Dragging her mouth from his, suddenly hungry to taste his skin, she grazed her lips and tongue across the stubbled jaw and down to the hard column of his neck...
And was immediately assailed by the cloying scent of another woman’s perfume.
Sanity returned with the same rapidity with which it had been lost.
‘No!’ Frightened at how quickly and immediately she had fallen back into the Theo sickness that had once controlled her, she shoved his chest for good measure.
Backing away, she didn’t dare look at him, but even in the periphery of her blurred vision she saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She could hear the raggedness of his breaths.
‘I am not a cheap toy hired for you to play with.’ She tried to spit the words out with venom but her voice cracked. Terrified she was going to cry, she turned to the perpetually filled coffee pot. She poured herself a mug but her hands were shaking so hard that much of it slopped over the rim and spilled onto the floor.
The feel of his gaze on her was almost as potent as his touch and she held onto the mug for dear life.
‘On the contrary,’ he drawled. ‘Your services do not come cheap.’ Before she could respond, in outrage or otherwise, he continued. ‘I’ve brought the director of the construction firm I’ll be employing to build the house over to meet you—she’s waiting in the dining room. You might want to straighten your clothes before meeting her.’ Then, striding to the door, he called over his shoulder, ‘And, Helena, the next time you want to know the details of my sex-life, just ask.’
Theo suppressed the amusement bubbling inside him to see his green-eyed monster’s reaction to the flamboyant director. Savina Mercouri was older than his mother would be if she were alive, had flowing, colourful fabrics draped around her rotund body and wore a perfume that could easily be mistaken for toilet cleaner. She was also the director of one of Greece’s most respected construction companies, with a reputation for completing builds on time and within budget, and a knack for sourcing material from around the world with ease. She was also a tactile hugger.
If he’d known that all it would take to get Helena to lose her temper was to walk into her office with the scent of another woman’s perfume clinging to his suit, he would have bought a bottle and drenched himself in it.
Finally, his beautiful goddess had cracked.
Helena’s jealousy, he’d learned during their relationship, was something that had frightened her far more than it had bothered him. In truth, he’d liked it. It was different to the sulky pouting displayed by former lovers if he spoke to another woman for more than two minutes, the lover not realising this childish petulance was the kiss of death for a man who did not like to feel trapped. Theo liked his freedom. He needed it. Helena was the only woman he’d wanted to be trapped with. She was the only woman he’d discovered his own jealous streak with. To witness her bursts of possessiveness had fed his need for proof that her love was as strong as his.
He’d seen the relief on her face when he’d walked into the office. She’d been worried about him. Fear had turned to anger, which in turn had become a diatribe that had delighted him. This was the Helena he remembered. The woman with passion in her soul. The woman who had discarded her inhibitions and embraced whatever emotions were racing through her blood.
It wouldn’t take much more to tempt her into his bed. The passion with which she had kissed him back told him louder than any subtle cue from her body language how much she still wanted him. The chemistry that had once driven them both to the brink of madness still lived in her veins as much as in his. That he still evoked jealousy in her too...
She did still feel something for him.
Gazing at her now, speaking hesitant, unpractised Greek to Savina, he wondered idly how deep her feelings for him still ran. His feelings for her had, of course, died when, after he’d waited an hour for Helena’s arrival at the cathedral, the cold truth had finally washed through his denial. She wasn’t coming. Helena had gone for good.
There he’d stood, in front of family—his and hers—and friends and business contacts...everyone he knew including royalty, there to witness Theo pledging himself to the love of his life. Instead, they’d borne witness to his humiliation. Sure, he’d plastered a smile to his face when he’d turned to the two-hundred-strong congregation in Agon’s cathedral and announced that the wedding was off. He wasn’t stupid enough to think it had fooled them any more than his jovial invitation for them all to join him to celebrate his lucky escape at what should have been his wedding reception.
The Lucky Escape party had gone on until the sun had come up the next morning, but no matter how hard he’d partied or how much alcohol he’d tried to numb himself with, bitter humiliation had run deep. When his grandfather, in a moment of reflection a few days later, had kindly told him that his heart would one day mend, Theo had laughed loudly. His heart was just fine. Had he not survived the death of both his parents within three months of each other? Now, that had been pain. Excruciating, unbearable pain. The only blow Helena had inflicted on him had been to his ego. That it had felt as unbearable as his parents’ deaths he was not prepared to admit...
Helena had killed his love for her. In hindsight, he should be grateful she had severed it so neatly, without the protracted falling out of love so many couples had to suffer.
But he had trusted
