Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4. Maisey Yates

It’s one of the jewellery business’s most profitable times of the year—and Lulu needs to capitalise on that in a way it has failed to do before. The young girls who used to buy the wristwatch are all grown up now, and we want to show the world that you’ve grown up, too. We want to show that the new Jessica is definitely not a girl any more. And she won’t be wearing a waterproof wristwatch, she’ll be wearing jewels—preferably some which have been bought for her by a man.’

      ‘My jewels,’ interjected Loukas softly.

      Jessica thought how weird it was to hear herself being spoken about in the third person. She stared nervously at the photos. Surely they weren’t expecting her to wear clothes like those—with half her breasts on show, or a long dress slashed all the way up the way up her thigh?

      ‘The shoot is booked to take place in Venice, as you can see from the mock-ups,’ Gabe continued. ‘It’s the most romantic city in the world and a perfect setting for the kind of look we’re aiming for. In winter it’s moody and atmospheric, which is why we’ll be shooting in black and white with the iconic Lulu pink as the only colour.’ He smiled at her. ‘The team are going out first to set up the locations and I gather you and Loukas are flying out separately.’

      Every face in the room turned to look at her, but all Jessica could see was the gleam of Loukas’s black eyes and the faint curve of his mocking smile. Since when had they been travelling out separately and why hadn’t anyone bothered to tell her about it? She didn’t think she’d ever shouted at anyone in her life but right then Jessica wanted to stand up and yell that she didn’t want to go anywhere with the arrogant Greek—least of all to a city famed for romance, to advertise a campaign which was all about romance.

      She wanted to be back in Cornwall, far away from him and the uncomfortable way he was making her feel. She had been fine before he’d come back into her life. Things might have been predictable, but at least they had felt safe. She hadn’t been racked with longing, or regret. She hadn’t started thinking about the fact that they’d never even spent a whole night together.

      Did she really have to take this job—with all the complications which accompanied it? Again, she thought about selling up and buying a cheaper apartment away from the sea.

      But then her half-sister’s face drifted into her mind and she felt the sharp stab of her conscience. She thought of Hannah sobbing in her arms following the terrible avalanche which had killed her parents. Things had been bad enough when they’d been forced to sell the big house, but they had chosen the new one together, and Hannah loved her current home. It was her home, too, and what right did Jessica have to deprive her of that security, just because being around Loukas bothered her more than it should have done?

      She didn’t have to sleep with him, no matter how much she wanted him. And there was nothing to stop her making it clear to him that it wasn’t going to happen. A new sense of determination filled her, because hadn’t she come through far worse than having to resist a man like him?

      So she gave Gabe a smile—the same smile she always used when people asked if she missed playing tennis. A very useful smile to have in her repertoire. It was bright and convincing.

      And it didn’t mean a thing.

      ‘I can’t wait,’ she said.

       CHAPTER SIX

      LOUKAS WATCHED AS Jessica stood in the gondola, her new, shorter hair being ruffled by the wind. Her face was pale, her eyes looked huge, and the tension surrounding her was almost palpable. Not for the first time that day, he clenched his fists with frustration, because this had been his idea and on paper it had seemed like an outstanding one. All the boxes had been ticked. She wore a tight-fitting, corseted black ballgown which hugged her slender body and emphasised her neat little breasts. Long black satin gloves came up to her elbow and a waterfall of diamonds glittered against her breasts.

      It should have been perfect. Jessica Cartwright looking exactly as the team at Zeitgeist had wanted her to look. Sleek and grown-up and very, very sexy.

      Yet she stood there like a waxwork. Her eyes seemed empty and her expression blank. Even her smile looked as if it had been plastered on.

      He shook his head in disbelief as he thought back to the way she’d been in his arms the other night, when he’d kissed her in the elevator. She had been fire that night, not ice—but where was all that fire now?

      His eyes bored into hers.

      There was nothing left but embers.

      From her precarious position in the Grand Canal, Jessica met Loukas’s stony black gaze, which was boring into her from the side of the water. None of the crew were happy—she could tell. Not one of them, but especially not Loukas, who seemed to have been glaring at her since the shoot had got underway. The chill Venetian wind whipped around her as she tried to keep her balance, which wasn’t easy when she was standing on a bobbing gondola.

      She felt cold—inside and out. Around her neck hung a priceless dazzle of blue-white diamonds which shone like a beacon in the gloom of the winter day. Her newly bare neck—shorn back in London of its protective curtain of long hair—was now completely exposed to the wintry Venetian elements. Strands of the sleek new style fluttered around her chin and were starting to stick to her lip-gloss. And even though Patti the stylist stood next to her—poised with a hairbrush and a big cashmere wrap—that didn’t stop Jessica from feeling ridiculously underdressed. These photos were light years away from the demure and sporty shots she usually did for the store and she felt stupid. No. She felt exposed.

      And vulnerable.

      Her eyelashes were laden down with more mascara than she’d ever worn before and consequently the smoky make-up they’d been aiming for looked as if someone had given her two black eyes. The glossy, cyclamen-pink lipstick, intended to echo the colour of the brand’s iconic packaging, gave her an almost clown-like appearance. And the dress. Oh, the dress. She didn’t even want to get started on the dress. It was everything she wasn’t—vampy and revealing. Ebony satin fitted so closely on the bodice that she could barely breathe and cut so low that her cleavage was now an unflattering sea of goosebumps. Beneath the swish of the full skirt her knees were knocking together with a mixture of nerves and embarrassment. Because even though the city was relatively quiet in February, the odd tourist had stopped to take her photo and she hated it.

      She hated trying to look sexy and sophisticated, which was the look the art director had told her he wanted—since she felt neither. She felt like a fraud—and wouldn’t they all laugh themselves silly if they discovered that she hadn’t made love to a man in eight long years?

      Of course, having Loukas standing watching her wasn’t helping. In fact, it was making everything a whole lot worse. Against the misty grey and white of the Venetian backdrop, the Greek stood out like a dark spectre on the bank of the canal. The light from the water caught him in its silvery gleam and the city’s sense of the hidden and the deep seemed to reflect back his own unknowable personality. Two burly security guards flanked him, their eyes fixed on the fortune in gems which shimmered against her skin.

      The art director looked at his watch and frowned. ‘Okay, we’re losing the light. Let’s call it a day, shall we? Same time tomorrow, people.’

      As some of the crew sprang forward to help her from the gondola, Jessica could see the art director muttering something to Loukas, who was nodding his head in thoughtful agreement. His black gaze held hers for a moment and she felt the skitter of unwanted desire whispering over her skin. Why was he even here? Why didn’t he go back to London and leave her alone? Surely she might be able to come up with what they wanted if he weren’t standing there, like a fire-breathing dragon, making her feel inadequate in all kinds of ways. Holding the voluminous folds of the black satin skirt of her dress, she stepped onto the bank and was handed the cashmere shawl.

      ‘We’re going to St Mark’s Square for coffee, though maybe