“I wouldn’t date you for a million dollars.”

“How about two million?”

Stephanie Logan would love to throw Damen Nicolaides’s outrageous proposal that she pose as his girlfriend back in his face, but the truth is she needs his money to save her family.

The arrogant Greek seduced and discarded her once before, so Steph makes sure their contract says Damen can’t kiss her again! But she might soon regret that clause. Because trapped in paradise with her enemy, his all-too-potent chemistry is pushing her ever closer to breaking point!

Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love-lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at annie@annie-west.com or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

Also by Annie West

Contracted for the Petrakis Heir

Inherited for the Royal Bed

Her Forgotten Lover’s Heir

The Greek’s Forbidden Innocent

Revelations of a Secret Princess

Passion in Paradise collection

Wedding Night Reunion in Greece

Royal Brides for Desert Brothers miniseries

Sheikh’s Royal Baby Revelation

Demanding His Desert Queen

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Contracted to Her Greek Enemy

Annie West

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09820-5

CONTRACTED TO HER GREEK ENEMY

© 2020 Annie West

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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This is my 40th book for Harlequin Mills and Boon!

Celebrations are in order, and thanks:

To the readers who enjoy my stories. You’ve made

my dream of writing romance come true.

To my terrific editor Carly Byrne.

To my writer friends, especially Anna Campbell,

Abby Green, Michelle Douglas and Cathryn Hein.

To Efthalia Pegios for advice on Greek.

To my wonderful family.

This book is dedicated to my mum.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

‘I’VE HAD ENOUGH, DAMEN. I can’t stand it any more. I feel like running away.’

Damen’s eyebrows rose. Clio wasn’t the sort to run from trouble. ‘It can’t be that bad.’

Wrong response, Nicolaides!

Even before she flashed him an outraged glare, Damen realised his mistake. With a mother and two younger sisters, he had a healthy respect for feminine temper. Clearly this was serious.

‘Oh, can’t it?’ She shook her head and her diamond drop earrings swung. ‘He’s not just badgering me, but Mama too. It’s his only topic of conversation. I don’t dare show my face or call Mama because it sets him off again.’

She hefted a shuddery breath and Damen was horrified as he watched tears well. He’d never seen his cousin Clio cry. And though they were only second cousins, they were as close as siblings.

Clio’s chin wobbled. ‘It’s Cassie’s wedding soon but I’m not sure I can face going to it. My own little sister’s wedding!’

Damen’s gut churned. Clio was hurting and he was responsible. He should have realised—

‘All my father does is rave about how I as the eldest should be marrying first. How you and I are a perfect match and how selfish I am not settling down with the man who’s decent, honourable and suitable in every way.’ She bit her lip and slanted him a glance. ‘Of course, he never mentions how suitable your fortune is.’

That flash of humour didn’t ease the dark cloud settling over Damen’s conscience.

This was no joke. Manos was a difficult man at the best of times and he could make life hell for Clio and her whole family.

Damen grabbed her hand, felt it tremble and cursed himself for putting her in this situation. Once Manos got an idea it was almost impossible to shift it.

‘I’m sorry, Clio. This is all down to me. I should never—’

‘Don’t go all macho and say it’s your fault, Damen Nicolaides! I know you’re used to shouldering responsibility for everyone, but you’re not solely to blame.’ She sighed. ‘We both are. You think I haven’t enjoyed going to all those A-list parties with you? You think I haven’t been networking like mad, building up a list of potential clients for my business?’

‘It was my idea.’ Because he’d tired of fending off women who wanted more from him than a mutually satisfying fling. No matter how often he said he wasn’t in the market for the long term, they thought they could change his mind.

With Clio as his semi-regular date things had been much easier. His occasional lovers were more accepting of the fact he wasn’t shopping for a wife.

A cold shiver started at his nape and crawled down his spine at the word, chilling each vertebra as it went.

Gentle fingers squeezed his hand. ‘You did nothing wrong, Damen.’

He focused on Clio’s earnest face and wondered if she was talking about this issue with her father or the past, when clearly Damen had been to blame. Typical of Clio to try to absolve him.

She’d stood by him when he’d really needed it. She deserved better than this mess.

‘Okay, let’s agree neither of us were at fault.’ They were adults, entitled to socialise together, even if they weren’t and never would be lovers. ‘That still leaves the problem of your father. We have to find a way to disabuse him of his expectations without him blaming you.’

Clio pulled her hand away, smoothing it down the silk dress she wore for today’s celebration.

‘I tell you, I’m running away. To Tierra del Fuego.’

Damen heard despair beneath that light-hearted tone.

‘Do you even know where that is?’

‘Okay, then, the Arctic Circle. I’ll branch into interior design for igloos.’

Despite himself, Damen laughed. His cousin could do it too. She was a talented designer, up for any challenge.

Except getting herself out of this mess. It would take more than Clio’s word to convince Manos she and Damen weren’t an item. Especially with the prize of Damen’s vast fortune in the equation. Which it always was.

That was one of the prime reasons he’d resorted to ‘dates’ with his cousin, to stave off the women angling to snare a rich husband. A Greek billionaire with no wife and a healthy cash flow despite the recent economic troubles was a catch. One in his early thirties with a full head of hair and all his own teeth was a rarity.

‘Forget the igloos and leave this to me.’

‘You have an idea?’ No mistaking the hope in her tone.

Damen nodded. ‘The beginnings of one. But give me time to sort out the details. Trust me, I’ll sort Manos.’

Relief eased her tight expression. ‘Thanks, Damen. I should have realised I could count on you.’

Twenty minutes later, Damen stood beside his best friend, Christo, who was to marry today. Christo was checking his phone, leaving Damen free to admire the panoramic view of the sea off Corfu. But Damen ignored the vista, instead surveying the guests gathered in the villa’s garden.

What he needed was a woman. And quickly.

A woman to play the part of his lover long enough to persuade Manos that Damen and Clio had no future together.

If he attended the upcoming wedding of Clio’s sister, Cassie, with a striking new girlfriend in tow, that would dent Manos’s hopes. If Damen kept that new girlfriend with him for a couple of months, his very public companion...

But which woman?

Someone single. And attractive, for Manos was no fool. There had to be a sizzle of desire between Damen and his new companion.

But Damen needed someone who wouldn’t see this as an opportunity to angle for a real relationship. A woman who wouldn’t try to win his affections and carve out a place for herself in his life.

‘Relax.’ Christo’s voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘I’m the one getting married, not you.’

Damen flashed his old friend a smile. ‘And marrying the same woman twice. That’s some sort of record.’

Christo shrugged and spread his hands. ‘The first time I had no idea how much she meant to me. This time everything is perfect between us. I just hope you find a woman like Emma one day. A woman who’s the centre of your world, the love of your life.’

Damen’s smile solidified. As if he believed in that any more! For others, if they were extraordinarily lucky, but not himself. He’d lost his naivety a decade ago.

Ruthlessly he yanked his thoughts from the events that had changed him, and his family, for ever. Today was a joyous day, not one for dwelling on mistakes and tragedy.

Damen retrieved two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and passed one to his best friend. ‘Here’s to you and your lovely Emma. And,’ he added when they’d both sipped their wine, ‘here’s to me finding my own perfect woman.’

One who was attractive, intelligent, amenable and, above all, expendable.

‘You look stunning, Emma.’ Steph finished pinning the antique lace veil in place and stepped back. She’d never seen her best friend so happy. She positively glowed.

Emma grinned. ‘You’ve seen the outfit before.’

It was the one she’d worn the first time she married Christo, before she deserted him on learning he didn’t love her. So much had happened since, but miraculously, in that time Emma and her Greek billionaire husband had sorted out their differences. They were so much in love it almost hurt to look at such joy.

‘Hey, Steph, what is it? Are you sure you’re okay?’

Instantly guilt crowded in. Emma was too sharp. She’d taken one look at Steph when she stepped off the plane at Corfu Airport and asked what was wrong. Persuading Emma that she was fine, just tired after the trip from Melbourne, had taken all Steph’s skill.

Steph refused to mar Emma’s big day with her woes. She’d find a solution to the fix she was in, though every avenue she’d pursued so far had proved a dead end. She’d just have to try harder.

Because this trouble didn’t affect her alone. She suppressed a shiver.

‘Of course I’m okay! Can’t I just be a little emotional, seeing you so radiant? You look like a fairy princess.’

For a second she read doubt in Emma’s expression before it was ousted by another smile. ‘I feel like one! Pinch me so I know this is real.’

Steph didn’t pinch her, but she did hug her, hard. ‘I’m so happy for you, Em. You deserve this after all you’ve been through.’

‘If it’s a matter of deserving...’ Emma stepped back, shaking her head and clearly intending to say more, but Steph stopped her.

‘Come on, Em, it’s time to get this show on the road.’

Emma gasped when she saw the time and turned to the door in a flurry of long skirts. Steph twitched the veil into place and followed her out into the warm Greek sunshine.

It was a glorious day in a perfect setting. The garden of the gracious old villa made a wonderful wedding venue, with the stunning blue-green sea as a backdrop. But what made the event so special was the sight of her dear friend committing herself to the man she loved.

Yet now, as Steph mingled with the well-wishers after the ceremony, she couldn’t concentrate fully on this wonderful occasion. Not because of her own worries. They’d still be there later, crowding close again soon enough.

No, the buzz of discomfort came from him. The man who, every time she turned, was watching her. Even as he chatted with, it seemed, every female under forty at the reception.

Steph could trace his progress through the crowd, since he left behind a trail of starry-eyed women.

But not her.

Because the dark-haired man standing head and superb shoulders above the throng was Damen Nicolaides.

Snake.

Lowlife.

The man who’d conned her into making a fool of herself.

She felt sick when she thought of it.

She couldn’t believe how simple it had been for him. Steph might be impulsive but when it came to men she’d learned almost from the cradle not to trust easily.

So why had she forgotten her hard-won lessons the moment Damen Nicolaides crooked his finger? She who’d never allowed herself to be swayed before by masculine charm and a sexy body.

Because she’d made the mistake of believing Damen was different. That he was loyal and caring. Which it appeared he was, for those he genuinely valued. Anyone outside that charmed circle had to be wary. For he was also devious, calculating and utterly ruthless.

The memory of that evening in Melbourne still haunted her when she let her defences down or when she was tired. Which was often, these days, as worry kept her awake most nights.

And why, oh, why had she allowed herself to be wrong-footed by yet another plausible, smooth-talking male, even after her experience with demon Damen?

In her weaker moments Steph toyed with the idea that in succumbing to Damen’s charm she’d somehow destroyed her defences and her judgement. Obviously it was now fatally flawed when it came to the opposite sex.

From now on she’d have nothing to do with them. It was safer that way.

At least with Damen it was only her feminine pride that had been bruised. Which led inevitably to thoughts of the catastrophe facing her back in Australia.

Anguish churned her insides. Suddenly she wasn’t in the mood for celebrating.

Steph spied a path leading away from the villa. Picking up her long skirts, she followed it, only stopping when the sounds of celebration grew muted. She was at the top of a low cliff looking over a horseshoe beach of perfect white sand. The breeze brought the mingled scent of cypresses and the sea, and Steph drew a steadying breath.

She’d head back soon. Just take a few moments to recharge her batteries and overcome her maudlin thoughts. This was Emma’s special day and Steph intended to be there for her.

‘You’re not enjoying the party?’

The voice slid through her like melted chocolate, smooth, rich and compelling. To her horror Steph felt something deep inside ease and loosen.

As if she’d been waiting for this.

She’d avoided speaking to Damen Nicolaides. Yet she’d know his voice anywhere. Not merely because she’d earlier heard the deep tone of his murmured conversation with Christo, but because she still heard him in her dreams.

Steph clenched her jaw and stood straighter. So he had a great voice, deep and luscious. She knew better than to be taken in by that.

‘I wanted a breather. Some time alone.’

If she stared at the picture-postcard view long enough surely he’d get the message and leave.

Instead she heard the crunch of measured footsteps on gravel.

‘Direct as ever, Stephanie.’

Steph bit her lip, hating the way that softening sensation spread, as if the man only had to speak and her female hormones got all fluttery and eager.

Just because no one else called her by her full name. Or made it sound like an invitation to sin.

Heat flared in her veins and shot to her cheeks.

‘Then perhaps you’ll take the hint and go back to the party.’

His only answer was a huff of amusement that rippled across her tight shoulders and nape. Instead of retreating, he stopped behind and to the side of her. She couldn’t see him in her peripheral vision but sensed him. It was an awareness she couldn’t explain and didn’t want to.

‘Here, I brought you a peace offering.’

A hand appeared before her, broad, olive-skinned, perfectly manicured. It held champagne in a crystal glass.

Steph was about to refuse when he continued. ‘I thought we could toast the happy couple.’

It was the one thing that could persuade her to accept the drink. Did he know that?

Of course he did. He was smart, this man. Cunning. Steph recalled how easily he’d made her dance to his tune.

And you’re only giving him more power now by letting him see that still bothers you.

Steph reached for the glass, careful not to touch those long fingers. She drew a deep breath, reluctantly inhaling that faint scent she remembered from before, a woodsy, warm, appealing aroma. Recognition skittered through her, a spurious sense of rightness. She ignored it and turned.

‘To the bride and groom.’ She lifted her glass and swallowed. Then took another long sip to ease the sudden dryness in her throat.

Up close he didn’t look like a snake. He looked as handsome as ever. Honed cheekbones and a squared jaw that gave him an aura of determination. Long, straight nose, a sensual mouth and eyes of forest green that seemed to glint in the afternoon light. Dark hair that she knew to be soft to the touch.

Her fingers twitched and the glass jerked in her hold. Quickly she dipped her head and took another tiny sip.

‘To Emma and Christo,’ he murmured. ‘May they be happy together for the rest of their lives.’

He drank and Steph found herself watching his throat work. As if there was something innately fascinating about the movement. When she lifted her gaze it meshed with his and awareness jolted through her.

No, no, no. Not awareness. This wasn’t like last time. Dislike. Scorn. Disdain. Any of those would do.

‘Thank you for the drink,’ she said politely, as if to a complete stranger. There, that was better. Treat him like a stranger. ‘Now, I’d better head back. Emma—’

‘Is surrounded by excited friends and family. She can do without you a little longer.’

Steph’s eyebrows rose. ‘Nevertheless, it’s time I returned.’

‘I’d hoped we could talk.’

‘Talk?’ What could they possibly have to discuss? ‘We have nothing to talk about.’

Was it her imagination or did that strong jaw clench? The gleam in those remarkable eyes dimmed and Steph had the impression, suddenly, that something serious lurked behind his air of assurance.

‘About Melbourne—’

‘There’s nothing to discuss. It’s in the past.’

‘It doesn’t feel like it. You look at me with hostility, Stephanie.’

Her fingers curled around the stem of the champagne glass as she fought the impulse to throw the rest of her drink over his too-handsome face.

Except she wouldn’t make a scene at Emma’s wedding.

Her eyes rounded in disbelief. ‘You’re surprised by that?’

‘I apologised.’

‘Oh, and that makes it all right, does it?’ Steph waved her hand and vintage champagne arced through the air, splashing onto the ground.

‘I did what was necessary to help my friend.’

‘You kidnapped me!’ Steph jammed her finger into the centre of his chest.

‘Only a very little kidnap. Christo was desperate, wondering where his bride had disappeared to on their wedding day.’

‘That’s no excuse. She sent a message saying she was safe. Besides, you can’t blame Emma for leaving when she discovered the real reason he’d married her.’

Slowly Damen shook his head. ‘They’ve made their peace now. But that week Christo was mad with worry. I had to help him locate her. And you,’ suddenly he leaned towards her, his free hand covering hers and capturing it against his chest, ‘you knew where she was.’

‘You assumed I did.’ Steph kept her eyes on his face, rather than that broad chest where his heart thudded strongly beneath her palm.

‘It was more than an assumption, Stephanie. It didn’t take a genius to work out she’d had help disappearing so completely and quickly. I could see you were uncomfortable keeping quiet about Emma’s whereabouts. I knew if I could just get you alone and persuade you...’

The heat in Steph’s cheeks turned scorching hot, exploding in fiery darts that shot through her whole body. She ripped her hand from his grasp and stepped back.

‘Is that what you call it? Persuasion?’ Her breath came in sawing gasps that didn’t fill her lungs.

Dull colour scored his sculpted cheekbones but Steph felt no satisfaction that she’d actually dented his ego or his conscience.

She was too busy remembering that it wasn’t Damen but she who’d made the first move that night.

Exhausted from a long week at work, she’d had no excuse to refuse Damen when he arrived saying he had a lead on Emma’s location. He’d asked her to go with him to persuade her back to her husband. Steph had known Emma was in Corfu, since she’d made Emma’s travel arrangements. But she couldn’t admit that. So she’d gone with Damen, only to doze off on the long drive out of the city.

When she’d woken the car had stopped and Damen was leaning towards her, his breath warm on her face. Half-awake and unthinking, she’d reacted instinctively and lifted her hand to his face. He’d stilled and Steph could have sworn the atmosphere turned electric with mutual need. Then his arms were around her and she was arching into him as he kissed her with a thoroughness that unravelled everything she thought she knew about desire, and every defence she’d ever erected.

Her hands had ploughed through that thick, soft hair with a desperation that betrayed an attraction she’d tried and failed to suppress. All week she’d seen Damen, handsome, caring Damen, support his friend and Emma’s family, checking on them all, leaving no stone unturned in the quest to find Emma.

It was only when they’d finally left the car for the deserted beach house that Steph discovered the truth. She’d been walking on air, her blood singing in her veins. Until Damen admitted why he’d brought her to that isolated place.

He’d hold her there till she told him where Emma was, for days if necessary. Even then she hadn’t believed him. Thought he actually had a romantic rendezvous in mind. Till eventually she’d reached for her phone and he’d told her he’d taken it from her bag in the car and locked it away.

He hadn’t been leaning towards her to wake her, or to steal a kiss. He’d been reaching into her handbag, palming her phone so she couldn’t call for assistance.

And when she’d reached for him?

Well, why look a gift horse in the mouth? He must have decided that softening her up with a little seduction would make it easier to get to the truth.

Steph shut her eyes, trying to blot out the memory of that night. Of how she’d betrayed her yearning for a man who didn’t care for her. Who’d callously used her attraction to him for his own ends. No doubt he’d silently laughed at her gullibility.

‘Stephanie?’ A firm hand gripped her elbow. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Don’t. Touch. Me.’

One staggering step back and she came up against a cypress tree. Instead of sinking against it she stood straight and stared up into green eyes dark with concern.

He was a good actor. Last year in Australia she’d believed he was as attracted as she.

The worst of it was that to him it had merely been a little kidnap, since Christo had phoned soon after Damen’s revelation with news he’d discovered Emma’s whereabouts. Her abductor had then apologised for his ‘drastic action’ and driven her home, politely seeing her to her door in a painful parody of a date. All the time she’d squirmed at how she’d revealed her feelings for him. Feelings he didn’t return. Feelings he’d callously used.

Steph had felt about an inch tall.

Like all those times when her dad had failed to show up, despite his promises. Because something had cropped up that was more important than spending time with his girl.

‘I wanted to apologise.’

Damen’s deep voice held a husky edge that might have sounded like guilt. Except Steph would rather trust a crocodile that claimed to be vegetarian than she would this man.

‘You’ve done that before.’

Wide shoulders lifted. ‘It obviously didn’t work.’

‘Work?’ Her gaze slewed back to his face and she took in his serious expression.

‘You haven’t forgiven me.’

For a long time his eyes held hers, then she looked beyond him to the bluer than blue sky and the scented cypress trees. ‘You can’t have everything.’

She was not going to absolve his outrageous behaviour.

‘Yet you haven’t told Emma what happened.’

Unwillingly she turned back to him. ‘Emma had enough to deal with. And later...’ She shrugged. ‘There was no reason to tell her. Especially as you’re her husband’s best friend. Why put her in the impossible position of disliking you when she’ll have no choice but to see you regularly?’

‘Is that how you feel? You dislike me?’ Again that echo of something Steph couldn’t identify in his tone.

Regret?

Probably more like curiosity. Steph was fairly certain most people approved of Damen Nicolaides, given his looks, charm and stonking great fortune.

She breathed deep, steadying herself. It was time to end this. ‘I was brought up to be polite, Mr Nicolaides. But clearly you’re too thick-skinned to get the message.’ Steph wondered if anyone, particularly a woman, had ever said no to him. Had they all fallen victim to his charm? ‘The answer is yes, I dislike you.’

To her chagrin he didn’t react. Not even a flicker in that sharp green stare. Clearly her words had no impact on his monumental ego.

Her chin hiked higher. ‘I’ll be happy if I never have to see or speak with you again.’

That was when she saw it. A stiffening of muscles, drawing the skin tight across the hard planes of his face. A flare of imperious nostrils. A twitch of the lips. And those eyes...despite their cool colour they burned for a second with shocking heat.

A moment later Steph was left wondering if she’d imagined his reaction. He looked as he always did, effortlessly urbane and totally at ease, as if his only worry was deciding whether to summon his jet for a jaunt to Acapulco or Monte Carlo.

His mouth stretched into a smile that made Steph’s thudding heart skip. It was a crying shame that the man should be so formidably attractive when he was such a louse.

‘That’s unfortunate. I was hoping to get to know you better. Spend some time together.’

‘Together?’ Steph couldn’t believe it. Did he really think she’d be sucked into falling for his macho charisma again? Couldn’t he comprehend how thoroughly she detested him? ‘You have to be joking. I wouldn’t spend time with you if you offered me a million dollars.’

A heartbeat’s silence, a tic of pulse at his temple, just time enough for Steph to wonder how far her strident words had carried. She was turning towards the path back to the wedding when his voice halted her.

‘Then how about two million dollars?’

CHAPTER TWO

THE WORDS WERE out before Damen could think about them. But even as they sank in, he felt a surge of satisfaction.

Because finally Stephanie looked at him with something other than disdain?

Or because instinct told him the offer, despite being instinctive, was pure genius?

He’d wanted a woman who was single, attractive, clever and short-term. Stephanie met his requirements exactly. The fact she didn’t like him only made her more perfect.

Except for that niggle deep in Damen’s belly when she looked at him like he was something unsavoury.

Then he felt guilt. Regret.

And, he admitted, indignation.

He knew he deserved her anger, understood he’d hurt her. But how could he have stood by and watched his best friend go crazy with worry, knowing Stephanie Logan held the answers he needed?

He’d tried everything he could think of to get the truth out of her but she’d withstood all his appeals for help. When those failed he’d acted decisively to end the farce that she didn’t know where Emma was. His motives had been laudable. He’d done it for the best, to give Christo a chance to find his bride and sort out their problems.

Yet it was true Damen had been too taken up with getting answers to consider his actions from Stephanie’s perspective. Until she’d looked at him with those huge brown eyes full of hurt. Even her subsequent lashing temper hadn’t erased the memory of her embarrassment and pain. That night Damen felt emotions he hadn’t felt in a decade or more. Since he’d faced his father that fateful night.

Damen had intended to see her again, to make things right between them, except there’d been a business crisis that needed his personal attention and he’d had to leave.

Or maybe it was easier to walk away and not face what she made you feel.

‘If that’s your idea of a joke I don’t appreciate it.’

Stephanie swung away, her loose, dark curls bouncing.

She’d had short hair in Melbourne. Short and severe, yet somehow the boyish style had emphasised the feminine allure of features that should be merely ordinary.

Watching those glossy curls swirl around her head, Damen recognised she was anything but ordinary. How could she be when she was so vibrant? The air around her crackled with energy and an inner force lit her features whether she was sad, happy or furious.

And when she kissed—

‘It’s no joke.’

That stopped her. She slammed to a stop and turned to face him. Her chin hiked up as if she had a chance of meeting his gaze on the same level. Yet, though she was far shorter, somehow she managed to look down that petite nose at him. One eyebrow arched and her velvety gaze turned piercing.

That was better.

Her anger he could handle. It was the shadow of hurt he’d seen before that discomfited him.

As if he, Damen Nicolaides, could be swayed by a tiny brunette’s emotions! He regularly played hardball at the negotiating table with competitors, contractors, unions and regulators.

The idea was laughable. And yet...

‘Obviously you’re not serious. You’d never pay two million dollars to—’

‘Spend time with you?’ He stepped towards her, but cautiously, not wanting her to dash off in a temper before she heard him out. ‘In fact I do mean it.’

She shook her head, her forehead wrinkling. ‘How much have you had to drink?’

Damen felt his mouth stretch in a grin. ‘Barely anything. I’m stone-cold sober.’ Far from being insulted, he enjoyed her directness. Only his close family and Christo treated him like a real person these days. Most others were busy trying to get on his good side.

‘It can’t be a pick-up line because I know you have no interest in picking me up.’

Her voice was cool but the streaks of pink across her cheeks betrayed emotion. Instantly Damen was swept back to that night outside Melbourne. How delicious she’d been in his arms. How delectably flushed and aroused.

‘So what’s your game? Are you trying to make a fool of me again? Did you enjoy it so much you’ve developed a taste for it?’

She looked like she could spit fire, arms crossed, empty wine glass beating a tattoo against her bare arm. In her slinky green dress she looked like an angry sea sprite.

Damen felt a tug of desire. He had vivid recollections of how her initial, tentative caresses had grown demanding and surprisingly addictive.

He forced himself to concentrate.

‘Come on, Stephanie. I’m not like that. You know why I did what I did.’ Enough was enough. He’d inadvertently hurt her but she made him out to be some sort of sadistic manipulator. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ll do what I can to make amends for what I did.’

‘Good.’ She inclined her head regally. ‘You can leave me alone. That will do nicely.’

With a flounce she spun away. The long dress flared out around her legs, drawing attention to her tiny waist. Damen’s fingers twitched as he remembered the feel of her slim, restless body against his.

‘Don’t you want to hear about the two million dollars?’ he said silkily, crossing his arms. One thing he knew. There were few people who’d spurn the chance to get their hands on that sort of money.

Naturally she paused. Money talked. Damen told himself he wasn’t disappointed that she was like all the rest. He was pleased, because he needed her.

‘I can’t believe you’re serious.’

‘Oh, I’m serious.’ He’d do whatever it took to bring peace to Clio and her family. Two million was nothing compared with their wellbeing.

‘Okay, then.’ Again that chin hitched high. Her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. ‘What do you want?’

‘You.’ He watched her stiffen and hurried on. ‘Or, more precisely, your company in public.’

‘In public?’

What had she thought? That he’d pay for her in his bed? His jaw tightened. He’d never paid for sex and he didn’t intend to begin now. His voice was steely as he answered. ‘Of course in public. This is a PR exercise, nothing else. I’m not proposing we become lovers.’

Inexplicably, though, his stomach clenched as her head jerked back and her cheeks turned pale.

As if he’d insulted her.

It reminded him of her bruised look that night in Australia after their kisses in the car. When she discovered he’d taken her there not for seduction but to demand the truth about Emma’s location. He’d hurt her and clearly he wasn’t forgiven.

The look in those liquid dark eyes when she’d woken to discover him leaning across her, slipping the phone from her bag, had been one of delight. Not surprise, but welcome. As if there was nothing more natural than the pair of them together.

For a few minutes Damen had forgotten why they were there and fallen under her sensual spell. It had been surprisingly potent and he’d been shocked at the depth of his response. The extent to which she distracted him from his purpose.

Ignoring a sharp pang that felt like guilt, Damen spoke. ‘I need a woman to act as my companion, my girlfriend, for the next few months. And who’ll keep the secret that it’s a pretence. That’s all.’

‘That’s all?’ Her eyes rounded. ‘What happened? You can’t get a girlfriend? Have all the women in Greece finally seen past the smiles and the charm to the louse behind the mask?’

Now she tried his temper. A temper Damen was barely aware he had. For years everything in his world had gone the way he wanted it to. Except for the trying tendency of women to see him as a matrimonial prize.

Damen’s chin lifted as he stood straighter. Stephanie’s expression stilled, her eyes growing wary as she sensed his anger, yet she didn’t retreat.

With enormous restraint Damen refused to take the bait. Stephanie’s dislike of him meant she was perfect in this role. She’d never hanker for more from him than his money.

‘We’re not discussing my personal life, except to say that I don’t have a lover at the moment. You wouldn’t be stepping on anyone’s toes.’ She opened her mouth, no doubt to say something he didn’t want to hear, so Damen kept talking. ‘I need someone who can give the appearance of being my girlfriend.’

‘Why?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Of course it matters. No woman worth her salt would get involved in such a crazy scheme without knowing why. It sounds shonky. You’re asking me to lie.’

‘As I recall, it’s not the first time you’ve done that.’

Her cheeks pinkened and despite his impatience Damen found himself intrigued as fire flashed in her eyes. He couldn’t remember any other woman who telegraphed her emotions that way, or who regularly managed to get a reaction from him.

‘That was different! I was protecting my friend.’

‘As I was protecting mine.’

Her breath exhaled in a slow stream as she clearly fought for control.

‘Okay, I’ll bite, Mr Nicolaides. Tell me more.’

‘Damen.’ He stifled a sigh. He sensed he’d wait till Hades froze before she willingly used his name. That should please him, more proof that she had no scheme to become his girlfriend for real, yet he was chagrined. He wasn’t used to being summarily rejected by a woman. Especially a woman who still...intrigued him.

He digested that. It could be a mistake, asking her to do this when he wasn’t totally immune to the appeal of those big brown eyes or that trim figure.

Plus it would be problematic getting involved with Emma’s best friend. He could do without the repercussions.

But if this scheme was to work he had to act now. Cassie’s wedding was soon and this masquerade had to seem plausible. The earlier reports filtered to the press and to Manos that Damen had a live-in lover, the better. Anyone who knew him would understand how momentous that was, for in Damen’s world the words ‘live-in’ and ‘lover’ never existed together.

‘I want it to appear for the next month or two that I’m committed to a woman.’

She shook her head, curls swirling around her face. ‘But why? As a decoy while you have an affair with a married woman? Am I supposed to keep her husband off the scent?’ Her mouth pursed.

‘No!’ Where did she get these ideas? Did she think he had no honour? ‘I’d never touch another man’s woman!’

Stephanie’s expression didn’t change. It was a new thing to have his word doubted. Damen didn’t like it.

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration rising. ‘Someone has the idea, the completely wrong idea, that I’m planning to marry...a particular woman. I need a pretend lover to convince them they’re wrong.’

‘You led some poor female to believe you were serious about a relationship and now—’

‘No!’ Damen blinked as he realised his voice had risen to a roar.

He never shouted. Nor did he explain himself. His pride smarted and his chest felt tight with anger and frustration. Suddenly Stephanie Logan’s suitability for this masquerade lessened. She had a knack for provoking him that no one else had.

‘I haven’t misled any woman. The woman in question has no interest in marrying me. It’s her family that wants the marriage, primarily because of my fortune.’

‘Now, that I can understand.’

Her tone implied no one would want Damen for himself, only for his money. That rankled. Especially as it cut too close to the truth.

The murky past raised its ugly head but he’d had years to practise avoiding painful memories. Ruthlessly he shoved thoughts of the past away.

And found his lips twitching.

A month with Stephanie Logan would whittle his ego down, that was for sure.

If he could get her to agree.

Had he ever met a woman so ready to think the worst of him?

‘Listen, the woman and I are friends only. However, her father has other ideas and he’s bullying her.’

‘To marry you?’

Damen nodded. ‘He’s a determined man and he’s making her life unbearable. He won’t let it rest unless I show him my interests lie elsewhere.’

Did Stephanie’s flush deepen or did he imagine it?

‘So you do want camouflage.’

‘Listen, Stephanie. No one will be hurt by this masquerade. On the contrary it will make life a whole lot easier for my friend and her family.’

For long moments Stephanie stared back at him. This time Damen found it impossible to read her thoughts. Was she leaning towards agreement? Wondering if she should ask for more money?

‘No one would believe we were together.’

He frowned. ‘Because we mix in different social circles?’

‘You’re saying you’re out of my league?’ She snapped out the words and he knew he’d offended her. ‘Actually, my friends wouldn’t believe it because I have better taste in men.’

Her bright eyes and angled chin signalled pure challenge. Strangely Damen found himself suppressing a smile. She was so determined to rile him. It made him wonder what it would be like if she put all that energy into something else. His thoughts strayed into scenarios that would make her blush if she knew.

‘Why me?’ she asked at last.

Damen shrugged. ‘You’re single. You’ve got some time free—Emma mentioned you were on holiday. And I know you wouldn’t misinterpret this as a chance to establish yourself in my life permanently. The fact you dislike me is a point in your favour.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Because any other woman would try to worm her way into your affections?’

He spread his hands wide. ‘It’s a possibility.’

She muttered something under her breath. The only word he heard was ‘ego’.

Damen stiffened.

Did he truly want to tie himself for a couple of months to a woman who despised him? Would she even be able to play the part of besotted lover?

The answer was yes and yes.

Stephanie Logan was the ideal candidate for this masquerade. She was an outsider, unknown to friends or family in Greece. And he could trust her motives to be strictly short-term.

As for acting besotted...they said love was the opposite side of hate. Damen just had to harness all that emotional energy in a constructive direction. The way the atmosphere sparked and sizzled when they were together would convince even a sceptic that they were connected.

‘And you don’t want to settle down because you’re busy being a carefree bachelor?’ Her voice dripped disapproval.

‘Something like that.’

Damen had no intention of explaining his plan to avoid marriage. He’d never have kids. Eventually he’d pass the family enterprise to his sisters’ children. Damen had enough family without creating more. Especially as he’d always wonder if his wife had married him for himself or his money.

‘I still don’t understand why you asked me and not someone else, but the answer’s no. I don’t like deception and you’re the last man I want to spend time with.’

Damen stared at Stephanie’s flushed face, her clenched jaw and those high breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath.

He wanted to seal this deal here and now but he read the warning signs. Stephanie was a passionate woman in a temper, ready to lash out, even if it meant passing up an opportunity she’d later regret.

She needed time to consider the advantages of his proposition.

He had a little time. She was staying at the villa while Emma and Christo went on their honeymoon. And his yacht was moored offshore.

‘Don’t decide now, Stephanie. I’ll come back for your final answer later.’ Then, scooping the empty glass dangling from her hand, he strolled back to the party.

Take your time!

Because the man couldn’t accept a simple no! He was so arrogant, so stupendously sure of himself, he made Steph’s blood boil.

Thinking about Damen made her pulse skitter and her breath came in hard, short bursts. She remembered him saying she was perfect for his plan because she wouldn’t try to worm her way into his affections.

As if!

There was only one worm here and it wasn’t her.

But, she remembered as she leaned back on the padded sunlounger by the pool, he wasn’t here, was he?

Typical of him to throw out such an outrageous proposition then not follow through. Obviously he was toying with her. She’d known he couldn’t be serious. Even a shipping tycoon didn’t squander two million dollars on such a farcical scheme.

He made her so angry. Angry enough to tell him to his face she had better taste in men than to stoop to him. There was a laugh. Her taste in men was abysmal. Nor had there really been men in her life, not the way he’d think.

Steph hadn’t seen Damen Nicolaides since last night when they and the other wedding guests waved farewell to the newlyweds.

From things Emma had let drop Steph suspected they were on their way to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. It was a place Steph longed to visit but now, like all those other places on her travel list, it was out of her reach. She’d make the most of these days on Corfu. It was likely to be her last holiday.

Steph picked up her pen and focused on her list of potential employers, but her heart wasn’t in it. She’d already contacted the best agencies and there was no work.

Even when she got a new job, her troubles wouldn’t be over. There was the matter of all the money she had to recoup. The wheels of justice turned slowly. By the time the authorities caught Jared, if they ever did, her money would have disappeared. And Gran’s too.

Steph’s belly clenched as she thought of Gran, so eager to support her only granddaughter’s first business venture that she’d put her life savings into it.

If Steph had known, she wouldn’t have let her take the risk. She’d never have introduced her to Jared.

Steph shook her head. If-onlys were pointless. Jared, her one-time boss and almost business partner, had skipped the country, leaving Steph with nothing but a debt she couldn’t service. And Gran with no way of funding the move to the retirement village she’d planned.

Steph ground her teeth and flung the notebook down.

A steady wage wouldn’t rectify her financial problems. It was lucky she’d paid for her return flight to Australia months ago. She had barely enough for a week’s rent in a hostel when she got back.

There was one obvious way out of her troubles.

Tell Emma. Her friend and her husband were wealthy. Emma wouldn’t hesitate to help.

But the thought sickened Steph. She couldn’t leech off Emma. This was her mistake. She had to fix it. She’d trusted Jared, believed him when he said he was moving the money to put a deposit on their new premises.

Besides, money issues could destroy friendships. Emma and Steph had been best mates since they started high school, when Steph had championed quiet Emma and in return been gifted with the truest friend she’d ever made. She’d never jeopardise that.

Nausea rose as she remembered earlier days when she’d still lived with her mother. Suddenly the kids next door weren’t allowed to visit. They’d shunned her. Ugly words had been hurled and a shame she’d been too young to understand weighed her down. Because Steph’s mother, battling to support them both on her cleaner’s wage, had borrowed from her friend next door. Borrowed money she couldn’t repay. The friendship died and they’d had to move again to a smaller flat.

Steph’s mother had worked hard but she’d never been able to hold on to money. They’d lived from hand to mouth until Steph had finally been packed off to live with Gran.

Steph grimaced. She’d been determined not to be like her mother. From the day she got her first paper round then worked several part-time jobs, she’d scrimped to save and contribute to Gran’s housekeeping.

So proud of herself, she’d been. Confident about this exciting venture with Jared, a bespoke travel company, catering to those who wanted an individualised holiday experience.

It had all turned to dust.

Steph swung off the lounger and shot to her feet. She needed a plan. A way to salvage Gran’s savings at least.

A way to get money quickly, not in twenty years.

Two million dollars.

The tantalising echo of that deep voice rippled through her. Damen made his crazy proposition sound almost reasonable.

With two million dollars she could buy Gran a home in the retirement village she had her eye on, with the lake view. There’d be money to start again. To avoid the trap her mother had fallen into, working low-paid jobs to get by.

Steph had loved her mother but vowed to learn from her mistakes. She’d be financially independent and never be taken in by a guy who’d let her down. Like Steph’s feckless father, who’d never provided emotional or financial support and then disappeared for ever.

A bitter laugh clogged Steph’s throat. Look at her now!

She’d fallen for the double whammy. Jared hadn’t romanced her, but she’d believed his plausible talk about a new venture, put her money into it, and lost everything.

It was enough to make a woman crazy. She strode towards the beach path. She needed to work off this agitation then find a solution.

She turned the corner at the end of the villa and walked into a wall that shouldn’t be there.

A wall a few inches over six feet tall, cushioned with muscle and smelling of the outdoors and hot male flesh.

Steph’s middle turned inside out and a fluttering rose in her chest.

‘Stephanie. I’d hoped to find you.’

His smile, a flash of perfect white teeth against olive-gold skin should have made her wonder how much Damen had spent on dental surgery. But she suspected it was all real. Just as every inch of that tall frame was the real deal, lean yet strongly muscled. Wearing cut-offs and a T-shirt that clung to that impressive chest, it was clear his masculine appearance owed nothing to his tailor.

Steph swallowed annoyance. Was anything about the man, apart from his morals, less than perfect?

Damen looked into those sparkling eyes and felt a punch to the solar plexus. Stronger even than yesterday, when the sight of Stephanie, alluring in her long gown, had dried his mouth. Only for a moment, because no woman had the power to unnerve him. He wouldn’t allow it.

Yesterday it had been due to surprise. Stephanie had seemed so different with those dusky, clustering curls and formal dress. She’d been ultra-feminine and disturbingly sultry.

And today?

His hands closed on her bare arms as he took her in. The scarlet one-piece swimsuit should have looked demure, but on Stephanie’s slender curves...

Damen yanked his gaze to her face. That was when he read something other than the scorn he’d seen yesterday.

Was that distress as well as anger?

He looked past her, searching for the person who’d upset her, but there was no one. Beneath his hold she was taut, almost vibrating, like a wire strung too tight.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Predictably her chin rose and she drew a deep breath that tested Damen’s determination not to ogle her trim body. ‘Except you’ve intruded on my privacy.’

It felt like relief to have her snark at him, yet Damen wasn’t convinced. There were shadows around her eyes, shadows he hadn’t put there. She’d already been upset when she stormed towards him.

Bizarre to feel protective of a woman who despised him, yet...

He released his hold, surprised when, for a millisecond, she swayed towards him. Then she planted her feet as if to steady herself.

‘I’ve come for an answer.’ Damen folded his arms over his chest, surprised to discover his heart thudding fast.

‘You were serious?’

He held her gaze. ‘Absolutely. Two million dollars for a couple of months of your time.’

She swallowed and Damen repressed the impulse to lean closer, pushing his advantage.

‘Think of all you could do with the money.’ He was surprised she’d delayed. Any other woman would have leapt at the chance straight away.

Stephanie Logan had a contrary streak.

Surprising that didn’t deter him.

Her eyelids flickered, veiling her eyes as she gnawed lips he knew to be soft and delicious. He was so focused on her mouth it took a moment to realise she’d turned that bright gaze on him again.

‘Okay, you’ve got a deal. I’ll be your fake girlfriend for two million dollars.’

CHAPTER THREE

TRIUMPH WAS A surge of adrenalin in Damen’s arteries. A lifting of tension he hadn’t been aware of till the weight across his shoulders eased.

Because the way was clear to scotch Manos’s wedding expectations.

Because Damen hated the idea of people he cared for, like Clio and her mother, being hurt. Especially when it was his fault.

His thoughts strayed to that terrible time when he’d been the catalyst for the disaster that rocked his family. He yanked his mind from that and back on track.

Stephanie at his side, sexy, provoking, intriguing... Which of course was only important as it made her the perfect person to play his pretend lover.

Damen’s thoughts slowed on the word ‘lover’. Slowed and circled. Despite her animosity and her insults, she intrigued him as no woman had in years.

Another reason to remember this was purely business.

‘But I have conditions.’

‘Conditions?’ He frowned. Was she going to try to negotiate for more money? She must guess he was desperate or he’d never have made the offer.

‘Yes.’ She folded her arms and her breasts burgeoned against the top of her swimsuit. Damen breathed deep and concentrated on her face. He refused to be distracted during negotiations. ‘I want everything spelled out in a legal contract.’

He released his breath. ‘Is that all?’ Of course there’d be a contract, including a watertight non-disclosure clause so she couldn’t sell her story or details of his life to the press.

‘Not all.’ She paused. ‘I want half the money in advance when I sign.’

Damen saw colour rise up her chest and throat into her cheeks. She swallowed quickly and the pulse at the base of her neck beat a rapid tattoo. She expected an argument. Obviously it was important that she get the funds quickly.

Why? Was she in financial difficulty? Or couldn’t she wait to get spending?

Damen was on the verge of asking but stopped himself. He didn’t need to know her motivations, despite the urgent curiosity he refused to give in to. This was a deal. Her services for his money.

‘Done.’

Her eyes widened and he fancied he read surprise there. And nerves. Why? Because she’d hoped he wouldn’t agree? Was the offer of two million so alluring she’d been persuaded despite her better judgement?

Now he was being fanciful.

‘One other thing.’ Her gaze settled near his ear.

Now he was definitely intrigued. Despite the disparity between them, in wealth, power and physical size, Stephanie always met his gaze.

This condition she’d left till last was vitally important.

‘No kissing.’

Finally her eyes locked on his and a sizzle pierced Damen’s belly, driving down like a hammering pile driver. Then the connection was severed and she stared at his ear again.

‘Sorry?’

‘You heard me.’ She dropped her arms to her sides then almost immediately refolded them. ‘I’ll play your girlfriend in public, but I won’t kiss you, and,’ she hurried on as if expecting him to interrupt, ‘I won’t have you kissing me. No lip locks. I want that spelled out in the contract.’

Damen lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. ‘If we’re lovers people will expect us to be intimate and show affection.’

Her flush intensified. Damen’s curiosity deepened. Was she annoyed or embarrassed?

‘Intimate in private. In public there are ways of showing affection without kissing.’

Damen shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I’m paying you an enormous sum. I expect you to be completely convincing.’

‘And I will be. I just won’t kiss you.’

‘For religious reasons? Health reasons? I can assure you you’re not going to catch some terrible illness.’

She unlocked tightly crossed arms and spread her hands. ‘Because I don’t care to, okay? Once was more than enough. I won’t repeat that mistake.’

Damen was about to say it hadn’t felt like a mistake. In fact their kiss had moved him in ways he wasn’t used to.

That in itself was reason enough not to say it.

He frowned. ‘Then how do you intend to persuade people we’re lovers?’

She made a vague gesture. ‘By hanging on your every word. Looking into your eyes. Snuggling up—’

‘Snuggling? So we’re allowed to touch?’

Stephanie’s mouth thinned and Damen suspected she stifled the urge to swear.

‘Don’t be asinine. Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.’ She shook her head and those lush curls brushed her cheeks. ‘There are ways of signalling attraction and intimacy without—’

‘Putting my lips on yours.’ He watched her blink and something inside him shifted.

Did this woman have any idea how provocative, how downright dangerous, it was to throw down an ultimatum like that? Especially to the man paying such a price for her company?

It was more than an ultimatum. It was a challenge.

Damen didn’t back down from challenges. He won them.

‘Prove you can be convincing as my lover or the deal is off.’

Damen saw dismay flicker in that bright gaze. Was she going to renege?

Disappointment stirred.

He’d imagined, after the way Stephanie Logan had once stood up for her friend Emma, defying both him and Christo to keep her secret, and the way she’d lambasted him after he’d abducted her, that nothing could daunt this woman. Now he read something in her expression that made him doubt. Maybe he’d misjudged—

She stepped towards him, so close he caught the scent of sun lotion and vanilla. That vanilla fragrance stirred memories of her in his arms, kissing him with a fervour that shredded his control.

Damen was still grappling with that when a small, firm hand closed around his bare forearm, curling loosely yet seeming to brand him. A shiver of something disturbingly like delight reverberated through him.

Stephanie leaned in, her eyes a golden brown that for a change looked soft and melting rather than distrustful.

He liked that look. Very much.

Just as he liked the way her lips parted as if being close to him affected her breathing.

Damen realised his own lungs were working harder. In anticipation, he told himself. If she couldn’t convince as his girlfriend he’d have to find someone else.

He didn’t want anyone else.

The unsettling notion stirred then was squashed as Stephanie moved nearer.

Sweetly rounded breasts jiggled a hair’s breadth from his arm as she rose on tiptoe. She was so close he felt her warm breath on his face. It should have been a mere waft of air. It felt like a deliberate, sensuous stroke of her fingers. Her lips formed a pout that turned her mouth into an invitation to kiss.

Damen didn’t bend his head. He stood, waiting.

He didn’t have to wait long. She planted her other hand on his chest, over the spot where his heart accelerated to a quicker beat. Her fingers splayed, slid across the contours of muscle, then stopped.

She blinked and he had the impression she was as surprised by that caress as he was.

Damen expected her to pull away but she leaned still nearer. Delight surged as those brown eyes locked on his in clear invitation.

‘Damen,’ she murmured in a throaty voice that belonged in the bedroom. Her fingers walked up his chest. Soft fingertips flirted against his collarbone and his flesh tightened.

Something jolted through him. Delight? Anticipation? Both?

He reminded himself this was a game, a test. It wasn’t real. But his body ignored logic. Heat trailed low in his groin.

Stephanie leaned still closer, her full breast warm and intoxicatingly inviting against his arm.

‘You have no idea,’ she whispered, so close that they breathed the same air, ‘how very, very alluring I find...’

Damen inclined his head, drawn to those luminous eyes fringed with lush dark lashes. And more, by the conviction she’d finally put aside her dislike, giving in to the attraction that had connected them from the first.

Her fingers on his lips stopped him just as he heard ‘...your two million dollars.’

Abruptly she was gone.

Damen chilled. It felt like she’d cut him off at the knees.

He’d issued the challenge. He should have known Stephanie Logan would accept it and shouldn’t have let himself get distracted. She wasn’t the sort to back down.

Or, apparently, to give up the chance of a couple of million.

His lips twisted. He needed to remember that. No matter how sweet he’d once found her. How he’d respected her loyalty to her friend even as he’d cursed her obstinacy.

She was doing this for money and far more convincingly than he’d thought possible.

An undercurrent of doubt channelled through his belly. His hackles rose.

She’d only done what he’d demanded, prove she could play the convincing lover. Yet, looking into that pretty face flushed with satisfaction, he was irresistibly reminded of another woman who’d been all too convincing at feigning ardour and even love.

A woman who’d almost wrecked his life and who’d been the catalyst for his greatest regret.

‘How’d I do?’ Stephanie stuck her hands on her hips, looking up expectantly.

Did she expect applause?

Grudgingly Damen realised she probably deserved it. She didn’t care for him but he’d insisted on a demonstration of fake affection. It was unreasonable to feel betrayed by how well she’d pretended.

‘Well enough.’

She frowned but Damen wasn’t going to heap praise on her ability to lie.

The muffled voice of his conscience said he was unreasonable. He’d be lying about this fake relationship too. At least Stephanie was upfront about her motives.

Yet it took an effort to shake off his dissatisfaction as he looked into her features, again wearing that familiar, guarded expression.

‘So we have a deal?’

‘I’ll have the contract drawn up straight away. With the specifications you requested.’

Half the money in advance. And no kissing.

Maybe it was his unsettled mood. Maybe it was annoyance at how she’d dredged up negative memories. More probably it was the way she’d bruised his pride, being immune to him when just months ago she’d been eager for his touch.

Whatever the reason, Damen found himself adding a mental corollary to their deal. He’d stick to their bargain but he’d make Stephanie Logan regret her no-kissing rule. In fact, he’d make it his business to ensure she too felt this tingling dissatisfaction that their affair wasn’t real.

He’d seduce her into wanting him again.

You’re crazy. You hate deception. Yet you’re going to lie for a man you don’t even like.

Steph threaded her fingers together, willing the voice in her head to stop.

It’s worse than that. You don’t like him but you’re still attracted, aren’t you?

‘Stephanie?’

‘Sorry.’ She turned her gaze back to the tall man whose presence filled the study of Emma’s villa. Sunlight streamed through the windows, slanting across those high-cut cheekbones before pooling on the papers he’d brought.

‘I said, I had the contract drawn up in English, so you don’t need a translator.’

‘Thank you.’ Surprised at his thoughtfulness, she smiled, despite her nerves.

She should have guessed Damen would think of that. He was thorough. In Melbourne he’d been a pillar of strength for his friend, leaving no stone unturned to locate Christo’s missing bride. Damen seemed to think of everything.

Suppressing a shiver, Steph crossed to the desk on reluctant feet. Now it came to the crunch she had doubts.

Except Damen would transfer cash to her account the moment she signed. Cash she’d use to buy a lovely, purpose-built home for her grandmother in the development she had her heart set on.

How could she refuse?

Yet her movements were slow as she took the chair he held out. The contract sat before her, a stylish fountain pen beside it.

She breathed deep but instead of settling her nerves, it had the opposite effect. For she inhaled an attractive woodsy scent that she identified as Damen’s. Rich, warm and far too appealing.

Steph shut her eyes and suddenly she was back in the garden yesterday, when Damen had threatened to scrap this deal unless she could play the convincing lover.

She’d felt challenged, daunted and a little too excited at being up against all that magnificent manliness. Her heart had raced and she’d told herself it was because she refused to back down. The prize was too big.

Steph had felt a surge of recklessness and been buoyed up by it. It was a welcome change after so much recent self-blame and doubt. For a few moments she’d felt her old self, confident, decisive and practical. Able to handle anything. Sheer relief at that once familiar feeling of assurance had filled her.

Until she’d closed the gap between them to kissing distance. Then she’d felt like a mouse who’d unwittingly been lured between a cat’s paws. The heat in Damen’s eyes had slammed into her and she realised she played with fire.

She’d retreated from him and suddenly, it seemed, she’d been wrong. There was no fire in his eyes. No desire. Damen Nicolaides didn’t want her. He’d never wanted her.

He’d made that embarrassingly clear in Melbourne.

She’d been relieved at the reminder. Truly relieved.

What she’d seen flash in those stunning eyes was pique. Anger that she could act the part so easily yet remain immune to him.

Well, not immune, but she’d do whatever it took to hide that from him!

‘Have you finished reading?’ His deep voice came from over her shoulder and her eyes popped open.

‘I like to take my time with legal documents.’

Not that that had stopped Jared running off with her money. Cold settled in Steph’s bones and she set her teeth. This deal seemed the only way to recoup what she’d lost, not just the money but her control over her life.

Yet she couldn’t ignore the feeling it was a mistake.

But she needed to take the risk to reverse the plight she’d put herself and her beloved Gran in. Playing safe wouldn’t help now.

Even if it didn’t feel safe, she wouldn’t fall for Damen Nicolaides again. She was over him, or almost over him. A few weeks in his company would destroy any lingering weakness. He didn’t want her, so what was the risk?

Steph concentrated on the contract, reading each sentence carefully, grateful it was set out in simple terms. Her eyes rounded at the penalties she’d incur if she sold her story, but as she had no intention of broadcasting her time with Damen, that was no problem. She had to decide what to tell Emma, but that could wait.

Her breath eased out. There it was, the payment. Half today and half in eight weeks.

And there was her other stipulation.

No kiss on the lips unless specifically verbally invited by Ms Logan.

What an ego this guy had! As if she’d ever invite him to kiss her.

Steph frowned. No kiss on the lips. Surely she’d stipulated no kissing at all? Then she recalled saying ‘No lip locks’. She reached for the pen. Should she change it?

‘Is there a problem?’

She looked up to see Damen, hands in his trouser pockets, wearing a bland expression she suspected hid boredom. There was nothing in his expression that hinted at attraction. All he cared about was convincing people he had a new lover. It was a business deal, nothing else.

Why quibble over terminology? Over a kiss on the lips as opposed to any kiss? Damen wasn’t interested in her kisses.

With a determined smile Steph picked up the pen and signed the contract.

‘Excellent.’ Damen nodded and drew out his phone. ‘I’ll organise the transfer of funds.’

See? It was easy and straightforward.

Soon Gran would have the home she wanted and a comfortable nest egg too, and Steph would be free of debt.

So why did her neck tingle with a premonition that this wouldn’t be safe or easy after all?

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