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“Not on this occasion, no.”
“And why do you want to sit so far away from me? Is it perhaps that you can’t trust yourself to be across the aisle without wanting to reach out and touch me?”
Her lips parted at his brazen observation. “Or might it be that I don’t want to so much as breathe the same air as you?” She responded acerbically.
He took a step closer. “You must take care not to throw such obvious challenges at my feet, agape mou.”
“Oh? I’d say it’s more of a warning.”
“Is that so?”
He was right up against her now, his own challenge passed back to her. Her breath was ragged, her chest hurting with the force of regular exhalations.
“Because to me, it sounded as though you were goading me to touch you again.”
“But we both know that’s not the case.”
“Do we?” His eyes probed hers, mocking, showing her he knew she was lying. Damn him to hell. Was she so easy to read?
“I wonder if you’ve been thinking about me since that night?” He asked, leaning closer still, lifting a hand now and pressing his fingers into her hair, loosening it at the nape at the same time he shifted her face closer to his, holding her tightly, just beneath his face. “Have you been wondering what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped? Have you been wishing we didn’t?”
His last words were uttered right against the flesh beneath her ear and a moment later, his tongue darted out, teasing her, so she trembled against him, a moan parting her lips involuntarily.
She hated this man. Hated him. She was here by necessity alone, out of loyalty to Kon and an affection for Maggie, whom she’d never met but felt she knew so well courtesy of Kon’s stories.
“Don’t pretend you don’t desire me, Phoebe, or I’ll show that for the lie it is.”
Chapter 4
UNLIKE COMMERCIAL AIRLINES, THERE was no announcement as they came into land, proclaiming their location, and Phoebe was too filled with stubborn pride to demean herself by asking. Instead, she kept her gaze resolutely averted, eyes focused on the sparkling, glistening water that shimmered from every angle as they descended, and then, on the blast of heat that entered the plane the moment the doors were opened.
“The car’s waiting, sir,” the hostess said, from the top of the stairs.
Anastasios put a hand in the small of Phoebe’s back, as if to propel her forward, and she shot him a warning glance then moved quickly, cutting off the need for any further physical contact between them.
The heat only intensified as she stepped onto the landing, then moved down the metallic stairs, onto the tarmac. A man in an official uniform stood at the bottom, aviator sunglasses reflecting a harried looking Phoebe right back at her.
She lifted a hand and brushed back her hair.
“Documents?”
A buzz of triumph flared to life. Uh huh! She was going to be sent back to England, given that she didn’t have her passport.
“Here you are.”
Anastasios, from right behind her, handed two passports over—she recognized the navy blue of her own and spun, gaping at him in shock.
“How did you…?”
His attention remained focused on the guard, who scanned a handheld device over both then returned them. “Welcome to Monaco.”
Monaco!
A few paces away there was a four-wheel drive, but Phoebe didn’t move towards it. She watched the passport official leave then jerked her face back towards Anastasios.
“Are you freaking kidding me? You broke into my flat?”
“Your landlady let me in,” he said with a shrug. “She was delighted to think you were being whisked away on a secret, romantic weekend.”
