What the Greek's Money Can't Buy(23)

                Moneypenny was human. And compassionate. And he was curious about her.

                He shifted to ease the sudden restless throb in his body. ‘Call it a mini-appraisal. I just want to know if anything on your CV has changed since you joined me. You listed your marital status as single when I employed you. I merely want to know if that’s changed in any significant way.’

                ‘So you want to know, purely from a professional point of view, whether I’m sleeping with anyone or not?’ Her tone dripped cynicism. ‘Do you want to know which brand of underwear I prefer and what I like for breakfast as well?

                Sakis felt no shame. Redressing the balance. Plus he needed something to take his mind off what had been a hellish day...if only for a moment. ‘Yes to my first question; the other two are optional.’

                Brianna’s chin lifted. ‘In that case, since it’s for purely professional purposes, no, I don’t have a lover, my underwear is my own business and I have an unhealthy weakness for pancakes. Are you satisfied?’

                The thrill of gratification that arrowed through him made his pulse race dangerously. Disturbingly.

                He glanced at the tight coil of golden hair that gleamed as they passed under bright streetlights, at her pert nose and generously wide and full mouth; the dimple that winked in her cheek when she pursed her lips in irritation, like she was doing now...

                The thrill escalated, rushing through his blood.

                Theos...

                He rubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. What the hell was wrong with him? Strong coffee; that was what he needed. Or a stiff drink to knock everything back into perspective.

                Because there was no way in hell he planned on following through with this insane attraction to Moneypenny. No damned way...

                The streets were deserted as they approached the leafy centre of Pointe Noire. Their hotel was pleasant enough with a sweeping circular driveway that ended in front of the white three-storey, shutter-windowed pre-colonial building.

                The manager waited in the foyer to greet them personally, although his gaze widened when it lit on Brianna.

                ‘Welcome to the Noire, Monsieur Pantelides. Your suite is ready, although I was told you would be the sole occupant?’

                ‘You were misinformed.’

                ‘Ah, well, my apologies for the lack of more prestigious suites but the rooms were all booked up the moment the crash...er...the moment the unfortunate event happened.’ He couldn’t quite keep the gloating pride from his voice.

                As the manager called the lift and they entered the small space, he sensed Brianna’s tension mount. The moment they were let into the suite, he understood why.

                The ‘suite’ label had clearly been a lofty idea in someone’s deluded mind. The room was only marginally larger than a double room with the sleeping area separated from the double sofa by a TV and drinks unit.

                He only half-listened as the manager expounded on the many features of the room. His attention was caught on Brianna, who stood staring at the bed as if it was her mortal enemy, her shoulders stiff and her face even stiffer. Had their whole reason for being here not so dire, he’d have been amused.

                He dismissed the manager. He’d barely left when a knock came at the door.

                Brianna jumped.