It's All Greek to Me

  “Something suitable to wear to a reception at the archaeology museum. They’re having an annual fund-raising event tonight, and I should make an appearance.”

  “Oh. Something social?” She frowned and tapped a pen against her lips as she thought. He felt himself getting hard despite having lost himself in her just a few hours earlier. “Not really. I didn’t think I’d be staying in Greece, and I didn’t pack anything appropriate.”

  He pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills onto the desk. “Go buy yourself something pretty.”

  Instantly, the tempest was upon him.

  “Go buy yourself something pretty,” she said, shoving the money back at him, her eyes flashing with ire. “I don’t need your money.”

  “I know you don’t need it, but there’s no reason for you to spend your own money when you’re doing something at my request.” He shoved the money back toward her.

  She flicked it back to him. “There’s the matter of my pride. I don’t want your money. I have my own. I can buy my own dress.”

  “Harry,” he said, pulling her hand out and slapping the money down onto her palm. “Just take the damned money and stop being so unreasonable.”

  She took a deep breath, jerked open his desk drawer, and dug around in it until she extracted a lighter. She held the money up, her angry gaze clashing with his as she lit the money on fire, waiting until it was two-thirds burned before dropping it into a metal wastebasket.

  “That was uncalled for,” he said, angry and amused at the same time. Only his storm could have that effect on him.

  “I will buy a dress today. I will even go to the hairdressers and have them do something with my hair. But I will not take money from you. It’s not, after all, as if you are my fiancé.” She lifted her chin. “Unless you’d like to propose right now?”

  He reached across the desk, tangled his hand in her hair, and pulled her forward to give her a kiss that should make it clear to her that he was not going to allow her to dictate to him. “I prefer the color green, Eglantine. Something short to show off your legs.”

  “Dream on, Yacky!” she yelled after him as he left the room, smiling to himself.

  “Are you sure you want to get that one?”

  Harry looked at her reflection and gave Elena a curt nod. “I’m not crazy wild about it, but it’ll do. It has the benefit of being gold, not green as his royal highness bachelor number five commanded.”

  Elena giggled, her head on the side as she eyed Harry. “It’s very pretty. But I don’t understand why you would get a dress that Iakovos wouldn’t like.”

  Harry turned and looked over her shoulder at the long expanse of back that the floor-length, bias bead-encrusted gown with halter neckline showed. “I didn’t say he wouldn’t like it. I just said that he commanded me to get something green. And I hate to have to say this about your brother, Elena, but despite what he may have told you, he’s not God’s gift to the world.”

  Elena laughed outright. “I know he’s not, but he’s a love anyway.”

  “Yes, he is that. I’ll take this one,” she told the an-orexically thin clerk who hovered in the background. “Do you have a bag that would match it?”

  The clerk did, and after a few minutes spent in stunned silence at the price of a gown, low heels, and purse, she managed to drag Elena out of the store.

  “I just don’t understand how you can’t like shopping,” the younger woman said, reluctantly following Harry as they strolled down the sidewalk of a street filled with expensive shops. “I love it!”

  Harry shrugged. “I’ve never really liked clothes shopping. Books, now, I can spend hours in a bookstore. But clothes? Eh. You’re sure this hairdresser can get me in?”

  “I told him that you’re my brother’s girlfriend.”

  “Does he know Iakovos?” Harry asked, surprised.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then why would he fit me in?”

  “Because Iakovos is Iakovos. Everyone in Athens knows who he is. If his girlfriend wants an appointment, people are going to give you one even if it means rearranging their schedule.”

  “Number five,” Harry muttered under her breath. “Great, now I’m going to have the bad karma that comes along with taking someone’s else’s appointment. Thanks for your help, Elena. I knew I could count on you to steer me to suitable stores.”

  “My pleasure.” She hesitated a minute, then put a hand on Harry’s arm. “You are still going to marry Iakovos, aren’t you?”

  “I hope so. I am crazy wild about him.”

  “I know you are. And he is about you, too. I’m so happy for both of you.” Elena gave her a swift hug, then, with a giggle and a wave, dashed off to meet some of her friends.

  “I was never that young,” she told the doorman who opened the door to the chic salon, bracing herself for a couple of hours of beautification. She just hoped it would be worth it.

  Three hours later as she stood looking at herself from every possible angle in the mirror of Iakovos’ bathroom, she decided that the salon owner was worth twice the sizable chunk of money she relinquished for his services.

  Her hair had lightened a bit from its normal mundane brown to show a little streaking from all the time she spent out in the pool and sun. In the hands of the talented Giorgio, it had gone from sun streaked and unruly as it straggled down her back to a glossy, shining tawny brown, touched with the faintest tones of amber around her face. He’d cut off very little, but layered much of it, giving her an elegant, tousled look that she knew was much more her style than anything too fussy.

  Although she didn’t normally wear much makeup, she brushed her lashes with inky black mascara, and added a touch of nude lipstick.

  “You’re as good as you’re going to get,” she said, hearing voices down the hall. Iakovos must be back home. He’d be in in a minute to take a shower and shave before changing into his evening clothes. Should she wait in his bedroom in case he didn’t like her dress?

  “I am so not afraid of him,” she told her reflection, tossing her tawny head and heading out of the room to find him.

  He stood with his back to her in the living room, Dmitri in front of him, holding out something to be signed. She lifted her head, and slowed down from the aggressive march to a leisurely stroll, her eyes on the back of his head.

  Dmitri saw her first. He was in the middle of saying something and just stopped dead, his eyes wide.

  Iakovos didn’t notice Dmitri’s reaction right away, but when he did, he glanced over his shoulder.

  The double take he did was extremely satisfying to her ego.

  “Good evening, Dmitri. Are you going to the museum shindig with us?”

  “Er . . . no.” He cast a glance at Iakovos, who was staring at Harry as if he’d never seen her before. “I didn’t think it would be interesting. I see I was wrong.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you like my dress, Iakovos?” she asked, sliding him a look that she hoped would steam his shorts.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. Without saying a word he shoved the paper he’d been holding at Dmitri, walked over to her, and scooped her up in his arms.

  “Oh, don’t wrinkle me,” she said, her blood catching on fire from the look in his eyes. “I have no idea how I’d go about ironing a dress covered in beads.”

  He was silent as he kicked the bedroom door shut and set her on her feet next to the bed.

  “Turn,” he finally said.

  “You want to see the back? It’s kind of low, but with my hair down, it doesn’t make me feel quite so naked,” she said, turning so he could see the plunging back.

  To her surprise, he unzipped the dress, pulling it off her and laying it carefully across a chair before turning back to her.

  “You don’t like it?” she asked, suddenly worried. She’d thought he’d forgive her for going against his desire because the dress was, after all, rather pretty, even if she wasn’t normally a gold-bead sort of person.

  He slid hi
s hands underneath the sides of her underwear, peeling it off her before pushing her back onto the bed.

  “Iakovos!” she said, her eyes big as she realized what he was doing. He yanked off his suit coat, unzipped his pants, and freed himself from his underwear before spreading her legs. “You’re still dressed! And I’ve got my shoes on! Oh my god, yes!”

  He plunged into her, taking her moan into his mouth, his fingers hard on her hips as he angled her up to meet his thrusts. She twined her legs around his, still clad in his pants, and gave herself up to the pleasure that only he could give her.

  Neither of them lasted long, on Harry’s part because she was secretly scandalized that he would take her while they were both still partially dressed, and also flattered because the sight of her in the gown had so inflamed his passion. And inflamed he was—his mouth burned hers as he kissed her witless, his hips pounding against her, the long, lovely muscles of his back and butt moving with such grace, she just wanted to yell with the glory of it all.

  When he lay heavy on her, his breath steaming a spot on her neck, she whispered in his ear, “We’re going to be late.”

  “To hell with the fund-raiser,” he said, groaning as he rolled off her. “We’re staying home.”

  “After I went through the nightmare of shopping? I don’t think so.” She slid off the bed, pulling his shoes and socks off before tugging his pants all the way off. “Come on, my virile Greek stud muffin. Go take a shower so I can show you off to all the world’s-sexiest-bachelor-hungry women of Athens.”

  He shot her a look, but got to his feet, giving her butt a squeeze as he passed her. “That dress isn’t green, Eglantine,” he said before going into the bathroom.

  “I’m so glad to know you’re not color-blind, Yacky,” she yelled after him, waiting until he turned on the water to collapse on the bed and spend a few moments reliving the last ten minutes.

  After a quick wash in the spare bathroom, she headed to the living room to wait. She didn’t like the room, didn’t like much about the apartment at all except the view. Since it was the penthouse, the patio and rooftop garden had an astounding view of Athens, especially at night. She loved the city at night, and stood staring out into the velvety blackness, wondering how she was going to address the subject of the apartment with Iakovos.

  “Don’t you look nice.”

  She turned slowly to find Theo standing next to a chaise lounge, his hair combed, his face shaved, and his body clad in a tuxedo. She frowned at this. “Evening, Theo. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  “Got back earlier. Did you do something to your hair? I like it.”

  “Thank you.” She watched him warily, something he obviously noticed because he gave a wry smile and came toward her. She stood her ground, but braced herself in case she needed to deck him again.

  “You don’t have to look so angry—I haven’t had a drink today.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” She hated feeling so constrained around him, but ever since the night when she broke his nose, she hadn’t been comfortable alone with him.

  As if reading her thoughts, he touched his nose. “I never did apologize to you for that, did I? Jake sent me off to Brazil right after Elena’s party, and I didn’t have the chance to tell you how much I regret what happened that night.”

  “Consider it forgotten,” she said politely, although she had absolutely no intention of letting down her guard around him.

  “I appreciate that. How about a kiss to show there are no hard feelings?”

  Her mouth dropped open at his audacity, and she was about to tell him what he could do with himself when Iakovos strolled out.

  “I’m joking, Harry.” Theo laughed, giving her one of his charming smiles. He glanced over at his brother. “I think I scared Harry, Jake.”

  “I doubt that,” Iakovos replied, the look in his eyes making her want to fall on him and lick every inch of him. “She doesn’t scare easy. It’s more likely you were just making an ass of yourself. You ready to go, sweetheart?”

  “That depends. Do we have any drool cloths handy? Because I’m going to need at least half a dozen, if not for me, then for all the other women who see you.”

  He rolled his eyes, holding his hand out for her. “Theo is coming with us. His mother was very big on this charity, and he likes to continue on in her name.”

  She slid a glance to Theo, but he really did seem to be sober tonight. She supposed that stranger things could happen than that he could see the error of his ways, so she gave him a smile and reminded herself that everyone deserved a second chance.

  Besides, she had more important things to do, like stare in openmouthed wonder at Iakovos. The third time he caught her doing that on the ride to the hotel ballroom where the fund-raiser was being held, he leaned into her and whispered, “It’s just me, Eglantine. The same man who was balls-deep in you half an hour ago.”

  “You look different when you’re all dressed up. You look like you really are number five.”

  “Number five?” Theo asked with a puzzled frown.

  Iakovos made a face. “That magazine list.”

  “A list? Oh, the bachelor list?” Theo grinned. “You still sore that you dropped two spots?”

  “You were number three?” Harry asked, staring at the love of her life in horror.

  “Last year he was,” Theo told her, laughing at the expression on her face. “I keep telling him to hold out for the number one spot, but it looks like that’s a moot point now.”

  “Three,” she growled to herself, digging her fingernails into Iakovos’ thigh.

  He twined his fingers through hers and gave his brother an annoyed frown. “You just had to mention that, didn’t you?”

  “Sorry, didn’t know it was a sore topic.” He tipped his head to the side and looked at them. “So, when are you two going to get married?”

  Harry stopped glaring at Iakovos and turned a smile on Theo. “What an excellent question, one I’m sure Yacky is just dying to answer. Aren’t you?”

  Iakovos turned a smile on her that just about melted her innards. “Of course, sweetheart.”

  “Well?”

  He answered her in Greek, kissing her fingertips. She looked from one man to the other as Theo obviously asked a question. Iakovos answered, gave her another beatific smile, patted her cheek, then leaned back against the seat of the limo and closed his eyes, his thumb rubbing little circles on the back of her hand.

  “Ah,” Theo said, giving her his half grin. “That should be good.”

  “I’m not talking to either of you,” she said, and stared out the window until they arrived at the hotel, ignoring both Theo’s laugh and the fire that Iakovos could start with just one brush of his thumb.

  CHAPTER 14

  The blissful routine of their life lasted for another couple of weeks until the day when Iakovos woke up to find that his body was wracked with some horrible virus that had been going around his office.

  “This is what you get for going off to work the last two days. I told you that you were coming down with something,” Harry told him when he struggled to get out of bed. “Honestly, men! Stay there, and I’ll call the doctor.”

  “I don’t need a doctor,” he said fretfully, annoyed at her high-handed manner with him. He was a man, dammit. He had important business demands. You didn’t rise to the top by lying around whenever some insidious bug invaded your body.

  It took him five minutes to get himself untangled from the sheets before he could stand, and the second he did, he felt a hundred times worse.

  “The doctor’s on his way, and Mrs. Avrabos has made you—what are you doing out of bed?” Harry tsked, set down a mug of some steaming liquid and tried to put him back to bed.

  “I have to use the toilet,” he said with dignity, even though he didn’t. He had an idea about taking a quick shower and escaping to the office before she noticed he was gone, but by the time he managed to get his teeth brushed, he was so exhausted and so mi
serable that he staggered back to the bedroom.

  “Sit down for a minute and drink that flu medicine,” Harry said as she stripped the sheets off the bed. “You must be running a fever, because your sheets are damp with sweat.”

  He groaned and leaned back in the chair, just wishing to die quietly in some dark corner.

  “My poor darling.” Harry’s cool hands were there, helping him into bed, tucking blankets around him, and pouring an obnoxious hot liquid down his throat. He opened his eyes to stare balefully at her. She brushed the hair back off his forehead. “You don’t get sick much, do you?”

  “No. I don’t have time for it. I don’t have time for it now. We’re working on a buyout. I’m going in to the office.” He closed his eyes and hoped death would claim him. “I’ll do that in a minute.”

  “Yes, you do that,” she said soothingly.

  He woke up an hour later, just long enough for his personal doctor to examine him and declare in a solemn voice that he had the same virus everyone else had. Iakovos muttered rude things about that, and promptly fell asleep again.

  When he woke up a few hours after that, it was to find Harry sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, speaking on the phone to Dmitri.

  “No, he can’t, Dmitri. He’s running a fever, and he’s been getting sicker and sicker, and last night I had to practically pour him into bed. The doctor says he has to rest. Just tell the board or the investors or whoever it is who is nagging you to make him come in today that he’s ill, and he’ll be there when he can be there.”

  “Eglantine, I forbid you to speak to Dmitri about me like I’m not here,” he said crossly, feeling like he’d been run over by a two-ton semitruck, but irritated nonetheless that she would try to run his life like that. “If I say I have to go to work, I will go to work. Now move so I can get up and take a shower.”

  She pursed her lips and put one hand on his chest, holding the phone over his head with the other. “Tell you what—you get the phone, and you can go to work today.”