“Rebekah.” In one fluid movement Jace came close and brushed his lips to her cheek.

“How dare you?” Rebekah’s words escaped as little more than a vehement whisper.

One dark eyebrow slanted, although his eyes held a watchful expression. “You expected formality?”

She didn’t trust herself to respond. He was in his mid-thirties, his broad chiseled facial bone structure giving hints of his Grecian ancestry, and there was an inherent quality in those dark gray, almost black eyes that took hold of her equilibrium and tore it to shreds.

No one man deserved to exude quite this degree of power…nor possess such riveting physical magnetism.

Dear Reader,

Flowers signify so many emotions…they’re the gift of lovers, friends and family, in times of happiness, joy and sorrow. From the exotic to simple everyday blossoms, their textures, colors and perfumes blend together to bring pleasure to people all around the world.

I have an admiration for those who work in the floral industry, especially the talented florists whose skilled artistry turns varied blooms into beautiful bouquets. My writer’s imagination envisaged the lives of two sisters, Ana and Rebekah, who co-own a florist boutique in one of the trendiest suburbs of Sydney, Australia.

Ana is married to proud, powerful Luc Dimitriades—but one year into their marriage, his newly divorced ex-mistress returns, determined to reclaim Luc….

Rebekah is wary of men and determined to avoid falling in love again. But Luc’s cousin Jace Dimitriades plans to change her mind!

I hope you enjoy getting to know these two sisters, and the gorgeous tycoons who turn their world upside down!

With love

The Greek Bridegroom
Helen Bianchin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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

THERE were some days when it just didn’t pay to get out of bed, Rebekah groaned as she lifted her head from the pillow and caught sight of the digital clock.

It was blinking, indicating a power failure through the night had disrupted the alarm mechanism.

She fumbled for her watch, checked the time and uttered a muffled oath as she slid from the bed, then cursed out loud as she stubbed her toe on her way to the en suite.

The icy blast of water ensured the quickest shower on record, and, dressed, she raced into the kitchen, dished out fresh food for the cat, snatched a container of orange juice from the refrigerator, gulped a mouthful, then she collected her bag and took the lift down to the underground car park.

Seconds later she slid in behind the wheel of the Blooms and Bouquets van, inserted the key into the ignition…and nothing.

Don’t do this to me, she begged as the engine refused to kick over. Please don’t do this to me! During the ensuing minutes she coaxed, cajoled, promised, and still it remained as dead as a doornail.

She restrained the urge to scream in frustration. Talk about having Friday the thirteenth on a Tuesday!

Raising her head heavenward and praying to the deity didn’t work either.

What else could go wrong?

It was better she didn’t ask, for it might tempt fate to fling another disaster in her path.

There was nothing else to do but get behind the wheel of her MG and send the sleek red sports car purring through Sydney’s suburban streets.

Not exactly a suitable vehicle in which to transport flowers to the Double Bay florist shop she co-owned with her sister, Ana.

In the early pre-dawn hours there wasn’t much traffic, and already the city was stirring to life. Pie-carts were closing up after the long night, the council street-sweeping trucks whined along, clearing debris from the gutters, and fruit and vegetable vendors transported their supplies from the city markets. Taxis carrying businessmen to catch the early flights interstate, petrol tankers beginning deliveries.

It was a time of day Rebekah enjoyed, and she activated a popular radio station on the console and felt her spirits lift with the upbeat music.

Soon the sun would lift above the horizon, and the grey shadows would disperse, bestowing everything with light and colour.

A sweeping glance was all it took at the markets to determine the best of the blooms were gone, and she figured her order, placed it, then turned the car towards Double Bay.

The shop was situated in a trendy élite area, and thanks to a bequest from her late mother the business was free from any loan encumbrances.

It was six-thirty when she unlocked the outer door and she tripped the lights, filled the coffee percolator, then set to work.

While the percolator took its time, she booted up the computer and downloaded email orders, then she checked the fax machine.

They were in for a busy day, and there was a need to adjust her order. She crossed to the phone, made the call, then she rang a mechanic to go check the van.

Hot, sweet black coffee boosted her energy levels, and she was on her third and last cup for the day when Ana arrived.

Looking at her sister was akin to seeing a mirror image of herself…almost. They shared the same petite height, fine-boned features, slender curves and naturally blonde hair. Two years separated them in age, with Ana the eldest and twenty-seven. Their natural personalities were similar, although Rebekah felt she held an edge when it came to determined resolve.

The necessity for self-survival in an abusive relationship had provided a strength of will she hadn’t been aware she possessed. It had also implanted an ingrained distrust of men.

A year’s engagement to Brad Somerville, a beautiful wedding, embarking on a dream honeymoon…nothing prepared her for the sudden change in the man she’d vowed to love and honour less than ten hours before.

At first she’d thought it was something she’d done or said. Verbal abuse was bad enough; physical abuse was something else. Jealous, possessive to the point of obsessiveness, he soon killed any feelings she had for him, and after three months of living in a hellish marriage she’d simply packed a bag and walked out of his life.

Following the divorce she’d legally reverted to her maiden name, bought an apartment, adopted a beautiful Burmilla kitten whom she’d named Millie, and lived to work.

‘Hi.’ Rebekah summoned a sympathetic smile as she glimpsed the slight air of fatigue evident in Ana’s expression. ‘Late night? Morning sickness?’

‘That bad, huh?’ her sister queried as she crossed to the computer and began cross-checking the day’s orders.

‘Maybe you should listen to Luc and cut down your hours.’

Ana shot her a telling glance. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side.’

Rebekah wrinkled her nose in humour. ‘I am, believe me.’

‘What would I do in that great house all day? Petros is the ultimate manservant.’

The phone rang, and Ana picked up, listened, then handed over the cordless receiver. ‘For you.’

It was the mechanic with word all the van needed was a new battery, which he’d install, and mail her the account.

‘Problems?’

‘The van wouldn’t start.’ She relayed the repercussions, then took the next phone call.

It didn’t get better as the morning wore on. A difficult customer took most of her patience, and another complained bitterly about the cost of florists’ delivery charges.

Food, she needed food. It was almost midday, and the energy boost from juice, coffee and a cereal bar had clearly dissipated.

‘I’ll go pick up a salad sandwich. Then you can take a lunch break.’

Ana glanced up from the computer. ‘I can eat lunch on the run just as well as you.’

‘But you won’t,’ Rebekah said firmly. ‘You’ll buy a magazine, seat yourself at any one of the nearby café’s, and take your time over a latte and something sensible to eat.’

Ana rolled her eyes. ‘Tea,’ she amended with a grimace. ‘And if you begin treating me like a precious pregnant princess, I’ll hit you!’

She laughed, a low, throaty chuckle, and her eyes held a mischievous gleam. ‘Petros?’ she hazarded. The middle-aged manservant had been part of Luc’s household for years, well before she’d first met Ana’s inimitable husband. ‘Does he still refer to you as Ms Dimitriades?’

Ana’s laughter was infectious. ‘He considers anything less would be regarded as undignified.’

She adored her sister, and they’d been the best of friends since she could remember, sharing, caring, close. Ana’s marriage to Luc Dimitriades a year ago had been one of the happiest moments of her life.

‘Luc has made a booking for dinner this evening.’

Ana named the restaurant, and Rebekah’s eyebrows rose a fraction. It numbered as one of the ritziest places in town. ‘We’d like you to join us. Please,’ she added. ‘Two Dimitriades men are too much for one woman to handle.’

Rebekah felt an icy shiver slither the length of her spine, and the nerves in her stomach tightened into a painful ball. Please let her voice give no hint to her inner turmoil. ‘One of Luc’s cousins is in town?’ Amazing she could sound so calm, when her defence mechanism had already moved to alert, and her mind issued the silent scream Please don’t let it be Jace.

‘Yes. Jace arrived yesterday from the States.’

No. The silent scream rose and died in her throat as Jace Dimitriades’ image rose to the fore to taunt her.

Tall, broad shoulders, chiselled features, piercing dark grey eyes, and a mouth to die for.

She had reason to know how it felt to have that mouth possess her own. Even now, a year later, she still retained a vivid memory of Luc and Ana’s wedding, partnered as her sister’s maid of honour with Jace as Luc’s best man. How for several hours she’d been aware of Jace’s close proximity, the touch of his hand at her waist, the brush of his body against her own as they assembled for bridal group photos.

Dancing with him had been a nightmare. Sensual heat spiked her blood and sent it racing through her veins. Sexual chemistry at its most base level.

Hadn’t that been the real reason for her momentary escape onto the terrace within minutes of Luc and Ana taking their leave?

Yet Jace was there, standing close, almost caging her against the terrace railing as she turned to move away.

That had been her mistake, for it brought her much too close to him. The next instant his lips brushed her cheek, then slid to savour her mouth, and in a moment of sheer madness she angled her mouth to his own.

His instant response was devastating.

Shocked didn’t cover it. No one had kissed her quite like that. As if somehow he’d reached down into the depths of her soul, tasted, savoured, with intent to conquer. It left her feeling as if she’d leapt off a high cliff and was in dangerous free fall. Exhilarated by the instinctive knowledge he would catch her…before she hit the ground.

Who was the first to break contact? To this day she couldn’t be sure. All she remembered was something inexplicable in those dark grey eyes, a stillness that held a waiting, watching quality as she went from shock to dismay in a few seconds flat.

Anger kicked in, and she slapped him…hard. Then she walked away, aware that he made no effort to stop her. She rejoined the wedding guests, and smiled until her facial muscles ached.

Afterwards had come the rage…with herself for initiating something so foolish, and with him for indulging it.

Now Jace Dimitriades was back in town, and Ana and Luc expected her to make up a foursome for dinner?

‘No,’ she reiterated aloud.

‘No…you don’t want to.’ Ana’s gaze narrowed as she attempted to analyse her sister’s expression. ‘Or no, you can’t?’

‘Choose whichever one you like.’

Ana appeared to take a deep breath. ‘OK. Are you going to tell me about it, or do I have to drag it out of you?’

‘Neither. Simply accept I decline your invitation.’

‘That won’t wash, and you know it. You haven’t seen Jace since the wedding.’ Her sister’s eyes assumed a speculative gleam. ‘What did he do? Kiss you?’

Oh, my. ‘On what do you base that assumption?’ she managed calmly, and saw Ana’s gaze narrow.

There was a telling silence. ‘It’s not like you to wimp out,’ her sister said at last.

Wimp? ‘Forgive me, but I’m not in the mood to embark on a verbal fencing match with a man who’d enjoy every thrust and parry!’

‘Think of the fun you’ll have in besting him,’ Ana offered persuasively.

Rebekah glimpsed the mischievous challenge in those guileless blue eyes, and her lips curved into a slow smile. ‘You’re wicked.’ Ana grinned. ‘The black Versace halter-neck will be fine.’

A backless creation which didn’t allow for wearing a bra? ‘I haven’t said yes.’

‘We’ll come by and collect you. And drop you home again.’

She could imagine how easily, smoothly Jace could intercede and insist he escort her home in a taxi.

‘If I agree,’ she qualified, shooting Ana a warning glance. ‘I’ll drive my own car.’

‘Brava.’ Ana’s eyes gleamed with humour, and Rebekah shook her head in mock-despair as her sister executed the victory sign.

It was almost seven when Rebekah slid from behind the wheel of her MG and allowed the uniformed attendant tend to valet parking.

For the umpteenth time she silently questioned her sanity. Except retreat at this late stage wasn’t part of her agenda.

How had the past year affected Jace Dimitriades?

Did he have a lover? Was he between relationships?

Fool, she mentally derided as she entered the restaurant foyer. Men of Jace Dimitriades’ calibre were never without a woman for long. She recollected Ana relaying Jace regularly commuted between London, Paris and Athens. He probably had a mistress in each major city.

The maître d’ greeted her with polite regard, elicited her name, the booking, and directed her to the lounge bar, where patrons lingered over drinks.

The ambience spelt money…serious money. The floral displays were real, not silk imitation. The carpet thick-piled and luxurious, the furniture expensive.

A pianist was seated at a baby grand, effortlessly providing muted background music, and the drinks stewards were groomed to the nth degree.

Refined class, Rebekah conceded as a steward enquired if he could assist locating her friends.

He succeeded with smooth efficiency, and she followed in his wake.

‘Mr Dimitriades.’ His acknowledgement held deferential respect, and she had a ready smile in place, polite words of gratitude on her lips as she tilted her head.

Only to have the smile freeze as she saw it was Jace, not Luc, who had moved forward to greet her.

‘Rebekah.’

In one fluid movement he came close, lowered his head and brushed his lips to her cheek. The contact was stunningly brief, but it robbed the breath from her throat for all of five seconds before anger hit.

‘How dare you?’ The words escaped as little more than a vehement whisper.

One dark eyebrow slanted, although his eyes held a watchful expression. ‘You expected formality?’

She didn’t trust herself to respond. Her attention was held, trapped, by the man standing within touching distance.

Tall, so tall her eyes were on a level with the loop of his impeccably knotted silk tie, and his breadth of shoulder was impressive sheathed in exclusive tailoring.

In his mid-thirties, his broad, chiselled facial bone structure gave hint to his Grecian ancestry, and there was an inherent quality in those dark grey, almost black eyes that took hold of her equilibrium and tore it to shreds.

No one man deserved to exude quite this degree of power…nor possess such riveting physical magnetism.

Sexual alchemy at its zenith, she acknowledged shakily as she attempted to gain a measure of control over her rioting emotions.

One look at him was all it took for her to remember how it felt to have that mouth close over her own with diabolical finesse. Exploring, coaxing…and staking a claim.

She was suddenly aware of every breath she took, every heightened pulse-beat, and the way her heart seemed to thud against her ribcage.

It was crazy, insane to feel like this. In the name of heaven, get a grip. To allow him to see just how deeply he affected her was impossible.

Why, suddenly, did she feel as if she’d walked into a danger zone? And that it was he, and not she, in command of the situation?

Dammit, she’d accepted Ana’s invitation, and she owed it to her sister and Luc to be a pleasant guest. Hadn’t she dressed accordingly, and given a promise to sparkle?

CHAPTER TWO

PROJECTING joie de vivre required effort, and there was a very real danger she’d verge towards overkill.

A glass of wine would help dull the edges, but she’d had nothing to eat since lunch. Consequently iced water seemed a wise choice, especially as she’d need all her wits to parry words with Luc’s inimitable cousin.

The restaurant’s chef was reputed to be one of the city’s best, and numbered among the country’s finest. Hence, the selection offered was meant to tempt a gourmand’s palate.

Rebekah ordered soup as a starter, requested an entrée-size meal as a main, and deferred a decision on dessert.

She settled back in her chair and glanced towards Jace. ‘You’re in Sydney on business, I believe?’

There was nothing like taking control and initiating conversation.

‘Yes.’ He met her level gaze, held it, and wondered if she had any idea how well he could read her. ‘Also Melbourne, Cairns, Brisbane and the Gold Coast.’

‘Interesting. Presumably matters which require your personal attention?’

How would she react if he revealed she was one of them? He inclined his head. ‘I’m unable to delegate in this instance.’

Property he wanted to sight? Yet in a high-tech age, it was possible to scan digital images at the speed of light, and as he shared some investment interests with Luc, why couldn’t Luc act on his cousin’s behalf?

The waiter delivered their starters, and Rebekah toyed with the soup, spooning the contents automatically without affording it the appreciation it truly deserved.

‘Tell me something about floristry.’ Jace’s voice was pure New York, and she waited a beat before countering,

‘An idle query, or genuine interest?’

His eyes held a humorous gleam. ‘The latter.’

‘The art, or a day in the life of…?’

‘Both.’

‘Floral artistry comprises a good eye for colour and design, shapes appealing to the customer’s wants and needs, the specific occasion.’ If he wanted facts, she’d supply them. ‘Which blooms suit, room temperature, the effect the customer wants to achieve.’

She lifted her shoulders and effected a light shrug. ‘Knowledge where exotic out-of-season stock can be bought and how long it takes to air-freight it in. And the expense involved. Unfortunately there are always those who want the best at minimum cost.’

‘I’m sure you manage to apprise them that quality comes with a price?’

‘Don’t be fooled by Ana and Rebekah’s petite stature,’ Luc drawled. His mouth curved into a warm smile. ‘I can assure both sisters pack a powerful verbal punch.’ He turned towards Ana and brushed light fingers down her cheek. ‘My wife, especially.’

‘It’s a defence mechanism,’ Ana responded sweetly. The waiter removed their plates, and Rebekah’s gaze shifted to Jace in a deliberate attempt at dispassionate appraisal.

Superb tailoring emphasised an impressive breadth of shoulder, and the deep blue shirt with its impeccably knotted silk tie accented his olive textured skin.

All she had to do was look at him, and warmth flared to uncomfortable heat as her mind spun into overdrive, remembering how it felt to have his mouth on hers. From there it was just a step away for her mind to spiral out of control, imagining what lay beneath the trappings of his conventional attire.

Don’t go there. Dear heaven, what was wrong with her? No one, not even her ex-husband in the heightened throes of pre-marital passion, had been able to arouse such an intense reaction.

She was conscious of every breath she took, and co-ordinating cutlery with morsels of food and the actual eating process was fraught with nervous tension.

Was Jace aware of her inner turmoil? Dear God, she hoped not.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she mentally chastised. You’re only sharing dinner with him, and acute vulnerability could be conquered…couldn’t it? Or at least successfully masked. Besides, Jace Dimitriades was only a man like any other man, and hadn’t Brad been charm personified in the beginning? Only to turn into a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Except instinct warned comparing her ex-husband to Jace Dimitriades was akin to associating an ill-bred canine with a powerful panther.

There was a part of her that wanted to replace her cutlery, stand to her feet, and leave. Retreat to the safety of her car, return to her apartment with her sanity intact.

Except such an action was a cop-out, and besides, what excuse could she present? Act, she commanded silently. You deal with people every day in the shop and utilise psychological skill to handle difficult customers. How difficult could it be to deal with Jace Dimitriades for a few hours? There was the added advantage of Ana and Luc’s presence to provide a buffer. It should be a breeze.

Fat chance! She felt about as relaxed as a cat on hot bricks!

Why hadn’t she listened to her initial instinct and remained adamant at not doing this? Because she cared for her sister. At least, that was the simple answer. The more complex one didn’t bear contemplating.

Maybe some wine would loosen her nerves a little, and she indicated the wine steward could fill her glass. Seconds later she took an appreciative sip, and felt the grape’s delicate bouquet slip into her bloodstream.

It was a relief when the waiter presented the next course. Her appetite was non-existent, and although her meal was a decorative vision in cuisine artistry, her tastebuds appeared to be on strike.

Travelled south for the duration, she accorded with silent wry humour, aware to an alarming degree just where they’d chosen to settle.

Eat, she commanded silently. Focus on the food. The evening would eventually come to a close, and she’d never have to place herself in this position again.

She may as well have told herself to go jump over the moon for all the good it did, for she was supremely conscious of every movement he made. The economical use of his hands as he apportioned each morsel of food. The way the muscles at the edge of his jaw bunched as he ate. His hands were broad, tanned with a sprinkling of hair, the fingers tapered with neatly shaped nails.

How would those hands caress a woman’s skin? Lightly skim the silken surface, discover each pleasure pulse and linger there?

Her mind came to a screeching halt. What was the matter with her? She couldn’t blame the wine, for she’d only consumed a few sips, and alternated it with chilled water.

‘You have an early start in the morning?’ Luc queried solicitously.

Could she conceivably use that as an excuse to slip away soon? ‘I have to be at the flower market around four-thirty.’

Jace’s gaze narrowed. ‘Every day?’

‘Six out of seven.’ It didn’t bother her. Never had, for she was a morning person. However, after a fourteen-hour day on her feet anything less than six hours’ sleep and she was wrecked.

‘I’ll order coffee.’ Luc signalled the waiter, and she joined Ana in choosing tea, all too aware coffee would keep her awake. How long had they been here? Two hours? Three?

They were almost done, and within half an hour she’d be free to slip behind the wheel of her car and drive home.

Wonderful, she determined as Luc fixed the bill, and she stood to her feet, collected her evening purse, and followed Ana to the foyer.

Her skin prickled in awareness of Jace’s close proximity, and it took considerable effort to move at a leisurely pace. She could almost feel the warmth of his body, and her own stiffened at the light touch of his hand at the back of her waist as they gained the pavement.

‘I’ll see you to your car.’

‘I had a valet attendant park it for me.’

Ana tilted her face as Jace leant down to brush his lips to her cheek. ‘Luc and I can give you a lift back to the hotel.’

‘I’m sure Rebekah won’t mind.’ Jace straightened and shot his cousin a measured look. ‘I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’

Rebekah uttered a silent prayer that Luc would intercede, only the deity wasn’t listening. Ana leant forward and brushed her lips to her sister’s cheek, accepted Jace’s affectionate ‘Goodnight’, then she moved with Luc towards their car.

It was so smoothly effected, she could hardly believe she’d been cleverly manipulated. His hotel was en route to her apartment. Given she had to pass right by the main entrance, it would be churlish to refuse.

However, her mind screamed in silent denial as she waited for the attendant to fetch her car. She didn’t want to be alone with him, ever, and especially not in the close confines of her MG sports car.

What had prompted him to suggest it when she’d been so painstakingly polite all evening? She hadn’t flirted, or given him any reason to think she coveted his attention.

Dammit, just get in the car, drop him off at the hotel, then that’ll be the end of it. Ten, fifteen minutes was all it would take.

There wasn’t a lot of leg-room, and it gave her a degree of satisfaction as he folded his lengthy frame into the front passenger seat.

Rebekah didn’t waste a second, and she gained the street, then headed towards Double Bay. Idle conversation, simply for the sake of it, wasn’t on her agenda, and she didn’t offer a word as she took liberties with the speed limit.

Ten minutes and counting.

It was a beautiful late-spring evening, the dark sky a clear indigo sprinkled with stars. Cool, sharp temperatures promised another fine day, and she directed her mind to the shop’s orders and the stock she’d need to purchase from the markets.

It didn’t work, for she was supremely conscious of the man seated beside her. In the close confines of the car she was aware of the subtle tones of his cologne, the clean smell of his clothes…and the faint male muskiness that was his alone.

Rebekah felt the tell-tale prickle of her skin as her body began an unbidden response. There was warmth, and heat pooled deep inside, intensifying with damning speed as her pulse accelerated to a crazy beat.

His hand rested on one knee, which was close, much too close to the gear-shift, making it impossible not to touch him whenever she changed gears. Avoiding contact without appearing to do so required care, and she wondered if he sensed her disquiet.

What if he did, and he was silently amused? Oh, dammit, just drive. In another five minutes she’d be free of his disturbing presence.

One more set of traffic lights and she’d enter the outer fringes of suburban Double Bay. A sense of intense relief began to descend as she turned into the street housing the main entrance to his hotel, and she drew to a halt in the impressive forecourt.

A uniformed bellboy moved towards the car, and Rebekah turned towards Jace. ‘Goodnight.’

In one fluid movement he captured her face with his hands, then lowered his mouth to hers in an evocative kiss that invaded and seduced. All too brief, it held the promise of more.

Shocked surprise encompassed her features as he lifted his head, and her mouth parted, only to close again as he offered a huskily voiced au revoir before sliding out from the low-slung seat.

She caught the faint gleam in those dark eyes before he turned and walked towards the main entrance.

Damn him. What did he think he was playing at?

She moved the gear-stick with unnecessary force, then sent the car into the street. Her apartment was situated two blocks distant, and she reached it in record time, easing the MG down into the underground car park.

In the lift she castigated herself for not predicting Jace’s move. He’d bargained on the element of surprise, and had won.

So what did it matter? She was unlikely to see him again. But it irked unbearably he’d caught her unawares, and provided a not so subtle reminder that he was aware of her vulnerability, and, even more galling, susceptible to him.

She should have slapped his face. Would have, if his action hadn’t rendered her momentarily speechless.

Ten o’clock wasn’t late, and with only six hours’ sleep ahead of her she should go straight to bed. Instead, she slid off her stilettos and roamed the apartment, too emotionally wound up to settle to an easy sleep.

Nothing on television held her interest for long, and after utilising the remote to flick through every channel she simply switched off the set, collected a magazine and flipped through the pages with equal uninterest before discarding it in disgust.

A derisive sound emerged from her throat as she doused the lights and made for her bedroom.

She could still feel Jace Dimitriades’ touch when she began removing her clothes. As she cleansed her face of make-up she was positive she could still taste him, and she took up her toothbrush and cleaned her teeth, twice.

So vivid was his powerful image, she was prepared to swear he was there with her as she lay in bed staring into the room’s darkness.

Over and over the evening replayed itself, and the memory of his kiss taunted her, awakening her imagination to such a level it became impossible to sleep.

Jace Dimitriades drained the last of his coffee, reached for his suit jacket and shrugged it on, collected his wallet and cellphone, then he exited his hotel suite, took the lift down to ground level and walked out into the sunshine.

He had an hour before he was due to join Luc at a business meeting in the city. Time enough to achieve his objective, he determined as he crossed the street and walked the block and a half to his intended destination.

Blooms and Bouquets was ideally sited, the window display colourful with expertly arranged blooms in numerous vases on stands of varying heights. A background wall held a similar display, and the overall look from outside was a mass of floor-to-ceiling flowers.

The result was visually stunning, and a testament to the two sisters who owned the boutique.

He pushed open the door, registered the electronic buzzer, and offered a greeting to Ana, swivelled his head to include Rebekah, who was deftly assembling a bouquet of orchids at the work table.

‘Jace, how wonderful to see you.’ Ana slid off her chair behind the computer and joined him. ‘Is this a social call?’

He leant down and brushed his lips to her temple. ‘How are you?’ His smile held affectionate warmth. ‘In answer to your question…social and business.’

‘Then let’s get business out of the way first.’

The phone rang, providing a convenient interruption. Not that he really needed one, but it helped. ‘Answer that. Rebekah can organise the order.’

Could she, indeed? From the moment he stepped into the boutique all her senses had snapped into full alert. It was crazy the way her body reacted to the sight of him. Amend that to just thinking about him, she admitted wryly. Hadn’t that very thing kept her awake last night?

Any hope of having Ana deal with him was shot, leaving her with little option but to place the bouquet taking shape onto the work table and move forward to assist him.

He looked…incredible, the dark grey business suit fashioned by a master tailor, fine cotton shirt, impeccably knotted silk tie. But it was the man himself who took hold of her composure and tore it to shreds.

She didn’t like the feeling at all. It had taken two years to repair the damage Brad had wrought and restore a measure of confidence. To have it undermined in any way was something she’d defend to the death.

Rebekah slipped into the polite, professional role with practised ease. ‘Do you have anything particular in mind?’

Good, his presence rattled her. He’d caught the faint tremble in those capable hands, sighted a glimpse of her inner struggle as she geared herself to deal with him. Signs she wasn’t anywhere near as calm as she’d have him believe.

‘A journey is but a series of many steps.’ The quote teased his brain, although he couldn’t be sure of its accuracy or its origin, only that the words were pertinent.

Rebekah Stanford intrigued him. He admired the look of her, the strength of character apparent. The exigent sexual chemistry. But it was more than mere physical attraction. There was mystery surrounding her, something he couldn’t quite pin down.

During the past year he hadn’t been able to dismiss her from his mind. Her features teased his subconscious, the scent and feel of her. The way she’d responded to his touch haunted him…and destroyed anything he thought he could feel for another woman. Plural, he amended ruefully, aware of the few women he’d sought to fill a void.

Now he was back, intent on combining business with pleasure…or was it the other way round? Intent on determining if memory of an emotion still existed, and if it did, just what he intended to do about it.

‘Roses.’ Their velvety texture, exotic perfume, the exquisite petals so tightly budded just waiting to unfold.

‘What colour do you have in mind?’

Rebekah moved towards the temperature-controlled cabinet and indicated several vases holding a variety of colours.

There was the perfection of white, glorious pinks and corals in their various shadings, and deep, dark red.

He didn’t hesitate. ‘The red.’

She opened the glass door, removed the vase and carried it to the work table. ‘How many would you like? The cost—’

‘Is immaterial,’ Jace concluded. ‘Three dozen.’

‘Would you like them delivered? An extra charge applies.’

‘I’ll handle delivery.’

A woman undoubtedly. Hostess, friend, or lover?

If it was a lover, he must possess all the right moves. He’d only been in the country two days.

Rebekah gestured towards a stand containing cards for every occasion. ‘Perhaps you’d like to choose a card and write on it while I fix these.’ She was already reaching for Cellophane, and mentally selecting ribbon.

Within minutes the bouquet was ready, and she attached the card, accepted payment, then handed him the roses.

Jace took time to admire their assembled artistry, then he presented her with them. ‘For you.’ He observed a gamut of emotions chase across her expressive features, and saw her struggle with each and every one of them.

‘Excuse me?’

‘The roses are for you. I suggest you read the card.’

Rebekah read the words with a sense of mounting disbelief. ‘Dinner tonight. Seven.’

‘I’ll collect you.’

‘You don’t know where I live.’ What was she saying? She had no intention of sharing dinner with him.

‘Ana will give me the address.’

‘No.’

One eyebrow slanted in mocking humour. ‘No, Ana won’t give me the address?’

‘No, I won’t accept your invitation.’ The thought of spending time with him wasn’t a good idea.

‘I promise not to bite.’

‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’ She held out the magnificent sheaf of roses. ‘Please take these. I can’t accept them.’

‘Can’t, or won’t?’ His New York-accented drawl held humour, and something else she couldn’t define.

Ana? Where was her sister when she needed her?

It took only a glance to determine Ana was still on the phone. ‘I don’t date.’

The stark admission appeared to have no effect at all. ‘Seven, Rebekah.’ He turned and walked from the shop, and her reiterated no fell on deaf ears.

She swore, and followed it with a husky litany that damned the male species in general and one of them in particular.

‘Oh, my,’ Ana declared as she replaced the receiver. ‘What did he do? Issue an indecent proposal?’

‘He asked me out.’ Rebekah’s voice came out as an impassioned hiss.

‘And that’s the extent of his crime?’

Rebekah tossed the bouquet of roses onto the work table. ‘I’m not going.’

‘Of course not.’

‘How dare he come in here and order roses…?’ She could hardly contain her anger. ‘Three dozen of them.’ Her eyes flashed blue fire. ‘Then give them to me?’

Ana clicked her tongue and shook her head. ‘Very bad taste.’

Rebekah’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m not accepting them.’ She pushed the bouquet into her sister’s hands. ‘You take them home.’

‘Why not you?’ Ana queried reasonably.

‘I’ll return them to stock.’ She spared them a glance, and her artist’s eye admired the blooms’ beauty. Just for a moment she felt a twinge of remorse.

No man had gifted her anything in a while. And never flowers.

‘Who does Jace Dimitriades think he is?’ It was a question that required no answer, and she banked down a further tirade as a customer entered the boutique.

Rebekah was glad of the interruption, although she seethed in silence for the rest of the day. A number of scenarios as to how she’d deal with him crossed her mind. Some of which, should she put them into effect, would be sure to get her arrested for causing grievous bodily harm.

‘Do you have a number where I can contact him?’

It was late afternoon, and Ana was about to leave.

‘Jace?’

‘Of course, Jace.’

Ana’s features assumed a thoughtful expression.

‘It’s been two years since your divorce. Don’t you think it’s time you emerged into the real world again?’

‘You’re advocating I have an affair?’

‘Who are you afraid of?’ Ana queried gently. ‘Jace or yourself?’ She walked to the door, paused and turned to give her sister a warm smile. ‘Think about it.’

Rebekah opened her mouth, then closed it again.

As an exit line, it was without equal.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS after six when Rebekah eased the MG into the underground car park and rode the lift to the seventh floor.

Indecisiveness was not one of her traits, yet for the past hour she’d changed her mind at least a dozen times.

On entering her apartment she crossed to the phone, looked up the number for Jace’s hotel, punched in the digits, only to replace the receiver minutes later. Jace Dimitriades didn’t appear to be in his room, and a request for his cellphone number was politely declined.

Damn. Failure to contact him meant she had little option but to shower and dress in record time. Or stand him up.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she chided silently. A few hours, good food, pleasant conversation… What did she have to lose?

Her sanity, she conceded half an hour later as she replaced the in-house phone, gathered up her evening purse, car keys, then rode the lift down to the lobby.

He stood tall, the image of masculine strength, emanating a sense of power only those totally at ease with themselves were able to exude.

Rebekah met his probing gaze, caught his warm smile, and felt her stomach execute a slow somersault.

Any mental assurance she could survive the evening began to dissipate. Was it too late to change her mind? Way too late, an inner voice mocked with derision.

Jace watched the fleeting emotions evident, defined each and every one of them, and felt a sense of male satisfaction in knowing he affected her.

‘Rebekah.’ He moved forward, appreciating the cut and style of her clothes. The slim black skirt and matching jacket highlighted the creamy texture of her skin, and her make-up was minimal. A touch of gold at her ears and her throat added a pleasing addition. Her hair was drawn into a smooth twist, and his fingers itched to remove the pins and let it fall free.

What would she do if he drew her into his arms and covered that pretty mouth with his own? Undoubtedly she’d react like a frightened gazelle, he decided grimly.

What damage had her ex-husband done to kill her natural spontaneity? Something hardened inside him at the array of possibilities, resulting in a surge of anger against a man he’d never met.

‘We’ll take my car.’

‘I’ve hired a vehicle for the duration of my stay,’ Jace said smoothly, and glimpsed her faint disconcerted glance before it was quickly masked.

She wanted to retain control. It made her feel secure, and she suppressed the momentary uneasiness at Jace’s increasing ability to undermine her confidence.

Together they walked through the entrance doors, and Jace led her towards a gleaming Jaguar, unlocked the passenger door and saw her seated, then he crossed in front of the car and slid in behind the wheel.

Rebekah’s awareness of him became more pronounced within the close confines of the car, and she banked down the onset of nervous tension. Difficult, when her pulse had already increased its beat and she could feel the thud of her heart.

This was madness. She should have said an emphatic no, and, failing that, not left it until the last minute to rescind his invitation.

Except on reflection, his inaccessibility hadn’t really given her much choice.

In the restaurant, Jace deferred to her preference in wine, ordered, then requested the menu.

Rebekah wasn’t sure she could eat a thing, for her digestive system seemed to be in a mildly chaotic state. And it wasn’t just her digestive system!

Oh, move along, an inner voice prompted. You’re here with him. At least try to enjoy the evening. Pretend. Surely it can’t be too difficult. You managed OK last night.

Yes, but then Luc and Ana had been present. Now she was on her own, and she’d been out of the social scene for too long. It was two years since she’d exercised her social skills to any great degree. One date soon after her divorce had proven to be disastrous, and at the time she’d vowed not to repeat it.

‘Tell me what made you choose to be a florist.’

She took a sip of superb chardonnay, and replaced the goblet onto the table. Blooms and Bouquets…she could do shop-talk. ‘The perfection of professionally grown blooms, their textures, colours and scents. The skill in assembling them together so the image conveys something special to the person to whom they’re gifted.’

Jace watched her features become animated, her blue eyes deepen and gleam like blue topaz as she elaborated on her craft. Did she know how attractive she was? Or how deeply she appealed to him?

On every level, not just the physical.

‘The pleasure, comfort and solace they provide for every occasion,’ she continued, smiling in reflection of the many memories she’d shared where warmth and the sheer joy of making someone’s day a little brighter became paramount.

‘One imagines there’s a downside?’ he probed, and watched as she wrinkled her nose.

‘Early starts, long days on your feet, dish-pan hands from having them constantly in and out of water.’ She offered him a wry smile. ‘Difficult customers who are impossible to please. The rush to get orders out on time. Incorrect addresses, mistakes made with deliveries by the courier.’ She effected a negligible shrug. ‘Like any business, there are the accompanying problems.’

The waiter delivered their starters, and they each began eating. The prawn cocktail was succulent with a delicate sauce on a bed of shredded lettuce, and Jace forked his with evident enjoyment.

Did he enjoy women as much as he enjoyed food? She almost choked at the thought. Where had that come from?

She lifted her goblet and took a sip of wine. ‘Your turn, I think.’

He set his empty dish aside and regarded her with a thoughtful gaze. ‘New York-born to Greek immigrant parents. Graduated from university with a degree in business management.’

Rebekah held his gaze and attempted to define what lay beneath his composed exterior. ‘The condensed version,’ she acknowledged. ‘Business management covers a broad spectrum.’

‘I specialise in takeovers and buy-outs.’

‘Large companies with their backs against the wall?’

‘Something like that.’

‘It fits,’ she said simply.

‘On what do you base that assumption?’

‘You have a ruthless streak,’ she inclined with thoughtful contemplation, aware it was more than that. Leashed strength meshed with an animalistic sense of power, a combination which boded ill for any adversary.

‘I imagine you wheel and deal with cut-throat determination.’ She paused a beat. ‘Mostly you win.’ She doubted he ever lost…unless it was a deliberate tactical manoeuvre.

‘An interesting character analysis,’ Jace accorded with musing cynicism.

The waiter removed dishes, and the wine steward refilled their goblets.

Soft piano music provided a pleasant background for the muted buzz of conversation.

‘You have family in New York?’

‘Parents, one brother, two sisters, and several nieces and nephews.’

Was he removed from them, too caught up being a high-flying entrepreneur and too involved in his own life?

‘My mother insists we all get together once a fortnight for a family dinner,’ Jace drawled. ‘Madness and mayhem would be an accurate description.’

‘But fun?’ She had a mental image of adults laughing, chiding children, noisy chatter and a table groaning with food and wine.

‘Very much so.’

Did he take his women…it had to be plural, although presumably he was discriminative…to visit?

‘Not often, no.’

Rebekah endeavoured to still her surprise, and failed. ‘You read minds?’

‘It’s an acquired skill.’

‘One in which you excel.’

Jace inclined his head, but there was no arrogance apparent, just the assurance of a man well-versed in the vagaries of human nature and possessed of the ability to deal with them.

It was during dessert that Rebekah happened to glance towards the restaurant entrance. Afterwards she couldn’t say what drew her attention there. Instinct, perhaps? Some deep, inner, protective element alerting her to danger?

For a few heart-stopping seconds she prayed she was mistaken, but she’d have known that profile anywhere, the angle of his head…

‘What is it?’

She registered Jace’s voice, and tried to tamp down the sick feeling that filled her stomach.

‘Rebekah?’

Oh, God. Think, she bade silently. There’s a good chance he won’t see you, and if he does, what can he do?

Plenty.

Jace witnessed her pale features as the colour leeched from her cheeks, and her eyes had dulled an instant before she veiled them with her lashes. What, more relevantly who was responsible for rendering her as still as stone?

‘Do you want to leave?’ His voice was quiet, but serious in its intent.

She wanted to say yes. Now, quickly, quietly.

Except that was a coward’s way out, and she’d vowed the day she legally severed all ties with him she’d never allow Brad Somerville to intimidate her again. Ever.

‘My ex-husband has just walked in the door.’

Was she aware that with so few words she’d conveyed so much? Somehow he doubted it.

‘Is it a problem?’

If she stuck with the truth, how would Jace Dimitriades deal with it? A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat. Why in hell would he want to?

‘No,’ she denied, and knew she lied.

Jace’s eyes narrowed as he observed her monitor her ex-husband’s progress towards a reserved table, and witnessed her fleeting expression the moment the man recognised her presence. It was neither embarrassment nor awkwardness…but fear.

‘Well, hello.’

Rebekah kept her head erect, her eyes wide and steady. The action was a well-practised one, for she could never be sure what Brad’s next move might be.

‘Brad.’ The acknowledgement was stilted, remote.

‘Introduce me to your…companion.’

‘Jace Dimitriades.’ Jace’s voice held a faintly inflected drawl and was dangerously quiet, almost lethal. He made no effort to rise to his feet or take Brad’s extended hand.

Rebekah saw something move in Brad’s gleaming gaze, recognised the early-warning sign of his temper, and felt her apprehension accelerate.

Brad focused his attention on Rebekah. ‘Keeping it all in the family, darling?’

‘The maître d’ is waiting to show you to your table,’ Jace intimated with deceptive mildness. Although anyone with any nous would see it as a dismissal. Those who knew him would have quailed at the leashed savagery lurking just beneath the surface.

Brad inclined his head. ‘Of course.’ His voice softened with silky threat. ‘Take care, Rebekah.’

She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until she released it, and she forced herself to pick up her spoon and scoop a small serving of fruit, then eat it.

Calm? She felt the antithesis of calm. Yet she’d learned her lessons well, and it was far better to attempt normality. In the beginning, after the shock of discovering Brad’s dual personality, she’d gone through an entire gamut of emotions…from heartbreaking tears, to anger, remorse, dislike, only to discover it made things worse.

‘We can go somewhere else for coffee.’

Rebekah picked up her water glass with a steady hand. ‘It’s OK.’

Not, Jace determined as he surveyed her features. She was far too pale, and her actions were too rigidly controlled for his liking.

Almost as if she guessed his intention to summon the waiter and request the bill, she voiced quietly, ‘Please, don’t.’

‘His presence here is making you feel uncomfortable.’

Now, that had to be the understatement of the year.

‘You don’t understand.’

His eyes narrowed, and she sensed a watchful quality evident. ‘You think if we leave, he’ll have won?’

He was too astute for her peace of mind. ‘Yes.’

‘Meanwhile you eat food you no longer taste, sip water or wine while we wait for coffee,’ he pursued in a silky voice. ‘And tie your stomach in knots during the process.’

She knew Brad’s modus operandi only too well. Interpretation of her ex-husband’s wild mood swings, anticipating his reactions had become an integral part of her survival.

‘It’s better this way,’ she said coolly.

‘Not for you,’ Jace declared with certainty, and saw the slight lift of her chin as she met his gaze.

His own didn’t waver from hers as he ordered coffee from a hovering waiter, and he settled the bill, waited patiently for her to finish, then he led her from the restaurant.

‘I’ll take a taxi,’ Rebekah said stiffly, and incurred his swift dark glance.

‘The hell you will.’

She didn’t say a word, couldn’t, for her throat was tight with nerves, and she walked at his side in silence, then slid into the passenger seat the instant he unlocked the car.

It didn’t take long to reach her apartment building, and during the short drive she stared sightlessly out the window, unaware of the familiar scenery, the traffic.

Her mind was filled with the scene in the restaurant, Brad, and the electric presence of the man seated within touching distance.

‘Thanks for dinner.’ Politeness had been ingrained from a young age. She reached for the door-clasp, and froze as his hand captured her wrist.

‘Is your ex-husband likely to confront you?’

She paused a few seconds too long. ‘Why would he do that? He has no control over my life.’

Jace had questions he wanted to ask, but now was not the right time to get answers…even if she’d be willing to give them to him. ‘I’ll be in Melbourne for a few days with Luc. I’ll ring you.’

‘There’s no need.’

He leaned closer and slid a hand to capture her nape, tilting her head so she had to look at him. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘There is.’

For a heart-stopping second she thought he was going to kiss her, and she unconsciously held her breath, aware that a part of her craved the feel of his mouth on her own.

There was a hunger she couldn’t quite control, and she trembled with it, wanting in that moment to be absorbed by this man. To have him take her to a place where she could temporarily forget the vindictiveness that lived inside Brad Somerville, and begin to repair the damage caused to her emotional heart.

She heard a faint sound emerge from his throat, and she swallowed painfully as he brushed his thumb over the curve of her lower lip, tracing its fullness.

His eyes were dark, too dark to determine his intent, and she felt the tension in him, the restraint, and knew instinctively the next move was hers.

All she had to do was use the edge of her teeth, the tip of her tongue on the tip of this finger to offer an unspoken invitation.

Dear God, she wanted to, she wanted him. Except she hesitated too long, and she thought she glimpsed the gleam of a faint smile, sensed the slight edge of his regret as she pulled back.

Then he did smile, and the hand holding her nape gentled and soothed the tension there for a few seconds, then he released her and eased back in his seat.

She felt as if her limbs were fused together, restricting mobility, and she was intensely aware of the sensual electricity apparent. Explosive and primitive, it shimmered as an elusive force, poised to shatter the shell she’d painstakingly erected around her fragile heart.

‘Goodnight.’ The word emerged as little more than a strangled sound, and she fumbled for the door-clasp, almost breathless in the need to escape.

Except the constraint of the seat belt stopped her, and she uttered a silent cry as his fingers sought the safety clip and unfastened it.

Within seconds she slid from the car and she almost ran the few steps to the haven offered by the entrance to her apartment building. The keys were plucked free from her purse and she selected the appropriate one as she punched the security code freeing the external door into the lobby.

From there it took only a moment to use her key to gain the area leading to the triple bank of lifts.

She was trembling by the time she reached her apartment, and inside she made for the kitchen, extracted bottled water from the refrigerator and gulped several mouthfuls before seeking a chair.

The evening was over. Although instinct warned whatever she shared with Jace was far from done.

It was as if something deep and primal was being resurrected from her soul, his. The sane, sensible part of her brain questioned any metaphysical connection, but the illogical part queried if they hadn’t been joined together in a previous life, and their souls were forcing recognition.

Then there was Brad. She tamped down the memories and the pain. A few years was but a small window in the picture of her life. Hadn’t that been the professional advice given at the time?

The sudden peal of the phone startled her, and she stood to her feet to take the call, except she was unable to reach the handset and pick up before the answering machine cut in.

Her automated greeting was brief, and she hesitated, wary as to who would be calling at this time of night.

‘Having fun with your new man, sweetheart?’

It was followed by a click as the caller replaced the receiver.

Rebekah felt the blood drain from her face.

Brad. There was no mistaking his voice.

Shock jolted her senses and was quickly replaced by a sickening fear.

Her telephone number was unlisted. What ruse had he used to gain it? Had he also gained access to her cell-net number?

She crossed her arms and hugged them together across her midriff as her mind whirled with facts and possibilities.

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