the tantalising succour of his mouth.

      This was insane. A divine madness that had no place, no basis in anything.

      Almost as if he sensed her withdrawal, he gradually lightened the kiss to a gentle brush of his lips against her own. Then he lifted his head, and released her.

      ‘Pleasant dreams, pedhi mou,’ he bade gently.

      His eyes were warm, and deep enough to drown in. The flip response she sought never found voice, and she turned away from him, activated the security code on the external door, then hurried into the lobby without a backward glance.

      Damn him. He was the most arrogant infuriating devastating man she’d ever met. Infinitely dangerous, she added as she jabbed the call button to summon one of two lifts.

      As soon as the doors slid open she entered the cubicle, stabbed the appropriate panel button, and barely suppressed a shiver as the lift sped swiftly upward.

      If she never saw him again, it would be too soon. Which was a total contradiction in terms, she grimaced as the lift came to a halt at her floor.

      Seconds later she let herself into her apartment, hit the light switch, checked the locking mechanism was in place, then she moved through to the kitchen.

      Caffeine would keep her awake, so she opted for a glass of chilled water, sipped the contents, then crossed to her bedroom.

      It was several minutes this side of midnight, and she divested her clothes, took a leisurely warm shower, then slid between cool percale sheets in an effort to cull sleep.

      Without success. There were too many images crowding her mind. A tall dark-haired Greek whose eyes seemed to haunt her. His voice, with its slightly accented timbre that curled like silk round every sensitive nerve-end, invading without license as a vivid reminder of his touch. The feel of his hands on her body, their caressing warmth, and the taste of his mouth on hers as it devoured, savoured, and sought to imprint his brand.

      It was almost as if she could still sense the exclusive tones of his cologne, the clean smell of fine tailoring and fresh laundered cotton. And a subtle masculine scent that was his...

      Dammit. She didn’t want to be this disturbed by a man. To have her senses invaded by a pervasive sexual alchemy.

      She’d met scores of men, been charmed by several, discovered an affection for a few, and loved none.