'Oh, help-here he comes again. What does it take to get him to leave me alone?' She lifted her chin bravely but he saw the anguish in her blue eyes.
Andreas knew exactly how to persuade the man to leave her alone.
Telling himself that he was merely helping a damsel in distress, he pulled her firmly against him and lowered his mouth to hers.
He felt her stiffen in surprise and then melt against him, her mouth opening under the subtle pressure of his. She was all feminine temptation, her floral scent wrapping itself around him and drawing him in, her lips all sweetness and seduction as she kissed him back.
Andreas was taken aback by the strength of his reaction to that kiss. His body throbbed with instant arousal and he cupped her face with confident hands, feeling her quiver of surprise as he deepened the kiss. She dropped the shoes she was holding and clutched at his shirt, whimpering slightly under the skilled assault of his mouth.
Stunned by her uninhibited response and his own powerful reaction, he hauled her closer still and stroked a leisurely hand up her thigh, the warmth of her smooth skin intensifying the throbbing, pulsing ache of his erection.
Feeling fireworks explode in his head, Andreas continued to explore her mouth, building the excitement to such dangerous levels that it threatened to engulf them both.
It was the hottest, most erotic kiss he'd ever experienced and it wouldn't have ended there if it hadn't been for the loud slam of a car door that jerked them both back to the reality of their surroundings.
Andreas lifted his head, considerably shaken by his definitely uncharacteristic response to the woman who now stood quivering in his arms.
He glanced around him in utter disbelief, taking in the ordered rows of cars interspersed by the odd streetlamp. He'd always prided himself in his self-control and yet here he was ready to slam this woman against the nearest convenient surface and make love to her hard and fast until she begged for mercy.
What the hell had happened to him?
Not only were they in a public place but he was also aware that, whatever she said to the contrary, she'd had too much to drink and was obviously on the rebound.
Neither factors provided a good basis for any sort of relationship.
Cursing softly in Greek, he released her and then caught her again as she stumbled.
She looked at him, bemused. 'Feel dizzy,' she muttered, her expression dazed and disconnected, her blue eyes cloudy as she lifted a finger to her lips.
He felt pretty dizzy himself.
Remembering just how good it had felt, Andreas fought the temptation to kiss her again. There would be other occasions, he reminded himself, and next time he was going to select the venue more carefully and ban alcohol. She looked as though she was about to collapse in a heap.
'I'd better take you home.'
Before he committed an indecent act in a public place.
And when she was sober he'd arrange a proper date in a place where there'd be absolutely no chance of interruptions.
He stooped to pick up the shoes she'd dropped and then pointed his key towards his car and unlocked it. Suddenly aware that she was swaying again, he swept her off her feet and carried her to his car, trying to ignore her feminine scent and the way her soft hair tickled his cheek.
'Put me down.' Her words were slightly slurred and she wriggled in his arms. 'I hate men. I don't want to go on a date. And I don't want another kiss. It made me feel strange.'
Her head flopped back and he deposited her in the passenger seat, trying valiantly to ignore the fact that her dress had ridden up and was now revealing every perfect inch of her long legs. Her eyes closed and Andreas stared at her in exasperation.
'What exactly did you drink tonight?'
'One glass of really, really delicious orange juice,' she murmured sleepily, and he rolled his eyes.
Did she really expect him to believe that?
She was barely coherent!
'I need to take you home,' he drawled, wondering if she knew just how big a risk she was taking by getting so drunk that she didn't know who she was with. She hadn't even asked his name.
'Give me your address.' He slammed the driver's door shut and turned to look at her, groaning with frustration as he saw her curled up in his passenger seat as snug and comfortable as a tiny kitten. She was fast asleep.
His patience severely tested, Andreas sat back in his seat and counted to ten while he contemplated the problem.
So much for taking her home.
He had absolutely no intention of going back to the bar to discover her address, so he really had no option other than to take her back to his house. Which made life extremely complicated because Adrienne was there.
He closed his eyes briefly and swore under his breath.
The evening was definitely not ending the way he'd intended.
Chapter 2
Libby awoke with a crushing headache.
With a whimper of self-pity she sat up and found herself looking into a pair of curious brown eyes. A girl sat on the end of her bed. Underneath the unruly brown hair and layers of make-up, Libby guessed her to be about twelve.
'Wow.' The girl studied her closely. 'You look really ill.'
Libby bit back a groan and closed her eyes. She had absolutely no idea where she was but she knew she had an almighty hangover.
Which didn't really make sense because she hadn't touched alcohol.
Or, at least, not intentionally.
Suspicion entering her mind she lifted a hand to her aching skull and sat up slowly, wincing slightly as a shaft of sunlight probed through the curtain and stabbed her between the eyes.
Realising that she was lying in an enormous, elegant bedroom, panic swamped her.
Whose bedroom?
Just what had happened last night?
The girl was still studying her closely, as if she couldn't understand how anyone could look so awful and still be alive. 'Yiayia made Andreas promise that he'd never bring a woman home while I was in the house, so I suppose that means he's in love with you.'
What?
Who was the girl sitting on the bed?
And who the hell was Andreas?
Searching her aching brain for some recollection of what had happened the night before, Libby had a sudden memory of broad, muscular shoulders, a firm mouth and lots and lots of fireworks.
Yes, there'd definitely been fireworks.
'I … er … who exactly is Yiayia?'
'Yiayia is Greek for Grandma, and you've said enough, Adrienne.' Cool male tones came from the doorway and the girl scrambled off the bed, suddenly wary.
'There's no need to use that scary tone. I'm old enough to know the facts of life and I know all about sex.' She looked at Libby curiously. 'Did you have sex? Yiayia says that loads of women want to go to bed with Andreas because he's seriously rich and very good-looking. Women go mad about him.'
Deprived of her powers of speech, Libby glanced helplessly at the man in the doorway and clashed with the darkest, sexiest eyes she'd ever seen. Despite her somewhat pathetic state, her mouth fell open and she did something she never did when she met a man.
She stared.
He was well over six feet, powerfully built, with jet black hair smoothed back from his forehead and bronzed skin that suggested a Mediterranean heritage. He possessed all the arrogant self-assurance of a man who'd been chased by women from the cradle.
She felt herself colour under his sharp gaze. It was evident from the hint of mockery in his dark eyes that he realised that she had an extremely hazy recollection of the events of the night before.
'You talk too much, Adrienne.' Without shifting his gaze from Libby's pale face, he strolled into the bedroom and she noticed for the first time that he was carrying a mug. 'Drink that.' He placed a mug of black coffee on the bedside table. 'It will help.'
Confronted by this final confirmation that he was well aware of her delicate condition, Libby shrank back against the pillow, stricken with guilt at her own behaviour.
She'd obviously been horribly drunk the night before.
What she didn't understand was how.
Unlike her, he was fully dressed and she was uncomfortably aware of his wide shoulders and sleek, dark good looks next to her near nakedness. Deciding that so much masculine virility was too much for a woman with a headache, Libby reached for the coffee.
Grandma had a point, she thought weakly. She didn't know about the rich bit, but he was incredibly good-looking. Almost enough to make a woman forget that all men were rats.
Which was evidently what she must have done when she'd agreed to go back to his flat with him.
How could she have done such a thing?
She never took risks like that!
She was obviously seriously on the rebound.
Catching sight of her pink dress draped carelessly over the back of a chair, she gave a whimper of mortification.
How had it got there? She had absolutely no recollection of getting undressed. Realising that she was wearing a white silk shirt that she'd never seen before in her life, her stomach flipped.