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He opened his mouth to argue. But she was right. They were family. They’d be mortally offended at the very idea. But Sophie Paterson … She was Eleni’s family, yet she was an unknown quantity.
He refused to question the way his mind shied from the idea of her being part of his family.
‘Of course you didn’t,’ she almost spat at him. ‘You wouldn’t offend your daughter’s real family.’ Again that jab into his chest. ‘But we Australians. we were never up to scratch, were we? You’d expect the worst from us.’
Her voice rose in strident accusation yet he saw the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. Her soft mouth quivered and she bit down so hard he feared she’d draw blood.
Burning shame seared out from the accusing point of her finger, through his torso, right to his heart. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to. And he didn’t like the sensation of guilt one iota.
‘Enough,’ he growled, clamping one hand round hers and pressing her open palm across his shirt.
His heart leapt at the contact, thudding an uncontrollable tattoo, and he fought the impulse to drag her into his arms and stop her voice with his mouth. Her lush lips were open now, in a circle of surprise that made him want to dip his head and discover the taste of her on his tongue. She’d be sweet as honey. Hot as flame. Heat burst across his skin, just at the thought of it.
Anger. Guilt. Lust. They rushed through him in a feverish swirl that escalated into raw desire. So savage it slammed through him with a force that almost made him reel.
He dragged oxygen into his air-starved lungs and stared down at her, wondering. He knew desire—had no trouble assuaging it. But he’d never felt anything like this before. Ever.
What the hell had he got himself into?
Sophie blinked up into his glittering black eyes and felt the blaze of fury that had buoyed her through the outburst dwindle and fade.
He was so close she could see that, for all the severe planes and angles of his face, his skin was fine-grained and smooth but for the rough shadow along his jaw. Her nostrils flared as she detected and instinctively responded to his scent: heat and musk. One hundred per cent pure masculine pheromones.
‘Enough,’ he said again, his voice a husky growl that sent all her nerves into alert.
For an endless space their eyes met and held, an indefinable heat pulsing through the crackling silence between them. If she could have broken his hold she would have backed away, put some distance between them till she felt safe again. When he looked at her like that she couldn’t think. And she didn’t want to feel.
‘You have my apologies,’ he said at last. He shook his head decisively when she would have spoken. ‘In the extremity of the situation, I leaped to the wrong conclusion. I saw your silence in the worst light.’
He paused and dragged in a breath so deep that his chest almost touched hers.
‘I have experience in dealing with people who are not so … unaffected by material wealth as you.’ His eyes, darkly mesmerising, held hers. ‘I regret the offence my words caused you.’
His heart drummed beneath Sophie’s fingers, the encompassing heat of his body surrounded her. His eyes seemed to gaze right into her soul. If she could have looked away she would. But the intensity of his scrutiny held her in thrall, as surely as if he’d bound her physically to him.
This was dangerous. She had to end it. Now.
‘I accept your apology,’ she said, wincing at the stilted sound of her voice. ‘I was hurt that you believed …’ She shook her head. What did it matter now? ‘It was a misunderstanding,’ she said as graciously as she could.
‘Thank you, Sophie.’ His voice was a low burr, brushing across her skin.
And then he did something totally unexpected. He lifted her hand, raised it to his lips and, gaze still meshed with hers, pressed a slow kiss to the back of it.
A jolt of sensation speared through her and her eyes widened. For a moment she saw the reflection of her own shock in his ink-dark eyes, and then they turned blank, giving nothing away. But ripples of awareness raced through her body, awakening dormant senses into stirring life.
It scared her.
She tugged her hand away, rubbing it with her other thumb, as if that would erase the burning sensation of his mouth on her flesh. He stepped back and she released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
For the first time she looked, really looked, at Costas Palamidis. Trying to see beyond the stereotype she’d assigned to him.
He was more than the epitome of ruthless machismo she’d first thought him. More than a father fighting against the odds for his daughter’s life. He was clearly used to dealing with wealth and power, and from what he’d said, with the sort of people she’d prefer to avoid.
The grimness of his face had seemed bone-deep when they’d met. But was it simply the overlay of despair on a man protecting his family against the worst possible odds?
And there was more to ponder over. Now she’d seen that spark of undiluted sexual energy in him, felt its potency in her own crazily jangling nerves. It set off every alarm bell in her brain. But she couldn’t simply walk away from him. Not now she understood why he was here.
She was no closer to understanding who Costas Palamidis was. And, she realised, she was torn between wanting to have nothing more to do with him and the disturbing need to find out everything.
