she sought a sophisticated image, and she pinned her hair into a sleek French twist, took time with her make-up, and added a diamond tennis bracelet with matching pendant and ear studs. Stiletto heels lent her added height.
She had wined and dined with some of the country’s social élite, and could converse knowledgeably on any number of subjects.
So why should she be nervous about sharing an evening with a few of Nicos’s associates and their wives?
Because what the tabloid press hadn’t revealed, gossip and innuendo would have filled in the blanks…in spades.
The interest would be circumspect, the conversation polite. But without doubt, Nicos and Katrina Kasoulis would be the focus of attention.
‘Ready?’
She turned and spared him a level glance, noting the black evening suit—Armani? Cerruti? He favoured the impeccable tailoring of both designers. His white shirt was of the finest cotton, the silk tie faultless.
However, it was the man wearing the clothes who stirred her senses. The broad facial features, dark piercing eyes, a mouth she had only to look at to remember how it felt on her own.
He possessed a dangerous sensuality that drew women like bees to a honey pot. Inherent charm and an awareness of some indefinable primitiveness beneath a sophisticated façade. Add wealth and power, and the combination was lethal.
She could understand how a woman would fight for him.
As Georgia had?
Could she have gone to such lengths to have his child and wreck a marriage?
Katrina mentally shook her head. A fair fight was one thing. Employing devious underhand means was something else.
‘Have I suddenly acquired a few grey hairs?’
She registered Nicos’s drawled query, and managed a quizzical response. ‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Then, shall we leave?’
Their hosts resided in Woollahra, a gracious old home set back from the road with a magnificent view.
Cars lined the illuminated driveway, and inside guests mingled in a large formal lounge. Muted music emitted from speakers, providing a pleasant background as Katrina moved at Nicos’s side while their host performed introductions.
Nicos’s hand rested against the small of her back. A proprietorial gesture, or reassurance?
Katrina accepted a flute of champagne and sipped the chilled liquid.
‘I imagine we’re supposed to project solidarity?’ she inclined lightly, and caught the hint of amusement evident in the look he cast her.
‘Advisable, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Just don’t expect me to display adoring affection.’
His mouth curved into a warm smile. ‘I’m disappointed. Adoring affection would make a pleasant change.’
‘I’ll save the animosity for when we’re alone.’
‘For which I’m incredibly grateful.’
‘The animosity, or being alone?’ It was almost fun to indulge in harmless banter.
‘Both.’
‘You enjoy our heated exchanges?’
Nicos lifted a hand and pressed a finger to her mouth. ‘I enjoy watching your emotions at play.’
He was adept at discerning each and every one of them. Right now she was nervous, but determined to adopt a façade that only he could penetrate. It was evident in the slightly rapid beat of her pulse, the quick and almost too-ready smile, the depth of green in those beautiful emerald-green eyes.
His attempt to soothe was spontaneous, a light trail of his fingerpads across her shoulder blades, and he watched her eyes dilate in awareness of his touch.
‘I think we should mingle, don’t you?’ Katrina murmured, and took a deliberate sip of champagne. This was madness. A simple gesture, and she had to control her body’s natural instinct to lean into him. ‘Thea and Rafe Richardson have not long arrived. Perhaps we could join them?’
It was a pleasant evening, the food superb. The table seating arrangements proved interesting, and while the conversation flowed, accompanied by scintillating laughter, Katrina was conscious of receiving circumspect attention…from several women, whose veiled curiosity searched for the slightest crack appearing in Nicos’s or her own projected persona.
If anything, Nicos seemed bent on displaying an element of tendresse, much to her discomfort. It was evident in the touch of his hand on hers, albeit that it was fleeting. Whenever they spoke together, and it seemed it was often, he gave the impression each word held meaningful importance. His attentiveness was exemplary.
‘You’re in serious danger of overkill,’ Katrina relayed in an undertone as he refilled her water glass.
‘Taking care of you?’
She was willing to swear he wasn’t talking about food. It brought forth a vivid memory of just how he’d taken care of her needs…in the bedroom, and out of it…and her frequently explosive reaction. He possessed the touch, the skill, the knowledge, to drive her wild.
By the time dessert was served, she’d had enough. If this was a game, it was only fair she began to play.
Without pause for thought she spooned a small quantity of superb crème caramel and offered it to Nicos. ‘Taste this, darling.’
His gaze locked with hers, dark brown with emerald green, and the firm curve of his mouth parted to accept the morsel.
She refrained from repeating the gesture, and minutes later she laid a hand on his thigh. The sudden tightening of sinew beneath her fingers was encouraging, and she dug her nails in lightly, then slowly trailed her fingertips towards his groin.
‘Payback, Katrina?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t overstep the mark.’
‘I wasn’t aware any boundaries were set.’
‘Retribution has a price.’
‘Threat or challenge?’
His eyes darkened. ‘It’s your hand to play.’
A double entendre if ever there was one! Perhaps a retreat was advisable. Temporarily, she conceded, for she wasn’t done yet.
With deliberate intent she turned to the guest next to her and began a conversation, the content of which she retained little memory within minutes of concluding it.
‘I understand you’re flying down to Melbourne tomorrow to examine two sites Kevin had under review,’ said Nicos.
Katrina turned towards him and contained her surprise. Her lawyer knew of her
