"I hoped you'd say that." After a quick word with his driver, he cupped her elbow and steered her down the curving drive to the tree-shaded street. "Sure the heat's not too much for you?" he inquired solicitously, glancing at her cheeks, which she knew were flushed.
She was burning up, but not for the reason he thought. His touch electrified her, sending a tide of warmth riding up her neck and reviving more buried memories.
Time spun backward to another hot afternoon under a blue Greek sky. Clad in a black bikini, she reclined under an awning, on the deck of the 325-foot yacht lying at anchor in a quiet bay in the Cyclades, some sixty miles south of Athens. And Dimitrios Giannakis, a man she'd met only a few days before was tracing seductive patterns over her exposed midriff and murmuring sweet nothings in her ear.
And at the end of it all, they really were "nothings," she reminded herself, shutting out the image. He hadn't meant a word he'd said, and she'd be a fool to read too much into the present situation. He was, after all, a sophisticated man, accustomed to moving in the upper echelons of society. Impeccable manners were as much a part of him as his black hair and beguiling smile. Taking a woman's arm as she crossed the street came as naturally to him as breathing. Or lying.
They stopped at a charming little taverna several blocks from the clinic. Tucked away on a side street, it opened at the back to a large courtyard shaded by a vine-covered pergola. About a dozen tables clustered around a fountain set in the middle, but only two were occupied, the lunch hour crowd having already been and gone.
Without consulting her, he ordered two salads and a bottle of Boutari Moschofilero. "Still your favorite Greek wine, I hope?" he queried, tipping the rim of his glass to hers, after the waiter had poured.
"Yes," she admitted, unable to stem a little glow of pleasure that he'd remembered.
"And you still don't care for ouzo?"
"Definitely not."
He fixed her in another unwavering gaze. "It's nice to know some things haven't changed, Brianna."
But some things have, she told herself sternly. Don't let him seduce you into forgetting that.
Their waiter reappeared and set down a basket of bread still warm from the oven and a small appetizer tray of olives and grilled octopus.
Welcoming the interruption as a chance to turn the conversation into safer, less personal channels, and hoping she sounded a lot more nonchalant than she felt, she said, "I'm not familiar with this part of Athens. It's really quite lovely."
"Yes."
"I noticed on the way here that we passed a number of rather grand villas."
"Yes."
"Some reminded me of Victorian manor houses in England."
"Yes."
"Noelle's English, isn't she?"
"Yes," he agreed, still holding her captive in his stare.
"What made her decide to work in Greece?"
"The weather's better here?"
More unhinged by the second, she snapped, "Stop making fun of me-and stop saying 'yes' all the time."
"Okay. I don't know why Noelle chooses to work here, although I expect it's because she's free to work in any country that's part of the European union . What I do know, and what matters to me, is that she's recognized as being one of the best in her field, the clinic's as high-tech as anything you'd find anywhere else in the world, and only the best is good enough for my daughter. Any other questions?"
"No."
"Good," he said, allowing himself a small, satisfied smile. "Then let's stop pretending either of us gives a damn about the neighborhood or Noelle's reasons for practicing medicine here instead of in England, and talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Like us," he said. "As in you and me. And let's start with you."
Chapter 4
He achieved the result he was hoping for, surprising her enough that she almost dropped her wineglass. Recovering herself just in time to set it down on the table, she raised startled eyes to his, classic deer-in-the-headlights shock registering on her lovely face.
Good. Perhaps by keeping her on edge, he could unearth a few fragments of truth from all the lies. It was well past time.
Hesitantly she said, "What do you want to know?"
"Everything, but we can begin with this morning. Now that you have a more complete picture of what you'd be letting yourself in for, how serious are you about going ahead with testing as Poppy's donor?"
"I haven't changed my mind, if that's what you're afraid of. In fact, I'm more determined than ever."
"Even though, if you turn out to be a suitable match, you'd end up with surgical scars on those elegant hips of yours? Won't do much for your career, will it, if you can't strut your stuff in a bikini?"
"I haven't modeled bikinis in years, but even if that wasn't the case, I hardly equate a couple of little scars with saving a child's life. You might not respect how I earn my living, Dimitrios, but I'm not quite as shallow as you seem to think."
"But you are ambitious. We both know that. You don't let anything come between you and your career."
"That's hardly a fair comment! There's a difference between being professional and being driven to the point that everything else runs second."
She sounded so aggrieved that, if he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she actually believed the rubbish she was spouting. Steeling himself not to soften, he said, "I could argue the point, but let's not go down that road, at least not right now. Instead tell me why you're so eager and willing to help a child you previously refused to acknowledge."
"I already explained I didn't know Poppy existed until your phone call last Tuesday."
"You don't seriously expect me to believe that, do you?"
A flush accentuated those classic cheekbones. "I don't care whether you believe me or not," she said, her eyes shooting icy, pale-blue sparks. "I'm telling you that the last time I spoke to Cecily was right after you married her. It was also, you might recall, the last time I spoke to you, as well-until the other day. And I have no reason to lie."
"Are you saying you didn't even know your sister was pregnant?"
"That's right. Apart from the lawyer's letter telling me she'd died, I knew nothing about her life with you. You were hardly forthcoming, after all. Even at her funeral, we didn't exchange more than the barest civilities. And contrary to what other twins might experience, Cecily and I didn't share telepathic communication."
He cradled his wineglass and regarded her thoughtfully. "In a sick sort of way, I suppose that makes sense. Cecily didn't broadcast the news that she was expecting. In fact," he finished bitterly, "she didn't deal well with pregnancy at all."
Picking up on his black tone, she said, "What do you mean?"
"She tried to terminate it at twenty weeks."
"No!" Again he'd caught her off guard. Her flush drained into shocked pallor. "For heaven's sake, why?"
"She didn't like what it was doing to the shrine that was her precious body," he spat, the acrid taste of disgust lingering in his mouth.
"Oh." She dampened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. "What changed her mind?"
"I did," he said, reliving the scene in all its ugly detail. "Very emphatically."
You can't make me go through with it. Yes, I can, Cecily. And I will. How? By keeping me under lock and key for the next five months? Appointing that benighted housekeeper of yours my prison guard? If I have to, yes. You don't have the right. It's my body, not yours. But it's my child. I hate you, Dimitrios! I'll survive-and so will that baby … . Brianna cleared her throat. "Do you think," she began tentatively, "her trying to, um, bring on a miscarriage, is in any way responsible for Poppy being so ill now?"
"I've asked myself the same question a thousand times, and I'm told by those who ought to know that the two aren't related, but … " He shook his head, the doubts still plaguing him. "I should have kept a closer eye on Cecily. Monitored where she was going, who she was seeing. Made sure she didn't drink alcohol or worse yet, dabble in recreational drugs."
Reaching across the table, Brianna put a sympathetic hand over his, and this time he was the one taken by surprise. Up to that point, he'd initiated all physical contact between them, and, fragile though her overture was, he liked it. He liked it very much. And that was something he had to guard against.