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

CHAPTER SIX

STRATOCUTTHEengine as the tender neared the yacht. Before either he or the waiting crew member could do it, Cora rose, balancing easily in the small boat, and secured it to the larger vessel.

Her movements were economical, betraying the ease of long practice. According to the report he’d received, she worked off boats all the time, and had even spent a season between research jobs crewing a luxury yacht.

But it wasn’t her nautical skills that held his attention. It was the way her khaki capri pants clung to her hips and buttocks as she moved, the supple twist of her body and the swell of her full breasts against her top.

She left him breathless.

It was so long since any woman had stolen the air from his lungs that he couldn’t remember it happening.

Careful, Doukas. These are uncharted waters.

As if he cared. He’d been in a lather of anticipation for days, since he’d decided to make her confront the magnetism between them.

He’d crossed to the shore in a state of mixed eagerness and anxiety.

Anxiety! Him! Because it was just possible this woman might reject his offer.

It was unheard of.

But his response to Cora Georgiou was unlike anything he’d known.

He’d tried to tell himself it didn’t matter if he didn’t bed her. If he couldn’t capture that energy, that spirit and that sexy body in his arms. Or trade banter with her again in a way that made him feel energised, not enervated. Yet as he’d strode up to the hotel his heart had been in his mouth and his belly clenched as if anticipating a blow.

Till he’d seen her kiss her father in the doorway and stoop to pick up a single suitcase. Then Strato had felt a rush of relief.

The thought of not seeing her again, not discovering why she challenged and delighted him so, had disturbed him.

Cora reached for her case but he forestalled her, grabbing it before she could. Her fingers brushed his and a jolt of energy shot through him. And through her too. Her eyes widened and she curled her hand protectively close to her body as if that spark between them burned.

‘Allow me.’ Strato smiled as he gestured for her to go first. She felt this connection as much as he.

Cora’s seduction would be swift and satisfying.

As well as carnal satisfaction, it would be a relief to conquer the unsettled mood he’d been in since they met. His reaction to her was surely heightened by uncertainty. Surely it would lessen with familiarity...

His thoughts frayed as she climbed up onto the yacht, all toned muscle and delicious femininity.

Did she really think covering herself from neck to calves would stop him appreciating her stunning body?

She couldn’t be so innocent.

Yet Strato carefully suppressed his smile as he followed her. She was skittish enough without him making it obvious he wanted to take her straight to bed.

Skittish but delightfully aware of him.

Strato passed the surprisingly light case to his crew member with a word of thanks and turned to Cora. She might be at home aboard vessels but there was a quaint awkwardness about the way she stood, hands clasped, that pierced his smugness.

It reminded him that despite the sexual charge thickening the air, Cora had doubts about being here.

He stepped close and her head swung up, eyes wide.

Strato stopped and surprised himself. ‘Why don’t you have a rest before dinner? Vassili can take you to your stateroom.’

He’d intended to offer her champagne on deck as they watched the island slide by. But her wary expression and stiff pose made him feel strangely protective.

Of the woman he intended to seduce.

Another first.

‘Thank you. I’d like that. It’s been a busy day.’

Strato pasted on a smile, as if he didn’t mind she’d agreed so readily. ‘Vassili can give you a tour of the yacht so you can find your way around. I’ll see you on the upper deck in an hour and a half.’

He stood, watching her go, revising his plan, telling himself it made sense to give her space. Instead of pushing her, which would make her dig her heels in, he’d keep his distance. Let her stew. Let her feel the torment of unfulfilled desire till she was desperate for him. Then she’d come to him.

Then and only then would he give her what her body craved.

Cora stared in the full-length mirror of her marble and glass bathroom and grimaced.

Seeing herself in such surroundings sent tremors of unease down her spine. She looked so ordinary, wearing a plain white top and khaki pants, her face devoid of make-up. So not at home in this extravagant setting.

She knew the women who stayed on yachts like this. Women who didn’t work for a living, unless you called snaring and keeping a rich husband or boyfriend work. Women who’d shriek at wearing chain-store clothes or chipping their nails by doing actual physical labour.

It reinforced her suspicion that Strato was interested because she was a curiosity. She didn’t fit the mould.

Her resolve strengthened. She wasn’t about to become one of his women. If he thought she’d be so awed by luxury that she’d fall into his bed, he was about to learn a lesson.

Cora didn’t fit here, unless it was as a deckhand, working to keep this superyacht in sparkling condition. It made Adrian’s yacht, or more precisely his father’s, look like a minnow beside a shark.

Her hand strayed to the smooth, sweeping lines of the custom-built vanity unit. She’d bet all the money she didn’t have that the stone was Pentelic marble. Sunlight pouring through the large window highlighted a warm golden tinge to the stone she’d initially thought pure white.

Only the best for a man like Strato Doukas. Why wouldn’t a billionaire demand the same stone as that used to create the Parthenon?

She shook her head, remembering her tour of this floating mansion. There’d been a pool and spa, several lounge rooms, small dining room, large dining room and a bar big enough to host all her village. A cinema, library, billiards room, sauna and an enormous gym and massage suite that, despite its pristine condition, had the air of being well used. She’d lost count of the staterooms and that was without descending below decks to the staff quarters.

Cora brushed her hair then yanked it back in a tight ponytail. Then she wrapped it deftly around her fingers and secured it in a no-nonsense bun.

She wouldn’t dress up for dinner. Soon Strato would tire of playing a game he couldn’t win.

Because Cora wasn’t the naïve woman she’d been before. Adrian had seen to that. Opulent yachts didn’t impress her. For she knew about the men who owned them, their strain of seedy indulgence and sense of entitlement.

Yet her nerves strung tight as she moved into her enormous stateroom and shuffled into her deck shoes. She felt too wired.

Rest had been impossible. She’d tried. Except lying on the king-sized bed she’d kept imagining Strato sprawled beside her, naked, with that devilish glint in his eyes and the smile that made her feel as if the two of them shared a secret.

Finally she’d got up and had a shower, hoping to cool her overheated body. But she kept visualising him there with her. Those long-fingered hands playing across her, that muscular body sliding against her as he—

With a huff of annoyance Cora opened her door and headed out to meet her host. Some bracing sea air would clear her head.

She found him on his private deck, along with a table set for two, complete with a centrepiece of fragrant roses.

Cora wanted to curl her lip at the predictability of the romantic setting. Except it was beautiful. Not fussy but the best quality. The tablecloth wasn’t snowy linen but a rustic cloth with a Greek key design that looked handwoven. The silverware shone and the glassware, while elegantly made, didn’t teeter on overlong stems that would be dangerous on an unstable sea.

She noticed all that because she didn’t want to notice him, over against the railing, looking out to sea as they cruised past a small island.

The view was spectacular, the sun low over the water, turning the air golden.

Finally, unable to resist, she slanted a look at Strato, her gaze snagging on his straight shoulders before roving further.

He hadn’t changed for dinner either. In long shorts that hugged his buttocks and thighs, and a short-sleeved shirt that left his sinewy arms bare, he looked fit, strong and mouth-wateringly masculine. Even the way the breeze ruffled his dark hair enhanced his attractiveness.

He was talking on the phone and she caught drifts of conversation. To her surprise it seemed to be about labour negotiations in the Far East.

Not what she expected from a hedonist who spent his life chasing pleasure.

He turned, gaze colliding with Cora’s, and something shifted inside her, as if he’d untied something vital.

‘I have to go. We’ll talk later.’ Putting the phone away, he smiled, and that curling dimple appeared beside his mouth. ‘Welcome, Cora. You feel rested?’

‘A little.’ It was a lie, but better than admitting her inner turmoil.

‘Would you like a drink?’ He lifted his glass of sparkling liquid and her nerves settled a little. Because now he was following a predictable pattern, trying to use champagne to turn this into a celebration and weaken her resolve.

‘I’d rather have water, thanks.’

His eyebrows arched and his smile grew as he crossed to a bar. ‘Good. That’s what I’m having. Still or sparkling?’

Cora blinked. He was drinking water? And talking business? Was this the man who kept a harem on his yacht and spent the day lolling naked on the beach?

‘Sparkling,’ she croaked. It was easier when he acted to type. Then she could dismiss him, or try to.

When he turned and held out a glass, Cora’s chest squeezed. Not in fear or dislike. But because, looking into those dancing eyes, she acknowledged what she’d tried to ignore.

She wanted to be here.

Wanted to bask in his smile and stand close to that imposing body that drew her like a swimmer to a warm current.

‘Here’s to a memorable cruise.’ He clinked his glass against hers and Cora nodded and sipped.

That was the beginning of an utterly unexpected evening. At every turn Strato defied expectations.

They moved to the railing and he asked her about the island they were passing, what she knew of its history and the marine life in the area. From there the conversation headed to marine conservation areas in the region, the best places for diving, and her recommendations. Strato mentioned some places he’d thought of visiting and asked her opinion.

Instead of flirting he conversed sensibly and listened to her responses. Gone was the teasing light in his eyes and his gaze didn’t once drop below her neck. Cora found herself relaxing, slowly dropping her guard as they talked.

By the time they were at the table, feasting on fresh seafood and a bottle of crisp white wine from a small Greek vineyard she’d never heard of, she was no longer watching every word. For there was no sexual innuendo. No sly smiles. Just pleasant company in gorgeous surroundings. Even if she was constantly aware of the man opposite, her eyes drawn to his compelling features.

She sighed. ‘The sunset is gorgeous from here. There’s something about being on the water that makes it special.’

‘I agree. It’s the best place for sunrises and sunsets.’

Hours ago Cora would have scoffed at the idea of Strato being up to see the sun rise, but now nothing would surprise her.

She leaned back in her seat, enjoying the view, even if she had to work not to keep glancing back at the man opposite her. The sea looked like liquid silk, peach and an intense fluorescent pink that should have looked unreal against the gathering indigo.

Cora realised that for the first time in ages, she felt completely relaxed. Not stressing about the hotel or finances or how looming bankruptcy might affect her father’s health.

If Strato hadn’t sauntered into her life with his outrageous proposition, can-do attitude and phenomenal wealth, able to fill their hotel with a few phone calls, she’d be steeling herself to talk to her father about selling the family business.

She hated Strato’s sense of entitlement, believing she’d fall into his hands, but the hard truth was he’d saved her father’s business and, Cora believed, his life. For she feared her dad would fade away without the hotel that generations of his family had built.

Cora blinked, frowning as she realised how much she owed Strato. He’d given them the breathing space they needed to make good by the time next year’s hopefully normal tourist season came around.

‘What’s wrong, Cora?’ That deep voice caressed her, comforting yet exciting at the same time.

She took a moment to gather herself, conquering the weakness that made her want to lean into him, seeking comfort. Tonight it was too easy to forget he wasn’t a friend.

‘Thank you, Strato.’ She met his gaze squarely. ‘I didn’t thank you for what you’ve done for my father, making it possible to keep the hotel running. That means a lot. I’ve been so worried about him.’

His eyebrows angled down as he frowned. ‘I’m glad it’s helped. I like him. But my motives are selfish. You know why I did it.’

His expression dared her to think well of him.

Cora nodded. ‘I’m not likely to forget.’ How often was a woman, particularly an ordinary working woman, propositioned in such spectacular fashion? She was no femme fatale.

Yet she didn’t see that familiar speculative gleam in his eyes. The glint of sexual interest and invitation she’d associated with him from the first. He looked genuinely concerned she’d mistake him for someone benevolent.

Her mouth twitched.

‘What’s so funny?’ He looked wary and that made her smile broaden.

‘You. Worried I might mistake you for a good guy.’

He wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t.

His actions were prompted wholly by self-interest.

Yet he was upfront about it. He wasn’t deceitful. Cora could cope with Strato’s sort of selfishness. As long as she didn’t fall into the trap of believing there was more to his actions than an attempt to get his own way.

‘That’s not the way I’m usually described.’ His mouth rucked up at the corner in that almost-smile that had fascinated her from the first. She felt her breath slow and made herself look away.

‘I can imagine.’ She’d read the headlines.

‘Would you be sorry to lose the hotel? If it weren’t for your father?’

Cora shrugged. ‘I can’t imagine it not being part of my life. My earliest memories are there.’ It had seemed a golden place when her mother was alive. Then, when it was just her and her father, they’d been a tight-knit unit, drawing on each other for strength as they fought grief and found a way to go on. ‘It’s been in the family for generations and it’s a special place. We have guests who come back year after year.’ Though fewer this year, due to circumstances beyond their control.

‘Do you want to run a hotel?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m used to it but, no, it’s not my dream. Unless I could install a manager and spend most of my time working on a marine project.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘Sadly funding for marine research isn’t easy to come by.’ Which was why she’d done a stint working on a yacht. ‘Especially not near our island.’

‘So it’s your father keeping you there.’

Cora slanted a look at Strato, surprised at his curiosity. Was he, like Adrian, feigning interest to make it easier to get her into bed? Yet that wasn’t the vibe she got from the big man sitting there so relaxed, twisting his glass on the table.

‘He isn’t forcing me to stay. I want to. He’s my father and I love him.’

The light changed. At least she assumed it was that, because for a second Strato’s face darkened, turned stark and brooding. But a moment later the impression was gone and he looked just the same.

‘How about you, Strato?’ She felt hyper-conscious of his name on her tongue. ‘Are you sentimental about your family home?’

‘No.’ The answer came swiftly. ‘I don’t have a family home.’

‘Really? There’s nowhere special you feel attached—’

‘Nowhere. No family home, no family. And I’m not sentimental.’

Cora heard the warning note and stiffened. Gone was the companionable man she’d begun to relax with. Gone the easy conversationalist. His tone was as welcoming as a Trespassers will be shot sign and his features set hard.

Strato saw her double take, that instant of shock when she read the grimness he couldn’t hide, and silently cursed.

He was used to deflecting interest in his personal life, and particularly the past, with ease. A casually dismissive comment, a change of subject and it was done. Tonight for the first time he could remember, that skill eluded him.

Because Cora touched a part of him that no one else did? Because he’d felt a flicker of jealousy over her relationship with her father and her obviously happy family life?

Strato dismissed the notion. His past was dead and buried. He didn’t yearn for family. Instead the thought sent a glacial chill through him.

But he saw Cora’s recoil and regretted his curt tone. A moment before she’d been relaxed and happy to share.

Pushing aside instinctive distaste, for he never spoke of this, he said, ‘I was orphaned.’ The words stuck like shards of glass in his throat.

Cora’s tight features softened. ‘I’m sorry. That must have been dreadfully hard.’

He made himself shrug, as if his neck and shoulders hadn’t seized up. ‘I was lucky enough to be adopted.’ He paused and repeated, ‘I was very lucky.’

It was what he’d told himself over and over. What others had said in those early days. Somehow, though, he’d never believed it.

‘So you were happy with your adoptive parents?’

Another question he never answered in public. Not because his aunt and uncle had been anything other than kind, decent people, but because talk of family screwed him up.

‘They cared.’ He swallowed a mouthful of wine. ‘They gave me stability and safety.’ But no matter how hard his aunt in particular tried, they couldn’t replace what he’d lost. ‘My adoptive father took me into his business straight from school and taught me everything he knew. When he died I inherited the company and built it into what I have now.’

Cora watched a smile that wasn’t really a smile stretch his features and felt the hairs rise on her nape.

Something was wrong. Something that turned this sexy, self-assured man into a shadow of himself.

It lasted bare seconds. He caught her gaze on him and sat straighter, his expression shifting into something approximating amusement.

At her or himself?

‘Sorry. I don’t talk about the past much. I prefer to focus on the present. And prospects for the future.’ His intimate smile told her he was thinking of his goal of persuading her into sex.

Yet the blankness in his eyes belied that inviting smile.

She nodded, knowing it was time to change the subject. ‘I understand that. So, are you going to tell me how you turned your adoptive father’s medium-sized transport company into a global corporation?’

If she’d expected eagerness, she didn’t get it. It seemed Strato wasn’t the sort of man who needed to broadcast his success. Why would he? His wealth spoke for itself. Nevertheless, his body language changed as he refilled her glass and started talking, briefly outlining his strategies and successes and sharing some amusing anecdotes.

Even as she smiled and responded, fascinated by the different world he described, Cora’s thoughts returned to the brief but real emotion she’d seen. The grim darkness that had engulfed him.

It had made her want to reach out to him. Not because Strato was the most attractive, charismatic man she’d ever met, but because for an instant she’d seen something that made her want to comfort him.

She couldn’t shift the idea she’d had a glimpse of the man behind the headlines. A man who kept himself hidden.

Who was Strato Doukas? She could no longer put him in a box and label him as simply a shallow party animal. That was one side of his character. Maybe one he played up?

Or was she projecting because she wanted him to be more? Because the man she’d seen this evening was one she liked too much. One who intrigued her.

Strato confused her. She wanted to understand him—the man who thought he could bribe her into bed!

The trouble was, the longer they were together, the more she realised the idea wasn’t as outrageous as she’d told herself. It was actually...tempting.