he arrival of the wine brought her a welcome relief from his penetrating gaze, but the relief was only momentary. As soon as they were alone again, he drawled, "Does it bother you that I'm attracted to you? I would have thought you would find it commonplace to attract a man's desire."

Jessica tried to retrieve her hand, but his fingers closed firmly over hers and refused to let her go. Green sparks began to shoot from her eyes as she looked up at him. "I don't think you are attracted," she said sharply. "I think you're still trying to put me in my place because I won't bow down and kiss your feet. I've told you that the shares are yours, now please let go of my hand."

"You're wrong," he said, his hand tightening over hers until the grip was painful and she winced. "From the moment you walked into my office this afternoon, every nerve in my body has been screaming. I want you, Jessica, and signing those shares over to me won't get me out of your life."

"Then what will?" she demanded, tight-lipped. "What is your price for leaving me alone?"

A look of almost savage anger crossed his face; then he smiled, and the smile chilled her blood. The midnight eyes raked over her face and breasts. "Price?" he murmured. "You know what the price would be, to leave you alone…eventually. I want to sate myself with you, burn you so deeply with my touch that you will never be free, so that whenever another man touches you, you will think of me and wish me in his place."

The thought—the image it provoked—was shattering. Her eyes widened and she stared at him in horror. "No," she said thickly. "Oh, no! Never!"

"Don't be so certain," he mocked. "Do you think I couldn't overcome any resistance you might make? And I'm not talking about forcing you, Jessica; I'm talking about desire. I could make you want me; I could make you so hungry for my lovemaking that you'd beg me to take you."

"No!" Blindly she shook her head, terrified that he might really force himself on her. She wouldn't permit that, never; she had endured hell on earth because everyone saw her as a gold-digging little tart, but she would never let herself be reduced to the level of a kept woman, a mistress, all of the ugly things they had called her. "Don't you understand?" she whispered raggedly. "I don't want to get involved with you—with any man—on any level."

"That's very interesting," he said, his eyes narrowing on her face. "I can understand that you'd find your marriage duties to an old man to be revolting, but surely all of your lovers can't have been so bad. And don't try to pretend that you went into that marriage as pure as the driven snow, because I won't believe you. An innocent wouldn't sell herself to an old man, and besides, too many men claim to have…known you."

Jessica swallowed hard on the nausea that welled up in her and her head jerked up. White-faced, green eyes blazing, she spat at him, "On the contrary, Robert was an angel! It was the other men who left a bad taste in my mouth—and I think, Mr. Constantinos, that in spite of your money, you give me the worst taste of all."

Instantly she was aware that she had gone too far. His face went rigid and she had only a second of warning before the hand that held her fingers tightened and pulled, drawing her out of her chair until she was leaning over the table. He rose and met her halfway, and her startled exclamation was cut off by the pressure of his mouth, hot and hard and probing, and she had no defense against the intrusion of his tongue.

Dimly she could hear the swelling murmurs behind her, feel a flash of light against her lids, but the kiss went on and on and she was helpless to pull away. Panic welled in her, smothering her, and a whimper of distress sounded in her throat. Only then did he raise his punishing mouth, but he still held her over the table like that, his eyes on her white face and trembling lips, then he very gently reseated her and resumed his own seat. "Don't provoke me again," he said through his teeth. "I warned you, Jessica, and that kiss was a light one compared to the next one you will get."

Jessica didn't dare look up at him; she simply sat there and stared at her wine, her entire body shaking. She wanted to slap him, but more than that she wanted to run away and hide. That flash of light that she had noticed had been the flash of a camera, she knew, and she cringed inside to think of the field day the scandal sheets would have with that photo. Nausea roiled in her stomach and she fought fiercely against it, snatching up her wineglass with a shaking hand and sipping the cool, dry wine until she had herself under control again.

A rather uncomfortable-looking waiter appeared with the menus and Jessica used every ounce of concentration that she possessed in choosing her meal. She had thought of allowing Constantinos to order for her; in fact, he seemed to expect her to do so, but it had become very important that she cling to that small bit of independence. She had to cling to something when she could feel the eyes boring into her from all corners of the room, and when across from her sat a man who made man-eating tigers seem tame.

"It's useless to sulk," he said now, breaking in on her thoughts with his smooth, deep voice. "I won't allow that, Jessica, and it was only a kiss, after all. The first of many. Would you like to go sailing with me tomorrow? The weathermen are predicting a warm, sunny day and you can get to know me as we laze about all day in the sun."

"No," she said starkly. "I don't ever want to see you again."

He laughed outright, throwing back his gleaming dark head, his white teeth flashing in the dimness like a wild animal's. "You're like an angry child," he murmured. "Why don't you scream that you hate me, and stamp your feet in a temper so I may have the pleasure of taming you? I'd enjoy tussling with you, rolling about until you tired yourself out and lay quietly beneath me."

"I don't hate you," she told him, regaining some of her composure despite his disturbing words. She even managed to look at him quite coolly. "I won't waste the energy to hate you, because you're just passing through. After the shares have been signed over, I'll never see you again, and I can't see myself shedding any tears over your absence, either."

"I can't let you continue to delude yourself," he mocked. "I'm not merely passing through; I've changed my plans—to include you. I'll be in London for quite some time, for as long as it takes. Don't fight me, my dear; it's only a waste of time that's better spent in other ways."

"Your ego must be enormous," she observed, sipping at her wine. "You seem unable to believe that I simply don't fancy you. Very well, if that's what it takes to rid myself of you, when you take me home we'll go upstairs and you may satisfy your odd little urges. It won't take much effort, and it'll be worth it to see the back of you." Even as the words left her mouth, Jessica almost jumped in amazement at herself. Dear heaven, how did she manage to sound so cool and disinterested, and say such dreadful things? What on earth would she do if he took her up on it? She had no intention of going to bed with him if she had to scream her silly head off and make a scandal that would force both of them out of the country.

His face had turned to stone as she talked and his eyes had narrowed until they were mere slits. She had the urge to throw up her arms to protect her face, even though he didn't move a muscle. At last he spoke, grinding the words out between his teeth. "You cold little bitch, you'll pay for that. Before I'm finished with you, you'll regret opening your mouth; you'll apologize for every word. Go upstairs with you? I doubt I'll wait that long!"

She had to get out, she had to get away from him. Without thinking, she clutched her bag and said, "I have to go to the ladies—"

"No," he said. "You aren't going anywhere. You're going to sit there until we've eaten, then I'll drive you home."

Jessica sat very still, glaring at him, but her hostility didn't seem to bother him. When their meal was served, he began to eat as if everything was perfectly calm and normal. She chewed on a few bites, but the tender lamb and stewed carrots turned into a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow. She gulped at her wine, and there was a flash of a camera again. Quickly she set down her glass and paled, turning her head away.

He missed nothing, even when it seemed that he wasn't paying attention. "Don't let it upset you," he advised coolly. "The cameras are everywhere. They mean nothing; it's merely something to fill the space in their empty little tabloids."

She didn't reply, but she remembered the earlier flash, when he had been kissing her so brutally. She felt ill at the thought of that photo being splashed all over the gossip pages.

"You don't seem to mind being the target of gossip," she forced herself to say, and though her voice was a bit strained, she managed the words without gulping or bursting into tears.

He shrugged. "It's harmless enough. If anyone is really interested in who I had dinner with, or who stopped by our table for a moment's conversation, then I really have no objection. When I want to be private, I don't go to a public place."

She wondered if he had ever been the subject of such vicious gossip as she had endured, but though the papers were always making some mention of him closing a deal or flying here and there for conferences, sometimes with a vague mention of his latest "lovely," she could recall nothing about his private life. He had said that he lived on an island…

"What's the name of the island where you live?" she asked, for that was a subject as safe as any, and she dearly needed something that would allow her time to calm herself.

A wicked black brow quirked upward. "I live on the island of Zenas, which means Zeus's gift, or, more loosely translated, the gift of the gods. I'm using the Greek name for the god, of course; the Roman version is Jupiter."

"Yes," she said. "Have you lived there for long?"

The brow went higher. "I was born there. I own it."

"Oh." Of course he did; why should he live on someone else's island? And she had forgotten, but now she remembered, what he had said about growing up wild on the island. "Is it a very large island? Does anyone else live there, or is it just you alone on your retreat?"

He grinned. "The island is roughly ten miles long, and as much as five miles wide at one place. There is a small fishing village, and the people graze their goats in the hills. My mother lives in our villa year round now; she no longer likes to travel, and of course, there's the normal staff in the villa. I suppose there are some two hundred people on the island, and an assortment of goats, chickens, dogs, a few cows."

It sounded enchanting, and she forgot her troubles for a moment as she dreamed about such a quiet, simple life. Her eyes glowed as she said, "How can you bear to leave it?"

He shrugged. "I have many interests that require my time and attention, and though I'll always look on the island as my home, I'm not quite a hermit. The modern world has its attractions, too." He raised his wineglass to her and she understood that a large amount of the world's attraction was in its women. Of course, on a small Greek island the young women would be strictly supervised until they wed, and a healthy man would want to relieve his more basic urges.

His gesture with the wineglass brought her attention back to her own wineglass, and she saw that it was nearly empty. "May I have more wine?"

"No," he refused smoothly. "You've already had two glasses, and you've merely pushed your food around on your plate instead of eating it. You'll be drunk if you continue. Eat your dinner, or isn't it the way you like it? Shall I have it returned to the kitchen?"

"No, the food is excellent, thank you." What else could she say? It was only the truth.

"Then why aren't you eating?"

Jessica regarded him seriously, then decided that he was a big boy and he should certainly be able to handle the truth. "I'm not exactly enjoying myself," she told him. "You've rather upset my stomach."

His mouth twitched in grim amusement. "You haven't upset mine, but you have without doubt upset my system in every other way! Since meeting you, I totally absolve Robert Stanton of foolishness, except perhaps in whatever overly optimistic expectations he may have had. You're an enchanting woman, even when you're insulting me."

She had never mentioned her relationship with Robert to anyone, but now she had the urge to cry out that she had loved him, that everyone was wrong in what they said of her. Only the years of practice in holding herself aloof kept her lips sealed on the wild cry of hurt, but she did allow herself to comment, "Robert was the least foolish man I have ever met. He knew exactly what he was about at all times."

Nikolas narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying that he knew you married him only for his money?"

"I'm saying nothing of the kind," she retorted sharply. "I won't discuss my marriage with you; it's none of your business. If you're finished with your meal, I'd like to go home now."

"I've finished," he said, looking pointedly at her plate.

"However, you've hardly even begun to eat. You need food to absorb some of the wine you've had, and we won't leave here until you eat."

"I would bolt it down without chewing if that would free me from your company," she muttered as she lifted her fork and speared a morsel of meat.

He waited until she had the meat in her mouth and was chewing before he said, "But it won't. If I remember correctly, you have invited me upstairs when I take you home. To satisfy my 'odd little urges,' I think was how you phrased it. I accept your invitation."

Jessica swallowed and attacked another piece of meat. "You must have misunderstood," she said coldly. "I wouldn't let you inside my house, let alone my bedroom."

"My apartment will do just as well," he replied, his eyes gleaming. "Or the ground, if you prove difficult about the matter."

"Now see here," she snapped, putting her fork down with a clatter. "This has gone far enough. I want you to understand this clearly: I'm not available! Not to you, not to any man, and if you touch me, I'll scream until everyone in London hears me."

"If you can," he murmured. "Don't you imagine that I'm capable of stifling any screams, Jessica?"

"Oh?" she demanded with uplifted brows. "Are you a rapist? Because it would be rape, have no doubt about it. I'm not playing at being difficult; I'm entirely serious. I don't want you."

"You will," he said confidently, and she wanted to scream now, in frustration. Could he truly be so dense, his ego so invulnerable, that he simply couldn't believe that she didn't want to go to bed with him? Well, if he didn't believe that she'd scream, he'd certainly be surprised if he tried anything with her!

In one swift motion she stood up, determined not to sit there another moment. "Thank you for the meal," she said. "I believe it would be best if I took a taxi home, and I'll have Charles contact you Monday about the settlement of the shares."

He stood also, calmly laying his napkin aside. "I'm taking you home," he said, "if I have to drag you to my car. Now, do you want to make your exit in a dignified manner, or slung over my shoulder? Before you decide, let me assure you that no one will come to your aid. Money does have its uses, you know."

"Yes, I know," she agreed frigidly. "It allows some people to act like bullies without fear of retribution. Very well, shall we leave?"

He smiled in grim triumph and placed a bill on the table, and even in her anger she was startled at the amount he had laid down. She looked up in time to see him nod to the maitre d', and by the time they had made their way across the room her wrap was waiting. Nikolas took the wrap and gently placed it about her shoulders, his hands lingering there for a moment as his fingers moved over her flesh. A blinding flash of light told her that this, too, had been photographed, and involuntarily Jessica shrank closer to him in an effort to hide. His hands tightened on her shoulders and he frowned as he looked down at her suddenly pale face. He looked around until he located the photographer, and though he said nothing, Jessica heard a muttered apology somewhere behind them. Then Nikolas had his arm firmly around her waist and he led her outside, where his car was just being driven up. When the doorman and the young man who had brought the ear had been settled with and Nikolas had seen that she was securely buckled into her seat, he said, "Why do you flinch whenever a flash goes off?"

"I dislike publicity," she muttered.

"It scarcely matters whether you like it or not," he said quietly. "Your actions have made certain that you will have it, regardless, and you certainly should be used to it by now. Your marriage made quite a lot of grist for the mill."

"I'm aware of that," she said. "I've been called a bitch to my face and a lot worse to my back, but that doesn't mean that I've ever become accustomed to it. I was eighteen years old, Mr. Constantinos"—she stressed the word—"and I was crucified by the press. I've never forgotten."

' 'Did you think no one would notice when you married a rich, elderly man of Robert Stanton's reputation?" he almost snarled. "For God's sake, Jessica, you all but begged to be crucified!"

"So I discovered," she said, her voice catching. "Robert and I ceased going out in public when it became obvious that I would never be accepted as his wife, though he didn't care on his own account. He said that he would find out who his true friends were, and there were a few. He seemed to cherish those few, and never said anything that indicated he wanted his life to be any different, at least in my hearing. Robert was endlessly kind," she finished quietly, for she found that even the memories of Robert helped to calm her. He had seen life so clearly, without illusions and with a great deal of humor. What would he think about this predatory man who sat beside her now?

He drove in silence and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, tired and rather drained. All in all, it had been a long day, and the worst part was still to come, unless he decided to act decently and leave her alone. But somehow she doubted that Nikolas Constantinos ever acted in any way except to please himself, so she had best brace herself for war.

When he pulled up in the drive on her side of the house, she noticed thankfully that Sallie and Joel were home and were still awake, though her watch told her that it was ten-thirty. He cut off the engine and put the keys in his pocket, then got out and came around to open her door. He leaned in and helped her to gather her long skirt, then all but lifted her out of the car. "I'm not an invalid," she said tartly as his arm slid about her waist and pulled her against his side.

"That's why I'm holding you," he explained, his low laughter brushing her hair. "To prevent you from running."

Fuming helplessly, Jessica watched as he took the key from her bag and opened the door, ushering her inside with that iron arm at her back. She ignored him and marched into the kitchen to check on Samantha. She knelt and scratched the dog behind the ears, receiving a loving lick on the hand in return. A puppy squeaked at being disturbed and it too received a lick of the warm tongue, then Jessica was startled as two hard hands closed over her shoulders and pulled her to her feet.

She had had enough; she was tired of him and his arrogance. She exploded with rage, hitting at his face and twisting her body in his grasp as he tried to hold her against him. "No, damn you!" she cried. "I told you I won't!"

Samantha rose to her feet and gave a growl at seeing her mistress treated so roughly, but the puppies began to cry in alarm as she left them and she turned back to look at her offspring. By that time Nikolas had swept Jessica off her feet and into his arms and was back through the kitchen door with her, shouldering it shut behind him. He wasn't even breathing hard as he captured her flailing arms, and that made her even angrier. She arched her back and kicked in an effort to wiggle out of his arms; she hit out at that broad chest, and when that failed to stop him, she opened her mouth to scream. Swiftly he forced her head against his shoulder and her scream was largely muffled by his body. Blinded and breathless with fury, she gave a strangled cry as he suddenly dropped her.

Soft cushions broke her fall, then her body was instantly covered by his hard weight as he dropped down on her and pinned her. "Damn you, be still," he hissed, stretching a long arm up over her head. For a sickening moment she thought he would slap her, and she caught her breath, but no blow fell. Instead, he switched on the lamp at the end of the sofa and a soft light bathed the room. She hadn't realized where they were until he turned on the lamp and now she looked about her at the comfortable, sane setting of her living room. She turned her head to look up with bewilderment into the furious dark face above her.

"What's the matter with you?" he barked.

She blinked. Hadn't he been attacking her? He had certainly been manhandling her! Even now his heavy legs pressed down on hers and she knew that her skirt was twisted above her knees. She moved restlessly under him and he let his weight down more heavily on her in warning. "Well?" he growled.

"But…I thought…weren't you attacking me?" she asked, her brow puckering. "I thought you were, and so did Samantha."

"If I had been attacking you, the situation was reversed before I got very far," he snapped. "Damn you, Jessica, you don't know how tempting you are—and how infuriating—" He broke off, his black eyes moving to her lips. She squirmed and turned her head away, a breathless little "No" coming from her, but he captured her head with a hand on each side of her face and turned her mouth back to him. He was only a breath away and she tried to protest again, then it was too late. His hard mouth closed over her soft one, forcing her lips open, and his warm, wine-fragrant breath filled her mouth. His tongue followed, exploring and caressing her inner mouth, flicking at her own tongue, sending her senses reeling.

She was frightened by the pressure of his big, hard body over hers and for a moment her slim hands pushed uselessly at his heavy shoulders. But his mouth was warm and he wasn't hurting her now, and she had never before been kissed like this. For a moment—only one moment, she promised herself—she allowed herself to curve in his arms, to respond to him and kiss him back. Her hands slid over his broad shoulders to clasp about his neck, her tongue responded shyly to his; then she no longer had the option of returning his caresses or not. He shuddered and his arms tightened painfully about her and his mouth went wild, ravaging, sucking her breath hungrily from her body. He muttered something, thickly, and it took her dazed mind a minute to realize he had spoken in French and to translate the words. When she did, her face flamed and she tried to push him away, but still she was helpless against him.

He slid one hand under her neck and deftly unhooked the halter strap of her bodice. As his mouth left hers and trailed a fiery path down her neck, she managed a choked

"No," to which he paid no attention at all. His lips moved the loosened straps of her bodice down as he planted fierce kisses along her shoulder and collarbone, licking the tender spot in the hollow of her shoulder until she almost forgot her rising fear and quivered with pleasure, clutching his ribs with helpless hands. He became impatient with the straps, still in the way of his wandering mouth, and jerked roughly at them, intent on baring her to the waist, and panic erupted in Jessica with the force of a volcano.

With a strangled cry she twisted frantically in his arms, holding her bodice up with one arm while, with the other, she tried to force his head away from her. He snarled in frustration and jerked her arm above her head, reaching for the material of her dress with his other hand. Her heartbeat came to a standstill and with superhuman effort she pulled her hand free, beating at his back. "No!" she cried out, nearly hysterical. "No, Nikolas, don't; I beg you!"

He stilled her words with the forceful pressure of his mouth, and she realized in a jolt of pure terror that she couldn't control him; he was bent on taking her. A sob erupted from her throat and she released her bodice to beat at him with both hands, crying wildly and choking out the muffled words, "No! No…" He raised his lips from hers and she moaned, "Please! Nikolas! Ah, don't!"

The savage movements of his hands stopped and he lay still, his breath heaving raggedly in his chest. She shook with sobs, her small face drenched with tears. He groaned deep in his throat and slid off the sofa, to kneel beside it and rest his black head on the cushion beside her. Silence fell on the room again and she tried to choke back her tears. Hesitantly she put her hands on his head, sliding her fingers through his thick hair, not understanding her need to comfort him but unable to resist the impulse. He quivered under the touch of her hands and she smelled the fresh sweat on his body, the maleness of his skin, and she realized how aroused he had been. But he had stopped; he hadn't forced her, after all, and she could feel all of her hostility draining away. For all her inexperience she knew enough about men to know that it had been quite a wrench for him to become so aroused and then stop, and she was deeply grateful to him.

At length he raised his head, and she gasped at the strained, grim expression on his face. "Straighten your dress," he said thickly, "or it may be too late yet."

Hastily she hooked her straps back into place and pushed the skirt down over her legs. She would have liked to sit up, but with him so close it would have been awkward, so she remained lying against the cushions until he moved. He ran his hand wearily through his hair. "Perhaps it's just as well," he said a moment later, getting to his feet. "We made no preparations, and I know I couldn't have— Was that what frightened you, Jessica? The thought of the risk we'd have been taking with an unwanted pregnancy?"

Her voice was husky when she spoke. "No, it…it wasn't that. You just…frightened me." She sat up and wiped at her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands. He looked at her and grimly produced the handkerchief that she had used earlier, to dry her eyes when he had first arrived—was it only a few hours ago? She accepted the square of linen and dried her face, then gave it back to him.

He gave a short, harsh laugh. "So I frightened you? I wanted to do a lot of things to you, but frightening you wasn't one of them. You're a dangerous woman, my dear, deadly in your charm. You leave a man aching and empty after you've pulled away." He inhaled deeply and began to button his shirt, and only then did she notice that somehow his jacket had been discarded and his shirt unbuttoned and pulled loose from his pants. She had no memory of opening his shirt, but only she could have done it, for his hands had been too busy on her to have accomplished it.

His face still wore that taut, strained look and she said in a rush, "I'm sorry, Nikolas."

"So am I, my dear." His dark gaze flickered to her and a tight little smile touched his mouth. "But you're calling me Nikolas now, so something has been accomplished." He tucked his shirt inside his pants and dropped down on the sofa beside her. "I want to see you again, and soon," he said, taking her hand. "Will you come sailing with me tomorrow? I promise that I won't rush you; I won't frighten you as I did tonight. I'll give you time to get to know me, to realize that you'll be perfectly safe with me. Whoever frightened you of men should be shot, but it won't be like that with me. You'll see," he said encouragingly.

Safe? Would she ever be safe with this man? She strongly doubted it, but he had been nicer than she would have expected and she didn't want to make him angry, so she tempered her words. "I don't think so, Nikolas. Not tomorrow. It's too soon."

His mouth pressed into an ominous line, then he sighed and got to his feet. "I'll call you tomorrow, and don't try anything foolish like trying to hide from me. I'd only find you, and you might not like the consequences. I won't be put off like that again. Do you understand?"

"I understand that you're threatening me!" she said spiritedly.

He grinned suddenly. "You're safe so long as you don't push me, Jessica. I want you, but I can wait."

Jessica tossed her head. "It could be a long wait," she felt compelled to warn.

"Or it could be a short one," he warned in his turn. "As I said, I'll call you tomorrow. Think about the sailing; you'd like it."

"I've never been sailing; I don't know the first thing about it. I could be seasick."

"It'll be fun teaching you what you don't know," he said, and he meant more than sailing. He leaned over and pressed a warm kiss to her mouth, then drew away before she could either respond or resist. "I'll let myself out Good night, Jessica."

"Good night, Nikolas." It felt odd to be saying good night to him as if those moments of passion and terror had never happened. She watched as he picked up his jacket from the floor and walked out, his tall, lean body moving with the wild grace of a tiger. When he was gone, the house felt empty and too quiet, and she had a sinking feeling that Nikolas Constantinos was going to turn her life upside down.