style="font-size:15px;"> ‘This was supposed to be a discussion about your objection to family, not about me giving you more babies,’ she reminded him.
He caught hold of the edges of her T-shirt and stripped it off over her head. ‘I adore my family,’ he murmured as his hand caught the swing of her breasts and his mouth captured her lips. ‘This family,’ he added, edging her backwards towards the bed. ‘I might learn to tolerate the others if you give me what I want.'
‘Lots of sex with no protection?’ Louisa asked for confirmation as he tumbled her onto the bed.
‘I am Greek, we love big families. We love our wives pregnant and fat. And just think of all that loving from your man with no protection to spoil it,’ he urged as he came to lie over her. ‘I can make you feel so wonderful you will never want to get out of this bed …’
He was not short on arrogance or conceit, Louisa mused hazily as he took her away and right out of herself. In the two years since the big scene in their apartment in Athens, she had come to know the two sides of Andreas Markonos, and both were sensationally irresistible. The guy in the sharp suit with his tycoon head on could take her breath away with just a fleeting glance. The guy wearing shorts was the one she’d met ten years ago and he still had the power to turn her inside out.
She loved them both. She adored them both. When his name appeared in the media these days she swelled with pride at whatever big deal he had managed to pull off against all the odds, and couldn’t wait for him to come home so she could take his tycoon clothes off. When they went out together she adored the way he kept her at his side—joined at the hip, as he liked to describe it. She loved the hungry, possessive way he looked at her when she was all dressed up and the way he glowered when she sparkled for other men.
And she absolutely totally and forever loved it when he did this to her. By the time it was over and as usual, she had lost the will to even breathe.
‘You did that without my say-so,’ she complained but without any substance to give it punch.
‘You loved it,’ he assured arrogantly as he lay heavy on her.
‘Mm,’ she agreed then opened her eyes to look at him. ‘I love you so much,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t ever stop loving me and wanting me like this.'
‘As if,’ he smiled and started kissing her again.
About the Author
KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon® romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen and she’s continued to read them ever since. She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately they’ve become a bit more detailed as she’s grown older. She has written plays, short stories and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and learning to knit.
After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother’s childhood friend—she lived in England for six years, and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children and the possibility of one day getting a dog. Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website, www.kate-hewitt.com
Dedicated to Lydia.
Thanks for being a great editor and giving me a year of fantastic feedback and support.
—K.
PROLOGUE
‘DO YOU need help?’ Edward Jameson asked, pausing in the act of untying the rope that moored his yacht at Mikrolimano harbour. He raised one questioning eyebrow at the skinny determined boy standing by his boat.
‘No.’
Edward pursed his lips and surveyed the still waiting boy-man in front of him. He couldn’t be more than ten or twelve, and he looked like a scarecrow. His shirt and ragged trousers were too short for his long, scrawny arms and legs; it appeared he’d grown quickly and a lot. He also looked hungry, although from that determined glint in his silvery eyes he would never admit it.
‘Do you want something, then?’ Edward asked mildly. He spoke in Greek, for he doubted a Piraeus gutter rat like this one knew any other language. He looped the rope around one weathered wrist and waited.
The boy took a breath, puffing his thin chest out, and said, ‘Actually, I was wondering the same thing about you.'
Edward let out a short admiring laugh. ‘Were you?’
‘Yes. I can do lots of things.’ The boy spoke in a determined rush. ‘I can wash your boat, carry messages, pump out the bilge water … I don’t charge much.'
‘Really?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’
Without a flicker of guilt or regret, the boy shrugged. ‘I’m done with that.’ ‘How come?’
Another shrug, and this time there was a flicker of something … sorrow? Fear? ‘I have a family to support.'
Edward choked back an incredulous laugh as he realised the boy was serious. ‘What kind of family?'
‘A mother and three sisters. The youngest is just a baby.’ He folded his arms and gave Edward a level look. ‘Now, are you going to hire me?'
There was no reason to hire a boy like this, Edward acknowledged. He was a millionaire, and he didn’t need cheap labour—and inexperienced at that. Yet something in the boy’s eyes—the utter determination to gain work, to survive—made him pause. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly, ‘I believe I am.'
The boy allowed himself only a second’s quick, triumphant grin before shoving his hands in his pockets and lifting his chin. ‘When shall I start?'
‘Does now suit you?’ Edward asked, suspecting that it did.
‘Sure. If you really need me.’
‘I think I do. Tell me your name first, though.’
He threw his shoulders back. ‘Demos Atrikes.’ Edward gestured to him to come aboard, and nimbly, his eyes bright with anticipation, he did.
He stood in the centre of Edward’s multimillion-pound yacht and only betrayed the level of his admiration by lightly touching the burnished wood of the railing, stroking it as if it were silk. Then he dropped his hand, tucking it back in the pocket of his trousers, and fixed Edward with a firm stare. ‘What do you want me to do?'
‘Tell me about your family first,’ Edward said. ‘Do you have to work so badly?'
Demos shrugged; no response was needed. It was, Edward thought sadly, all too apparent.
‘They need me,’ Demos said simply. ‘So I’m here.’
Edward nodded. He knew what the choices were for a boy like this. The docks, the factories, or else the gangs. ‘I need you to scrub the deck,’ he finally said. ‘I hope that’s not too dirty a job for you?’ he added, and Demos eyed him scornfully.
‘I’ll
