or six weeks Jessica pored over the newspapers, searching for any notice, however small, to indicate that Nikolas had returned to Greece. He was mentioned several times, but it was always to say that he was flying here or there for a conference, and a day or so later she would read that he had returned to London. Why was he staying in England? He had never before remained for so long, always returning to his island at the first opportunity. She had no contact with Charles, so she couldn't ask him for any information, not that she would have anyway. She didn't want to know about Nikolas, she told herself fiercely time and again, but that didn't ease the ache in her heart that kept her lying awake night after night and turned food to ashes in her mouth.

She lost weight, her already slim figure becoming fragile. Instead of recovering, she was in danger of going into a Victorian decline, she told herself mockingly, but no amount of willpower could make her swallow more than a bite or two of food at any meal.

Long walks with Samantha and the gamboling puppies for company tired her out but did not reduce her to the state of exhaustion that she needed in order to sleep. After a while she began to feel haunted. Everything reminded her of Nikolas, though nothing was the same as it had been in London. She heard his voice, she remem-bered his devouring kisses, his fierce possessiveness. Perhaps he hadn't loved her, but he had certainly wanted her; he had been quite blatant about his desire.

Had he expected her to return to him? Was that why he was still in London? The thought was heady, but she knew that nothing had changed. He would take her on his terms, or not at all.

Still she lingered at the cottage, walking every day down to the beach, where the vacationers romped and children went into ecstatic fits over the five fat, prancing puppies. They had been weaned now, and mindful of their increasing size she gave them away one by one to the adoring children. Then there was only Samantha left with her, and the days trickled slowly past.

Then, one morning, she looked at herself in the mirror as she was braiding her hair, really looked at herself, and was stunned at what she saw. Had she really allowed Nikolas Constantinos to turn her into this pale, fragile creature with huge, dark-circled eyes? What was wrong with her? She loved him, yes; in spite of everything he had said to her, she still loved him, but she wasn't so weak in spirit that she would let him destroy her!

She began to realize that it solved nothing to hide away here in Cornwall. She wasn't getting over him; if anything, she was being eaten alive by the need to see him, to touch him.

Suddenly her chin lifted as an idea came to her. She still loved him, she could not rid herself of that, but it was no longer the pure, innocent love that she had offered him the first time. Bitter fires had scorched her heart. For the burned remains of that sweetness, physical love might be enough. Perhaps in his arms she might find that all of her love had been burned out and she would be free. And if not—if she found that in spite of everything she continued to love him—in the years to come, when he was married to his pure, chaste little Elena, she would have the memories and knowledge of his passion, passion such as Elena would never know.

Then she realized that when she became his mistress he would know that no other man had ever touched her. What would he think? Would he apologize, beg her forgiveness? The thought left her curiously unmoved, except for the bitterly humorous thought that the only way she could prove her virtue to him was by losing it. The situation was ironic, and she wondered if Nikolas would appreciate the humor of it when he knew.

Without consciously admitting it, her mind was made up. She would accept Nikolas on his terms, give up her respectability and chastity for the physical gratification that he could give her. But she would not let him support her; she would keep her independence and her pride, and when he married his pure little Greek girl, she would walk away and never see him again. She would be his mistress, but she would not be a party to adultery.

So she packed her clothing and closed up the cottage, put Samantha in the car and began the long drive back to London. The first thing she did was call Charles and tell him that she had returned, assuring him that she was fine. He had to go out of town that afternoon or he would have come over, and she was glad that their meeting was postponed. If Charles saw her now, so thin and wan, he would know that something was dreadfully wrong.

That same problem worried her the next morning as she dressed. She couldn't get up the courage to call Nikolas; he might tell her that he was no longer interested, and she felt that she had to see him again even if he turned her down to her face. She would go to his office, be very calm and nonchalant about it—but could she carry it off when she looked so very fragile?

She used her makeup carefully, applying slightly more blusher than she normally used and taking extra care with her eyes. Her hair would have to be left down to hide the thin lines of her neck and soften the fleshless contours of her cheekbones. When she dressed, she chose a floaty dress in a soft peach color, and was satisfied when she looked in the mirror. Nothing could quite disguise how delicate she had become, but she looked far from haggard.

As she drove to ConTech, she remembered the first time she had made this drive to meet Nikolas. She had been rushed, irritable, and not at all pleased. Now she was going to offer him what she had never thought to offer any man, the use and enjoyment of her body without benefit of marriage, and the only comfort she could find was that her body was all he would have. She had offered him her heart once, and he had scorned it. Never again would she give him the chance to hurt her like that.

Everyone recognized her now as she went up in the elevator, for she had often met Nikolas for lunch. Surprised murmurs of "Good morning, Mrs. Stanton" followed her, and she wondered for the first time if Nikolas was pursuing someone else now, but it really made no difference if he was. He could only turn her down if he was no longer interested, and any other rival would eventually have to give way to the precious, innocent Elena.

The receptionist looked up as she entered, and smiled warmly. "Mrs. Stanton! How nice it is to see you again!"

The greeting seemed genuinely friendly, and Jessica smiled in return. "Hello, Irena. Is Nikolas in today?"

"Why, yes, he is, though I believe he's planning a trip this afternoon."

"Thank you. I'll go in, if I may. Andros is here?"

"On guard as usual," Irena said, and wrinkled her nose in a private little communication that actually made Jessica laugh aloud. Evidently Andros had not endeared himself to the rest of the staff.

Calmly she walked into the office, and immediately Andros rose from his seat. "Mrs. Stanton!" he exclaimed.

"Hello, Andros," she returned as he eyed her with frank dislike. "I'd like to see Nikolas, please."

"I'm sorry," he refused in coolly neutral tones, though his eyes sparkled with delight at being able to turn her down. "Mr. Constantinos has someone with him right now and will be unable to talk to you for some time."

"And he's leaving on a business trip this afternoon," said Jessica dryly.

"Yes, he is," Andros said, his lips quirking in triumph.

Jessica looked at him for a moment, anger building in her. She was sick and tired of being treated like dirt, and from this moment on she planned to fight back. "Very well," she said. "Give him a message for me, please, Andros. Tell him that I'm willing to agree to his terms, if he's still interested, and he can get in touch with me. That's all."

She turned on her heel and heard Andros strangle in alarm. "Mrs. Stanton!" he protested. "I can't—"

"You will have to," she cut in as she opened the door, and had a glimpse of the consternation in his black eyes as she left the office. He had damned himself either way now, for if he passed on the message Nikolas would know that Andros had refused her entrance, and he would not dare withhold the message, for if Nikolas ever found out—and Andros knew that Jessica would make certain he did—there would be hell to pay. Jessica smiled to herself as she walked back to the elevator. Andros had had that coming for a long time.

The elevator took its time arriving, but she wasn't impatient. The way she figured it, Nikolas would hear from Andros in about ten minutes, and he would try to reach her on the phone when he had decided that she had enough time to get home. If she was late getting back, that was all to the good. Let Nikolas wait for a while.

Several other people were in the elevator when it finally did arrive, and it was necessary to stop at every floor before she finally reached the entrance level. She crossed to the glass doors, but as she reached out to push them open, a dark-clothed arm reached past her and opened it for her. She raised her head to thank the man for his courtesy, but the words stuck in her throat as she stared up into the leaping black eyes of Nikolas.

"You've terrified Andros out of ten years of his life," he said easily, taking her arm and ushering her through the door.

"Good. He deserved it," she replied, then eyed him curiously. He was carrying his briefcase, as if he had left for the day. "But how did you get down so fast?"

"The stairs," he admitted, and grinned down at her. "I wasn't taking a chance of letting you get away from me today and not being able to find you before I have to leave this afternoon. That's probably the only reason Andros found the courage to give me your message so promptly; he knew I'd break his neck if he waited until later. You were serious, Jessica?"

"Perfectly," she assured him.

He still held her arm, his fingers warm and caressing, but his grip was unbreakable nonetheless. A limousine had drawn up to the curb and he led her to it. The driver jumped out and opened the back door and Nikolas helped her into the spacious back seat, then got in beside her. He gave the driver her address and then closed the sliding window between them.

"My car is here," she told him.

"It'll be perfectly safe until we return," he said, carrying her fingers to his lips for a light kiss. "Or did you think I could calmly leave on a dull business trip after receiving a message like that? No, darling, it's impossible. I'm taking you with me." And he gave her a look of such burning, primitive hunger that she shivered in automatic reaction to his sexuality.

"But I can't just leave," she objected. "Samantha—"

"Don't be silly," he interrupted softly. "Do you think I can't arrange to have a small dog looked after, or that I'd allow such a small thing to stand in my way? Samantha can be taken to an excellent kennel. I'll handle all the details; all you have to do is pack."

"Where are we going?" she asked, turning her head to look at the passing city streets. Evidently his desire had not waned, for there was no hesitation in his manner.

"To Paris, just for a couple of days. A perfect city to begin a relationship," he commented. "Unfortunately I'll be busy during the day with meetings, but the nights will be ours completely. Or perhaps I'll simply cancel the meetings and keep you in bed the entire time."

"Not good business practice," she said lightly. "I won't nag at you if you have to go off to your meetings."

"That's not very good for my ego," he teased, rubbing her wrist with his strong fingers. "I'd like to think that you burn for my touch as I do for yours. I'd nearly reached the limit of my patience, darling; another week and I'd have gone to Cornwall after you."

Startled, she looked at him. "You knew where I was?"

"Of course. Did you think I'd let you simply walk out on me? If you hadn't come back to me, I was going to force the issue, make you mine even if you bit and clawed, but I don't think you'd have resisted for long, hmmm?"

It was humiliating to think that she hadn't been out of his reach even in Cornwall; he had known where she was and been content to let her brood. She turned her head again to stare blindly out the window, vainly trying to find comfort in the fact that he was, after all, still attracted to her. He might not love her, not as she understood love, but she did have some power over him.

He lifted her hand again and gently placed his lips on her soft palm. "Don't pout, darling," he said softly. "I knew that you'd come back to me when you decided to be realistic. I can be a very generous man; you'll want for nothing. You'll be treated like a queen, I promise you."

Deliberately Jessica pulled her hand away. "There are several things I want to discuss with you, Nikolas," she said in a remote tone. "There are conditions I want met; otherwise, I'm not interested in any sort of a relationship with you."

"Of course," he agreed dryly, his strong mouth curving into a cynical smile. "How much, my dear? And do you want it in cash, stocks or jewels?"

Ignoring him, she said, "First, I want to keep my own house. I don't want to live with you. You can visit me, or I'll visit you if you prefer that, but I want a life apart from yours."

"That's not necessary," he snapped, his straight brows pulling together over suddenly thunderous eyes.

"It's very necessary," she insisted evenly. "I don't delude myself that any relationship with you will be permanent, and I don't want to find myself forced to live in a hotel because I've given up my own home. And as I said, I'm not interested in living with you."

"Don't be so certain of that," he mocked. "Very well, I agree to that condition. You're always free to move in with me when you change your mind."

"Thank you. Second, Nikolas"—here she turned to him and fixed him with an even stare, her green eyes clear and determined, her soft voice nevertheless threaded with steel so that he knew she meant every word—"I will never, under any circumstances, accept any money or expensive gifts from you. As you told Amanda Waring, I don't need your money. I'll be your lover, but I'll never be your kept woman. And finally, on the day you become engaged to your Elena, I'll walk away from you and never see you again. If you're an unfaithful husband, it won't be with me."

A dark blush of anger had swept over his features as she spoke, then he became motionless. "Do you think my marriage would change the way you feel about me?" he demanded harshly. "You might feel now that you could walk away from me, but once you've known my touch, once we've lain together, do you truly think that you could forget me?"

"I didn't say I would forget you," she said, her throat becoming thick with anguish. "I said I'd never see you again, and I mean it. I believe very strongly in the marriage vows; I never looked at another man when I was married to Robert."

He shoved a hand roughly through his hair, disturbing the tidy wave and making it fall down over his forehead. "And if I don't agree to these last two conditions?" he wanted to know. He was obviously angry, his jaw tight, his lips compressed to a grim line, but he was controlling it. His eyes were narrowed to piercing slits as he watched her.

"Then I won't go with you," she replied softly. "I want your word that you'll abide by those conditions, Nikolas."

"I can make you go with me," he threatened almost soundlessly, his lips scarcely moving. "With one word from me, you can be taken away from England without anyone knowing where you are or how you left. You can be secluded, forced to live as I say you will live."

"Don't threaten me, Nikolas," she said, refusing to be frightened. "Yes, I know you can do all of those things, but you'll be defeating your own purpose if you ever resort to such tactics, for I won't be bullied. You do want a willing woman in your arms, don't you?"

"You damned little witch," he breathed, pulling her to him across the seat with an iron grip on her wrist. "Very well, I agree to your conditions—if you think you have the willpower to enforce them. You can probably refuse any gifts from me without being bothered by it, but when it comes to leaving me—we'll see. You're in my blood, and I'm in yours, and my marriage to Elena won't diminish the need I have to sate myself with your soft body, my dear. Nor do I think you could leave me as easily as you've planned, for haven't you come back to me now? Haven't you just offered yourself to me?"

"Only my body," she made clear. "You set those terms, Nikolas. You get only my body. The rest of me stays free."

"You've already admitted that you love me," he said roughly. "Or was that just a ploy to try to trap me into marriage?"

Despite the pain in her wrist where he held her so tightly, she managed a nonchalant shrug. "What do you know of love, Nikolas? Why talk about it? I'm willing to sleep with you; what more do you want?"

Abruptly he tossed her wrist back into her lap. "Don't make me lose my temper," he warned. "I might hurt you, Jessica. I'm aching with the need to possess you, and my patience is thin. Until tonight, my dear, walk softly."

From the look on his face, it was a warning to be taken seriously. She sat quietly beside him until the chauffeur stopped the limousine outside her house, then she allowed him to help her out. He leaned down and gave instructions to the chauffeur to pick up his luggage and return, then he and Jessica went up the walk. He took the key from her and unlocked the door, then opened it for her. "Can you be ready in an hour?" he asked, glancing at his watch. "Our flight leaves at noon."

"Yes, of course, but don't I need a booking?"

"You're taking Andros's seat," he replied. "Andros will be taking a later flight."

"Oh, dear, now he certainly will be cross with me," she mocked as she crossed to the stairway.

"He'll have to control his irritation," said Nikolas. "Go on; I'll arrange for Samantha and the pups."

"Just Samantha," she corrected. "I gave the pups away while we were in Cornwall."

"That should certainly make things easier," he said, grinning.

Jessica went up to her room and pulled her suitcases out again. All of this packing was becoming monotonous. Carefully she folded clothing and essentials into her leather cases, matching her outfits with shoes and accessories. Nikolas sauntered in when she was only half-finished and stretched out on the bed as if he had every right to be there, surveying her through half-closed eyes.

"You've lost weight," he said quietly. "I don't like it. What have you been doing to yourself?"

"I've been on a diet," she replied flippantly.

"Diet, hell!" He came off the bed and caught her arm, his other hand cupping her chin and turning her face up to his. Black eyes went sharply over her features, noting the shadows under her eyes, the defenseless quiver of her soft mouth. His hand quested boldly down her body, cupping her breasts and stroking her belly and hips. "You little fool!" he breathed sharply. "You're nothing but a shadow. You've nearly made yourself ill! Why haven't you been eating?"

"I wasn't hungry," she explained. "It's nothing to act up about."

"No? You're on the verge of collapse, Jessica." He put his arms about her and pulled her tightly to him, lowering his head to kiss her temples. "But I'll take care of you now and make certain that you eat enough. You'll need your strength, darling, for I'm a man with strong needs. If I were a gentleman, I would allow you a few days to regain your strength, but I'm afraid that I'm too selfish and too hungry for you to allow you that."

"I wouldn't want you to," she whispered against his chest, her arms moving slowly about him, feeling with growing desire his strong, hard body pressing to her. She had missed him so badly! "I need you, too, Nikolas!"

"I would take you now," he murmured, "but the car will be back soon and I really need more time than that to satisfy these weeks of frustration. But tonight—just wait until tonight!"

For a long moment she simply rested her head on his broad chest; she was tired and depressed, and glad to have his strength to rest upon. Though she had made her decision, it was against her basic nature to go against the morals of a lifetime, and sadly she realized that her love for Nikolas had not diminished despite her bitter pride. She would have to come to terms with that, just as she had accepted that, while he wanted her physically, he did not love her and probably never would. Nikolas had planned his life and he was not a man to allow anyone to upset his plans.

Only a few hours later, Jessica sat alone in the luxurious suite that Nikolas had reserved, staring about as if dazed. After their flight had landed at Orly, Nikolas had bundled her through customs at top speed and into a taxi; after a mad ride through the Paris traffic, he had deposited her in this hotel and left immediately for his meeting. She felt abandoned and desolate, and her nerves were beginning to quiver as feeling returned to them. For weeks she had been numbed, not feeling anything except the agony of rejection, but now, as she looked about her, she began to wonder just what she was doing here.

Vaguely she studied her surroundings, noting how exactly the pale green carpet picked out the green threads in the blue-green brocade of the sofa she sat upon and the heavy swag of the curtains. A lovely suite…even the flowers were color-coordinated. A perfect setting for a seduction, when the lights were low and Nikolas turned his smoldering dark eyes on her.

Her mind shied away from the image of Nikolas, not wanting to think of the coming hours. She had agreed to be his lover, but now that the time was here, she felt rebellious. She thought of what he would say if she refused to go through with it and decided that he would be furious. She pushed the idea away, but as the minutes ticked away, the thought returned again and again, stronger each time, until at last she got up and paced the room in agitation as pain crawled along her nerves.

Had the pain of rejection unhinged her mind? Whatever had she been thinking of? She wouldn't be Nikolas Constantinos's mistress; she wouldn't be any man's mistress! Hadn't Robert instilled more self-respect into her than that? Nikolas didn't love her; he would never love her. His sole motivation was lust, and giving her virginity to him to prove her innocence would be her loss and mean nothing to him. Virginity wouldn't make him love her.

She remembered the tales from her teenage years, tales of girls whose boyfriends pressured them to "prove their love." Then, in a few weeks, the boyfriends were running after some other girl. She had been too withdrawn herself to get into such a situation; she had never really even dated, but she had thought at the time that the girls were such fools. Anyone could see that the boys were just after sex, any way they could get it. Wasn't it the same situation now? Oh, Nikolas was a far cry from a fumbling teenage boy, but all he wanted was sex. He might pretty it up with words like "want" and "need," and call her darling now and then and tell her that he adored her, but basically it was the same urge.

It was simply that she was a challenge to him, that was why he was so determined to make love to her. He couldn't accept defeat; he was far too fiery and arrogant. Everything about her challenged him, her coolness, her resistance to his lovemaking.

She had been standing at the window, looking out at the twinkling Parisian lights as they blinked on in the darkness, for some time when Nikolas returned. She didn't turn as he entered the room and he said softly, "Jessica? What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing," she said flatly. "I'm just looking."

She heard the muffled thud as he dropped his briefcase and then he came to stand behind her, his warm hands sliding over her arms and crossing in front of her, pulling her back against his body. His head bent and his lips bumed on the side of her neck. For a moment she went limp as a spark of desire arced across her nerve endings, then she twisted away from him in a rush of panic.

He frowned at her and took a step toward her; as he did, she retreated, holding her hands out to ward him off.

"Jessica?" he questioned, baffled.

"Don't come near me!"

"What do you mean?" he demanded, his brows snapping together. "What kind of game are you playing now?"

"I—I've changed my mind," she blurted. "I can't do it, Nikolas. I'm sorry, but I just can't go through with it."

"Oh, no, you don't!" he exploded, closing the distance between them with two long strides and catching her arm as she tried to whirl away from him. "Oh, no, you don't," he breathed savagely, jerking her to him. "No more waiting, no more putting me off. Now, Jessica. Now."

She read his intent in his glittering black eyes as he bent down to lift her in his arms. Terror bloomed in her mind and she twisted madly in an effort to evade his lips, trying to throw herself out of his grasp. Tears poured out of her eyes and she began sobbing wildly, begging him not to touch her. Hysteria began to build in her as she realized she could not escape his brutal hold and her breath strangled in her chest.

Suddenly he seemed to realize that she was terrified; startled, he put her on her feet and stared down into her twisted, bloodless face.