Sharon Kendrik - The Millionaires' Cinderellas - Playing the Greek's Game / The Forbidden Innocent / Too Proud to be Bought

‘Welcome to New York,’ said a sexy and horribly familiar voice and she found herself staring up into the granite features of Zak Constantinides. Was that triumph she could read in his grey eyes? Very probably—since he’d got exactly what he wanted. He’d had her being shipped over to New York as if she were some kind of human parcel!

She wanted to react to him with nothing but cool indifference but somehow that wasn’t as easy as it should have been. She felt daunted by him, and she felt attracted to him, too, despite her determination not to be. It didn’t help that today he looked curiously accessible. He wore a soft cashmere sweater of the same hue as his eyes which hugged his muscular torso, along with jeans which emphasised the powerful thrust of his long legs. Once again she found herself acutely aware of his presence as a man and she didn’t want to be aware of him that way !

Beneath her own warm jacket—bought specially to withstand the potential cold of the November weather—Emma shivered.

‘You’re cold?’ he questioned.

‘A bit,’ she said airily, terrified that he’d guess her involuntary shudder had been more about desire than temperature. ‘I always find American hotels a bit heavy-handed with the air conditioning. And why on earth are you carrying my suitcase?’

‘Why not? You object to a little old-fashioned chivalry, do you?’

There hadn’t exactly been a lot of old-fashioned chivalry in Emma’s life and for a moment she was a little taken aback. ‘You greet all your guests in this way, do you?’

‘Not all of them, no. But for you, Emma—I’m prepared to make an exception.’ The words came out of his mouth before he realised that he meant them. Zak didn’t stop to ask himself why he had been watching the clock until he’d heard from his driver that her flight had touched down safely. Or why he’d felt the leap of his heart and the heat of his groin when he’d known that she was heading towards the city.

Yet wasn’t the truth of it that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her? That she had entered his night-time dreams like some pale and unwanted intruder, with her green eyes and the moon-pale spill of her hair. Hadn’t he found himself wanting her with an ache which had been intense and unfamiliar?

It was interesting that his fantasies weren’t matched by the reality of seeing her again—because she certainly hadn’t dressed up. Her face was completely bare of make-up, the stark ponytail was back and the clothes she wore beneath her functional jacket were distinctly unimpressive. Her muted appearance should have been a real anticlimax and yet she possessed an indefinable something which made him want to study the way the light fell on her chiselled cheekbones and the faint golden sprinkling of freckles over her nose. Just how did she do that air of vulnerability so beautifully? he wondered. Had she worked on her technique, just as a tennis player might work on her backhand?

‘You must be tired,’ he said softly as he became aware of the faint shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Come with me and I’ll show you where you’re staying—and then you can start thinking about dinner.’

His words penetrated Emma’s befuddled thoughts, shook her out of the somewhat dazed acknowledgement that his gaze was focused on her like a laser beam and that her body was glowing in response. ‘You mean, I’m going to be staying here ? At the Pembroke?’

‘Of course you are. As you’re only here on secondment for a few weeks it makes much more sense. Where else did you think you’d be staying?’

She’d imagined some small studio apartment on the lower side of town. Somewhere where she’d be woken up by the early-morning sounds of street cleaning and kept awake by late-night revelry. The kind of place where it would be tough to find a taxi. Somewhere as far away from Zak as possible.

‘It was such a rush to get out here that I didn’t stop to think where I’d be staying,’ she said, her dismissive air not quite ringing true.

‘Well, you’re here now—so you can relax.’

She was aware of people staring at them as they crossed the lobby and headed for the elevator. Some of those were the staff, obviously—probably wondering why their boss was carrying the suitcase of this rather ordinary-looking guest. But some of the guests were giving them the once-over, too. Younger women wearing conspicuous signs of wealth had openly envious looks on their faces, while their older male partners glanced up briefly from where they were tapping addictively on their computers.

Zak didn’t speak until the elevator doors had shut out the rest of the world and he found himself alone with her. She was staring steadfastly at the red arrow which was indicating the floor count as the lift rode upwards and it was an odd sensation to be in the company of a woman who wasn’t focusing her attention entirely on him. ‘Not the most enthusiastic response I’ve ever received from a member of staff who’s just been told she’s staying in one of the world’s finest hotels,’ he observed wryly.

Realising that she couldn’t keep avoiding his eye, she turned to look at him. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘I am—a little. I thought you’d revel in the opportunity to enjoy some of the Pembroke’s legendary hospitality.’

Emma gave a short laugh because, ironically, he couldn’t be more wrong if he tried. Money didn’t ‘do’

it for her. Not any more. She’d learnt that the simple things in life meant more than all the glitz and glamour in the world. She’d seen only too well that wealth could bring with it nothing but emptiness and a great dark void. Until she remembered that she was supposed to be a gold-digger of the first order and so she widened her eyes in the most gold-diggery way she could manage.

‘I suppose when you put it like that .’ Deciding that licking her lips would be a little over the top, she injected a longing note into her voice instead. ‘Will I be staying in a very big suite?’ she questioned.

‘Not as big as mine,’ Zak murmured as the greedy look in her eyes demanded—and got—a predictably mocking response from him. But he hadn’t counted on his body’s interpretation of this as some kind of basic flirting. So that hot on the heels of his sardonic retort came an inexplicable need to see her blond hair spread all over the pillow of his vast bed. To see those pale green eyes slitted with desire as she welcomed him into her arms.

Silently he cursed himself as the jerk of an erection made his groin grow heavy. What the hell was he thinking of ? She was everything he despised in the opposite sex and—even if she hadn’t been— she was dating his brother.

‘We’re here,’ he said abruptly.

They had reached the thirty-second floor and Emma stepped out, noting the general air of luxury which immediately surrounded her—the gleaming hardwood floors on which lay priceless silk rugs. The walls were hung with original art and most of it was very impressive and she found herself wondering what the Pembroke’s nightly rate was.

‘Is my room on this floor?’ she asked.

‘It is. It’s right here.’ He pushed open the door to her suite. ‘Make yourself comfortable and I’ll come by and pick you up for dinner.’

Emma forced a smile. ‘I think I’d rather order from room service, if it’s all the same with you.’

‘I disagree—that’s the worst way of coping with jet lag. You’ll fall asleep and be wide awake in the middle of the night,’ he demurred with an emphatic shake of his head. ‘And besides, there are things we need to discuss.’

‘Things?’ She stared at him. ‘What kind of things?’

He met the startled greenness of her eyes and once again felt the unwanted punch of desire. ‘It’s no great mystery. You’re here to work, Emma—and so far I haven’t told you what you’ll be doing. We’ll eat downstairs in the restaurant and I’ll brief you. I’ll pick you up in an hour.’