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Bought By The Greek Tycoon
JACQUELINE BAIRD
Why stop at just one night–when he can buy so many more…?Greek multimillionaire Luke Devetzi will do anything to get Jemma Barnes back in his bed for a night of blazing passion….When Luke discovers that Jemma's father is in financial trouble and in need of a loan, he is willing to pay it…but only if Jemma agrees to become his convenient wife!




A warm welcome to all our readers; it’s cold outside, but the books Harlequin Presents has got for you in January will leave you positively glowing!
Raise your temperature with two right royal reads! The Sheikh’s Innocent Bride, by top author Lynne Graham, whisks you away to the blazing dunes of the desert in a classic tale of a proud sheikh’s desire for the young woman employed to clean his castle. Meanwhile, Robyn Donald is back with another compelling Bagaton story in The Royal Baby Bargain, the latest installment in her immensely popular New Zealand-based BY ROYAL COMMAND miniseries.
Want the thermostat turned up? Then why not travel with us to the glorious Greek islands, where Bought by the Greek Tycoon, by favorite author Jacqueline Baird, promises searing emotional scenes and nights of blistering passion, and Susan Stephens’s Virgin for Sale—the first title in our steamy new miniseries UNCUT—sees an uptight businesswoman learning what it is to feel pleasure in the hands of a real man!
For Cathy Williams fans, there’s a new winter warmer: in At the Italian’s Command, the heart of a notoriously cool, workaholic tycoon is finally melted by a frumpy but feisty journalist. And try turning the pages of rising star Melanie Milburne’s latest release—Back in her Husband’s Bed, about a marriage rekindled in sunny Sydney, Australia, is almost too hot to handle!
For a full list of titles and book numbers, see inside the front cover (opposite)—and enjoy!

Bought by the Greek Tycoon
Jacqueline Baird



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

All about the author…
Jacqueline Baird
Jacqueline was born and raised in Northumbria, U.K. She met her husband when she was eighteen. Eight years later, after many adventures around the world, she came home and married him. They still live in Northumbria and have two grown-up sons.
Jacqueline’s number one passion is writing. She has always been an avid reader and she had her first success as a writer at the age of eleven, when she won first prize in the Nature Diary of the Year competition at school. But she always felt a little guilty because her diary was more fiction than fact.
She always loved romance novels and when her sons went to school all day, she thought she would try writing one. She’s been writing for Harlequin Presents ever since, and she still gets a thrill every time a new book is published.
When Jacqueline is not busy writing, she likes to spend her time traveling, reading and playing cards. She was a keen sailor until a knee injury ended her sailing days, but she still enjoys swimming in the sea when the weather allows.
She visits a gym three times a week and has made the surprising discovery that she gets some good ideas while doing the mind-numbingly boring exercises on the cycling and weight machines.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE
JEMMA BARNES, pencil in hand, doodled in the notebook in front of her on the table, paying little attention to the conversation going on around her. Her father, MD of the company Vanity Flair, had insisted that she attend this board meeting now that she was heir to her late Aunt Mary’s estate, and therefore now one of the principal shareholders in the company. She had no idea why he wanted her there—stock flotations and the like were a foreign language to her. In fact, she had enough trouble coping with the monetary side of her own business—as Liz, her best friend and partner in the florist shop they jointly owned in Chelsea, would readily confirm!
‘Jemma?’ The strident tones of her father’s voice cut through her reverie. ‘Do you agree?’
Lifting her head, she realised the dozen or so people around the table were all staring at her. Her amber eyes clashed with the twinkling brown ones of the man opposite—a Mr Devetzi from Greece. Her father had introduced Jemma to him earlier and she rather liked the old man. Apparently he had once met her aunt Mary at her holiday home on the island of Zante—the same place that Jemma had spent her last holiday with her aunt. It wasn’t a holiday she liked to recall for a variety of reasons—one being that her aunt had died a few months later.
Now a hint of a smile played around the old man’s mouth, and she knew he’d realised from her panicked expression that she had no idea of the question. His smile broadened reassuringly, and with a wink and a nod of his white head he gave her the answer.
‘Yes, of course, Father,’ Jemma agreed, and the meeting ended.

‘Why on earth didn’t you get in touch with me?’ Luke Devetzi demanded forcibly in Greek, and stared down at his grandfather, lounging back on the sofa with one heavily bandaged ankle propped up on a footstool. ‘You know I would have come the minute you called.’ He raked frustrated fingers through his dark hair. ‘And what are you doing in London anyway? After your last heart scare I seem to recall your doctor forbidding you to travel.’
‘Business,’ Theo Devetzi declared bluntly.
‘But you retired from the fish business years ago,’ Luke reminded him.
‘Not that business. As a matter of fact I did call you six days ago, but I was informed by some woman in your New York office that you had already left for a long weekend in the Hamptons and were not to be disturbed unless it was a dire emergency.’ The old man arched one sardonic eyebrow. ‘As it was only a courtesy call, to tell you I was going to use your London apartment for a few days, I saw no reason to bother you.’
Luke stifled a grimace, but he had no defence; he had left just such instructions, and he felt guilty as hell. His grandparents had turned their lives upside down thirty-eight years ago when Anna, their only daughter, had got pregnant by a yachtsman visiting the Greek island where they lived. Unwilling to subject Anna and her unborn child to the censure of the small community, they had relocated to Athens, where no one knew them. Then, when Anna had died in childbirth, they had been left to bring Luke up on their own.
Luke had never known who his biological father was until after he’d graduated from university at the age of twenty-one, with a degree in Business Studies. He had refused to follow his grandfather into the wholesale fish business, instead signing up as assistant purser on a luxury cruise liner. In a fit of temper Theo had declared he was just like his feckless French father—a so-called aristocrat who spent his life sailing around in his yacht seducing young girls. In the ensuing argument Luke had discovered his grandfather had known his father’s name all along.
Luke had stormed out and gone to find his father. He had discovered the man living on a large estate in France—with his wife and two sons both older than Luke. When Luke had confronted him he had sneered and disowned him with the words, ‘I have had dozens of women in my life, and even if I had been single at the time I would never have married your Greek peasant of a mother.’ Then, with the help of his two equally obnoxious sons, he’d had Luke thrown off his land.
Luke had gone ahead and joined the cruise liner. There he had struck up a friendship with an elderly New York banker, who had enlisted Luke’s aid in reading the stock market. When the ship had docked in New York, impressed by Luke’s natural ability to spot a winner, the same man had offered Luke a job with his firm. Luke had become the proverbial whiz kid, and four years later had started his own investment banking company—Devetzi International.
The circumstances of his birth no longer bothered Luke, and hadn’t done for years. He viewed his grandfather’s set features now with a mixture of frustration and love. ‘Nothing you do or want can ever be too much trouble for me, Theo. You only have to ask and it will be given. You must know that.’
Theo was getting old. His heavily lined face showed the signs of his seventy-seven years, and yet his deep brown eyes still held the determination that had seen him build up a business with his best friend Milo. Luke owed his life to this man.. as far as he was concerned Theo was the only family he had.
‘Humph. Fine words, Lycurgus, but they cut no ice with me.’
Luke stiffened. He knew the old man was always either angry or after something when he used Luke’s full name—chosen for him by his grandmother because it meant wolf-hunter, and his silver-grey eyes had reminded her of a wolf.
‘What I wanted was to see you married with children, to see the continuation of our bloodline. But given your apparent aversion to marriage and your choice in women I have almost given up hope.’ Lifting a magazine from the coffee table, he waved it at Luke. ‘Just look at your latest woman—probably the one you have spent the last few days with.’ He flicked to the centre page. ‘Davina Lovejoy is about as likely to make a good wife and mother as fly,’ he snorted.
Theo was right—Luke had been dating Davina for the last few weeks and had spent a long weekend with the lady in question. He could tell his grandfather that he had no intention of marrying the lady anyway.. but, dammit, why should he? He didn’t exactly appreciate Theo interfering in his sex life. And, as for marriage, Luke had little trust in women for the long term. In his experience he had found the married ones just as eager to get into his bed as the single women he met, if not more so—not that he was at all interested in getting involved with married women. The only exception to that particular rule still nagged his conscience to this day…
Belatedly he tuned back in to Theo’s rapid-fire Greek.
‘…and I thought you had more taste, but obviously I was wrong. Have you read this?’ Theo waved the magazine again. ‘She had a nose job at nineteen! That I can understand, and even the breast enhancement I could tolerate, but this last thing… Well, I have never heard of anything like it in my life! A false bottom! You might as well take a plastic doll to your bed,’ he exclaimed.
‘What? Let me see that,’ Luke snapped, and took the magazine from Theo’s hand. A quick glance told him his grandfather was right. A photograph of Davina and himself leaving a restaurant—a month earlier, if he wasn’t mistaken—followed by an article all about Davina, her physical enhancements, and the new man in her life.
A vitriolic Greek curse escaped him, and he flung the magazine back on the table in disgust.
‘My sentiments exactly,’ Theo agreed, with the slightest of smiles lightening his leathered face.
Luke ran his hand through his dark hair again. ‘I never even realised,’ he muttered. And, as he considered himself something of a connoisseur of women, that was some admission!
Sinking down onto the sofa beside Theo, he gave the old man a wry smile. ‘I met Davina because she’s an interior designer, and my PA in New York hired her to redecorate my apartment in the city. Propinquity did the rest.’ He didn’t add that it had only been when showing the woman around his apartment it had suddenly struck him he had not bedded a woman in over a year and it was time he did something about it. ‘But if it gives you any satisfaction, Theo, I have no intention of marrying her.’
When the apartment was finished, in a couple of weeks, so would be his involvement with Davina. Beautiful and intelligent though she was, this last weekend had not been the roaring success he had hoped for. Davina was a very experienced lover, and the sex had been good, but for some reason it had left him feeling oddly unsatisfied.
‘Good! In that case you can do me a favour,’ Theo stated. ‘Since your grandmother’s death I’ve been making a few discreet enquiries about buying back my family home on Zante. I sold it to the local butcher when we moved from the island to Athens, but the house and the cove had been in my family for generations. I want it back,’ he declared emphatically. ‘I was conceived on that beach, I courted your grandmother there, and your mother was conceived on the same beach. It has a thousand happy memories for me, and when you get to my age that is about all you have left.’
Theo sighed deeply, then went on, ‘I did some digging and discovered the butcher died eight years later, and his family sold it for cash to a nameless businessman from Athens. According to gossip, he then gifted it to his mistress—an Englishwoman called Mary James; a botanist from London. I caught up with her on the island one time. She was a lovely lady, and she told me about her work and the company she had founded with her sister called Vanity Flair, producing a line of homeopathic, antiallergenic make-up. Later, her sister married the company accountant, one David Sutherland, and he was instrumental in expanding the business into retail outlets all over Europe.
‘But when I asked her if she would sell me the house on Zante she flatly refused, and closed up like a clam. So when I heard the company was to be floated on AIM—the alternative investment market in London—with the intention of raising money to fund expansion into America, I bought a block of shares on the off-chance that at some point they might give me some leverage in trying to persuade Miss James into selling my family home back to me.’
Luke frowned. Most of the companies floated on AIM were high-risk businesses. ‘Take my advice—sell up and get out now. As for your old home—forget it. Anyway, I thought you liked living in the house I had built for us all? You have never complained.’
‘No, but, beautiful as it is, since your grandmother died I find it a bit lonely—you’re rarely there.’
‘A good point,’ Luke conceded. The fact that he’d had no idea Theo was interested in buying back the property on Zante shamed him, and revealed just how little real attention he had given his grandfather in the past few years, how much he had taken him for granted. ‘I promise I will try to get home more often, Theo. But it doesn’t alter the fact that Zante is a very popular tourist destination now. It’s nothing like when you lived there—you’d hate it.’ Luke knew because he had berthed his yacht for one night on the island last summer, and, beautiful though the scenery still was, he had departed quickly the next morning.
‘No, you’re wrong. At last I can see a way to recover what was once mine.’ Theo’s eyes sparkled with more excitement than Luke had seen in a long time. ‘I discovered that Mary James died some months ago, and I immediately started to buy up more stock.’ Theo held up a veined hand. ‘And before you say it, I know the stock has been falling recently—but that was to my advantage because I got it cheap.’
If the company went down the tubes it wouldn’t be cheap, but Luke shook his head and kept his mouth shut, not wanting to argue further with Theo.
‘I received a call last week to attend a special board meeting of Vanity Flair, as one of the larger stockholders. I went to the meeting on Friday, and I had a drink with Sutherland afterwards. The only reason I’ve stayed on here the last few days was because he’s invited me to dinner at his house this evening, and also to his daughter’s birthday party this coming weekend.’
‘That’s very interesting, but it doesn’t explain how you sprained your ankle, nor that if Milo hadn’t contacted me in New York last night I would have known nothing about it.’
‘Yes, you would. Because I was going to call you myself as soon as I got back from the hospital but Milo preempted me. Incidentally, I sprained my ankle yesterday, tripping down the steps of this damn fool sunken living room of yours.’ He looked disdainfully around the plush curving black hide seating arrangement in the obviously bachelor penthouse.
‘Well, at least you had the sense to bring Milo with you,’ Luke murmured. ‘This is a service apartment, and I hate to think what might have happened if you’d been on your own.’
‘Naturally he came with me,’ Theo said. ‘Milo is just as keen as I am to see me get my family home back. Zante is where he and I first met and became friends. He used to stay with your grandmother and I whenever his fishing boat came into the harbour. I always thought he had a soft spot for your mother, but it wasn’t to be…’
Luke almost groaned, wishing Theo would get to the point, but he knew from experience that there was no way to hurry him. ‘So, how are you going to get it back, then?’ he enquired.
‘I’m not. You are,’ Theo declared with a broad grin. ‘I met Sutherland’s daughter at the board meeting. She’s a delightful woman who knows nothing at all about the family business—though she does run her own. We had an interesting conversation, and I discovered she was attending the meeting only because her father had told her to. She inherited everything from her aunt—shares in the company and, more importantly, the property on Zante.’
‘Thank heaven for that.’ Luke rose and crossed to the drinks trolley, poured a slug of whisky into a glass and added a generous splash of iced water. ‘So the daughter is selling it and you want me to pay for it, right? No problem…’ Lifting the glass to his mouth, he took a refreshing drink, watching the old man with tender eyes.
‘No, I’d just got around to asking her if she would sell the villa, and she’d just told me she didn’t think she could, when the meeting was called to order. I don’t need your money, but I do need you to go to the dinner party tonight in my place. Use some of that skill you have at charming the ladies on the daughter. Show her a good time—wine and dine her for the rest of the week and soften her up a bit. Then, when I attend her birthday party on Saturday night, I can appeal to her finer feelings and explain to her that it is an old man’s wish to own the home of his ancestors and pass it on to his grandson. When I ask her again to sell me the property, she will be ready to say yes to anything she thinks you want.’
‘You want me to seduce her, you mean?’ Luke met Theo’s intent gaze and lifted one eyebrow in mocking cynicism. ‘You do surprise me, considering you have spent years complaining about my womanising ways. Shame on you, Theo!’
‘You don’t need go that far—not that it would be any hardship, I’m sure, for she is a very lovely lady.’ Theo grinned. ‘If I was forty years younger, I’d be there myself.’
Luke laughed. ‘You’re incorrigible, old man, but okay. You arrange with Sutherland for me to dine in your place tonight, and I will do my level best to charm the woman. In the meantime, I need to shower and dress.’ Draining his drink, he added, ‘What is the woman’s name?’
Theo was already reaching for the telephone to call Sutherland. ‘J something…Jem…or Jan, I think,’ his grandfather said, dialling a number.
Rolling his shoulders to relieve the ache in his back from long hours of travel and tension, Luke headed for his bedroom wondering just what he had let himself in for, hoping this Jan woman would turn out to be halfway presentable.

It was after midnight when Luke finally returned to his apartment.. tired, but with a self-satisfied smile on his darkly handsome face.
‘So what happened? Did you meet her? Did you like her? And, more importantly, did she like you?’ Theo demanded as soon as he walked in the door.
‘Yes to all three.’ Luke grinned. ‘But you shouldn’t have waited up.’
‘Never mind that…just tell me what happened.’
Luke collapsed on the sofa and loosened his tie and shirt collar. ‘I met Sutherland and he introduced me to his daughter Jan, and by an amazing coincidence I knew her.’
‘You knew her? Are you sure?’
‘Believe me, old man, I know her. I met her in New York years ago. She was working as a model then, and I dated her a few times. So you have absolutely nothing to worry about; the deal is virtually in the bag, I promise you. Jan was delighted to see me, and was all over me like a rash. I’m taking her out to dinner tomorrow night, and by the party on Saturday she will be desperate to gobble me whole.’ Rising to his feet, Luke added, ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed—and I suggest you do the same.’

‘Phone, Jemma—it’s your stepmother,’ Liz yelled.
Busy in the workshop, planting a hanging basket with summer annuals, Jemma didn’t appreciate the interruption. Sighing, she put down her tools, pulled off her protective gloves and picked up the extension on the workbench.
‘Yes, Leanne?’ Jemma only half listened to her stepmother for the next few minutes. Her own mother had died when she was twelve, after a long illness, and her father had married his secretary six months later—a single mother with a sixteen-year-old daughter, Janine, who had already left school and started a career as a model.
At the time Jemma had been attending boarding school, so the two girls had not been very close—more friends than family—but her father had officially adopted Janine, so they all shared the same surname.
‘You do understand, Jemma?’
‘Yes, perfectly.’ Jemma finally got a chance to speak. ‘I’ve ordered all the flowers you requested, and I’ll be there early on Saturday to decorate the house for Jan’s birthday party.’ Jemma put the phone down and glanced at Liz. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind managing with just young Patty on Saturday afternoon? We could close the shop and you could come with me?’
‘No, thanks,’ Liz replied. ‘You know I can only take the beautiful Janine in very small doses. What birthday is it this time—her twenty-eighth for the fourth year running?’
‘Don’t be catty! But you’re right—although I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Hey, apparently Jan met an old boyfriend at the dinner party last night.’
‘The same dinner party you ducked out of, pleading a headache yet again?’ Liz mocked.
‘Yes—well, apparently he is still a bachelor and incredibly wealthy. Jan wants to hook him, so there’s to be absolutely no mention of her real age.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Liz chuckled, a wicked glint in her dark eyes.
‘Naughty!’ Jemma smiled.
‘I only wish you would be naughty once in a while.’ Liz sighed. ‘It’s time you got out and enjoyed yourself again.’
‘Well, I am going to the party on Saturday,’ Jemma said, walking across to the centre counter and taking the order book from Liz’s hand. ‘And it’s time you went for lunch. Patty’s due back any minute, and Ray won’t be long.’ Patty was a trainee and Ray was a qualified florist, but he spent most of his time as their delivery driver.
‘Okay, I’m going. But I mean it, Jemma. Alan has been dead two years now, and, much as you loved him, it is time you started dating again—or at least considered the possibility, instead of freezing out every handsome man who so much as smiles at you. Haven’t you heard? Apart from being no fun, total celibacy is bad for one’s health.’
To Jemma’s undying shame, she had not been totally celibate in the last two years—she had made one enormous mistake, which she had vowed never to repeat, but she didn’t have the nerve to tell her best friend the truth. Instead Jemma threw a damp florist’s sponge at her. ‘Go to lunch!’
She watched a laughing Liz duck out of the door and sighed, flicking through the order book without actually reading it. She had already met and married her soul mate, and then she had lost him.
It had all started when Jemma had begun to spend most of her free time with Aunt Mary, after the death of her mother. Her father had sold the family home with its large garden and bought an impressive townhouse for his new wife. But Jemma loved gardening, and her aunt had allowed her a free hand in her garden. As a lecturer at Imperial College London, her Aunt Mary and her work as a botanist had fascinated Jemma, but her aunt’s young research assistant, Alan Barnes, had fascinated her more. She’d developed an enormous crush on him, and he had become her best friend and confidante.
Later, when she’d left school at eighteen, she’d known she didn’t have the academic brain to follow in her aunt’s footsteps. But what she did have was an artistic flair with plants, and she had enrolled on a two-year course in floristry at a local college—which was where she’d met Liz. Jemma’s relationship with Alan had grown into a deep, abiding love, and it had been with his encouragement that Jemma and Liz had opened their shop together. Life had been great, and it had only got better when, at the age of twenty-two, Jemma had married Alan Barnes in a fairytale wedding.
Tragically, they had only been married for a brief four years when Alan had been killed in a gliding accident—a sport both he and Jemma had enjoyed. She still felt guilty that she had not been with him on the fatal day; instead she had stayed in London to complete a large order to decorate the old Assembly Rooms for a charity gala that evening.
Thinking about Alan now still squeezed her heart with sadness, but, thanks to Liz’s unfailing support over the past two years, she had at least got over crying at the thought of him and could now face the world, as content as she would ever be.
The wind chimes over the door rang, and Jemma glanced up as a customer walked in. She banished her memories to the back of her mind and smiled. ‘Can I help you?’

Luke glanced down at the elegant blonde who had attached herself to his arm the moment the maid had shown him and Theo into the drawing room of the large Georgian mansion in Connaught Square that was the Sutherland home. ‘Happy birthday, Jan.’ He had given her a present last night: nothing too personal—a Prada handbag. ‘And my grandfather I think you know—’
She didn’t let him finish. ‘Oh, yes, I know. How terrible…’ She flashed a smile in Theo’s direction. ‘I was so sorry to hear you’d hurt your ankle. But I can’t deny I was delighted Luke came to dinner in your place.’ Then, turning her eyes up to Luke, she gushed, ‘It was fate we met again. Isn’t that right, darling?’ And she tilted her head back for his kiss.
‘Probably,’ Luke murmured, smiling down at his companion. Jan was a sophisticated lady who knew the score; he had met her type a thousand times and it was no hardship to dip his head and brush his lips briefly against her scarlet mouth. Though it did surprise him that Theo found her attractive; he wouldn’t have thought a six-foot-tall, rake-thin model would be his grandfather’s type at all.

The noise hit Jemma first as she descended the staircase. She cast a professional eye over the flower display on the hall table and, satisfied, reluctantly turned towards the source of the noise. She had very rarely attended large parties since Alan’s death, but this was one she could not avoid.
Straightening her shoulders, she walked into the crowded drawing room and glanced around, her gaze alighting on the birthday girl. Jan was gazing up at a man who had his back to Jemma. Her perfectly made-up face was lifted to his, anticipating a kiss, and he duly obliged. Well over six foot tall, with broad shoulders and black hair, he looked impressive even from the back—and he was a perfect foil for Jan’s model height and sleek blonde hair.
They made a striking couple, Jemma thought idly, and let her gaze drift away—only to suddenly focus on an old man standing on his own and watching the embracing couple. He was leaning heavily on a silver-topped cane and had an expression of total bewilderment on his weathered face—a face she instantly recognised. He looked as out of place as Jemma felt, and swiftly she moved towards him.
‘Mr Devetzi.’ She smiled at her saviour from the board meeting. ‘It’s lovely to see you again.’ She offered her hand and he gratefully grasped it.
‘It is my privilege,’ he replied, and with old-world courtesy raised her hand and kissed it. ‘Please call me Theo.’
‘Theo it is, you old charmer.’ Jemma laughed.
Luke felt Theo tug frantically on the sleeve of his jacket at exactly the same moment as he recognised the soft feminine voice. He turned slowly and saw the woman holding his grandfather’s hand and smiling into his eyes, flirting with him… He tensed, every muscle in his body locking in shock and outrage. He knew her in the most intimate way possible; she had haunted his dreams for the past year, and he despised her for her lack of morals even as his body still ached for her. But, before he could formulate a suitably cutting greeting, Jan’s grip on his other arm tightened and she spoke to the woman.
‘Jemma, darling, meet Luke—the wonderful man I was telling you about.’
Luke heard Jan’s voice, but only registered the name. Jemma. So what had happened to Mimie? he thought cynically. Obviously it was a pseudonym she used when cheating on her husband! But, however unfaithful she was, it didn’t alter the fact that she looked even more incredible than he remembered.
The first and only time he had seen her until this party had been a year ago, when he and a group of his friends had taken a cruise around the Greek islands in his yacht for a couple of weeks—something he did every summer. It had been the birthday of one of the female guests, and they had partied on board and then gone ashore to the island of Zante to eat.
It had been when he’d slipped out of the restaurant full of tourists to stroll along the harbour and clear his head a little from the smoke and noise that he had noticed her. She had been sitting at a table outside a local harbour bar, sipping a glass of red wine, and she’d looked as if she had just stepped out of a Rossetti painting. She’d worn no make-up, yet she’d been stunningly beautiful. Her face was fine-boned, with high cheekbones and a short, straight nose over a perfectly formed mouth; her lips were full and a natural pink. Her hair was tucked behind her delicate ears to fall long and straight down her back, and was a rich chestnut gilded with reds and golds that reminded him of the changing leaves in autumn.
As he had watched a couple of locals had walked from the bar and bumped into her table, sending her glass and a half-empty carafe of red wine all over her. She had leapt to her feet, and Luke had leapt to her rescue.
She had willingly accepted his offer to accompany him to his yacht to clean the stains from the brief white top and shorts she’d worn. The sex that had followed was the best he had ever had, and a certain part of his anatomy rose instantly along with his anger as he recalled what had happened afterwards. Avoiding his gaze, she had jumped off the bed and said she needed the bathroom. Picking up her clothes and purse, she had dashed into the shower room.
When she had returned from the bathroom, fully dressed, she’d been pushing a ring onto her wedding finger. Luke had rolled off the bed, reluctant to accept the evidence of his own eyes. ‘You’re engaged,’ he’d said.
And had been met with, ‘No.. married. And this was a huge mistake.’
Luke had dated dozens of women, and slept with quite a few, but he never, ever got involved with married women. Furious with himself as much as her, he had said scathingly, ‘Not on my part, honey. You were hot, but you’d better trot along now. My guests will be back any minute, and I’d rather they didn’t see you—especially one woman in particular.’
She had looked at him, her eyes widening in horror as she’d realised what he had implied. Then she’d spun on her heel and left without a word, leaving him standing there naked, furious and disgusted with them both. He hadn’t had a one-night stand since he was a teenager, and had made it a rule to date a woman at least three times before going any further. But that night he had broken his own rule—and with a married woman too…
Looking at her now, she appeared so composed, so elegant, it was hard to believe she was the passionate woman who had shared his bed. Her long hair was swept up in an intricate twist on top of her head, revealing the perfection of her features and the swan-like curve of her neck. It was enhanced by the platinum chain she wore, from which a finely tooled locket with a diamond set in the centre was suspended.
She was wearing a simple but superbly designed black dress, with minimal sleeves and a low square neckline that revealed the creamy curve of her high, firm breasts. The fabric was fine and faithfully followed the line of her shapely body and the gentle swell of her hips to end an inch or so above her knees. As for her legs, they were fabulous—their length accentuated by the high-heeled sandals that revealed pink toenails. She was utter perfection from head to toe, and a vivid mental image of her naked body beneath him, her long legs locked around his waist, made Luke catch his breath. For the first time in his life he was jealous of his grandfather. He wanted to be the focus of her laughs, her gorgeous smile…
No, he didn’t—she was married! Luke reminded himself forcibly.
Jemma had heard the name Luke but thought nothing of it. She smiled at Jan and glanced politely at the man at her side. Then her eyes widened in horror, the blood drained from her face, and swiftly she lowered her gaze, her heart pounding in her breast. Jan’s Luke stood head and shoulders above the crowd, immaculately dressed in a black dinner suit, and with his dark good looks he exuded an aura of arrogant assurance coupled with virile masculinity that was almost impossible to ignore. But ignore him she did.
Jemma couldn’t believe it—the one mistake in her whole life was standing a foot away from her! She hadn’t even known his full name, and yet she had slept with him. No.. there had been no sleep involved at all. They’d had sex, illicit sex, nothing more. She’d hated herself and despised him even more, as he’d obviously been unfaithful to the girlfriend staying with him on his yacht at the time.
Her stomach churning, and with a terrific effort of will, Jemma murmured, ‘How nice to meet you.’ With barely a glance at Luke, she turned back to concentrate her attention on Theo.

CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS a completely new experience for Luke Devetzi, and not one he appreciated. Amber eyes had flicked coolly in his direction and then returned to Theo, and he didn’t like it at all… While not thrilled to acknowledge the lovely Jemma with Jan hanging on his arm, he was not prepared to let the promiscuous little vixen get away with ignoring him.
‘Hello…Jemma, is it?’ Luke murmured provocatively.
She glanced back at him, her amber eyes shielded by the ridiculous length of her dark lashes. ‘Yes. Hello.’ And as quickly she looked away again.
‘As we have not been formally introduced, allow me. Luke Devetzi.’
He was determined to make her aware of him, and deliberately he reached out a hand towards her. A frozen glance from the golden eyes, and a small hand was offered. He grasped it, feeling the softness of her skin against his palm, and was aware of an immediate stirring in his loins. He had never been so instantly aroused by a woman since the last time he had met Jemma—no, Mimie—or whatever the hell she called herself! He looked down at their clasped hands almost in shock, and then he saw the wedding ring and remembered just in time. He did not mess with married women—except this particular sexy siren hadn’t told him she was married until after he had taken her to bed.
Cold with shock, Jemma heard the seductive tone of his voice, noted the masculine challenge in his gaze and caught the knowing gleam of sensuality in his grey eyes. Appalled, she quickly extricated her hand from his grasp.
‘Jemma Barnes,’ she muttered.
Almost on cue, Jan cut in. ‘Will you do me a favour, Jemma, and take care of Luke’s grandfather? He had an accident a few days ago and can’t walk very well,’ she said with her usual insensitivity. ‘We need to circulate, and David wants to discuss business with Luke later.’
Insensitive or not, Jemma could have kissed Jan for the interruption. ‘No problem. It will be my pleasure.’ Jan grasped Luke’s arm and the couple began moving away through the crowd. Jemma heaved a shaky sigh of relief, but inside she was trembling. Talk about worst nightmares! Luke Devetzi was up there at the very top of her list.
She was amazed he was related to Theo, for Theo was small and stocky, with dark eyes, whereas Luke had to be six foot four, and his eyes were light grey, a stark contrast to his olive-skinned complexion. His eyes were the first thing she had noticed about him a year ago, when they’d met, and they were one of the reasons she had acted so completely out of character.
That he should turn up here in her father’s house, as her stepsister’s boyfriend, had to be the worst coincidence ever. She felt sick to her stomach and wanted to leave. She turned back to Theo, about to make some excuse, and saw he was still staring after Jan. The expression on his face was one of utter amazement. Jemma knew exactly how he felt—only she was sure it wasn’t for the same reason! ‘Jan is very beautiful, and she does tend to have a surprising effect on men, but I think your grandson can handle her,’ she offered reassuringly. ‘And they do make a nice couple.’
He made some unintelligible comment and, raising a hand to his mouth, began to cough violently.
Leaving wasn’t an option just yet—the man was obviously in difficulty. ‘You’re not well, Theo. I think you and I should find somewhere comfortable to sit and I’ll get you a glass of champagne,’ Jemma suggested, taking his arm. ‘Then you can tell me all about your accident—and what I voted for last Friday,’ she joked weakly.
‘Certainly.’ He smiled back a little shakily. ‘But first can you tell me who that woman with my grandson is?’ Theo gestured with his silver-topped cane in their direction.
‘That’s my stepsister—Jan,’ Jemma told him as she finally spied a vacant sofa and led him towards the far corner of the elegant drawing room. She felt him stumble. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously, and helped him sit down. ‘You look a little pale.’ She studied his lined face with worried eyes.
‘Your stepsister, you say? I didn’t know you had a sister.’
‘Well, you hardly know me.’ Jemma laughed.
‘I think I need that drink,’ Theo Devetzi rasped as he settled down on the sofa, and then muttered something in Greek that to Jemma sounded suspiciously like a curse.
‘If you’ll wait here, I’ll go and get you a brandy. It will do you more good than champagne,’ Jemma offered. The man was obviously still in some pain, she thought compassionately.
Meanwhile, Luke had placed a hand on Jan’s back and escorted her through the crowd. He smiled, and continued to smile in all the right places, while Jan accepted effusive birthday congratulations from her friends and they made their way towards her mother and father at the far end of the room. Luke could act the perfect consort without a thought, and his thoughts were centred on the lovely Jemma.
He glanced around the room, wondering which man was her husband. He was a lucky man—or maybe not so lucky, Luke thought cynically. There had been no mistaking the sexual chemistry, the wild passion between Jemma and himself. Her poor husband was more to be pitied than envied, he concluded.
But it was time he concentrated on Jan and did what he was here to do—help his grandfather. He glanced around the room and spotted Theo, safely seated, and briefly their eyes met. For a second Luke thought he saw panic in his grandfather’s gaze, but as he watched Jemma approached and handed Theo a brandy, and the old man was all smiles.
Jemma handed the brandy glass to Theo. ‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ she queried, sitting down beside him and taking a good swallow from her own glass of champagne. She wasn’t normally a drinker, but dear heaven she needed something to steady her nerves and her stomach…
‘Much better,’ Theo reassured her, and took a sip of brandy. ‘Your sister Jan seems to know Luke well. Have you ever met him before?’ he asked casually.
‘No.’ Jemma gritted her teeth and lied. She had no intention of letting this sweet old man know what had happened between her and Luke a year ago. ‘But Jan has known him for years, I believe,’ she answered. Poor Theo started coughing again. ‘You sound as if you have caught a cold; are you sure you should be out so soon after your accident?’
‘No, really, I’m fine,’ Theo insisted, and then changed the subject by explaining to her what she had voted for at the board meeting—apparently she had agreed to another stock flotation to raise money.
‘It doesn’t make much difference to me,’ Jemma said lightly. ‘I’m mildly dyslexic with numbers, and what I know about high finance wouldn’t cover my little fingernail. But I wouldn’t say no to the money.’ Draining her glass, she put it down on a convenient table, as did Theo.
‘Well, there’s a simple answer to that.’ Theo took his opportunity swiftly. ‘You could sell me your aunt’s villa on Zante. It used to be my family home years ago, you know. Call me sentimental, but I’d rather like it back. I’m willing to give you well above the market value for it if you agree.’
‘It’s a nice thought, and I really would if I could, but I can’t sell it to you.’ Jemma saw Theo’s puzzlement and explained. ‘Aunt Mary left it in trust for me, and for my children, and for my children’s children, ad infinitum—all tied up legally.’
‘I see.’ The old man’s dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Have you ever considered applying to have the trust broken? I believe it is possible.’
‘Maybe some day.’ When she was too old to have children, she thought. ‘But it’s not something I would contemplate at the moment…’ Plus, she owed it to her aunt Mary to follow her wishes, she thought with a tinge of sadness, but she saw no reason to tell Theo the whole story.
‘Of course that is entirely your prerogative,’ Theo said quietly, and raised his hands palms up in a gesture of defeat. ‘No matter. I have lived long enough to know that one never gets everything one wants in life.’ Suddenly he smiled and glanced across the room. ‘Not that my grandson is often thwarted. Now, tell me honestly, what do you think of Luke?’
He is a sexual predator, skilled in the art of seduction, and he preys on the weakness of women, Jemma thought, but didn’t say it. ‘He seems…nice.’ She lied through her teeth again. ‘And I know Jan thinks very highly of him.’

At the other side of the room Luke appeared to concentrate his attention on the Sutherlands, while in his mind he ran through the report he had read this morning. His London office had done some checking over the past two days—David Sutherland was a man in trouble and trying not to show it, he thought cynically. But, smiling down at the man and his wife, he exchanged a polite greeting with the couple.
Luke already had a pretty good idea what Sutherland wanted from him. He had hinted as much on Wednesday evening once he’d realised Luke was the owner of Devetzi International. Sutherland wanted him to invest in Vanity Flair, or at the very least recommend it as a buy to his clients, in order to boost the share price and thus help Sutherland’s much-vaunted expansion plans. Luke had no intention of doing either, but he had to play it cagey for the moment.
On the two occasions he had taken Jan out this week he had refrained from mentioning her inheritance to her. He had kept their relationship on a light, flirtatious level. But she had a great ability to talk about herself, and the model agency she had recently set up, which tied in with what Theo had said about her now owning her own business.
Reminded of Theo, he glanced around the room and spotted him, still sitting on the sofa, the faithless Jemma Barnes beside him. But as Luke watched the old man turned slightly, his dark eyes clashing with Luke’s, and with a somewhat frantic wave of his cane he beckoned him over. What had happened now?
‘Excuse me,’ Luke said abruptly. ‘But my grandfather appears to need me.’ And with a brief apologetic smile at Jan and her parents he moved quickly through the crowd to Theo’s side.
He was met by a torrent of Greek. The gist of it being that Luke was the biggest idiot in Christendom. What was he doing hanging on to the blonde beanpole? There were two daughters and he was dating the wrong one—the stepdaughter. Was he mad? Jemma was the one he should have been dating, and now—short of a miracle—he had blown Theo’s chances of ever getting his home back.
Stunned by the news, Luke glanced at Jemma and back to Theo, feeling like a prize idiot. Then anger took over and he shot back in Greek. How the hell was he supposed to know there were two daughters when Theo had not even known and it had been Theo himself who’d told Luke the woman’s name was Jan?
Luke’s grey eyes narrowed angrily on the downbent head of the lady in question.. he wasn’t surprised she couldn’t face him—then he glared at his grandfather. He must have been mad to let himself get involved with Theo’s crazy idea in the first place. Now he’d have to extricate himself from a relationship with Jan he’d never had any enthusiasm for in the first place. And it wouldn’t be easy. He began to tell Theo so in no uncertain terms.
Jemma could tell the two men were arguing, and, much as she hated the idea of facing Luke, her compassion for poor Theo overcame her fear. Rising to her feet, she cut into the tirade of Greek in a cool, well-modulated voice. ‘Excuse me, Mr Devetzi, your grandfather is not very well, and shouting at him will certainly not help.’
Jemma was telling him off! Luke was struck dumb at the nerve of the woman.
‘He’s had an accident, in case you’ve forgotten, and he should really be at home resting.’
‘I was not shouting.’ Luke finally found his voice. ‘We Greeks are as passionate in conversation as we are in everything,’ he said pointedly, none too subtly reminding her of the passion they had shared. ‘And I know very well what Theo needs.’ He shot a lethal glance at Theo to see the man was smiling; he was enjoying this, damn him! Luke was determined Theo wasn’t going to make him the villain of the evening, and neither was he taking any cheek from a married woman who quite happily slept around, he thought furiously. No matter how gorgeous she was.
‘I tried to make him stay at home, but he insisted on coming to the party because he wanted to meet you again, Jemma,’ Luke said. ‘Apparently you made quite an impression on him at the board meeting, because he hasn’t stopped talking about you. He told me you were in business, but he omitted to mention you had a partner…’ He paused and deliberately looked down at her ring finger before adding, ‘But then his English is not so good.’ Luke offered a withering glance to his grandfather, as the old man had obviously still not realised the woman was married. ‘Is your husband here? I would quite like to meet him,’ he asked pointedly, his steel-grey gaze roaming insultingly over her. His question was to inform Theo of his basic mistake, but also to act as a barbed reminder to the sexy Jemma that there had been no mention of a husband while Luke had been making love to her…
Jemma could do nothing about the sudden colour that surged in her cheeks at his blatant male scrutiny and his sly dig at her married state. But, having suffered constantly as a child at the hands of her peer group because of her slight dyslexia, she wasn’t prepared to stand by and let the arrogant Luke belittle his grandfather’s use of the English language.
She cast Theo a sympathetic glance. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your English. I can understand you perfectly,’ she assured him, before lifting her head to glare up at the man towering over her. ‘And you should know better than to demean your grandfather’s abilities in front of others,’ Jemma said tautly, her glittering golden eyes clashing angrily with grey. It was as if they were the only two in the room, the tension between them a palpable force. ‘And maybe if you learned to listen to your grandfather properly you wouldn’t need to do it. As it happens I do have a partner, my best friend Liz, though I actually never told Theo I had a partner when we first met.’ Implying Luke was a liar. ‘And, as for my husband, he died some time ago now. Are you satisfied?’
For the second time in as many minutes Luke was stunned into silence as he thought of the opportunity he might have had with her if Theo had got his facts right. The beautiful Jemma was free and single again… He didn’t really care when her husband had died; it was enough to know she was available now—except for the minor complication that he was currently dating her stepsister… Damage limitation was called for—and fast!
Straightening his shoulders, he caught the flicker of sadness in her huge amber eyes that she could not quite disguise and he felt like a heel.
‘I’m so sorry, Jemma. I never meant to offend you or Theo. May I offer my deepest sympathy at the loss of your husband?’
‘Thank you,’ Jemma responded curtly, finally tearing her gaze away from his, and not believing him for a second. She was too shocked to say anything more. Luke Devetzi had angered her so much that she had blurted out in public that Alan was dead—something she had rarely had the strength to do before—and it scared her.
‘Forgive my grandson for being so crass. I know exactly how you feel,’ Theo cut in, and she was grateful for the old man’s intervention. ‘I have also lost my wife, but let me assure you it does get easier.’ After giving her a sympathetic smile he looked back at his grandson. ‘But Jemma is right, Luke, perhaps I was a bit hasty in coming out tonight.’ Suddenly rising to his feet, with more agility than Jemma would have thought him capable of, he grasped Luke’s arm—just as Jan appeared.
‘Luke, darling, is everything all right?’
Looking from Theo to Luke and back again, Jemma had the oddest feeling some silent communication had passed between them.
Jan placed a proprietorial hand on Luke’s shirtfront.
‘No, my grandfather isn’t feeling too well, so I am going to take him straight home. Sorry we have to leave early, but it is necessary,’ Luke said smoothly.
‘Oh, must you?’ Jan pouted ‘Surely you can stay, even if your grandfather has to leave? I’ll call him a cab.’
‘No, I couldn’t possibly allow him to go home alone.’ Luke removed Jan’s hand from his chest, his tone hard, and Jemma had a feeling that Jan had just made a big mistake with this man.
‘Oh, but you don’t need to,’ Jan gushed, and turned a pleading look on Jemma. ‘Do Luke and I another favour and take Mr Devetzi home, please, Jemma? You know you don’t really like parties and he’ll be fine with you. Plus, Luke hasn’t had the chance to properly speak to David yet.’
Jemma almost laughed. Jan’s barefaced cheek never failed to amaze her. She’d opened her mouth to make some non-committal answer when Theo intervened. ‘No, thank you, Miss Sutherland. I wouldn’t feel happy imposing on your sister in such a way. It’s time I left.’ And, taking Luke’s arm, he apologised for dragging his grandson away. ‘I am feeling rather weak.’
Luke wasn’t feeling so great himself. For a man who was always in control, it was galling to have to admit he had been completely blindsided by the evening’s events. He wanted to talk to Jemma. Who was he kidding? He wanted to do a lot more than talk to her. But now wasn’t the time or the place. She would keep, he decided, and the quicker he got away from this disastrous party the better.
‘Sorry, ladies, but we have to leave,’ Luke said. ‘Give my apologies to your father and I’ll call you later, Jan. No doubt I’ll see you again, Jemma.’
Not if I see you first, Jemma thought. Then, while Jan monopolised Luke’s attention once more, she leant forward and kissed the old man’s cheek. ‘You take care, Theo.’
‘I will. You’ve been very kind to me, Jemma. And, disappointed as I am about the villa, I would like to repay your kindness by taking you out to lunch tomorrow, before I return to Greece.’
‘I can’t tomorrow,’ Jemma refused, glad she had a genuine excuse. She had already lied to Theo about not having met Luke before, and she’d rather not have to lie to him again. But as it happened she was lunching with Alan’s parents in Eastbourne—something she did every month. ‘I’m lunching with my parents-in-law tomorrow; although it’s over two years since I lost my husband, we still keep in touch. So some other time, perhaps,’ she said quietly.
Much as she liked the old man, she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with his grandson, and the quicker the Devetzi males left, the better she would like it. Jemma heaved a shaky sigh of relief as she watched Theo follow Jan and Luke out into the hall.
‘Thanks a bunch,’ Jan said sarcastically five minutes later, having returned from escorting the men out. ‘You could have insisted on taking the old bloke home, and then Luke could have stayed longer.’
‘Maybe—you know Luke Devetzi better than I do,’ Jemma said, shrugging. ‘But he strikes me as a man who does what he wants, and gets what he wants—women included—and I doubt he would be the faithful type.’ It was as near as Jemma felt she could go in warning Jan just what an inveterate womaniser Luke Devetzi was. ‘I hope you know what you’re getting into.’ Jan was selfish, but harmless, and she would hate to see her get hurt.
‘That’s the problem,’ Jan said with her usual bluntness. ‘I haven’t succeeded in getting into him yet, and I’m dying of frustration. According to the magazines he’s been dating Davina Lovejoy, that top New York designer. But he’s in London now, and I’m here and she isn’t, and surely Luke must be feeling the same. He’s notorious for the number of women he’s bedded, and for his prowess as a lover.’
It was a lot more than Jemma needed to know, and she burst out laughing. If there was a touch of hysteria in the sound, Jan never noticed.
Two hours later Jemma was back home in the small terraced house in Bayswater she had shared with Alan, curled up in bed.

In his penthouse across town, Luke Devetzi studied Theo with some frustration. His grandfather had never said a word on the drive home. On arriving back at the apartment, Theo had poured them both a nightcap and simply said the villa was not for sale and he was no longer bothered. Now he was sitting on the sofa, his leg once more propped up on a footstool. His dark eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and the expression on his face was one of resigned acceptance.
‘Let me get this straight: after all the fuss you have made trying to buy the villa on Zante, now you’re telling me you don’t care any more?’
‘I do care. It’s just that I have finally realised it’s impossible,’ Theo said quietly. ‘Jemma explained to me tonight that she can’t sell it because her aunt left it in trust for her and her children, and her children’s children.’
‘Trusts can be broken,’ Luke suggested. ‘You don’t have to give up yet.’
‘Maybe.’ Theo sighed. ‘But it can take years to wade through legal red tape, and even if I live long enough—well, you’ve met Jemma—can you honestly see a beautiful, compassionate woman like her being a widow for much longer? I can’t. She is young, and her husband has been dead for over two years.’
Luke sat down suddenly and almost choked on his whisky. So Jemma had not been married when he’d slept with her! ‘Two years, you say? Are you sure?’ he queried. He had made enough mistakes with Jemma, and he was determined to make no more. He could almost laugh at how wrong he’d been about her—except that it wasn’t funny. His grandfather had lost his dream, and he had bedded and then insulted the sexiest woman he had ever met.
‘Yes, she told me tonight as we were leaving. She may not realise it yet, but she has done her mourning. Unless all English men are blind, some guy will snap her up and she will almost certainly be married and with child long before the trust can be broken. It’s hopeless, and I am going to bed.’ Picking up his stick, he rose to his feet and hobbled up the steps. Stopping at the top, he turned and said, ‘Milo and I are going back to Greece in the morning. Goodnight.’ And he left.
Luke saw the defeated droop to Theo’s shoulders as he left the room. He hated that his grandfather had been disappointed, but he had to admit the old man’s assessment was right—getting the villa did look pretty hopeless now.
He saw again in his mind’s eye the beautiful Jemma, so calm and considerate with Theo, but so cool with him. His body hardened as he recalled her naked body in every minute detail—the silken softness of her skin, the sweet taste of her rose-tipped breasts, the almost dreamlike quality of their lovemaking which had grown into a white-hot, all-consuming passion.
Restlessly he stood up again, about to pour another whisky. But he stopped. He didn’t need a drink; he needed to think. Maybe if he approached Jemma personally and offered her an enormous amount of money to break the trust she would agree. With the exception of his grandmother, he had never met a woman yet who did not love money. And if plan A failed—though he doubted it would—he needed a plan B. He was thirty-seven, past the age most men married. Perhaps it was time to take the plunge and marry. And if by marrying Jemma and producing a child that would also be Theo’s geat-grandchild to inherit the villa, then his grandfather would secure his heart’s desire—to keep the villa in the family—and that was all the better. Plus, Luke wanted Jemma back in his bed—and he was a man who always got what he wanted.
There was only one huge flaw in plan B. Jemma wouldn’t give him the time of day because, apart from him virtually throwing her off his yacht a year ago, she knew he was dating her stepsister. Settling back down on the sofa, his broad brow creased in a frown, he replayed the events of the evening and the information he had gleaned in the last few days. His frown vanished and a predatory smile curved his sensuous mouth. His grey eyes were gleaming with the light of challenge as he rose to his feet and headed for bed. His mind was made up, his course of action determined.

CHAPTER THREE
JEMMA parked her small estate car in a resident’s parking space outside her own front door and, picking up her purse and a carrier bag full of garden vegetables from the passenger seat, got out of the car. Straightening up, she stretched her shoulders, her eyes sweeping over the small strip of front garden, which was a mass of colour in the June sun, and sighed contentedly. It had been a long drive to Eastbourne and back, but worth the travel.
She had had a great day; she had helped Sid, her father-in-law, in the garden, and enjoyed a wonderful lunch prepared by his wife Mavis. Then all three of them had taken a walk on the beach, and finally visited Alan’s grave. Afterwards they had returned to the house and had tea.
Jemma, her stomach full and her spirit restored by the kindness of Alan’s parents, had rationalised on the journey back to London the guilty memories that had kept her awake for hours the night before. Then she’d firmly pushed them back into the darkest corner of her mind, where they belonged.
Luke Devetzi had been a horrendous mistake, brought about by depression and too much wine, and for someone like herself, who had no head for alcohol and rarely drank more than the occasional glass of wine, it wasn’t surprising she had acted so out of character—to the point of practically hallucinating.
Totally oblivious to the sleek black car parked twenty yards up the street, Jemma searched in her purse for her door key, happy to be back to the house in Bayswater that she and Alan had bought when they married. She unlocked the door and walked into the hall. Placing the carrier bag on the floor, she turned to close the door behind her and let out a strangled yelp.
‘May I come in?’ Before she could catch her breath and respond, Luke Devetzi was in her hallway with the door closed behind him. ‘You and I need to talk, Jemma.’ One dark brow lifted wickedly. ‘Or perhaps I should call you Mimie?’
Wide-eyed, she stared up at him, stunned by his totally unexpected appearance in her home. Then shock and a fast rising temper made her blush furiously. ‘I don’t want you to call me anything; just get the hell out of my house,’ she snapped angrily.
‘Such temper! You do surprise me—after all, what could be more natural when two old friends meet up again unexpectedly than to have a nice chat, as you English say?’ he drawled with cynical amusement.
With a terrific effort of self-control, Jemma forced herself to think clearly. She wished she had never met Luke Devetzi, and she certainly didn’t want to talk to him. All she really wanted to do was throw him out. But one look at the grim determination on his attractive face and common sense told her he was far too big and strong, there was no chance of throwing him anywhere…
He was casually dressed in a tan leather jacket, that fell smoothly from broad, powerful shoulders, and a white sports shirt, open at the neck, contrasted sharply with his tanned skin and the beginning of dark curling chest hair. The jacket was open, and a hide belt supported pleated trousers that hugged lean hips, powerful thighs and long legs. But there was nothing casual about his stance—with his legs slightly splayed, looming over her, he was awesomely male and decidedly threatening.
Refusing to be intimidated in her own home, Jemma stiffened her spine. Tilting her head back, her amber eyes clashed with steel-grey, and she wondered how she had ever thought that Luke’s eyes were the same blue as her beloved Alan’s had been. She shivered slightly and squashed the unsettling memory. Keep cool, keep calm, she told herself. This was her stepsister’s boyfriend and he was nothing to do with her.
‘I don’t know how you found out where I live, and I don’t appreciate you bursting into my home. I have nothing to say to you, and I would like you to leave.’
‘Jan told me—in fact she was quite informative—and I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jemma, but I have no intention of leaving until you have answered a few questions,’ Luke said smoothly.
Her flash of temper had revealed that she was not as immune to him as she would have him believe. His eyes narrowed speculatively on her beautiful face and then roamed lower over her luscious body. Her shining mass of hair had been caught by a yellow ribbon at the nape of her elegant neck to fall in a long silken banner down her back. She was wearing a buttercup coloured cropped top that clung lovingly to her high breasts, and she was obviously braless, the sweet nipples that tormented his night dreams more often than he cared to admit clearly outlined by the fine cotton. A tempting strip of smooth flesh was revealed as the top barely met the white trousers that clung to her slim hips and legs. On her feet she wore flat sandals, with her cute pink toes on display again. He was definitely a breast and leg man—so when had he developed a foot fetish? Luke wondered wryly as his whole body tensed in an effort to control his over-active libido.
He looked up and saw the flicker of something very like fear in the golden eyes that met his. Jemma Barnes had good reason to be afraid; she had lied to him about her name, and lied to him about her marriage. He had taken Jan to lunch a few hours ago, to tactfully let her know that he thought of her only as an old friend. She had taken it remarkably well, especially when he’d offered to invest in her agency, and during the conversation that followed, with some subtle questioning, he had discovered from her that Jemma’s passion was plants and that for the past two years she had apparently lived the life of a nun. So either Jemma was a great liar, or a great actress, or both.
Trust Jan to open her big mouth, Jemma thought, the silence lengthening as they stared at each other, the tension stretching between them an almost tangible thing. It was Jemma who looked away first.
‘In that case,’ she said, as she bent down and picked up the bag of vegetables to avoid his too intent gaze. ‘You’d better follow me into the kitchen. You can tell me what you have to say while I put these away.’ And she walked along the hall, past the stairs, to the back of the house and the kitchen.
She didn’t want Luke in her living room—she didn’t want him in her house—but the kitchen was suitably impersonal, she figured. Skirting the centrally placed breakfast table, she placed the bag on the bench beneath the window.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she sensed Luke’s presence behind her. Perhaps the small kitchen had not been such a good idea, she thought as she withdrew the vegetables from the carrier bag. The fridge was on the opposite wall, and reluctantly she turned around, a lettuce in her hand, and came face to face with Luke again.
‘Excuse me—I need the fridge,’ she said politely.
‘You and me both,’ Luke said with dry self-mockery, gleaming grey eyes inviting her to share his humour.
But Jemma was not impressed by the double entendre. He was only inches away, and she felt at a distinct disadvantage with his great body towering over her. Instinctively she took a step back, and came to a halt against the bench. With nowhere to go, she ignored his innuendo and glanced up at him. ‘Then let me pass and I’ll get you a cold drink,’ she said coolly, with a sarcastic tilt of one delicate brow.
He was too close, his glittering silver gaze too knowing, and suddenly the evocative scent of his cologne reminded her of another time, another place—the close confines of a yacht’s cabin. She drew in a deep, unsteady breath. No—she wasn’t going there…
‘I don’t want a cold drink, Jemma,’ Luke refused, determined to be reasonable even though his baser instincts were telling him to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. ‘What I want is to discuss the possibility of breaking the trust on the house you own in Zante so my grandfather can buy it. Plus, I want an explanation as to why you told me you were married when we met on the island a year ago.’ He paused, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. ‘And I want you, of course…but not necessarily in that order.’ He smiled and took the lettuce from her suddenly nerveless fingers and placed it on the bench behind her, then rested his hands on the bench at either side of her shapely body, effectively trapping her.
Keep calm, keep cool. Jemma silently repeated her mantra, but without much success as fear fuelled her temper and she responded angrily. ‘Not in any order. There’s no question of breaking my aunt’s trust—the house can’t be sold—and I don’t owe you an explanation. In fact, I don’t even owe you the time of day, given that you’re dating my stepsister. But if you’re afraid I might tell Jan of our extremely brief and incredibly unfortunate liaison, let me set your mind at rest. I would rather cut out my tongue than admit to so much as touching you.’
‘Then asking you to marry me is out of the question, I take it?’ Luke asked, progressing straight to plan B with a hint of amusement in his tone.
‘You’ve got that right! I wouldn’t marry a lecherous, womanising swine like you if you were the last man on earth!’ Jemma shot back furiously. She lifted her hands to push him away, but as she flattened her palms on his chest she knew she had made a big mistake. His dark head jerked back and all trace of amusement vanished as his eyes, now glittering with silver shards of icy fury, bored into hers.
‘If that is your opinion of me, then I have nothing to lose, have I?’ he snarled, and two strong arms wrapped around her and hauled her hard against his powerful frame. His dark head swooped suddenly and his sensuous mouth captured hers with a driving passion that owed more to an urge to dominate than to desire.
With her arms pinned to her side, trapped in the cradle of his thighs, she was helpless to escape. She tried to turn her head away from his, but with a speed that overwhelmed her one hand slid up her back and grasped the thick swathe of hair at her nape, holding her immobile beneath his furious onslaught. She felt the fierce tension in every inch of his body, and the thrusting strength of his arousal against her belly. Then, shockingly, as his tongue plundered the moist interior of her mouth, a responding surge of awareness sizzled through her, taking her breath away.
This was what she had tried to banish from her mind for twelve months…what she had been afraid of… The total seduction of her senses… But she was tempted; heat pooled in her pelvis and, helpless to control her traitorous body, she involuntarily swayed into him. Sensing her surrender, he gentled, his tongue teasing and licking with an erotic expertise that sent her already racing pulse into overdrive.
‘God, Jemma!’ he husked against her mouth, one hand slipping up to stroke across her breasts, his fingers grazing the burgeoning nipples through the soft cotton of her top. ‘Or Mimie—whatever you call yourself. I’ve never forgotten the last time you were in my arms, and I want you again—badly.’ His dark head lifted and he fixed her with a piercing silver gaze. ‘Say yes.’
It was Luke calling her Mimie that shocked Jemma brutally back from the brink of shameful compliance. Only Alan had ever called her Mimie. When Aunt Mary had introduced her to Alan as ‘my niece Jemima’, Alan had declared it was a bit of a mouthful and so he would call her Mimie—and he had, until the day he died. To hear it on Luke’s tongue now seemed like the worst kind of betrayal.
‘Don’t you dare call me Mimie!’ she yelled, and with a frantic shove that knocked him back on his heels she wriggled free from his hold. On shaking legs she spun across the kitchen to put the width of the breakfast table between them. Flushed and furious, and with her heart pounding madly, she grasped the back of one of the pine chairs to steady herself.
Luke turned around and leant casually back against the bench. He saw her white-knuckled grip on the chair, the anger and the fear in her huge eyes, and cursed under his breath. He should never have pounced on her so fiercely. But she had enraged him with her estimation of his character and he had completely lost control, which was most unlike him.
‘A simple “no” would have done, Jemma,’ he drawled. Why she objected to the name Mimie he was determined to discover. But now was not the time. ‘I’ve never had to pressure a woman into bed and I don’t intend to start with you, so you can relax your grip on the chair and get me that drink you offered.’
‘The drink I offered?’ Jemma echoed in an incredulous tone, the nerve of the man astounding her. ‘Are you crazy? I want you out of my house now.’
‘Now, is that any way to treat a guest?’ Luke straightened and strolled forward. ‘Think what your father would say if he heard his daughter had behaved with such an appalling lack of manners to the grandson of one of his major shareholders. Then there’s Jan as well, as you were so kind to point out.’ He stopped beside her, his grey eyes narrowing on her flushed face.
‘My father…Jan…?’ Jemma repeated. What was he going on about? And why did she have the uneasy feeling there was a threat in there somewhere?
‘Jan is under the impression—along with everyone else—that you’re one step removed from a saint and have lived the life of a nun since the death of your husband. So, as for you not telling her about our one-night stand—that you would cut out your tongue rather than tell her, I believe you said—well, I have no such qualms. I will quite happily tell the whole world I made love to you last year. Though it might spoil your grieving widow act somewhat.’
His callous comment hurt her deeply—her grief was not an act. Jemma missed her late husband every day; she missed his kindness, his comfort, his conversation, and the sense of absolute love and security that Alan had provided. Yet this arrogant, conceited jerk, who had probably never loved anyone in his life, had the nerve to mock her loss.
Luke’s deriding of her grief transformed her hurt into a cold, defiant anger. Releasing her grip on the chair, slowly Jemma turned and squared her shoulders. ‘You would do that? You would deliberately upset Jan in that way? Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’ she jeered, giving a disgusted shake of her head. Not waiting for his response, she added, ‘Follow me and I’ll get you that drink.’ Completely ignoring him, she walked out of the kitchen and opened the door into the living room, knowing exactly what he would see.

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