Rebecca Winters: Bride by Day

His compliment, albeit grudgingly given, filled her with such warmth, she went along without protest.

Unbelievably, she found herself back in his car where a new, strange silence prevailed. He seemed to be in a world all his own. For that matter, so was she. The events of the last few hours had left her bemused and shaken.

As soon as they merged with the traffic, he managed to get her to a private clinic in record time.

Of course the receptionist knew him on sight, and though there were still some patients in the waiting area, one word from him and Sam was rushed into the first available examining room.

Apparently Dr. Strike was a compatriot of her abductor. The second the attractive, dark-haired man breezed inside, his face broke out in a broad smile. “Perseus!” he called to Mr. Kostopoulos, and they began conversing in Greek like longtime friends.

Sam sat there in stunned surprise. The image of the god Hades faded from her mind as she remembered her favorite story from Greek mythology.

The strong, handsome Perseus, son of Zeus and Danae, rejected by his mother’s abductor, the cunning King Polydectes, set out to prove he could do anything, even free his mother, and eventually brought home not only the head of Medusa to turn the king and his courtiers to stone, but acquired a wife in the form of the beautiful Andromeda whom he rescued from the sea monster.

It may have been a coincidence, but to a large degree, Mr. Kostopoulos’s life appeared to have paralleled that of the mythical Perseus. As today’s world viewed him, Perseus Kostopoulos was a presence to reckon with. Even Sam had attributed him with godlike characteristics the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.

Were there more similarities? Was he on a quest of some kind? Was there still a woman to be rescued whom he’d make his own?

For an unknown reason, those fanciful thoughts were very disturbing to Sam who could wish she were that special woman he’d been roaming the world to find.

Realizing what dangerous channels her thoughts were drifting into, she made a determined effort to concentrate on the doctor’s instructions as he put in three stitches, bound her hand with gauze and gave her a tetanus shot. All the while he spoke, she felt his speculative gaze.

Naturally he was trying to work out why someone of Perseus Kostopoulos’s stature would be in the company of an insignificant college student like herself.

Though too discreet to be obvious, Sam sensed the doctor’s curiosity which, oddly enough, her companion hadn’t satisfied. Apparently he wished to keep the particulars of their association to himself.

As soon as she thanked Dr. Strike for fitting her in so fast, she felt Perseus’s hand at her elbow to usher her out of the clinic. Already he’d taken on the persona of the strong and brave Greek god in her mind, and she no longer thought of him as Mr. Kostopoulos.

With a sense of déjà vu they returned to her apartment where he submitted her to more toe-curling scrutiny. “While you obey doctor’s orders and keep your hand elevated, I’ll fix you something to drink and get to work.”

Actually, she felt too weak to argue with him. Deep inside she knew her injury played only a minor part in what was really ailing her, but she’d rather die than allow him to discern the truth—that his presence was wreaking havoc with her emotions.

As an unfamiliar lethargy depleted her energy, she removed the tablecloth from the couch and sank down in one corner, content to watch him for a change. In a few hours she’d have to report to her night job and didn’t know how she was going to make it to the front door, let alone walk the eight blocks in the warm May drizzle.

“There’s some tea in the cupboard over the stove.”

As if he were used to this, he shed his suit jacket and tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves and boiled some water. Through half-closed eyes she watched him maneuver in the tiny space, obviously no stranger to mundane tasks when necessity dictated.

Though he dwarfed her apartment, she had to admit she liked his solid male presence, and didn’t mind the invasion as much as she’d supposed.

Despite their cajolings, no other man had ever made it past her front door. Perseus, on the other hand, had simply removed the key from her trembling fingers and taken over her apartment and her life. And you let him Sam, because you couldn’t help yourself. You still can’t...

Her head fell back against the couch. She had to admit that for a little while it felt good to be waited on. So good, in fact, she almost forgot the reason for his unexpected entry into her life. That is until he handed her a cup of hot tea before going to work on her collage.

He seemed to know exactly what he was about. When he bent over to dislodge the note with her tools, she noticed the play of muscle across his shoulders, the strength of his rugged physique. If she were into drawing human figures, he’d make a perfect model in all his raw, male splendor.

Once more upset at the direction of her uncontrollable thoughts, she drank her tea thirstily. He’d made it strong, and had added more sugar than she generally used. Her mouth curved upward. Greeks had a noted penchant for sweets. She guessed he was no exception.

“I’ve worked it loose,” his deep voice announced with satisfaction. “What’s the next step?”

Totally engrossed in thoughts of his likes and dislikes, she didn’t realize until too late that he’d caught her staring at him. This time prickly heat washed over her entire body, even to the roots of her abundant gold hair.

Quickly averting her eyes she murmured, “I intended to use a solvent to loosen the paste and soften the paper enough to open it. Just a moment and I’ll get it.”

“Tell me where it is and I’ll find it.”

The authority in his tone warned her that if she tried to get up, he’d use his daunting physical strength to prevent her from leaving the couch.

Faced with the knowledge that he’d have to get into her bedroom closet to locate the solvent, she didn’t know which alternative was the most unpalatable. Especially considering that her more intimate apparel and nightware hung from hooks on the door.

Of course a woman’s underclothing would hold no mystery for a man like Perseus Kostopoulos, but it wouldn’t be just any woman’s undergarments practically hitting him in the face. They would be hers.

Perhaps most women didn’t care, but she’d never grown up with a father or brothers. Since her morals prevented her from having an intimate relationship with a man outside of marriage, she’d been very selective about the men she had allowed in her life.

To date she’d only had one semiserious boyfriend. When he found out she expected marriage before going to bed with him, he accused her of being an outdated prude, and he moved on to someone else. That was just fine with her. She preferred her solitary existence, and hadn’t counted on an unknown entity like Perseus knocking the foundations out from under her.

“Why the hesitation?” he mocked, seemingly as amused by her reticence as he was irritated.

She closed her eyes in defeat and lay back against the cushion with her hand propped upright. “I-it’s in a box on the closet floor in the bedroom.”

He’d disappeared before she had the courage to open them again. Several minutes passed by with no sign of him. When he didn’t come back out, she started to grow nervous and got off the couch to investigate.

Revived by the tea, she didn’t feel as unsteady as before and hurriedly made her way to the bedroom.

“The box is in plain—” But the rest of the words never came out of her mouth. He had virtually emptied the contents of her closet. Not the stuff on the shelves or floor, but everything on hangers, mainly samples of fabrics she’d been designing since her early teens.