The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

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two shirts and hung them in the wardrobe, took his toiletry bag through to the en suite.

      Katrina mirrored his actions, shaking out the slither of uncrushable silk georgette she intended wearing to dinner and transferring it onto a hanger.

      She was damned if she’d share the same bed with him. One of the comfortable chairs in the adjoining lounge area would suffice. Better, she could push the two together and arrange a makeshift bed with a pillow and extra blanket.

      The niggle of irritation joined a deeper, more significant disturbance in the region of her heart as the reality of sharing this suite began to manifest itself.

      Oh, get a grip, she admonished silently. They were here primarily for business purposes. They’d have lunch, attend the meeting, return to the hotel to shower and change, then enjoy dinner with Nicos’s cousin, Stavros Kidas, and his wife, Eleni.

      Lunch was pleasant, the food excellent in the hotel’s exclusive à la carte restaurant, and Katrina began to relax a little.

      They didn’t linger long over coffee, and took a cab out to view the two adjoining sites.

      Activity on two adjacent blocks merely confirmed Nicos’s independent investigation, determining without doubt the intentions a major developer had for the entire block.

      ‘They’re going to rase everything,’ Katrina opined, observing two old cottages that had stood for a century. They looked vacant, and soon to follow the fate of two equally old dwellings on their eastern boundary.

      Kevin had negotiated to acquire the remaining ten cottages, with plans to remodel them into trendy boutiques, thus preserving the ambience of the surrounding area. Except a large multinational corporation had outbid him, and had offered Kevin an exorbitant sum for the corner site owned by Macbride.

      ‘I liked Kevin’s vision better,’ she declared. ‘The low-rise glass monstrosity already approved won’t blend with its surroundings.’

      Nicos threw her a calculating glance. ‘You’ve decided not to sell?’

      Her chin tilted a little, a gesture he knew well.

      ‘They’ve already acquired most of the block, and if we retain the corner site it will depreciate in value.’ Her eyes hardened, their purpose inflexible. ‘We’ll sell, but at a price. They’ll pay, because it suits them.’ She’d done her calculations. ‘I figure it’s worth another two hundred and fifty thousand.’

      Nicos placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Kevin would be proud of you.’

      Katrina hoped so. She desperately needed to establish credence in her father’s business sector. As a woman, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. Nor could she afford to make mistakes.

      ‘Okay, let’s go inspect the Toorak site.’

      She turned back towards the cab, conscious that Nicos’s hand had slid down to capture her own in a loose hold. She knew she should wrench free, but she indulged herself a few seconds of his touch, its warmth, and briefly wondered at her sanity.

      Toorak was an exclusive suburb, an eclectic mix of old money and new, established elegant homes, tree-lined avenues, and a long bustling main street filled with trendy boutiques and equally trendy cafés.

      It didn’t take long to confirm extensive renovations would turn two adjoining properties into leased boutiques that would blend in beautifully with their surroundings.

      ‘Keep these, and renovate,’ Katrina stated, mentally transferring the profit from one site to this one. She liked the odds, knew it would work, and could hardly wait to set the plans in motion. She turned towards Nicos. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘Perhaps Siobhan might care to have a leasing interest with a Melbourne branch?’

      He was good, very good, at reading her mind.

      ‘The legal eagle we have a four o’clock appointment with is within walking distance from here?’

      It took an hour of phone calls and intense negotiations, but Katrina emerged from the lawyer’s office triumphant.

      ‘We did it,’ she said with satisfaction as she preceded Nicos onto the pavement.

      Her eyes sparkled, and her smile reflected her elation.

      ‘You did,’ Nicos drawled in musing correction. ‘I merely sat in and watched you play.’

      So he had, but his presence made it easy, a backup she genuinely appreciated. She’d learned well beneath Kevin’s guidance, but not all men viewed a woman as having equal status in the business arena, and she held little doubt that she’d have had to battle harder if she’d come to this meeting alone.

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘Being there.’

      ‘My pleasure.’

      Nicos hailed a cruising cab, and Katrina watched it swoop to a halt at the kerb. Seconds later the driver executed a U-turn and headed into the city to their hotel.

      It was after five when they entered their suite, and Katrina slipped off her shoes and loosened her jacket.

      ‘Do you want to take the shower first, or shall I?’

      ‘We could share,’ Nicos declared with musing indolence.

      ‘No, we couldn’t,’ she refuted firmly, aware of tiny prickles of alarm slithering over the surface of her skin. She had no difficulty recalling how he looked sans clothes: the splendid musculature of his masculine frame, the breadth of his shoulders, the taut buttocks and powerful thighs. As to the instrument of his manhood…

      Don’t go there, she bade silently. Her heart began hammering at the memory of how it had been between them. His skilled touch, her reaction. Dear Lord, he’d never failed to send her up in flames.

      Without a further word she gathered briefs and bra, caught up a complimentary bathrobe, and entered the en suite. For a few paralysing seconds she hesitated, then she quietly slid home the lock.

      Twenty minutes later she emerged, the bathrobe securely tied, with her make-up bag in hand.

      Nicos was seated on the edge of the bed, his attention taken by a documentary on television.

      ‘Finished?’

      Katrina wasn’t conscious of holding her breath until she released it in a rush several seconds later when the bathroom door closed behind him.

      By the time he re-entered the bedroom she was dressed, her make-up complete, and she was in the process of securing small diamond studs to her ears.

      He had no inhibition at discarding his robe, and her eyes flicked over his frame, naked except for black hipster briefs, and her stomach did a backwards flip as she caught the fluid ripple of muscle and sinew as he reached for his trousers and pulled them on. A clean shirt came next, and she dragged her gaze away as he deftly attended to fastening buttons before tucking in his shirt and sliding the zip fastening home.

      The

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