The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

to ease the ache of recent loss. There had been so much to organise, family to deal with.

      And now there was Nicos.

      It was over, done with. And she’d healed.

      Liar.

      She only had to think of him to remember how it had been between them. Not a day went past that her subconscious didn’t force a memory. He invaded her mind, possessed her dreams, and became her worst nightmare.

      All too frequently she woke in a sweat, his hands, his mouth on her so real she could almost swear he’d been there with her.

      Yet she’d always be alone, the security system intact, and she’d spend what remained of the night reading or watching a late movie on television in an attempt to dispel his haunting image.

      Occasionally she bumped into him at social gatherings around the city, professional soirées where her presence was de rigueur. Then they greeted each other, exchanged polite conversation…and moved on. Except she was acutely conscious of him, his steady gaze, the latent power he exuded, and his sensual heat.

      Even now her pulse quickened to a faster beat, and her skin warmed, the soft body hairs raising in awareness. Sensation unfurled deep inside, and spread through her body like a lick of flame, activating each pleasure pulse, every erotic zone.

      This was crazy. She took a deep, steadying breath and held onto it, then slowly exhaled. Two, three times over.

      Focus, she bade silently. Remember why you walked out on him.

      Dear Lord, how could she forget Nicos’s ex-mistress relaying news of a confirmed pregnancy and naming Nicos as the father of her unborn child?

      Georgia Burton, a model whose slender beauty graced several magazine covers, had delighted in informing a conception date coinciding with a time when Nicos had been out of town on business.

      Georgia’s assurance her affair with Nicos hadn’t ended with his marriage was something Katrina couldn’t condone, despite Nicos’s adamant denial, and after one argument too many she’d simply packed up her things and moved into temporary accommodation.

      Even now, several months later, the memory, the pain, was just as intense as it had been the day she had left him.

      The peal of her cell phone sounded loud in the silence, interrupting the solitude, and she checked the caller ID, saw it was her mother, and took the call.

      ‘Siobhan?’

      ‘Darling, have you forgotten you’re joining me for dinner and the theatre tonight?’

      Katrina closed her eyes and stifled a curse. ‘Can we skip dinner? I’ll collect you at seven-thirty.’ She could just about make it if she edged over the speed limit, took the quickest shower on record, and dressed.

      ‘Seven forty-five. I have tickets, and valet parking will eliminate several minutes.’

      She made it…just. Together they entered the auditorium and slid into their seats just as the curtain rose.

      Katrina focussed on the stage, the actors, and blocked out everything else. It was a technique she’d learned at a young age, and now it served her well.

      Between acts she gathered with her mother among patrons in the lobby, sipped a cool drink, and indulged in conversation. Siobhan owned a boutique in exclusive Double Bay, and had in the years since her divorce become an astute and extremely successful businesswoman.

      ‘I’ve put something aside for you,’ Siobhan relayed.

      Her mother’s taste in clothes was impeccable, and Katrina proffered a warm smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll write you a cheque.’

      Siobhan pressed her hand on that of her daughter. ‘A gift, darling.’

      A prickle of awareness slithered down Katrina’s spine, and she barely caught herself from shivering in reaction.

      Only one man had this effect on her, and she turned slowly, forcing herself to skim the fellow patrons with casual interest.

      A difficult feat when all her body’s self-protective instincts were on full alert.

      Nicos Kasoulis stood as part of a group, his head inclined towards a gorgeous blonde whose avid attention was almost sickening. Two men, two women. A cosy foursome.

      Yet even as she was about to turn away he lifted his head and captured her glance, held it, those dark eyes steady, mesmeric, almost frightening.

      He had the height, Katrina conceded, the breadth of shoulder, the stance, that drew attention.

      Sculptured facial bone structure inherited from his Greek ancestors—wide cheekbones, strong jaw, not to mention a mouth that promised a thousand sensual delights and eyes as dark as sin—merely added another dimension to a man who wore an aura of power as comfortably as a second skin. Thick dark hair worn longer than was currently conventional added an individualistic tone to a man whose strength of will was equally admired as well as feared among his contemporaries.

      If he thought to intimidate her, he was mistaken. Katrina lifted her chin, and her eyes flashed with green fire an instant before she deliberately turned her back on him.

      At that moment the electronic buzzer sounded, heralding patrons to return to their seats.

      Katrina’s focus was shot to hell, and the final act passed in a blur of dialogue and action that held little consequence. Her entire train of thought was centred around escaping the auditorium without bumping into the man who’d stirred her to passionate heights, the mere thought of which caused her equilibrium to crash and burn.

      An escape Nicos would contrive to allow, or not, as the mood took him.

      Not, she perceived as they made their way through the lobby to the front entrance.

      ‘Katrina. Siobhan.’

      His voice was like black satin, dark and smoothly dangerous beneath the veneer of sophisticated politeness.

      ‘Why, Nicos,’ her mother breathed with delight as he bent to brush his lips to her cheek. ‘How nice to see you.’

      Traitor, Katrina accorded silently. Siobhan had been one of Nicos’s conquests from the beginning. Still was.

      ‘Likewise.’ He turned slightly and fixed Katrina with a deceptively mild gaze. ‘Dinner tomorrow night. Seven?’

      Bastard. The curse stopped in her throat as she caught her mother’s surprise. Nicos, damn him, merely arched an eyebrow.

      ‘Katrina hasn’t told you?’

      She wanted to hit him, and almost did. ‘No.’ The single word escaped as a furious negative.

      Siobhan looked from her daughter to Nicos, who merely inclined his head in silent deference to Katrina.

      Grr! She wanted to scratch his eyes out, and for a wild nanosecond she actually considered it.

      He knew, darn it. She could tell from the faint musing gleam evident, the slight quirk at the edge of his mouth as he waited for her to pick up the ball and play.

      There was no way around it, and better the truth than prevarication. ‘Kevin, in his infinite wisdom,’ she declared with heavy irony, ‘has made it a condition of his will that I reside in the same house with Nicos for a year. If I don’t, Nicos gains a majority control of Macbride.’ She threw him a dark look that would have felled a lesser man. ‘Something I absolutely refuse to let happen.’

      ‘Oh, my,’ Siobhan voiced faintly, her eyes clouding as she glimpsed her daughter’s simmering temper.

      Siobhan knew her ex-husband well. The iron will beneath the soft, persuasive Irish charm. It had been a time ago, and she’d long forgiven him. For the one good thing to come out of their union had been Katrina.

      ‘The man’s a meddling fool,’ she said quietly, and saw her daughter’s wry smile. But a smart one. Oh, yes, Kevin Macbride had