The Greek's Bought Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN

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courier delivery guy with a packing box.

      ‘Where do you want this?’

      Three patrons entered the boutique, one serious buyer, Tina judged, and two browsers idly riffling through the racks.

      With a quick word she excused herself and crossed to the courier’s side. ‘Out back.’ She silently signalled Lily to take over while she checked the invoice.

      Minutes later the courier clipped the signed invoice onto his clipboard and departed, leaving Tina to cross to the two women checking out a garment, whereupon she offered assistance, complimenting the designer, the fabric and style.

      Another sale, followed soon after by another, adding to a productive morning, Tina reflected as she took a moment to complete the unpacking of new stock.

      ‘Oh, my.’

      The hushed tone in Lily’s voice had Tina shooting a glance in her direction. ‘As in?’

      ‘Serious eye candy about to walk through the door.’

      Male, Tina deduced. An attractive husband intent on buying his wife an expensive gift? She didn’t bother glancing up. ‘Go for it.’

      ‘I wish.’

      Lily’s reverence brought forth a slight smile. Lily was equally friend as valued employee, and considered herself to be a connoisseur of men.

      ‘However, he’s yours.’

      Tina’s gaze shifted to the salon entrance and the breath caught in her throat in recognition of the man engaging Lily in conversation.

      Nic Leandros…here?

      If he thought she’d walk over to him and play pretend in Lily’s presence, he could think again.

      With outward calm Tina extracted the last garment from the box, deftly inserted a clothes hanger and transferred it onto a rack so it could air for a while. After lunch she’d freshen today’s delivery with the steam-iron before transferring the garments onto display racks in the salon.

      She was acutely aware of the muted background music whispering through strategically placed speakers, creating a relaxed ambience that was reflected in the elegant combination of delicately blended cream, wheat and beige utilised in the furnishings. A luxurious setting to display the exclusive range of designer garments for which the boutique was known.

      ‘Tina.’

      It was a voice she’d recognise anywhere. It was also one she didn’t want to hear. Yet good manners forced her to school her features into a polite mask as she turned to face Nic Leandros.

      Her gaze was silently challenging. ‘Is there something I can help you with?’ Cool…she could do cool, despite the fact her nervous system was in direct conflict. It was insane the way one glance at that well-shaped, sensual mouth brought a vivid recall of how it had felt possessing her own.

      ‘Lunch,’ Nic informed her with deceptive calm. ‘Your assistant is happy to take charge for an hour.’

      He really was the limit! ‘I already have plans.’ She didn’t, but he wasn’t to know that.

      ‘Change them.’

      ‘Why should I do that?’

      ‘We can discuss arrangements here,’ he informed steadily. ‘Or over lunch. Choose.’

      The electronic door buzzer sounded, signalling the arrival of a client.

      ‘This is neither the time nor the place,’ Tina protested quietly, silently hating him for placing her in such an invidious position. She made an instant decision. ‘Give me five minutes.’

      She made it in four, spoke briefly to Lily, preceded him from the boutique, and waited until they reached the pavement before demanding, ‘What do you want?’ She kept her voice low, but her pent-up anger was an audible force.

      ‘To continue the discussion you walked out on last night.’

      His drawled tone held a steely quality she chose to ignore. ‘You’re giving me a choice?’

      There were a few trendy cafés and restaurants dotting the street, and Nic indicated one close by.

      She wanted to turn and retrace her steps, and almost did. Except he’d probably follow.

      Within seconds he caught a waiter’s attention, sought a table, and waited until they were seated before venturing, ‘It’s possible the media will make contact with you at some stage this afternoon.’

      Tina was unable to prevent a cynical element tinging her voice. ‘For this I need your help?’

      Nic’s gaze remained steady. ‘Regarding my statement announcing our imminent marriage.’

      A waitress crossed to their table and stood with pen and pad poised as Nic placed an order for two.

      ‘I may not want the chicken Caesar salad,’ Tina stated, and fixed Nic a deliberate glare before turning towards the waitress. ‘Don’t you just hate it when a man thinks he knows a woman’s mind?’ A double-edged query, if ever there was one.

      The waitress, having undoubtedly witnessed the behaviour of numerous patrons during her employment, merely flicked Tina a glance that clearly queried Tina’s sanity.

      What woman wouldn’t give her eye-teeth to have a man of Nic Leandros’ ilk appear so…in control?

      Damn. She liked Caesar salad. ‘Make mine spinach and fetta tortellini with the mushroom and bacon sauce.’

      Tina met Nic’s hooded gaze. ‘We can argue this back and forth for ever.’ She wanted to hit him…or, failing that, go several rounds in verbal battle. ‘Give me one good reason why I should agree to marry you, aside from being pregnant with Vasili’s child.’

      He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Protection.’ He could promise her that. ‘Loyalty. Trust,’ he endorsed quietly.

      Sans love or fidelity.

      Get real, a silent voice taunted. Neither love nor fidelity enter the equation. Nor do you want them to. So why even go there?

      ‘And the child? You intend claiming it as your own?’

      Nic’s eyes narrowed. ‘Foster the illusion I’m the child’s biological father?’

      Her chin tilted a little. ‘Yes.’

      ‘I will delight in my wife’s pregnancy, and initiate adoption proceedings immediately following the birth.’

      Ensuring the legalities were neatly taken care of.

      ‘You avoided answering the question.’

      ‘The child will be born a legitimate Leandros, with two parents.’ His eyes speared hers. ‘No one, apart from Paul and Stacey, need know personal details.’

      ‘And Claire.’ Dear heaven, she had yet

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