Nine Months To Tame The Tycoon by Chantelle Shaw, Annie West

CHAPTER TWO

CORAPAUSEDINthe act of rifling through her bag, her head lifting at the sound of that oh-so-nonchalant voice.

She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust him further than she could shove that outrageously spectacular body. She was tall and fit but he looked taller and fitter.

Her gaze slid down across that broad chest with its light smattering of hair. Just dark enough to emphasise his defined pectoral muscles and—

Damn! She dragged her attention back to his face.

It gave nothing away. In fact it was suspiciously blank of expression, which would have made her hackles rise even if she hadn’t seen the knowing gleam in those sea-green eyes.

He was laughing at her.

The sensible thing would be to leave him to his amusement. Cora had an inbuilt hatred of being the source of any man’s amusement. Once bitten...

But she had a strong sensible streak, as well as too much experience of people coming to grief, especially in and near the sea. People who thought it would be okay to try scuba diving without lessons, or drive jet skis while drunk. Or get so badly sunburnt they needed medical care.

At least Poseidon had enough sense to lie in the shade, and from the bronzed colour of his skin he wasn’t going to burn any time soon.

She sucked in a breath, realising her attention had dipped to those wide straight shoulders. And he’d noticed.

She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. Okay, he might not be overtly smiling but inwardly he was laughing at her expense. Her nape tightened at a flash of memory. Adrian, golden haired and blue eyed. Laughing.

Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply.

If her instincts were right, this man and Adrian had a lot in common.

But you don’t know for sure. And you can’t leave him here without even a drink.

Cora wanted to ask how he came to be here, alone, naked and without provisions, but no doubt it would be some story of a stupid joke by friends. Besides, she suspected any show of curiosity would feed his ego.

She sighed. ‘You can have some of my lunch if you like.’

Doris always packed too much food, believing that a big girl like Cora needed a lot of fuel. It was true that when she worked in the field, Cora burned up a lot of energy and needed extra calories. Yet she hated being categorised as a big girl. Even at twenty-six those words hurt. Just as well motherly Doris had no idea. She’d be upset if she knew.

‘That would be excellent. Thank you.’ He propped himself up on one elbow and gave her a flashing smile that would have weakened her knees if she wasn’t immune to gorgeous, self-centred men.

She shifted her weight in the sand. Okay, maybe there was a little melting of the tendons, but she had this man’s measure. Forewarned was forearmed.

As for being the butt of his amusement...

‘On one condition.’

Cora almost laughed at the way his dark eyebrows shot up in a look of astonishment that was clearly genuine. It appeared nobody was in the habit of denying Poseidon what he wanted, or setting limits on his games.

Interesting to know. That could explain his aura of casual confidence. But then, people gifted with amazing looks were usually confident.

‘What is it?’ His eyebrows lowered and eyes slitted so his stare looked full of suspicion.

Cora couldn’t prevent her huff of laughter. ‘Don’t fret. I’m not asking for a share of all your worldly goods.’ She gestured at the empty sand around him.

When she met his eyes again he wore a curious expression she couldn’t identify.

It struck her she was spending far too much energy puzzling over a stranger she’d never see again.

‘I prefer not to eat lunch with a naked stranger. I’d rather you covered up.’

‘To preserve your modesty?’ His long mouth twitched in a way Cora found too attractive. Until his gaze moved to her damp shirt, where her wet hair and swimsuit made the fabric cling to her breasts. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got nothing to cover myself with.’ He paused and she felt the silence with each ponderous beat of her pulse. ‘Unless you could spare me some clothing?’

Cora swallowed a smile. Someone should warn him about overplaying his hand. It was obvious he wanted her to strip off her shirt. She hadn’t missed those quick glances at her breasts where, to her chagrin, her nipples were tight, hard peaks.

‘You don’t have hang-ups about wearing a woman’s clothes? Some men might feel their manhood compromised.’

‘If it’s that or starvation, I’ll opt for the clothes. My ego’s not that fragile.’

She’d bet it wasn’t.

This time it wasn’t a short huff of laughter but a chuckle that escaped. If he was trying for soulful and half-starved he shouldn’t look so strong and able-bodied. She’d never met a less pitiable specimen.

‘Okay.’ She swung her bag down to the sand between them, noticing from the corner of her vision the way he rose higher on his elbow as if intent on the striptease he expected. Cora straightened and put her hands to the hem of her over-sized shirt. Yes, there it was, a flash of anticipation in that hooded gaze.

For a second longer she hesitated, genuinely this time. Wondering if this was a huge mistake.

She could leave a bottle of water with him or offer him a lift back to the harbourside town on the next island where his friends presumably were.

But she was hungry. Why should she have to leave and eat in the sun because of some thoughtless tourist?

The fact that she enjoyed the verbal sparring between them was another factor. How long since her pulse had raced like that? Since she’d felt anything out of the ordinary?

Besides, she rather liked getting one up on this self-satisfied stranger. It was time someone showed him he couldn’t have everything his own way.

So instead of reefing her shirt over her head, she grabbed her baggy, knee-length shorts and tugged them off with one quick movement.

‘There you are.’ She bent and retrieved them from the sand, giving them a little shake before tossing them into Poseidon’s lap.

His surprise almost made her laugh.

Except it was quickly eclipsed by something that made her bones soften. An eager heat in those narrowed eyes as he surveyed her legs and smiled.

Cora felt that sliding gaze almost like a caress and it banished her momentary sense of victory.

Idiot! She might not have uncovered her body but it seemed this stranger was almost as appreciative of bare legs. His smile morphed from appreciative to hungry, heading towards predatory.

Cora’s amusement vanished.

She jammed her fists on her hips, grateful that her shirt covered her to her thighs.

‘If you want to share my food we need to get one thing straight. I’m not on the menu. Got it? I’m not staying alone here with a man who thinks I’m available for his sexual convenience.’

The vibe she’d got from him wasn’t the sort she’d had from men who’d take without asking. She was sure, pretty sure, that for all his smug amusement she wasn’t in physical peril. Nevertheless, he needed to understand the ground rules or she’d be back at the boat before he could stop her.

Strato stared up into fiery eyes the colour of his favourite brandy. Heat drilled down his gullet, as if he’d slugged back a double measure. But it wasn’t from sexual anticipation. For he read defiance in her expression and something that might have been worry. Or fear.

For the first time he viewed the situation from her perspective. Alone on a deserted island with a man she knew nothing about. A man who was far bigger and stronger than her. Who made no secret of his sexual interest. And no one within shouting distance to help her if she needed it.

It wasn’t the fire of carnal attraction surging through him. It felt like shame.

He blinked, digesting the unfamiliar sensation.

Unfamiliar, because his casual flirting was always done with women who were patently eager for his attention. Who knew he wanted sex with no strings. Who knew his reputation for ensuring his partners’ pleasure. In that world innuendo was pleasurable foreplay.

Now he was out of his usual environment. His Nereid didn’t know she had nothing to fear. She hadn’t a clue who he was, or that he’d never hurt any woman.

His mouth tightened as he slammed down impenetrable shutters that locked away ancient memories. He never opened them. Except in his nightmares.

Strato raised his hand in a placating gesture and sat up.

‘I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’ He swallowed, surprised to find his throat tight so the words emerged like a growl. ‘I didn’t think. I was just...’

‘Flirting.’ She sighed and her shoulders eased down a little.

He’d done that. Made her uncomfortable, not in a sexually aroused way, but because she was nervous.

‘You have my word of honour that you are totally safe.’

A muscle in his jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. How could he have made such a mistake? He’d become so used to the sexual promiscuity of a self-indulgent lifestyle that he took it for the norm.

Clearly his Nereid didn’t come from that world.

Was that why he found her fascinating?

No, it was more than that. More even than her sexual allure. He liked that she didn’t take any nonsense but said what she thought. Liked her quick thinking and humour, turning the tables on him when she guessed he wanted her to take off her shirt.

She was attracted, he knew that. He guessed she could be enticed into wanting him. But this wasn’t the place or time for seduction.

He couldn’t recall ever making such a mistake in seducing a woman.

Which shows how easy you’ve had it, Doukas. You never have to exert yourself.

‘If you’d prefer to leave, I won’t die of thirst, I promise.’ He reached for the shorts she’d thrown at him, ready to pass them back. Stoically he ignored that they were warm from her body.

‘No. Keep them. You might be glad of the cover if you’re really staying here till sunset.’

Something within him sank. Disappointment? Because a chance-met woman was turning her back on him?

Strato told himself it was a novel experience and, since his life seemed so flat and mundane lately, he should welcome that.

Instead he felt absurdly bereft.

‘Thank you. And thank you for coming to check on me. It was decent of you.’

He felt like a kid, reminded of his manners. Yet he doubted this chastened feeling would last.

She shook her head, long tresses sliding around her breasts in a way that made Strato lock his jaw and concentrate on her face.

She wasn’t beautiful but there was something about her wide mouth and warm, intelligent eyes that felt like beauty. Especially when amusement had danced across her face.

He was used to women with bleached, perfect smiles, pumped-up lips and lots of make-up. When this woman smiled he noticed a couple of her teeth overlapped and as for Botox—she had full lips but he’d swear they were natural.

‘Are you really hungry, or did you just say that?’

‘Starving. It’s my own fault. I only had coffee this morning.’

Strato had only downed a tiny cup of coffee before heading into his office, knowing it was the one place his guests wouldn’t follow.

‘In that case...’ She shrugged. ‘We might as well eat. This is the only shade around and I usually have lunch here.’

Pleasure was a punch to his solar plexus. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she came here often but it was such a cliché and he’d promised not to play flirtatious games. Instead he simply grinned his approval.

Her response was instantaneous. Her eyes flared with a heat that reminded him of warmed cognac. Her breasts rose on a sharp breath that would have stoked his ego if he weren’t used to female admiration.

Strato pretended not to notice. He’d concentrate instead on the simple pleasure of lunch by the sea with a fascinating companion.

Even so, he knew that in the right circumstances, he could find another sort of pleasure with this woman. But it wouldn’t be simple. And he only did simple, didn’t he?

Or were his tastes changing?

Was that why he’d been so restless lately? And why she appealed so much?

‘Thank you for trusting me,’ he murmured. ‘It’s generous of you. Now, do you want to turn around while I dress?’

Remarkably for a woman who’d stood up to him as no one else did and who berated him for his sexually charged interactions, rosy colour swept into her cheeks.

That blush intrigued. She was no wilting violet, scared to face a man. Yet she was a strange mix of confidence and reserve. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a woman blush.

Strato hadn’t met anyone like her.

‘Good idea. I’ll see what Doris packed for lunch.’ She turned, ostentatiously busying herself with her canvas bag.

Damp cotton bunched in Strato’s hands. He’d originally hoped she’d strip off her shirt but he couldn’t complain about the view.

Her tanned legs would feature in his dreams. They were shapely and long. Long enough that he wouldn’t have to bend double to kiss her. Strong too, given all the swimming she’d done. Strong enough to wrap around him and grip hard as he drove deep into her luscious warmth.

Nostrils flaring, he shook the sand from the shorts with a snap and put them on.

If only the press could see you now, Doukas.

Billionaire sets new fashion trend! It puts a whole new spin on wanting to get into her pants.

He huffed out a silent laugh.

The shorts were ancient, faded and a terrible fit. But they were warm from her body and he had to take a few moments to battle his stirring erection as he imagined her naked and willing against him. It was an image his fertile imagination didn’t want to relinquish.

Fortunately she didn’t notice as she unpacked lunch.

Strato breathed deep and reminded himself he didn’t want to scare her off.

He’d promised to behave.

For now.

Later, when she understood he was no threat, it might be intriguing to pursue this sudden attraction.

‘Who’s Doris?’

Cora looked over her shoulder and her stupid heart gave a shuddery heave then catapulted into a rackety beat.

She’d seen him sprawled naked. How could he look even more mouth-wateringly male wearing daggy old shorts?

Yet somehow the contrast between dark golden skin stretched over honed muscle and shabby, faded cotton made him look even sexier.

Maybe it was the nonchalant way he wore the threadbare shorts. His total lack of concern over his appearance, his casual confidence in his own skin were devastatingly attractive to a woman who’d spent too many years overly conscious of her body shape.

On him, tall and well-built would never be called over-sized. He looked gorgeous.

‘Sorry?’

‘You mentioned Doris. I wondered who she was.’

‘Oh.’ Cora dragged her gaze back to the food. ‘She’s the cook at my father’s hotel.’

In fact she was far more.

Cora’s mother died when she was eight, and for the next six years it had just been her and her father, till Doris arrived. The newcomer had been good for them both, breathing new life into the place. She’d also taken Cora under her wing, providing a sounding board through the trials of her teen years, even trying to tame her so she didn’t become a total tomboy.

Cora’s lips twitched. Poor Doris. She was a dear, so loyal and caring. She’d tried her best to turn Cora into a model of housewifely virtues but with limited success.

‘You live with your father?’

She caught a flash of curiosity. It wasn’t surprising for multiple generations to live together, especially in traditional villages such as her own. Clearly this stranger wasn’t from such a background.

Cora glanced out to sea where, in the distance, that massive cruiser was moored. It had come from Athens, Doris reported, after some crew came into harbour for provisions.

‘For the moment. He hasn’t been well.’

She swallowed, recalling that horrible long-distance call. The news her father had suffered a heart attack. The terrible helplessness of being more than a continent away and unable to be with him straight away.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

She shrugged and spread the packets of food between them. ‘He’s improved a lot. He’s doing better.’

Or he would be if he weren’t so stressed about the hotel. The economic downturn had hit hard, just after he’d taken out a huge loan, investing in major improvements that he’d thought would set the business up for long-term profit. Now they faced a particularly poor tourist season, with bookings down and no idea how they’d meet the repayments.

Naturally Cora had stayed to help.

‘I’m glad he’s okay.’ The stranger paused and Cora sensed his scrutiny. To her relief he turned his attention to the food. ‘Your Doris has provided a feast.’

‘She doesn’t do things by halves.’ Cora smiled and broke a large piece of cheese and spinach pie apart, passing him half. ‘She even makes her own filo pastry.’

He took a bite and Cora watched him pause, eyes widening then narrowing to unreadable slits as he slowly savoured it. He took another, bigger bite.

Doris would approve of him. She liked anyone who appreciated her cooking. Cora turned her attention back to the food though, strangely uncomfortable watching his obvious enjoyment. His gusto made her wonder if he attacked other physical pleasures with the same enthusiasm.

Absurdly she felt that phantom brush of heat in her cheeks again. Because once more her thoughts turned carnal.

‘That’s real home cooking,’ he said, what sounded like genuine emotion drawing Cora’s curiosity. It was more than simple appreciation. ‘I haven’t tasted food like this for years.’

Yet he wasn’t starved. That imposing body was impressive.

‘No one cooks like that for you?’ She refused to ask if he had a wife. If he did she pitied the woman, for this man had the unmistakable air of someone committed to pleasure without concern for others.

‘Not since I was young.’ He took another bite with strong, white teeth and Cora watched, mesmerised, the rhythmic action of his jaw and the way his throat muscles worked as he swallowed.

She unscrewed a bottle of water and took a swig.

‘May I?’ He nodded to the bottle and she passed it, watching him put it to his lips.

Glittering eyes surveyed her over the raised bottle and she turned away, dismayed at her body’s reaction. Because he’d put his mouth where hers had been. Which made her think of his mouth on hers. Which made her breasts tighten and heat stir low in her pelvis.

This was so not her. Maybe she was the one who’d had a touch too much sun. She certainly wasn’t responding to Poseidon as she normally did to men.

With a huff of annoyance she shoved salad and olives towards him, then the bread. Normally Cora would have eaten ravenously after all her exertions. Now her appetite waned.

Sharing lunch with this man had been a mistake. He mightn’t be physically dangerous but he disturbed her in ways no man had since Adrian. And even with Adrian—

‘You’re not eating.’

She looked up to find him watching her. For an instant everything inside sparked to alert, then his gaze slid away towards the beach as if appreciating the view and she relaxed.

Cora frowned. A single look did that? Did he realise? Was that why he turned away?

Slowly she reached for an orange. ‘I suspect your need is greater than mine.’

Which was nonsense. She’d been hungry before. Frowning, she concentrated on peeling the fruit, inhaling the citrus tang and popping a juicy segment into her mouth.

Silence lengthened as they ate. Gradually Cora felt her shoulders lower, her tight muscles easing.

Someone seeing them would think the atmosphere companionable as they concentrated on the view.

Yet Cora was totally aware of the man beside her. The reach of his long arm as he explored the goodies Doris had provided. The easy shift and stretch of his long body as he got more comfortable on the sand.

Her own body kept leaning closer, till she realised what she was doing and pulled back.

Determined, Cora concentrated on her orange and thinking of something else.

It had been a tough morning with that reminder from the bank sending her father into something like panic.

Usually her trips to this tiny island helped her deal with the stress over her father and the hotel, which she feared they’d lose. Today even the sea, which always brought solace, failed her.

Because more than half her mind was on Poseidon, happily devouring her food, rather than on devising some new strategy to save her dad from bankruptcy.

Abruptly she came to a decision. Her earlier instincts had been right. This was a mistake.

Licking the sticky juice from her fingers, she reached for the water bottle and poured some over her palms. Then she rose. ‘I have to go.’

‘You’re leaving?’

She saw surprise on Poseidon’s honed features. Genuine surprise, not feigned.

Cora felt satisfaction unfurl. Given his penchant for flirting and the way he guarded his thoughts, it felt like a victory to see his astonished look.

He probably wasn’t used to women leaving till he was finished with them.

She drew a shaky breath and told herself that didn’t apply to her because she’d never let him start with her. There’d be no casual passion with a stranger. Not for her.

‘It’s time.’ She hesitated then made the offer that any decent person would. ‘Can I give you a lift?’

His narrowed eyes caught hers and she felt a frisson of awareness skid down her spine and curl into her belly. She swallowed. Given her history she’d prided herself on her defences against predatory men. This man made a mockery of those. With just a look!

‘Thank you, no. I’m fine.’ His hand dropped to those ancient shorts. ‘You’ll want these back.’

‘No!’ Did her voice sound strangled? ‘Thanks, but I don’t want them.’

Even if she could wear them with half the panache he did, she’d rather not see them again. They’d remind her of today’s madness. That sudden surging hunger. For a complete stranger!

For a second longer Cora looked at him. Trying to imprint his image in her memory? Abruptly she turned away.

Strato watched her cross the beach, the loose sand turning each step into an undulating sway of curvaceous hips that dried his mouth. He groped for the water bottle and gulped.

Now she was on firm sand and her walk became an athletic stride, the movement of her long, gilded legs mesmerising.

Oh, yes, he’d dream about those legs.

He took another gulp. But his dry throat had nothing to do with the need for water.

It was all down to her.

When was the last time a woman walked out on him?

He understood that she was wary of a complete stranger. So he’d masked his thoughts and projected an aura of calm.

It had worked. They’d sat companionably. Long enough for him to become addicted to the sight of her eating that damned orange. He’d swear she didn’t realise how the sight of her pink tongue, swiping up drips of juice, teased him. Or how he’d watched her licking her fingers and wished she’d lick him instead.

His frown became a scowl.

Strato had a reputation as a playboy but the gaps between lovers grew longer and even he had never dumped a woman or, in today’s case, two, and instantly pursued another! He didn’t understand it.

There was something about this woman that called to him.

Sexual allure, obviously.

But more too. Character. That was it. Feistiness melded with...decency. Her concern for him had been real, even through her annoyance. That concern had made him feel things he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

That didn’t say much for the people he mixed with, did it?

Even the lunch she’d shared had stirred unfamiliar yearnings. That cheese pie reminded him of his mother’s. A tantalising flavour he hadn’t tasted since he was eight. It had been like biting into sunshine and rare memories of happiness. No wonder he felt unsettled.

His eyes narrowed as his Nereid disappeared around the point without a backward glance. She had no interest in prolonging their acquaintance.

Or did she know that by leaving she’d pique his interest?

Whatever the reasons, this woman fascinated him, far more than anyone he could recall.

Strato reached for the segment of orange she’d left. He bit into it, tasting the bright sunburst of sweet, tart citrus. His tongue tingled as he sucked up the juice.

Strato closed his eyes and imagined it wasn’t an orange he was feasting on but her.

The question was, would he give in to temptation?