had craved discipline and boundaries so she could sleep safe at night. Jack Bond had given her that. Before she’d started to work for him he had sent her to a school where even the rigid order had been welcome. It had provided her with a framework within which she had felt safe, and she had excelled. When she had returned home she hadn’t cared that her father had shown her no favouritism; she had never expected any. Jack Bond had only ever wanted a son, and she accepted that too. She had worked her way up her father’s company from the bottom. When he’d died, she’d taken his place thanks to sheer dint of effort. By then she had discovered the key to his success. It was nothing more than hard work and focus. Jack Bond had never allowed anything as time-wasting as emotion to stand in his way.
‘Why, Ms Bond, you seem distracted.’
Those eyes—those incredible black-gold eyes—were dancing with laughter. Sucking in an angry gulp of air, Lisa felt her hands ball into fists. ‘Not a bit of it, Mr Zagorakis.’ Her gaze flicked over him dismissively. ‘As your decision to attend this meeting was clearly last-minute, I won’t keep you. I’m sure our people can arrange another time for us to meet if there are any outstanding details—’
‘Shall we say dinner at nine to discuss those outstanding details?’
Lisa’s cheeks flamed red. She was sure the double entendre was intended. In spite of her slender frame her breasts had always been regarded as her most ‘outstanding’ feature. And now her nipples had hardened into bullets, which, from the expression in Zagorakis’s eyes, she guessed he knew.
‘I’ll have my chauffeur pick you up around nine at your apartment—’
‘No—’ Before she could say more Lisa found herself staring at an open door. ‘Gentlemen, this meeting is over,’ she said, quickly recovering her self-possession. ‘Tomorrow morning at ten would suit me for the follow up. Arrange it for me, will you, Mike?’
By nine o’ clock that evening Lisa was curled up tensely on the sofa at the penthouse she called home. Warm and pink after her bath, she was anything but relaxed. Wearing her favourite plush robe, she had the music turned down low, a crystal goblet of good burgundy on the side table next to her, and a new book just started. She had read the first page three times, and still didn’t have a clue what it said.
Zagorakis’s chauffeur would call round, she knew that, but still she flinched and dragged her robe a little closer when the doorbell rang. Thankfully Vera would take care of it. Vera, confidante and housekeeper, knew exactly what she had to do.
Just as Lisa had anticipated, the exchange between Vera and Zagorakis’s chauffeur lasted no more than a few seconds. With a sigh of relief, she turned back to her book. But she couldn’t relax… She tried changing the music. She could always find something to suit her mood amongst her vast collection of CD’s… Tonight was different, tonight she had to force her fingers past the boxed sets devoted to the heavenly voice of La Divina Callas. The impassioned Greek-American voice of Maria Anna Sophie Cecilia Kalogeropoulos was the last thing she needed to hear. Right now anything remotely Greek was off limits. Finally, she settled for some low, smoochy jazz. The plangent wail of Miles Davis’ trumpet seemed appropriate somehow.
Returning to her book, Lisa turned the pages dutifully, all the time trying to ignore the keen dark eyes and mocking smile occupying her thoughts. When the doorbell rang again she was surprised and then angry. Zagorakis had some nerve sending his chauffeur round twice in one evening. Couldn’t he take a hint?
Vera answered the door, but Lisa’s curiosity got the better of her. Padding barefoot across the room, she froze. The man’s audacity was unbelievable. His unannounced visit to her office building had been bad enough, but this was outrageous— and Vera was having trouble getting rid of him.
‘Thank you, Vera, I’ll see to this.’
Lisa couldn’t pretend she wasn’t thankful that Vera remained hovering in the background. ‘Yes?’ She stared up at him. Tino Zagorakis was more casually dressed, and even more brazenly male. Without a jacket she could see how toned he was beneath his black shirt. His assessing stare was every bit as hard as she remembered.
‘We arranged to have dinner tonight.’
‘You arranged to have dinner tonight, Mr Zagorakis.’
‘It’s time you called me Tino.’
Oh, really? ‘It’s late—’
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘And as you pointed out, Lisa, we still have things to talk about.’
Lisa? When did she give him permission to use her first name? Jack Bond’s first law of survival: keep everyone at a distance. Everyone… She relaxed minutely. He was carrying a briefcase. Of course, Zagorakis was a man who would far rather trade than indulge his carnal appetites, but she had already set up their next meeting for the following morning. She had no intention of being railroaded by him twice in one day. ‘Business will have to wait until our respective teams are present.’
‘If you insist.’
‘I do insist. Our next meeting will be held tomorrow morning.’
‘Thank you for reminding me… but we still have to eat.’
His casual shrug and the smile that accompanied it threw her, and while she was trying to figure out his angle he walked past her into the apartment.
‘Like I said, Mr Zagorakis—’ she went after him ‘—it’s late—’
‘And so I took the trouble of ordering in.’ He paused mid-step to turn round and look at her. ‘I didn’t want to put your housekeeper to any trouble.’
And now Vera was sharing a flirtatious smile with him! What was this? A conspiracy?
In fairness, she couldn’t blame Vera; the man was hot. His shirt was open far enough to show some hard, tanned chest, and his blue jeans appeared pressure-moulded to thighs of iron. And there were certain other impressive bulges below the heavy-duty belt…
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me coming inside?’
Lisa quickly adjusted her gaze. The only thing sure about this was that her face was heating up. ‘I don’t wish to appear ungrateful.’
‘But?’ he pressed.
‘I’m tired. It’s late. And I’m ready for bed.’
‘So I see.’
His lips tugged up at one corner in a way that made her painfully aware that she was naked beneath her robe. The split second it took to look down to check that the robe was securely fastened was enough for his chauffeur to march past her carrying a hamper. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Zagorakis stepped forward and barred her way. ‘In here?’ he said, protecting his man’s back by resting one arm against the doorframe of her den.
Lisa’s mouth dropped open. The only thing left for her to confirm, apparently, was the venue for the picnic he had brought with him. ‘You have some incredible nerve—’
‘Please… no more compliments.’ He held up his hands in mock defeat and she had to be prodded twice before Vera could make her presence felt.
‘Hadn’t
