Sun Chara - Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife

“I intend to.” She adjusted her strap and swept past him, glancing around for her shades.

“Missed your chance,” he said, a gust of wind whipping his hair. “It’ll have to wait ’til we get to the hotel.” What else would he find when he undressed her? A pierced belly button? A tattoo? Sweet sensation whacked his gut at the thought of suckling that part of her anatomy before nibbling his way lower to—

“Where might that be?”

He swept up her sunglasses, sauntered closer and hooked them on the neckline of her top, his fingers brushing the swell of her breast. She sucked in a whoosh of air. Pleased, he grinned and propped his shades on his nose.

“The Mermaid’s—”

She paled, batting her lashes.

Was that a sheen of moisture or a glint of sunlight in her eye? He shrugged and chose the latter, easing the nick to his conscience.

“You wouldn’t…”

“I did.”

She hooked a stray curl behind her ear and set her sunglasses on her nose. “You have a bizarre sense of humor.” Was her voice just a little strained?

“If you say so,” he ground out, his words barely audible. Swiping his finger around the collar of his tennis shirt, he noted the perspiration glazing her upper lip. “Would you…if you’d like a drink, there’s some in the fridge down below.”

“I know where they are.” Julia skirted a wide girth around him, back-stepping all the way. “I remember.”

“Then you must also remember—”

“I’d rather not,” she bit back, crunching down the lure into the past. Every image, touch, kiss … every nuance of their honeymoon night had been seared into her heart.

The prelude had begun on the yacht beneath the stars, spotlighted by the moon and serenaded by the ocean. It had been heaven. Later, at the enchanted Mermaid’s Grotto, a seduction of the senses combusted to the tempo of their heartbeats, and even the sea-foam washing over them hadn’t dampened a degree of their fervor.

She’d clung to him; her husband, her lover, her guy, until she thought she’d die from the exquisite torture in his arms.

“No.” It had been a million years ago… She’d been a carefree, laughing girl with the world at her feet and Prince Charming at her side. Her lips twisted in contempt. He’d morphed into the big bad ogre.

“Not thirsty?” Michalis heaved equipment aside and checked the safety gear. “You mind bringing me up a beer?”

She snapped her teeth together, her response garbled, but he continued working, his back to her. His shoulder blades contracted, a sweat stain already dampening the t-shirt now drawn taut across his back, his biceps bulging with each heave-ho of the rigging.

A tremor rocked her senses, and she slammed her fist to her mouth, smothering the bleat of sound. Not long ago, she’d thought she couldn’t breathe…function without him; never imagined leaving…leaving him.

Until that traitorous day… Bitterness stung her tongue, and she curled her hands, her fingernails biting into her palms.

But she had left with her pride in tatters, and harboring a secret.

Somehow, she had continued to breathe—one breath at a time…for her baby.

Images of all she’d, no, they’d had and lost branded her brain cells and tears blurred her vision. A repeat performance she couldn’t allow; wouldn’t stand. She batted her eyelashes behind her sunglasses, staying a sob with a swift suction of oxygen and almost keeled over. She lunged for the life preserver tacked to the wall, keeping herself upright, but still shaken.

The sob managed to work its way into her throat but she muffled the sound with the back of her hand. His cold and calculating agenda rattled her insides. What interest could he have in Amy, except as the carrier of the Leonadis bloodline? Julia narrowed her eyes, determined to navigate the month without any emotional bruises and no losses. Then, “ Yasoo , Michalis,” the words a hush of sound between her fingers.

“Is that a yes to the beer?” He tossed a coil of rope in the lazerette, the stern storage area and barely glanced her way.

“More orders, Cap’n?” She spun around, and the tensing of his shoulders cued he hadn’t missed her sarcastic tone. Going on the offensive, she slapped him with a flippant remark. “Where’s the crew?”

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