Bride by Day
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.
In .actuality, the contents bore more resemblance to the materials of an upholstery department in a furniture store than they did a woman’s wardrobe. The few ancient skirts and blouses she possessed had been shoved into one corner.
He’d laid out the large samples across her unmade twin bed. Some were woven, others were hand-painted or stenciled. He didn’t even bother to lift his head to acknowledge her presence, let alone apologize for the liberty he’d taken.
“Where did you get these?” he asked in that low, vibrant voice she’d be able to recognize out of a thousand others.
“I made them.”
His dark head reared back, and he sent her a piercing glance she couldn’t decipher. “If that’s true, then you have a touch of genius in you.”
“You think?” Her words came out more like a squeak.
“You mean you don’t know?” He actually sounded angry.
Inordinately pleased by the compliment, she forgot to be mad and smiled at him. For Perseus Kostopoulos, a known art lover and head of one of the world’s most prestigious textile companies, to give her such an unsolicited accolade, gave her hope that she wasn’t wasting her time completely.
Over the years Sam had received compliments on her work from her peers, but for some reason, she’d never elicited praise from her professors.
There had been times when she’d been tempted to tell them she was Jules Gregory’s daughter, in order to evoke even a little recognition. But pride had always held her back. If she couldn’t succeed on her own, then she refused to trade on her father’s name.
As far as Sam was concerned, he was a despicable man who couldn’t have cared less that her mother had passed away, or that his daughter had been left on her own.
Swallowing her bitterness, Sam leaned over to get the solvent, then headed for the kitchen. Perseus followed her and took the can from her hand to open the lid. Again she felt the brush of his skin with a sense of wonder and trembling.
Refusing to meet his eyes which had been studying her since her flight from the bedroom, she rummaged for a dish in the cupboard. “If your secretary wrote the number in pen, the solvent won’t destroy it. Unfortunately, I’m afraid it might wash out any notations made by pencil.”
“She uses both,” he muttered, before pouring some liquid into the bowl she handed him. “That’s the chance we’ll have to take.” So saying, he put the crumpled piece of yellow paper in the liquid. “How long shall I leave it in?”
Her injured hand had started to throb. Worse, she could feel a headache coming on, probably because this wasn’t going to work, and then he’d leave and she’d never see him again.
The idea that he might be walking out of her life in a few minutes was enough to bring on a migraine, let alone the sense of loss to her heart.
“Give it a minute, then take it out and test it to see how soft it’s getting.”
He did as she suggested, then shook his head. “It needs more time.”
“Leave it another two minutes.”
Once again he submerged it.
She watched from a little way off, consumed by curiosity, and the nagging fear that her time alone with him was numbered by precious minutes ticking away far too fast.
Finally, when she couldn’t stand it any longer she blurted, “Why is this particular number so important to you?”
His body tautened, making her wish she’d kept silent.
“Twenty years ago my beloved fiancée plunged a knife into my jaw, then disappeared.”
His fiancée?
“I’ve been looking for her ever since.”
Sam’s musings had been right. He was on a quest for the woman who’d undoubtedly marked him in ways that went much deeper than his scar. Sam already hated that woman with a ferocity she couldn’t even explain to herself.
“Little by little the field of the search has narrowed,” he spoke on, unaware of her uncharitable thoughts toward the woman he loved. “She’s grown tired of running from me. Quite the reverse,” he muttered grimly. “In fact, my sources indicate she’s probably the one who phoned my office leaving her private phone number with Mrs. Athas.”
The explanation was so shocking, so different from the picture Sam had in her mind of his being scarred in a street fight, she started to shiver and couldn’t stop.
“But if she loved you enough to get engaged, and you loved her—”
His features hardened. “More than life itself. We made our own vows on Delos, at the temple of Apollo.”
His admission shouldn’t have devastated her. Perseus Kostopoulos couldn’t possibly mean anything to her.
But he did...
“Then why—”
“I think this is soft enough now,” he broke in without answering her burning question. Something told her she’d heard all she was going to hear.
Sam hadn’t been aware of holding her breath until he unfolded the edges of the yellow note. Her heart plummeted to her feet because the writing was no longer there.
As if he’d suddenly been scalded, he let the paper fall to the counter.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in anguish. “I—I wish to heaven I’d never cleaned your office.”
“It’s too late for regrets, Ms. Telford.” The words dropped like rocks. “Where is the wallpaper paste? I’ll repair the damage to your collage.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll do it.”
“Not with an injured hand.”
Like lightning he disappeared, then returned with the paste which he’d found on the floor in the hall.
In very little time he’d put the missing piece back so that it looked as if it had never been removed. All she would have to do was spray that spot one more time to make it like new.
“Thank you,” she murmured, but doubted he’d heard her because he’d retrieved his cellular phone from his suit jacket and was talking to someone in Greek. Undoubtedly he was calling one of his contacts to let them know he’d been unsuccessful in obtaining the phone number.
Any second now he’d leave her apartment and be lost to her forever. She couldn’t bear it, but what could she do unless she held him prisoner at gunpoint. The only problem was, she didn’t own a gun because she didn’t believe in them.
What an irony that this was the , first time she’d ever wished to own a firearm. A double irony because she would use it to keep Perseus inside, instead of out.
When he’d finished his conversation, he eyed her intently.
Here it comes. He’s about to tell me goodbye, and I’ll never be the same again.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’VE canceled my appointment and arranged for our dinner to be delivered.”
Sam reeled and held on to the couch back for support. “What?”
“After what I’ve put you through today, I need to make amends. Furthermore, I’m hungry and wager you are too.”
“Well, yes...but—”
“Then it’s settled,” he cut in without a qualm. “While you obey doctor’s orders and rest, I’ll clean things up.”
“No, please. I can’t let you do that.”
“You’re in no position to stop me. By the way, while we were at the doctor, I contacted Manhattan Cleaners and told them about your injury. The person in charge said you should take off as much time as you needed to heal. I told them you’d get back to them in a few days.”
On that succinct note he began tidying the room. Sam sank back on the couch, too bemused by the circumstances to argue. Someone upstairs had heard her, and granted her a few more minutes of Perseus’s precious company. But ungrateful wretch that she was, she was greedy. She wanted it to last forever.
Unfortunately it was only a short half hour later that she heard a knock on her apartment door, and jerked to a sitting position. But Perseus was faster and had opened it before she could get up from the couch. “Kalispera, Arianna,” she heard him say.
The dark-haired, middle-aged woman answered, “Gia sas, Kyrie Kostopoulos.” She was holding a huge sack, yet even from the distance, Sam could detect a delicious aroma filling the room which made her mouth water. She couldn’t remember the last time anything had smelled so good.
“Efcharisto.”
Except for that last word which she’d figured out meant, “thank you,” Sam didn’t understand the rest of their conversation before the woman went away again, leaving the two of them alone once more.
“Arianna is the best cook in New York. Tonight we will enjoy mincemeat kebab and baby lamb, roasted with tomato and cheese. For dessert, galato bouriko, a sinful custard pastry I promise you’ll enjoy.”
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise as he handed her a heaping plate of food. “Everything looks wonderful.”
“It is. But later, when we reach Serifos, and you taste my housekeeper Maria’s cooking, then you will know the true meaning of ambrosia.”
Her heart did a queer little thump, and the first bite of lamb never reached her mouth. “What do you mean, when we reach Serifos?”
He had already made huge inroads into his food. Without meeting her gaze he said, “The gods didn’t smile kindly on you after all. Because you stole something from my office that wasn’t yours, you must make restitution.”
His words were delivered in such a silky tone, it took a second before she understood their thrust.
Here she’d been praying that Perseus wouldn’t walk out of her life. Now it seemed she might be granted her wish. But wasn’t there an old Spanish proverb somewhere that said, Beware lest you get what you asked of God?
She started to grow nervous and lost what little appetite she had.
“It’s more than probable that my fiancée. who has returned to Serifos after a twenty year absence with the sole intent of marrying the heartbroken fiancé of her youth, hoped to reach me by phone and beg my forgiveness before we saw each other again.
“I’ve decided that I’m glad I couldn’t return her call after all. Bringing you back to Serifos as my wife will speak more eloquently than any words I might have said to her.
When all danger has passed, you will be freed to continue with the rest of your life. Be assured, thespinis, your nights will be your own. You will only have to act the part of my bride, by day.”
Bride by day?
He actually planned to use Sam as a pawn to help him face his adored fiancée? Apparently the woman presented so great a danger to his peace of mind, he’d even used the word with Sam.
At such a ludicrous, preposterous idea, Sam should have been laughing hysterically. Or throwing the kebabs in his face... But neither reaction surfaced. Rather, a strange ache had entered her heart as she watched him absently rubbing an index finger over his scar. She wondered if it still hurt him after all this time...
What kind of a woman was this fiancée who held him in thrall to the point that he’d never remarried or stopping trying to find her, even though she’d done such a horrific thing to him?
Was he truly so frightened he might fall under her spell again, he would turn to a total stranger and marry her in his desperation to combat his beloved’s attractions?
Sam couldn’t imagine a love like that or comprehend it, and decided she didn’t want to know.
But a little voice deep inside called her a liar for not owning up to the truth. Just once in her life, Sam had to admit she’d like to know how it felt to be the sum total of a man’s existence.
Liar, the voice whispered again. Not just any man. Face it, Samantha Telford. You’ll probably never see him again, but by some error in the cosmos, Perseus Kostopoulos has crossed your path, and given you the once-in-a-billion chance opportunity to remain in his life for a little longer. As his wife!
Isn’t that what you wanted?
“For a woman who is never without words, your speechless state is extremely gratifying because it means you haven’t rejected my decision out of hand. That’s good, since the alternative would be that you come live with me, not as my wife, but my pillow friend.”
Her cheeks flushed. “You mean, your mistress.”
“I would treat you exactly the same way, but I’m afraid the world would not be as charitable to you, if you follow my meaning.”
She was very much afraid that she did. Living with Perseus under those conditions would be tantamount to destroying her good name and reputation. Being his wife would be an entirely different proposition.
“Of course to make this more palatable for you, I’m prepared to grant you the three wishes of your heart. You have only to voice them to realize your wildest dreams.”
Her eyes narrowed provocatively. She was feeling as capricious and daring as the moment afforded. The corner of her mouth lifted. “My wildest dreams?”
It was beyond her wildest imagination—let alone her dreams—to be sitting in her tiny apartment a few feet away from the renowned and breathtaking Perseus Kostopoulos, having just heard him propose marriage to her, no matter his not-so-secret agenda.
“Three wishes, you say?”
A trick of light made his eyes seem even blacker and more mysterious. “As my closest friends will attest, once made, I never go back on a bargain.”
She could believe it.
“Well, that’s easy. For one, I’ve always wished I had enough money to give every deserving, struggling artist at the university a free stipend so he only had to work at one job instead of two or three, in order to afford college.”
“Done,” came the pronouncement, as if from on high. “Since I’d already planned to purchase your art project and have it hung in a place of honor in the foyer of my building, I’ll contact Dr. Giddings and establish a perpetual fund in your name which he can administer to needy, deserving art students.”
The idea that he planned to buy her collage and put it on display almost made her plate of food fall off her lap onto the couch. But to think what such a monetary gift would mean to impoverished students...
“You’d really do that?” Sam cried out in unabashed astonishment.
“What’s your second wish?” he continued in the same vein, completely ignoring her outburst.
He was sitting on the rickety chair he’d carried from the corner and placed opposite the couch, calmly finishing a second helping of lamb.
Her second wish. It was really her first, but at his suggestion, she’d wanted to propose the most outrageous demand she could think of.
Just remembering her hard working, courageous mother made her eyes cloud over. She bit her lip to put a brake on her emotions.
“When Mom died, I didn’t have the money to fly her to Cheyenne, Wyoming. She was born there and ought to have been buried in the family plot. I designed a headstone I wanted to have erected to her memory, but it was too costly to have made.”
“Done,” he came back again in a low, solemn tone. “Remember that you only have one more wish. It must be something you want for yourself.”
Her third wish.
Sam eyed him covertly. This was only a game.
She had no intention of acting on any of it.
“To have the time and luxury to create beautiful designs for cloth, ceramic tiles and fine-boned china which other people will clamor to buy.”
“Done.”
In a lithe move, he rose to his full height and relieved her of the food she’d barely tasted.
He took everything to the sink, then said over his broad shoulder, “At my villa on Serifos, there’s a whole wing you can devote to your work. Cottage industries in the Cyclades have always been the secret of my financial success.
“Frankly, it’s been many years since I’ve seen designs and patterns as fresh and exciting as yours. Through my marketing experts, you’ll make a small fortune. By the time I’ve granted you your freedom, you’ll be launched and successful, and you’ll never have another money worry again.”
While she sat there in a complete stupor, he suddenly turned and gave her his undivided attention. “I sense there’s a fourth. Tonight I’m in a benevolent-enough mood to indulge your slightest whim.”
He wanted protection from his fiancée at any cost, even to binding himself to a temporary wife he didn’t love.
All along, Sam had been right about him. He had remarkable sensitivity and a superior intellect which could ferret out a person’s most closely guarded secrets without even trying. His perception was positively scary.
Deep, deep down inside that core of her being, she’d been waiting for the day when she shouted at her father that she and her mother had made an even greater success of their lives than he had-without his acknowledgment or help—then walk proudly away and never look back.
Perseus Kostopoulos was the only god-like mortal who could actually help her achieve that dream before she was old and gray—and somehow he knew it, even if she hadn’t told him the particulars.
“I—I don’t know.” She tried to sound unaffected, but was failing miserably. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Do that. I’ll be back at ten tonight.” He took her door key from the kitchen counter and let himself out of the apartment without waiting for a response.
What a clever man to leave her alone so she could contemplate the rest of her life without him.
Before she’d left her apartment earlier in the day to make the walk to his office in the rain, she’d given little thought to a love interest in her life because she’d been too busy getting ready to graduate, too busy to start making her way in the world.
That was before she’d met Perseus Kostopoulos.
Now his stamp was all over her lonely, claustrophobic apartment, from the bedroom to the kitchen sink.
She eyed the gauze bandage wrapped around her hand, evidence of the care she’d received from his own, personal doctor. Her arm ached from the tetanus shot she’d been given, further evidence of that concern.
Sumptuous Greek food he’d had specially prepared for her still sat on the plate waiting to be eaten. Her violated collage, one he planned to buy and place in his office building for the whole world to see, sat propped on the card table, expertly repaired by his capable hands.
Strong, masculine hands which had caught hers to stop the bleeding. Hands she secretly longed to feel in her hair, on her body. Until now, she’d never had such an erotic thought in her life.
It came to her like a revelation that she had fallen in love with Perseus on sight. She didn’t care what other people would say about such an absurd, ridiculous statement only hours after having met him.
She couldn’t help it. Something told her that if she couldn’t have his love, body and soul, for the rest of her life, then she wouldn’t want any other man’s.
Her mother had said the same thing about her father. She’d loved Jules Gregory from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him. Like mother, like daughter.
Since the possibility of Perseus returning her love was nonexistent, could she be content with the proverbial half loaf?
At least she’d have a chance to be close to him for as long as he allowed it. Maybe he’d need to keep her at his side for a long, long time. Long enough to thwart his fiancée. Long enough for him to turn to Sa—
Stop it, Sam. You’re being delusional.
If you agree to his proposal, you can never let him know the real reason why you’re willing to enter into something which can only cause yourself pain and heartache in the end.