Captivated by the Greek

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She paused minutely.

‘Do you require a surname? Or is that a complete irrelevance because after all,’ she said lightly, ‘our acquaintance is going to be terminated after tonight?’

Nikos found himself frowning. Was their acquaintance gong to be terminated after tonight? Was that what he intended?

Do I want this to be the only time I spend with her?

Did he really want this incredible, fantastic-looking, stunningly gorgeous blonde who was making his senses reel to be with him only for one single evening?

As his eyes flickered over her he knew what his body wanted him to answer—oh, yes, indeed! No doubt about that in the slightest. But it wasn’t just his body responding to the overwhelming physical attraction he felt for this fantastically beautiful woman.

What was she like as a person? As an individual? Oh, he knew she could stand up to him—stand her ground and spark verbal fire with him—but how much more was there to her than that?

Time to find out...

He smiled a warm, encompassing smile. ‘Mel,’ he asked her, ‘don’t you realise yet that I want to know a lot more about you than just your surname?’

To his distinct satisfaction he saw once again that telltale colour run fleetingly over her sculpted cheekbones. He let his gaze have the effect he wanted, and then deliberately let it soften as he relaxed against the burnished mahogany surface of the bar.

Her colour was still heightened when she answered him. ‘Well, it’s Cooper—just in case you should need to know. Like when you introduce me to this woman you want me to keep at bay for you.’

There was an acerbic tinge to her voice, but Nikos ignored it.

I would want her here tonight even if Fiona Pellingham were a hundred miles away.

The knowledge was sure in his head—the certainty of it absolute. Mel Cooper—so fiery and so fantastically beautiful—was a woman he wanted to know more about. Much more.

‘So, tell me, Mel Cooper,’ he said, ‘first of all how do you come to be working in an establishment rejoicing in the name of “Sarrie’s Sarnies”?’

Deliberately he kept his tone light, with mild humour in it. He could see her recovering her composure. The slight stain of colour ebbed. She took a sip of water from her glass. Her voice, when she spoke, had lost its acerbic tone and he was glad.

‘Sarrie Silva is the uncle of a friend of mine, and he offered me the job,’ she explained. ‘The pay isn’t bad, and I actually enjoy the work.’ No need to tell him that in comparison with looking after her grandfather day in and day out for years any kind of alternative work was bliss. ‘And best of all he lets me use the back room as a bedroom, so I effectively live there.’

Nikos’s eyebrows rose. ‘You live in the back room of a sandwich bar?’

‘Yes, it’s rent-free—and in London that counts for a hell of a lot,’ Mel answered feelingly.

‘How long have you been living like that?’ Nikos asked.

‘Nearly a year now. Ever since I had to move out of my childhood home.’

Nikos frowned. ‘Why did you have to do that?’

‘It was after my grandfather died. I’d...looked after him...’ She could hear her voice twist, feel her throat tighten, feel the familiar grief at his loss ache within her, and hurried on. ‘When I lost him...’ the twist in her voice was more pronounced, though she tried to cover it ‘...I decided I’d rather rent out the house, because that would give me some steady income.’

‘But you became homeless?’ Nikos objected.

She gave a quick shake of her head, smiling now. ‘That didn’t matter, because it was only ever going to be temporary. I’ll be off abroad soon,’ she explained.

She said it deliberately. It had occurred to her as she spoke that it would be prudent to make it clear to Nikos Parakis that she was going to be out of London very soon. His words to her after she’d made that jibe at him just now echoed in her head.

‘Don’t you realise yet that I want to know a lot more about you than just your surname?’

Echoed dangerously...

Dangerously because all she wanted to do was enjoy this evening, enjoy the lavish luxury of her surroundings and keep as tight a lid as possible on the totally predictable effect Nikos Parakis was having on her female sensibilities.

Definitely time to make it clear that she was not hanging about in London for long. This evening was nothing more than an unexpected and most important a one-off treat—one she would enjoy, make the most of, and then consign to memory. And Nikos Parakis with it.

His dark eyebrows had come together when she’d mentioned going abroad.

‘Where are you thinking of travelling to?’ he asked.

‘No idea,’ she replied insouciantly, taking a sip of her water. ‘Spain, probably—wherever I can get a cheap flight to.’

He looked slightly startled. ‘You have no destination in mind?’

‘Not really. I just want to travel—that’s all. So any place is as good as another.’ Her voice changed. ‘Wherever I go it will be an adventure.’

Nikos took another sip of his martini. ‘Where have you travelled so far in your life?’ he asked.

‘Nowhere. That’s the whole point,’ Mel replied.

There was emotion in her voice—Nikos could hear it. He could also see the enthusiasm in her face...the excitement. Could see, too, how it made her eyes sparkle, lighting up her face. Enhancing her stunning beauty.

It was a beauty, he knew, from all his long-honed masculine experience, that would cause total havoc amongst the entire male population of the world once she was out in it. Probably too much havoc...

‘Are you going with friends?’ he asked.

Behind his innocuous question he knew another one lurked. Are you going with a boyfriend...?

But of course she wasn’t. If she were, she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation tonight, would she?

The knowledge that she was unattached gave him satisfaction. More satisfaction than her answer to his question.

Mel shook her head. ‘No, just solo. I’m sure I’ll make friends as I go.’

‘Well, be careful,’ he found himself warning her. ‘There are parts of the world where solo travellers—let alone female ones—are not advised to go.’

Her mouth tightened. ‘I can look after myself.’

Nikos’s expression was wry. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said, his voice dry. ‘You can go twelve rounds verbally—no problem. But...’ He held up a hand. ‘All the same, stick to tourist areas—that’s my advice.’

For a moment it looked as if she was going to argue the point, for he could see the warlike sparkle in her eyes. Then it subsided.

‘OK, OK...’ Mel temporised. ‘I’ll hire a bodyguard and lug him around with me—I get the picture,’ she said, in a deliberately resigned voice.

‘An excellent idea,’ Nikos murmured, humour in his eyes. ‘I can recommend a first-class firm offering the kind of close personal protection which I have, on occasion, engaged myself.’

Mel’s expression changed. ‘Good grief—are you serious?’

Nikos nodded. ‘There are some...let us say restless places in the world, where it is advisable to have someone riding shotgun beside you.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Why do you go to such places?’

‘I do business there,’ he answered drily. Then, at the questioning and indeed wary look in her eyes, he went on swiftly. ‘And, no, before your fervid imagination carries you away, I am not an arms dealer. I am a very boring and tediously respectable banker,’ he informed her.

‘Yes, I know,’ she admitted. ‘I looked you up. Just in case,’ she said dulcetly. ‘Though of course,’ she went on, allowing herself a provocative glance at him, ‘I didn’t think bankers were