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With the early evening sun over the glittering Aegean as the perfect backdrop against the vibrant and bronzed breathtaking pillar of masculinity, each audacious exhibition made her belly flip over in saucy excitement, until she feared she would quietly hyperventilate and expire where she sat.
And when he casually dropped questions like, ‘Do you like this?’, ‘Does this please you?’ Imogen felt as though she were being treated to her own version of that erotic movie that had taken the world by storm a handful of years ago. Only with the shoe thrillingly on the other foot. And even if the power dynamic wasn’t quite as favourable for her, there was enough of it for risqué and illicit fantasies to reel through her mind, sending arrows of lust and need between her thighs as she nodded or rejected at will.
She was partly regretful but mostly relieved when it was all over and the designers had taken their leave. Of course that didn’t mean reprieve from Zeph.
Imogen turned from watching the departing stylists to find him frowning down at his left hand. The new lemon-coloured polo shirt and khaki cargo pants he’d kept on highlighted every inch of bronzed flesh on show, his tousled hair lending him a rakish look that continued to play havoc with her equilibrium.
But it was what he was doing—running his thumb over his ring finger specifically—that made her heart jump into her throat. She had an inkling of his thoughts, and yet she wasn’t ready for the words that came out of his mouth.
‘I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring when I woke up. You didn’t mention it when you listed what I was wearing the last time you saw me. Since you haven’t enquired about it, I’m assuming there wasn’t one in the first place?’
She shook her head. ‘No, there wasn’t.’
Rapier-sharp eyes cut into hers. ‘Why not?’
She pursed her lips as her mind raced to find an adequate, non-harmful answer.
But...how long could she keep skirting this issue? Because it was clear he knew there was something missing besides just his memories.
‘Tell me, Imogen,’ he insisted, his voice thick with command.
Crossing her fingers that she wasn’t making a mistake, she exhaled. ‘You never gave me a reason why. You simply stated that you wouldn’t be wearing one.’
His nostrils flared and he snagged her left wrist. Her fingers involuntarily curled around his when he raised her hand and stared at the wedding and engagement rings adorning her finger. After an age, his thumb slid over the diamonds, just as intimately as he’d caressed his own skin. Heat unfurled through her belly, but alongside it came another sensation.
Anticipation? Hope? For what, exactly? She shook her head as the emotion persisted. As it thickened and attempted to find fertile soil to grow.
‘Well, I’ve changed my mind,’ he announced.
Why on earth did that send her heart thumping against her ribs? Whatever he did during this period while he waited for his memories to return, it didn’t change the fact that they were still locked in a marriage of convenience. That she had no business letting this...intensely fascinating and compelling version of Zeph Diamandis slip beneath her guard.
‘Are you going to give me the name of our jewellery broker or should I go rummaging?’
The very idea of Zephyr Diamandis rummaging for anything made her lips twitch. Which was, again, madness in itself. Hadn’t she reassured herself that the time he’d cracked a joke, reminding her that he was the first to make her laugh harder than she had in as long as she could remember, was a one-time indulgence?
She jerked as his thumb swiped over her lips.
‘I’m attempting not to be insulted that you keep drifting away from me mentally and physically.’ The possessive bite in his voice piled another truckload of coals onto the fire already smouldering inside her.
‘I...yes, if that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen,’ she said with a far too husky voice.
She told herself she strode away from him to return to her desk to call her PA simply to get some breathing room. But her voice—and her insides—didn’t feel as firm as her assistant answered.
‘Kalismera, Mrs Diamandis. Is everything okay?’
No, she wanted to blurt.
‘Yes, thanks, everything’s fine, Agatha.’
‘How can I help, Mrs Diamandis?’
Aware of the gaze fixed on her, she gathered her tattered composure together and answered. ‘I need you to have the Diamandis jewellery broker brought to the yacht tomo...’ she paused as Zeph gave a firm shake of his head, then cleared her throat ‘...this evening.’
‘Of course, Mrs Diamandis. Anything in particular you’d like to see?’
Immie bit the inside of her lip, attempting to channel her husband’s immense authority for half a second, and failed. Throwing caution to the wind, she winged it. ‘He’ll know what we need. Contact the chopper pilot to arrange transport.’
‘Yes, of course.’
