Sarah Morgan - One Night with a Gorgeous Greek - Doukakis's Apprentice / Not Just the Greek's Wife / After the Greek Affair

Shaken by the depth of that primal response, a devotee of rational, logical decision-making, Damon shocked himself by launching himself out of his seat and demanded their coats. It wasn’t rational or logical, but he wanted her covered up as fast as possible. He wanted that coat back on, buttoned to the neck, concealing those amazing legs. The thought of the whole of Paris following the spiralling upward path of those tiny sparkling hearts made him sweat like a man running a marathon in a desert.

‘We’ll send you a full proposal in the next few days, Gérard.’ Taking control, he ended the evening and then guided Polly back down to the waiting limo.

As his driver opened the door for them she stopped and shook her head. ‘I want to go for a walk. It’s been a horrible week and it’s so beautiful here. It would be nice to get some air.’ Behind her the Eiffel Tower was illuminated against the dark sky and he saw her glance wistfully towards the tourist attraction. ‘You go. I can find my own way back to the hotel.’ Balancing on one leg like a stork, she removed her stilettos and replaced them with her flats.

Knowing that if he left her alone for two minutes she would be mobbed by Frenchmen, Damon took the shoes from her, handed them to his driver and held out his arm.

Her gaze lifted from his arm to his face and he acknowledged her astonishment with a faint smile.

‘Truce. I’m protecting my asset. Clearly I should have your pink pen insured for an astronomical amount.’

Her sudden smile knocked the breath from his body.

‘I know I ought to do it all electronically, and I do once I know what I’m doing, but I just can’t be creative on a screen—I need to draw. I was the same at school. The only way I remembered anything was by drawing spider diagrams and mind maps.’

She hesitated just briefly and then slid her arm through his. Dismissing his driver with a discreet movement of his head, Damon led her away from the crowds hovering at the foot of the iconic tower and across the road to the river. Strains of music and laughter drifted up from the Bateaux mouches as they floated under the bridge and Polly snuggled deeper inside her coat and stared down at the reflection of light on the water.

‘I always wanted to stand on a bridge in Paris in the sun set.’ There was a wistful note in her voice that drew his attention.

‘But with a lover, not your enemy.’

‘This may surprise you, but I don’t dream of lovers, Mr Doukakis.’ There was a brief pause and then she turned her head, the lights from the boat turning her hair to a gleaming shimmer of gold. ‘And I don’t see you as the enemy.’

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