who had deliberately caught her gaze a few minutes ago before making his way so determinedly across the room towards her.
She had noticed him before, of course. And recognised him. What woman wouldn’t notice this dark and broodingly handsome man? Or not recognise him as being one of the wealthy and powerful Greek Lyonedes cousins? Certainly Markos Lyonedes’s photograph had been all over the New York newspapers this past week as he attended one social function or another.
His looks didn’t hurt, of course. Eva stood five eleven in her three-inch-heeled red sandals, but Markos Lyonedes was still several inches taller. Tall enough that he could look down at her with warm and broodingly sensual green eyes.
His dark hair was inclined to curl over his ears and nape, and his emerald-coloured gaze was now narrowed and assessing, set in an arrestingly handsome face that looked as if it might have been carved from mellow gold stone: high and hard cheekbones, a long blade of a nose, chiselled lips, and a square and determined chin. The perfectly tailored black evening suit did little to hide the fact that he was also powerfully built—wide and muscled shoulders and chest, flat and tapered abdomen, lean hips, and long, long legs.
No doubt about it. When it came to charisma and good-looks, Markos Lyonedes had it in spades!
It was perhaps unfortunate—for him—that Eva knew Markos Lyonedes to be exactly the sort of man she wanted nothing to do with. Personally or professionally. Which hadn’t precluded her having a little fun at his expense this past week…
‘I hope you’ll excuse my coming over and introducing myself?’ He quirked dark, questioning brows over enigmatic green eyes. ‘I’m Markos Lyonedes.’
Even his voice was sexy, Eva acknowledged. Deep and husky, with an undertone of dark and sensual. The sort of voice guaranteed to send a shiver of delight down women’s spines.
Other women’s spines, Eva corrected firmly. Fortunately she was totally immune to conceited men like Markos Lyonedes. Most especially to Markos Lyonedes himself. ‘I know who you are, Mr Lyonedes,’ she said. Just as she knew exactly what he was.
The dozen or so men who had been vying for her attention seemed to have recognised that he was a man to beware of—if for different reasons than Eva’s—and had now drifted off to a safe distance, leaving the two of them completely alone in a room full of the richest and most fashionable people in New York.
‘You do?’ His brow arched questioningly.
She gave a smile of rebuke. ‘All of New York society—and most especially the women!—is agog with the fact that Markos Lyonedes has recently arrived in our midst!’
Markos studied the voluptuous woman in the clinging red gown through narrowed lids as he detected the mockery beneath her smoky tone.
Her beauty was all the more apparent now that Markos was standing next to those deep amber-coloured eyes, the perfect nose, the full and sensuous lips above a pointed chin. Her alabaster skin had the fine smooth appearance of porcelain in the bareness of her shoulders in the strapless gown.
And she was most definitely naked beneath that gown!
Well…her breasts certainly were. The berry-like nipples were temptingly outlined against the silky material, the perfect fit of the gown over the fullness of her hips surely only allowed for a pair of gossamer-thin panties. Panties the same vibrant red as her gown? And would they be made of lace? Or silk?
Markos drew in a deep breath as his already hot and aroused shaft gave a throb of response just at the thought of his seeing this shapely woman wearing only a pair of brief and silky red panties.
‘And you are…?’
‘Eva.’
His smile was teasing. ‘Just Eva?’
She gave a light inclination of her head. ‘Just Eva.’
The coolness in her voice, as well as her demeanour, was really starting to irritate—and arouse!—the hell out of him. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Just Eva.’
The sensual fullness of her lips curved into a chiding smile. ‘Shouldn’t you get to know me a little better before deciding that?’
‘Well, I already know that you’re English,’ Markos murmured slowly as he finally heard her speak more than two words together.
That enigmatic smile widened, revealing white, even teeth. ‘Obviously.’
Yes, definitely mockery, Markos noted wryly, even as he wondered at the reason for it. It usually took a beautiful woman a lot longer than two minutes’ acquaintance to decide he might be dangerous.
He nodded. ‘Having just lived in England for ten years, English is an accent I’ve become familiar with.’ An accent, he now realised, that he had sorely missed this past week.
Eva gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. ‘And how are you enjoying New York?’
He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Well, so far I’ve realised that it truly is a city that never sleeps.’
That was one of the things Eva had come to love about New York since she had moved here seven years ago. At the time she had been twenty-two, fresh out of university and newly married to a native New Yorker. Her career had instantly blossomed, and the city of New York had ‘taken’—but unfortunately the marriage hadn’t. She and Jack had separated after only four years, and divorced not long after. That experience, and her own parents’ less than happy marriage, had left Eva with the viewpoint that once bitten was twice shy—and with the intention of never marrying again.
She shrugged. ‘Oh, come on. If nothing else you have to appreciate the fact that you can buy a decent cup of coffee here any time of the day or night.’
Smoky green eyes warmed in sensual invitation. ‘I’ve found that the percolator in my apartment makes an excellent cup of coffee. Day or night…’
‘Wow.’ Eva looked at him admiringly. ‘It took you… what…? All of five minutes’ acquaintance before inviting me back to your apartment.’ She went on dryly at his enquiring look, ‘Surely that has to be a record, even for you?’
Markos stilled, now positive that he hadn’t been mistaken about the sharp edge of derision that seemed to underlie every word this woman said to him. ‘“Even for me…”?’ he prompted softly.
She shrugged those bare shoulders, the movement drawing attention to the full and creamy swell of her breasts above the neckline of the silky red gown. ‘I’m afraid your reputation has preceded you, Markos.’
‘And what reputation might that be…?’
Amber-coloured eyes looked up into his unblinkingly. ‘Why, that you’re as lethally single-minded in your pursuit of a woman you desire as you are cold and calculating when it comes to ending a relationship.’
Markos straightened, his lazy humour fading in the face of her attack. ‘I beg your pardon…?’
Had she gone too far? Eva wondered with an inward grimace. After all, circumstances might be such that she was predisposed to dislike and disapprove of Markos Lyonedes, but having now met him there was no doubting that he was a force to be reckoned with in New York—both professionally
