The Greek Tycoon's Mistress

As she walked in Theo glanced round from opening a bottle of wine.

He stilled totally.

Leandra Ross stood on the far side of the room, wearing nothing but a thigh-length silk wrap belted so tightly at the waist that each breast was moulded in all its glory beneath the taut material. Her long hair streamed over her shoulders, loosed like liquid gold against the scarlet of the skimpy robe. From beneath its short hem her slender legs were like creamy silk. Her feet, arched and narrow, were bare.

Instinctively, just as it had when he had first set eyes on her at the charity gala, Theo felt his body responding to the vision she presented. Desire, hard and insistent, kicked in his guts.

Then another, dampening reaction set in.

Christos, but she was a fast worker!

His mouth twisted cynically. Did she think she could flash her body to get him to fly her back tonight? Was that what this tempting display was all about?

A contemptuous glint showed in his eyes. Or was she after something more than a ride back to Athens? Well, if she thought she could manipulate him the way she ran circles round Demos she was in for a rude surprise. He chose the women he bedded—they didn’t choose him! And, however tempting a morsel Leandra Ross was, he had no intention—none whatsoever—of making this hellish mess even more complicated than it was already! The only relationship he wanted with her was via his chequebook. Clean and simple.

Even thinking of anything else was sheer lunacy!

From her side of the table Leandra saw the expression in his eyes. She bristled instantly.

He’s doing it again! Looking at me like I’m trash!

Did he think she was wearing this wrap thing on purpose? Only hunger kept her from bolting back to her room. Defiantly she flashed a scintillating smile at him, as false as it was dazzling, and took her place at the table. What did she care what Theo Atrides thought? He was nothing to her!

There was a caustic look on his hard, handsome face as he sat down opposite her.

If he had been going to comment on her appearance he was prevented by the arrival of Agathias, entering through the door leading to the corridor and the kitchen beyond, carrying a tray bearing bowls of soup which she placed on the burnished table. The smell of food drove away everything else from Leandra’s mind and, hardly waiting before Agathias had put a bowl of the creamy liquid before her, she set to.

She ate fast, driven by hunger. Besides, the soup was delicious. So, too, was the delicately flavoured fish which followed. Not bothering to speak to her dining companion, Leandra cleared her plate completely, reaching for a hunk of bread from the basket between her and her host and mopping up the last of the delicious juices. Eating had made her almost forget that she was dining in Theo Atrides’s utterly unwelcome company.

Agathias arrived to clear the table, bringing coffee with her. Then she bustled out, leaving them alone once more.

Theo poured out more wine, refilling Leandra’s glass. She realised, to her dismay, that she’d drunk rather more than she’d realised. Determinedly she ignored the wine glass and poured herself some coffee.

She felt better now, on a full stomach. The last of the drug seemed to have cleared from her system and her headache was gone. Maybe her mood was better because this time tomorrow she’d be back in London—to sanity.

A shudder went through her. The whole thing had been the most hideous ordeal! Now, calm and well fed, with a large glass of wine inside her, she was filled with incredulity that Demos’s grandfather should have committed a criminal act and had her kidnapped.

Even so, her sense of fairness interposed, and she had to concede that no actual harm had come to her. Maybe, she thought unwillingly, she had overreacted when Theo had stepped out of that helicopter. She squirmed mentally as she recalled how she had gone berserk at him. After all, she thought grudgingly, he had flown straight out to take her back to London, and he did seem pretty appalled by what his grandfather had done.

‘Mr Atrides,’ she began, her voice slightly husky with nerves, ‘I want to apologise for the way I behaved when you arrived. I…I was…very frightened…very confused…I…I didn’t know what had happened to me…’

She trailed off. There was a closed look on his face—as though, she thought, he was evaluating what she had said. No, she amended, as if he were evaluating why she had just said what she had.

It confused her, making her stare at him wide-eyed, wondering what was going on in his mind.

Then, in a very foreign gesture, he gave a shrug, his broad shoulders moving with perfect musculature beneath the material of his polo shirt, stretched tautly across his chest. The movement distracted her, making her realise just how very perfect that pectoral musculature was. No running to seed for this captain of industry! However he kept fit, he kept very fit indeed…

She snapped her mind back to what he was saying.

‘Please, do not apologise. It was perfectly understandable.’

The handsome acceptance of her expression of regret was so astonishing that Leandra simply stared at him. There was something different about him suddenly, she realised, and then worked out what it was. The cynical look in his eye had disappeared. The expression in it now was bland.

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