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CHAPTER FOUR
‘HOW DO I LOOK?’ Winnie asked her siblings.
‘Scared,’ Vivi declared bluntly.
Winnie smoothed damp palms down over her ample hips and looked nervously in the mirror. The dress was wine red, purchased for their trip to Greece to meet their grandfather, the stretchy fabric hugging her curves to define every ounce of excess weight. And there was excess, she thought ruefully, because she had yet to lose all the extra pounds she had gained during pregnancy. Her long hours, the high-powered pressure of working in a busy kitchen and the irregular, often snatched meals had all played havoc with her intention to get back down to her original weight. ‘I look fat,’ she said curtly.
‘It’s not a date,’ Vivi pointed out drily.
‘You are not fat,’ Zoe protested. ‘You’re just small and curvy and obviously he likes that.’
‘Doesn’t matter what he likes!’ Vivi interrupted. ‘If he tries to lay a finger on you, scream the place down, Winnie!’
‘Vivi,’ Winnie said gently, her sister’s drama ironically calming her. ‘Eros and I can barely speak to each other politely. He’s hardly likely to make a pass at me. That’s not what this is about.’
‘Well, be careful about what you agree to,’ the redhead warned her. ‘We don’t want to lose Teddy every weekend just because you’re usually working.’
‘I won’t agree to anything tonight. I’ll ask for time to think over any suggestion he makes.’
‘Don’t be late. You have to get up early tomorrow,’ Zoe reminded her.
The sisters were catching the train down to John and Liz’s home for their regular monthly catch-up with their former foster parents. Their grandfather had bought out the couple’s mortgage to ensure that the house wasn’t repossessed but he had refused to sign the property over to John and Liz until his granddaughters had met his terms and married. Winnie suppressed a troubled sigh as she slid her feet into vertiginous sparkly heels borrowed from Zoe and never worn. Zoe loved glitter and sparkle but had to be dragged at gunpoint into social situations.
Winnie thought ruefully about the financial difficulties that had plunged the Brookes into crisis. After John had suffered a stroke, money had been in short supply for years afterwards. John’s plumbing business had failed, leaving the kindly couple deep in debt. Although he had eventually made an excellent physical recovery, they had been unable to meet their mortgage payments and they had fallen behind until eventually they had been facing the loss of their home.
Reminding herself soothingly that that worry was currently at bay, thanks to their grandfather, Winnie left the house and climbed into the taxi waiting outside for her. Eros had phoned her to tell her she would be picked up, his dark, deep voice cool and very much to the point. Why did that make her recall Eros practically purring down the phone as he’d chatted to her when he’d been far from home? In all, she had only known him for a few months. It had been a meaningless fling for him, she told herself impatiently, refusing to idealise what they had once shared. Their affair, as such, had stretched over two months and had encompassed long weekends spent together but Eros had often had to travel abroad.
The taxi dropped her off at a contemporary apartment block and she travelled up in the lift to the penthouse, her mouth dry as a bone as she contemplated seeing Eros again. He was Teddy’s sperm donor, she instructed herself sourly, nothing more.
A manservant ushered her into a large open-plan space tiled in limestone, sparsely furnished and showcasing several modern artworks. Her coat and scarf were taken while she curiously scanned her surroundings, surprised to find Eros occupying such a contemporary setting. His country house had been late Georgian and, like his spacious city town house, traditional in decor. Of course, he was divorced and single again, she reminded herself resolutely, and it was perfectly possible that the historic properties had been more his wife’s style than his.
Yet where had his wife been all those many months while she was working for Eros? In Greece, only seeing him on special occasions? Winnie ground her teeth together, angrily stamping out her curiosity while scolding herself for her lack of discipline in allowing her mind to wander. She could not afford to be woolly-minded, or sentimentally slipping back into the past around a man as shrewd and quick to take advantage as Eros Nevrakis.
‘Would you like a drink before dinner?’ Eros enquired from behind her, forcing her to spin round in surprise, and in doing so she almost overbalanced in the very high heels she had worn in an effort to look taller...and therefore slimmer.
Eros reached out an arm as strong as steel and clamped it to her side to steady her, long fingers biting into the curve of her hip. Of course, he was noticing that there was more value to every pound of her than there had been two years earlier, she mocked herself, knocked off balance by his proximity. Bigger was bigger and couldn’t be concealed.
‘Thanks... Er... I don’t mind if I do,’ she muttered uneasily, stepping back from him in haste.
Eros, already entranced by her back view, was practically mesmerised by the front view. The thin fabric outlined her superb violin curves, enclosing lush full breasts, a still-tiny waist and a glorious rounded bottom. Ne... Yes, there was more of her but it was a voluptuously sexy more that sent lust rocketing through him.
Hugely self-conscious beneath that keen green-eyed appraisal, Winnie pushed her hair back from her brow.
‘You’ve grown your hair,’ Eros remarked.
‘Too busy to go to the hairdresser,’ she parried awkwardly, studying him nervously from below her lashes, afraid to be caught in the act of staring.
For, my goodness, Eros deserved to be stared at. Clad in designer jeans that cupped his lean hips and faithfully outlined every sleek line of his long muscular legs, and a silver-grey shirt that defined the width of his shoulders and the breadth of his powerful torso, he was dazzlingly male. Winnie clutched the glass of wine he gave her, grateful to have something to occupy her hands.
‘Teddy’s a terrific little boy,’ he commented, surprising her with that compliment.
Winnie nodded, managing a smile. ‘I think so too,’ she said inanely and then winced for herself.
‘Obviously we both want what’s best for him and we want to make him happy,’ Eros intoned.
‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions,’ Winnie muttered ruefully. ‘Please don’t overwhelm Teddy. Let him get to know you in his own good time. He’s like most young kids—he doesn’t adapt well to sudden changes in his routine.’
‘That’s a tall order. I spend most of my time in Greece,’ Eros volunteered, glancing at the manservant now lodged in the doorway. ‘I b
elieve our meal is ready.’
‘You used to spend most of your time in London,’ Winnie remarked, settling down at the polished, beautifully set table to look at her exquisitely presented starter without appetite. But then nerves always squashed her hunger, she reflected, even if nerves had never squashed her hunger for him.
It was not an acknowledgement she was keen to make but there it was, the elephant in the room that couldn’t be ignored. Colliding with those black-fringed green eyes of his, she experienced what could only be likened to a sugar rush of excitement. It made her feel like a feckless teenager and a flush of chagrin coloured her face as she firmly focused her attention on her food.
‘My base is in Greece now,’ Eros informed her smoothly. ‘I wouldn’t be able to spend much time with my son here.’
Winnie stiffened, since there was nothing she could do about that problem. ‘That’s unfortunate,’ she said awkwardly.
‘But not an insuperable problem,’ Eros murmured silkily.
‘Good,’ she said hastily, tension lancing through her more sharply than ever as if there was some invisible threat nearby that she had to watch out for.
The threat was Eros, of course it was, all male, all powerful, arrogant Eros, who liked to order his world exactly as he liked it and who would very much dislike anything or anyone who got in his way. ‘Who’s cooking for you now?’ she asked brightly, keen to dial down the intensity of the dialogue with a man who could somehow make the simplest statements sound ominous, making gooseflesh prickle at the back of her neck.
‘I had food sent in tonight from one of my favourite restaurants. I’m not here often enough now to maintain a permanent chef,’ he admitted as the second course arrived and the manservant topped up their wine glasses.
