Emma Darcy - Irresistible Greeks - Red-Hot and Rich - His Reputation Precedes Him / An Offer She Can't Refuse / Pretender to the Throne

‘Okay.’ He straightened to move and check the diary on his desktop. ‘I’m busy tomorrow and Wednesday, but six o’clock on Thursday evening looks good.’ He looked up at her enquiringly, wondering if it was wishful thinking on his part or if that really was a look of disappointment on her face because he was seeming to back off.

And he was only seeming to back off. Markos had no intention of giving up where Eva was concerned.

‘Thursday at six is fine with me too,’ Eva accepted abruptly, pretty sure that if she designed a colour scheme of pink and white, and ultra-feminine, it would ensure that Markos no longer wished to employ her. It would do absolutely nothing for her professional reputation, of course, but it might be worth it just to see the look on Markos’s face when she presented the sketches to him!

‘I’m learning to be wary of that particular look of amusement…’ He eyed her suspiciously as he straightened.

Eva laughed softly. ‘Just a private joke.’

‘Design-wise, you should know that a harem theme or an explosion of pink ruffles is definitely out,’ he commented dryly.

How had he guessed what she was thinking? ‘Now you’re ruining all my fun!’

‘When I would so love to be the cause of it…’ he came back huskily.

Eva gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Do you ever give up?’

‘Where you’re concerned? No.’

Now it was Eva’s turn to look wary as she heard the finality in his tone. A warning, perhaps, that Markos’s lazy good humour was merely a front, an illusion. As if she needed any warning!

‘Why are you even continuing to bother pursuing me when there are dozens of women in New York who would be only too flattered to receive the attentions of Markos Lyonedes?’

He smiled ruefully. ‘Because it doesn’t work that way.’

She frowned. ‘What doesn’t?’

He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘I can’t speak for other men, of course, but as far as I’m concerned, desire is exclusive to one woman at a time.’

Eva moistened lips that had become suddenly dry. ‘That isn’t what I’ve heard…’

Markos scowled. ‘Just who the hell have you been listening to, Eva?’ he prompted impatiently.

Her gaze avoided meeting that piercing green one. ‘It’s public knowledge—’

‘It’s malicious gossip—accompanied by unreliable articles and photographs in newspapers,’ he corrected harshly. ‘None of which can or should be believed.’

That might be true, but Donna’s experience with this man was indisputable—set in stone. Wasn’t it?

But no doubt Jack’s version of the breakdown of their four-year marriage would differ greatly from Eva’s own. There were always two sides to an unsuccessful relationship…

No!

Eva couldn’t afford to have any doubts about Markos Lyonedes’s callous reputation with women. The physical desire she felt for him already made her feel more vulnerable than she was comfortable with. She had a plan for the rest of her life, and it was a sensible plan—one which did not include an affair for a few weeks with Markos Lyonedes!

‘Whatever,’ she dismissed uninterestedly. ‘I really do have to leave now.’

‘But you’ll be back on Thursday at six o’clock?’

Eva sighed at his dogged persistence. ‘I said I would, yes.’

Markos nodded his satisfaction. Eva might not know it yet—might not want to know it—but that single kiss they had shared had told him that she wanted him too. And Markos had every intention of pursuing her until he had her exactly where he wanted her. In his bed.

‘I totally agree.’ Markos grimaced as he saw the look of horror on Eva’s face on Thursday evening as the two of them entered the sitting room of what was now his penthouse apartment on the top floor of Lyonedes Tower. He had received a call from Security a few minutes ago, informing him of her arrival downstairs. Most if not all of the Lyonedes employees had gone home now—including Markos’s secretary.

‘I think bland must have been the middle name of the previous interior designer.’

‘I was thinking it’s just plain ugly…’

Eva couldn’t think what on earth had possessed the previous designer to choose cream and beige as the colour scheme in this beautifully appointed room. The furniture, though obviously expensive, was unattractively square and minimalist, and the only saving grace to this room was the impressive one hundred and eighty degree view of New York, visible from the huge picture windows that covered two of the walls.

Not only was the colour scheme insipid in the extreme, it didn’t suit the man who now lived here. Markos’s swarthy complexion, dark hair and piercing green eyes required that he be surrounded by the warm colours of the Mediterranean: terracotta, with touches of green and blue, maybe the palest hint of yellow…

Eva brought her thoughts up short as she realised her interior designer instincts had taken over from her common sense. It was two days since she had last seen Markos—two days and two restless nights—during which time Eva had become even more determined that she did not want to spend any more time in this man’s company than she absolutely had to. To do so would be opening herself up to all sorts of disappointment. As such, knowing how this room should look was one thing. Being the one to effect those changes was something else entirely.

Of course it didn’t help Eva to remain detached and professional to see that Markos was dressed as casually as she was this evening. The darkness of his hair was still damp from the shower, and he had obviously changed out of the formal suit he had worn to work today. He was now wearing a black shirt, the collar unbuttoned at his throat and the sleeves turned back to just below his elbows, with a pair of faded blue denims clearly outlining the leanness of his waist and his perfectly taut bottom and long legs.

She straightened briskly. ‘Are the rest of the rooms as awful?’

‘Worse.’ He grimaced.

Eva found that hard to believe. ‘How many rooms are there?’

‘Four en-suite bedrooms, kitchen, breakfast room, formal dining room, a gym—’

‘Okay—a lot.’ She grimaced, rummaging through her capacious shoulder bag for her sketchbook and pencil as she continued to look about the room with narrowed, assessing eyes. ‘It looks more like an impersonal hotel suite than a private apartment.’

‘That’s probably because that’s what it was designed to be.’ Markos shrugged. ‘Drakon has his own place in Manhattan. This apartment was used only to entertain business associates in less formal surroundings than the offices downstairs.’

‘Do I want to know in what way they were entertained…?’ Eva eyed him derisively.

‘Just drinks and the occasional dinner,’ he assured her dryly.

‘I’ll believe you—thousands wouldn’t!’

Markos eyed her ruefully. ‘Your opinion of the Lyonedes family isn’t very high, is it?’

Eva felt the warmth of colour enter her cheeks. ‘I don’t know any of you well enough to make a sound judgement.’

‘Yet.’

‘Ever,’ she stated with finality.

‘I’ll go and make us some coffee while you look round,’ Markos suggested lightly.

‘Okay.’ Eva was relieved to be able to turn her attention to her surroundings as she began to sketch in her pad.

Markos stood for several moments and admired the way Eva’s denims clung so lovingly to her curvaceous hips and thighs. The firm swell of her breasts was clearly visible beneath a fitted green blouse, her long dark hair brushed back and secured in a ponytail that made her look younger than her years.

Markos smiled wryly as he realised she had become so absorbed in her work she seemed to have forgotten he was even there. ‘Cream and sugar?’