Carole Mortimer - The Balfour Legacy

The way she put the last part froze Nikos for a second or two before he threw back his dark head and laughed. Then with a groan he crushed her up against him, and claimed the pouting invitation of her lush mouth.

‘Trial run coming up,’ he muttered a while later. ‘We will call Oscar tomorrow,’ he planned as he drew towards her bed. ‘If he doesn’t threaten to kill me for seducing his daughter, he can give you away at our wedding.’

‘And if he does threaten to kill you?’ Mia ran a possessive hand down the front of his body and watched him shudder.

‘I will warn him he will be making his daughter a widow because I’m still marrying you.’

It was gruff and strong and very possessive, and Mia curved her body in even closer. ‘I love you, Nikos Theakis,’ she told him.

‘Well, keep on loving me, agape mou ,’ he responded unsteadily. ‘I am about to risk dropping every protective guard I have in favour of loving you back by return.’

He had said it—almost said it. Mia laughed in delight. Then, with more strength than she gave credence to, she twisted him around and tumbled them both down on the bed.

‘Show me, then,’ she invited.

Nikos did not need telling twice.

Two wonderful months later, Nikos strode into the bedroom he’d had refurbished to accommodate his wife’s hobby , as she liked to call it. Every one of their homes now had similar rooms, laid out like a fashion designer’s studio with all the time-saving gadgets known to the trade.

‘You’re supposed to be dressed by now—’ he frowned at Mia ‘—Santino and Nina D’Lassio will be here in half an hour and Tia Giulia is already downstairs with Oscar.’

‘Is it that late?’ Looking up from what she was doing, Mia felt the usual crash and burn take place inside her because he looked so deliciously gorgeous in a dinner suit—and, she tagged on possessively, every single bit of him belonged to her.

‘You are not wearing that,’ he said, his frown deepening as he spied the dress she had left hanging on an otherwise empty rail.

‘Oh, you don’t like it,’ Mia murmured in disappointment.

‘Are you joking?’ Striding over to the bright red slip of silk and plucking up the hanger so he could view it more thoroughly, he said, ‘It’s a Jessica Rabbit dress.’

‘Jessica who?’ Mia asked innocently.

‘Jessica Rabbit—the cartoon sex bomb and fantasy lover of every man with a healthy sex drive.’

Pleased by that remark, Mia stood to reveal the gold silk under the slip she was wearing. ‘That’s OK, then,’ she said with relief.

‘You’re still not wearing it, Mia,’ Nikos said firmly. ‘Not in front of anyone but me anyway…’

‘But you just said it was every man’s fantasy!’ Taking it from him she placed the hanger back on the rail again. Then, because she knew he was trying to work out how the heck he was going to stop her when she usually ended up doing as she pleased anyway, she turned to send him a grin.

‘It’s for Sophie,’ she confided.

‘Sophie—?’ Nikos almost choked on the shock.

‘She asked me to make her a really sexy dress,’ she explained. ‘And you have just made my day by telling me I have achieved the ultimate.’

‘But— agape mou , you can’t put Sophie in a dress like that! She’s—’

‘Don’t you dare finish what you were about to say!’ Mia flared up in heated defence of her half-sister. ‘She is beautiful and nice!’

‘I was not about to—’

‘And she owns the most exquisite pocket Venus figure underneath those dreadful concealing garments she prefers to wear,’ Mia cut in furiously. ‘So she does not parade her figure as she should do, but that doesn’t mean she cannot be encouraged.’

Absolutely not believing her but willing to accept he had just deeply offended his new wife on Sophie Balfour’s behalf, Nikos went for the diversion. ‘You’re so sexy when you’re sparked up and angry,’ he murmured, reaching out to draw her into his embrace.

‘Mmm, and you are one amazing kisser, signor ,’ she sighed out when he finally let her up for air.

‘You’ve got no one else to compare me with,’ Nikos pointed out.

‘And you like to feel smug about that?’

‘Sì, signora.’ He grinned. ‘I love it that you love me, and that I am the only man to kiss you, and that this hiding in here—’ he moulded his hand to her still-flat stomach ‘—bears the fruits of my kisses and—other things.’

‘That is just so—so old-fashioned and possessively Greek!’ Mia frowned at him.

‘But you love me to be old-fashioned and possessive.’

‘I also think you should know that over there—’ she pointed to another rail packed with clothes ‘—is another Jessica Rabbit dress, as you call it, just waiting for me to put on if you don’t watch your step!’

Caught like a rat in a trap, Mia watched his smile disappear and his eyes narrow to scan the indicated rail. ‘I will burn it.’

‘Before or after you see me wearing it?’

He took a minute to think about that, then he responded with a lusty growl, ‘Afterwards. Private viewing.’ He captured her already kiss-blushed lips.

‘So what are you planning to wear?’ he demanded long minutes later.

‘You,’ Mia whispered. ‘Later,’ she added in a soft invitation. ‘In our bed, where it is my solemn duty to keep scaring your nightmares away.’

Nikos could have taken objection to her remarking on the nightmares, but he no longer hid anything from this beautiful creature he had won as his wife. It was healthier to keep everything—good or bad—right out there in the open.

‘You know, I believed my life was all mapped out,’ he confided softly. ‘No U-turns, no diversions, just me in absolute control of me. Then I met you,’ he husked. ‘I did not want love. I did not want commitment. I did not want to pass on my family genes to another generation. Or to watch my children’s disappointment in me grow each time I did not come up to scratch as a father. Now I want it all.’ His fingers framed her upturned face, his eyes so dark Mia smiled because she just loved to drown in them. ‘I want the marriage, the commitment and the children. I want you to love me. I need you to love me. It’s crazy, frightening.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Mia promised. Then, to lighten the sudden intense atmosphere, she begged, ‘Just one more tiny kiss before I go and dress.’

Flat black eyebrows rose in disdain. ‘I don’t do tiny,’ Nikos drawled arrogantly.

Sharon Kendrickstarted story-telling at the age of eleven and has never really stopped. She likes to write fast-paced, feel-good romances with heroes who are so sexy they’ll make your toes curl!

Born in west London, she now lives in the beautiful city of Winchester, where she can see the cathedral from her window (but only if she stands on tip-toe). She has two children, Celia and Patrick, and her passions include music, books, cooking and eating – and drifting off into wonderful daydreams while she works out new plots!

To my Uncle Aidan – a great thinker, wit and musician – who could charm the birds from the trees. A great man all round. Miss you.

EVEN the brilliant Mediterranean sunshine couldn’t lighten her mood.

With a stab of frustration, Kat pushed the spill of dark hair away from her eyes and leaned back against the soft leather seat of the limousine. A week had passed, but the memories of that night were still vivid. A night when accusations—and counter-accusations—had spun through the air like the blade of a helicopter. And another guilty family secret had reared its ugly head.