er heels clicking as she strode into the ConTech building, Jessica strove to control her temper until she was alone with Nikolas, but the determined clatter of her heels gave her away and she tried to lighten her step. Her soft lips tightened ominously. Just wait until she saw him!

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Stanton," said the receptionist with a friendly smile, and Jessica automatically returned the greeting. In a few short weeks, Nikolas had turned her world around; people smiled and greeted her now, and everyone connected with ConTech treated her with the utmost courtesy. But recognizing his enormous influence didn't make her feel more charitable toward him; she wanted to throttle him instead!

As she left the elevator, a familiar figure exited Nikolas's office, and Jessica lifted her chin as she neared Diana Murray. Diana paused, waiting for Jessica to approach her, and good manners forced Jessica to greet her.

"My, isn't Nikolas busy this afternoon?" purred Diana, her beautiful eyes watching Jessica sharply for any signs of jealousy.

"I don't know; is he?" countered Jessica coolly. "It doesn't matter; he'll see me anyway."

"I'm sure he will. But give him a minute," Diana advised in a sweet voice which made Jessica long to slap her. She preferred unvarnished hostility to Diana's saccharine poison. Diana smiled and added, "Let him have time to smooth himself down. You know how he is." Then she walked away, her hips swaying with just the right touch of exaggeration. Men probably found Diana irresistible, Jessica thought savagely, and she promised herself that if Nikolas Constantinos didn't walk carefully, he was going to find a storm breaking over his arrogant head.

She thrust open the door, and Andros looked up from his never-deserted post. As always when he saw her, his eyes conveyed cold dislike. "Mrs. Stanton. I don't believe Mr. Constantinos is expecting you."

"No, he isn't," agreed Jessica. "Tell him I'm here, please."

Reluctantly Andros did her bidding, and almost as soon as he had replaced the receiver, Nikolas opened the doors and smiled at her. "Hello, darling. You're a pleasant surprise; I didn't expect to see you until later. Have you decided to sign the papers?"

This reference to his purchase of her shares only served to fan higher the flame of her anger, but she controlled herself until she had entered his office and he had closed the doors firmly behind them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him approaching, obviously intent on taking her in his arms, and she briskly removed herself from his reach.

"No, I haven't decided to sign anything," she said crisply. "I came here to get an explanation for this." She reached into her purse and withdrew a slim packet of papers attached with a paper clip to a creased envelope. She thrust them at him and he took them, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

"What are these?" he asked, studying the darkened green of her eyes and gauging her temper.

"You tell me," she snapped. "I believe you're the responsible party."

He removed the paper clip and rapidly scanned the papers, flipping them one by one. It took only a minute; then he replaced the paper clip. "Is anything wrong? Everything looks in order."

"I'm certain everything is in perfect legal order," she said impatiently. "That isn't the problem, and you know it."

"Then exactly what is the problem?" he inquired, his lashes drooping to cover the expression in his eyes, but she knew that he was watching her and saw every nuance of her expression before she, too, shuttered her face.

He hooked one leg over the corner of the desk and sat down, his body relaxed. "I don't see why you're upset," he said smoothly. "Suppose you tell me exactly what you don't like about the agreement. It hasn't been signed yet; we can always make changes. I hadn't meant for you to receive your copy by mail," he added thoughtfully. "I can only suppose that my attorney tried to anticipate my wishes, and he'll certainly hear from me on that."

"I don't care about your attorney, and it doesn't make any difference how I received this piece of trash, because I won't sign it!" she shouted at him, her cheeks scarlet with anger. "You're the most arrogant man I've ever met, and I hate you!"

The amusement that had been lurking in his eyes vanished abruptly, and when she spun on her heel and started for the door, too incensed even to yell at him, he lunged from his position on the desk to intercept her before she'd taken three steps. As his hand closed on her arm, she lashed out at him with her free hand. He threw his arm up to ward off the blow, then deftly twisted and caught that arm, too, and drew her against him.

"Let me go!" she spat, too infuriated to care if Andres heard her. She twisted and struggled, heaving herself against the iron band of his arms in an effort to break free; she was given stamina by her anger, but at last even that was exhausted. When she shuddered and dropped her head against his shoulder, he lifted her easily and stepped around the desk, where he sat down in his chair and cradled her on his lap.

Jessica felt faint, drained by her rage and the struggle with him, and she lay limply against him. His heart was beating strongly, steadily, under her cheek, and she noticed that he wasn't even breathing rapidly. He'd simply subdued her and let her tire herself out. He stretched to reach the telephone and dialed a single number, then spoke quietly. "Hold all calls, Andros. I don't want to be disturbed for any reason." Then he dropped the receiver back onto the cradle and wrapped both arms about her, hugging her securely to him.

"Darling," he whispered into her hair. "There's no need to be so upset. It's only a simple document—"

"There's nothing simple about it!" she interrupted violently. "You're trying to treat me like a high-priced whore, but I won't let you! If that's the way you think of me, then I don't want to see you again."

"I don't think of you as a whore." He soothed her. "You're not thinking clearly; all you're thinking now is that I've offered you payment for going to bed with me, and that isn't what I intended."

"Oh, no, of course it wasn't," she mocked in a bitter tone. She struggled to sit up and get away from the intimate heat of his body, but his enfolding arms tightened and she couldn't move. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she gave up and relaxed against him in defeat.

"No, it wasn't," he insisted. "I merely want to take care of you—thus the bank account and the house. I know you own the house where you live now, but admit it, the neighborhood isn't the best."

"No, it isn't, but I'm perfectly happy there! I've never asked for anything from you, and I'm not asking now. I don't want your money, and you've insulted me by asking me to sign a document swearing that I'll never make any demands against your estate for 'services rendered."'

"I'd be extremely foolish if I didn't take steps to secure the estate," he pointed out. "I don't think you'd sue me for support, darling, but I have other people to consider and a responsibility to uphold. A great many people depend on me for their livelihood—my family as well as my employees—and I can't in good conscience do anything that might jeopardize their well-being in the future."

"Do all of your mistresses have to sign away any claims on you?" she demanded, angrily brushing away the single tear which dropped from her lashes. "Is this in the nature of a form letter, everything filled in except for the name and date? How many other women live in apartments or houses you've so kindly provided?"

"None!" he snapped. "I don't think I'm asking too much. Did you truly think I'd establish you as my mistress and leave myself vulnerable to any number of other claims? Is that why you're so angry, because I've made certain you can't get any money from me except what I freely give to you?"

He'd made the mistake of releasing her arm, and she swung wildly at him, her palm striking his face with enough force to make her hand tingle. She began to cry, tears flooding down her face while she gulped and tried to control them, and in an effort to get away from him she started fighting again. The results were the same as before: he simply held her and prevented her from landing any more blows, until she was breathless and worn out. Pain and anger mingled with her sense of helplessness at being held like that, her raw frustration at being unable to make him see how utterly wrong he was about her, and she gave up even trying to control her tears. With a wrenching sob she turned her face into his shoulder and gave in to her emotional storm.

"Jessica!" he ground out from between clenched teeth, but she barely heard him and paid no attention. A small part of her knew that he had to be furious that she'd slapped him—Nikolas wasn't a man to let anyone, man or woman, strike him and get away with it—but at the moment she just didn't care. Her delicate frame heaved with the convulsive force of her weeping. It would never end, the gossip and innuendo concerning her marriage; even though Nikolas wouldn't allow anyone else to talk about her, he still believed all of those lies himself. What he didn't seem to realize was that she could endure everyone else's insults, but she couldn't endure his, because she loved him.

"Jessica." His voice was lower now, softer, and the biting power of his fingers eased on her arms. She felt his hands touching her back, stroking soothingly up and down, and he cuddled her closer to his body.

With tender cajoling he persuaded her to lift her face, and he wiped her eyes and nose with his handkerchief as if she were a child. She stared at him, her eyes still luminous with tears, and even through her tears she could see the red mark on his cheek where she'd hit him. With trembling figures she touched the spot. "I—I'm sorry," she said, offering her apology in a tear-thick voice.

Without a word he turned his head and kissed her fingers, then bent his head and lifted her in the same motion, and before she could catch her breath he was kissing her, his mouth hot and wild and as hungry as an untamed animal's, tasting and biting and probing. His hand searched her breasts and moved downward to glide over her hips and thighs, on down to her knees, moving impatiently under the fabric of her dress. With a shock she realized that he was out of control, driven beyond the control of will by his own anger and the struggle with her, the softness of her body twisting and straining against him. He wasn't even giving her a chance to respond to him, and fear made her heartbeat speed up as she realized that this time she might not be able to stop him.

"Nikolas, no. Not here. No! Stop it, darling," she whispered fiercely, tenderly. She didn't try to fight him, sensing that at this stage it would only excite him more. He was hurting her; his hands were all over her, touching her where no man had ever touched before, pulling at her clothing. She reached up and placed her hands on both sides of his face and repeated his name softly, urgently, over and over until, abruptly, he was looking at her and she saw that she'd gained his attention.

A spasm crossed his face, and he ground his teeth, swearing beneath his breath. He slowly helped her to her feet, pushing her from his lap, and then got to his feet as if in pain. He stood looking at her for a moment as she swayed against the desk for support; then he cursed again and walked a few feet away, standing with his back to her while he wearily massaged the back of his neck.

She stared at his broad, muscular back in silence, too drained to say anything to him, not knowing if it was safe to do so. What should she do now? She wanted to leave, but her legs were trembling so violently that she doubted her ability to walk unaided. And her clothing was disheveled, twisted, and partially unbuttoned. With slow, clumsy fingers she restored her appearance, then eyed him uncertainly. His stance was that of a man fighting himself, and she didn't want to do anything that might annoy him. But the silence was so thick between them that she was uneasy, and at last she forced her unsteady legs to move, intending to retrieve her purse from where she'd dropped it and leave before the situation worsened.

"You aren't going anywhere," he said in a low voice, and she halted in her tracks.

He turned to face her then, his dark face set in weary lines. "I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. "Did I hurt you?"

His apology was the opposite of the reaction she had expected, and for a moment she couldn't think of a response. Then she dumbly shook her head, and he seemed to relax. He moved close to her and slid his arm around her waist, urging her close to him with gentle insistence. Jessica offered no resistance and pressed her head into the sheltering hollow of his shoulder.

"I don't know what to say," he muttered. "I want you to trust me, but instead I've frightened you."

"Don't say anything," she answered, having finally mastered her voice. "There's no need to go over it all again. I won't sign the paper, and that's that."

"It wasn't meant as an insult, but as a legal necessity."

"But I'm not your mistress," she pointed out. "So there's no need for the document."

"Not yet," he agreed. "As I said, my attorney anticipated my wishes. He was in error." His tone of voice boded ill for the poor attorney, but Jessica was grateful to the unknown man. At least now she knew exactly what Nikolas thought of her, and she preferred the painful truth to living in a dream.

"Perhaps it would be better if we didn't see each other anymore," she began, but his arm tightened around her and a scowl blackened his brow.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I won't let you go now, so don't waste your breath suggesting it. I promise to control myself in the future, and we'll forget about this for the time being."

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Jessica gave him a bitter look. Did he truly think she could forget that he thought her the sort of woman who was available for a price? That knowledge was a knife thrust into her chest, but equally painful was the certainty that she didn't want him to vanish from her life. Whatever he had come to mean to her, the thought of never seeing him again made her feel desolate. She was risking her emotional well-being, flirting with disaster, but she could no more walk away from him now than she could stop herself from breathing.

Several weeks passed in a more restrained manner, as if he'd placed himself on his best behavior, and she managed to push away the hurt. He insisted that she accompany him whenever he went out socially, and she was his hostess whenever he entertained.

The strain on her was telling. At yet another party, she felt smothered and escaped into the coolness of the dark garden, where she sucked in deep lungfuls of fresh, sweet air; she had been unable to breathe in the smoke-laden atmosphere inside. In the weeks since she had met Nikolas, she had learned to be relaxed at social gatherings, but she still felt the need to be by herself occasionally, and those quiet times had been rare. Nikolas had the rawer of a volcano, spewing out orders and moving everyone along in the lava flow of his authority. She wasn't certain just where he was at the moment, but she took advantage of his lapse of attention to seek the quietness of the garden.

Just before leaving for the dinner party tonight, they'd had a flaming argument over her continued refusal to sell her stock to him, their first argument since the awful scene in his office. He wouldn't back down an inch; he was furious with her for defying him, and he had even accused her of trying to trick him into increasing his offer. Sick to death of his lack of understanding and tired of the running battle, Jessica had grabbed the paper and signed it, then thrown it to the floor in a fit of temper. 'Well, there it is!" she had snapped furiously. It wasn't until he'd leaned down and picked up the paper to fold and replace it in his pocket that she'd seen the speculative gleam in his eyes and realized that she'd made a mistake. Signing now, after he had accused her of holding out for a higher price and assured her that she wouldn't get it, had convinced him that she'd been doing exactly that all along, biding her time and hoping for a higher price. But it was too late now to do anything about it, and she had grimly conquered the tears that sprang to her eyes as the pain of his suspicions hurt her.

Strolling along the night-dewed path of white gravel, she wondered sadly if the sense of ease which had come into their relationship lately had been destroyed. He had eased pressuring her to let him make love to her, had in fact become increasingly tender with her, as if he was at last beginning to care. The thought made her breathless, or it was like a dream come true. In a thousand ways, he spoiled her and curbed his impatient nature for her, and she no longer tried to fight her love for him. She didn't even want to any longer, so thoroughly had he taken her under his influence.

But all of that might be gone now. She should never have signed that agreement! She'd given in to his bullying tactics in a fit of temper, and all she had done was to reinforce his picture of her as a mercenary temptress. What ground she'd gained in his affections had been lost in that one moment.

Moving slowly along, her head down while she dreamed wistfully of marrying Nikolas and having his children—something not likely to happen now—it was some moments before she heard the murmur of voices. She was almost upon the couple before she realized it. She halted, but it seemed that they hadn't noticed her. They were only a dim shape in the darkness, the pale blur of the woman's gown blending into the darkness of the man's dinner jacket as they embraced.

Trying to move quietly, Jessica stepped back with the intention of withdrawing without attracting attention to herself, but then the woman gave a sharp sigh and moaned, "Nikolas! Ah, my love…"

Jessica's legs went numb and refused to move as strength drained away from her. Nikolas? Her Nikolas? She was too dazed to feel any pain; she didn't really believe it. At last she managed to turn and look again at the entwined couple. Diana. Most assuredly Diana. She had recognized that voice. And—Nikolas? The bent black head, the powerful shoulders, could be Nikolas, but she couldn't be certain. Then his head lifted and he muttered in English, "What's wrong, Diana? Has no one been taking care of you, as lovely as you are?"

"No, no one," she whispered. "I've waited for you."

"Were you so certain I would return?" he asked, amusement coming into his voice as he raised his head higher to look into the gorgeous upturned face.

Jessica turned away, not wanting to see him kiss the other woman again. The pain had started when she saw for certain that Nikolas was the man holding Diana so passionately, but she determinedly forced it down. If she let go, she would weep and make a fool of herself, so she tilted her chin arrogantly and ignored the vise that squeezed her chest, the knife that stabbed her insides. Behind her, she heard him call her name, but she moved swiftly across the patio and into the protection of the house and the throng of people. People smiled at her now, and spoke, and she put a faint smile on her stiff lips and made her way very calmly to the informal bar.

Everyone was getting their own drinks, so she poured herself a liberal portion of tart white wine and sipped it as she moved steadily about the room, smiling, but not allowing herself to be drawn into conversation. She could not talk to anyone just now; she would just walk about and sip her wine and concentrate on mastering the savage thrust of pain inside her. She wasn't certain how she would leave the party, whether she was strong enough to leave with Nikolas or if it would be best to call a taxi, but she would worry about that later. Later, after she had swallowed enough wine to dull her senses.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nikolas moving toward her with grim determination, and she swung to the left and spoke to the couple she nearly collided with, marveling that her voice could be so natural. Then, before she could move away, a strong hand closed on her elbow and Nikolas said easily, "Jessica, darling, I've been chasing you around the room trying to get your attention. Hello, Glenna, Clark…how are the children?"

With a charming smile he had Glenna laughing at him and telling him about her two young sons, whom it seemed Nikolas knew personally. All the time they talked, Nikolas kept a tight grip on Jessica's arm, and when she made a move to break away from him, his fingers tightened until she nearly gasped with pain. Then he was leading her away from Glenna and Clark and his fingers loosened, but not enough to allow her to escape.

"You're hurting my arm," Jessica said coldly as they wove through milling groups of laughing, chattering people.

"Shut up," he ground out between his teeth. "At least until we're alone. I think the study is empty; we'll go there."

As he literally pulled her with him, Jessica had a glimpse of Diana's face before they left the room behind, and the expression of pure triumph on the woman's face chilled her.

Pride stiffened her back, and when Nikolas closed the door of the study behind them and locked it, she turned to face him and lifted her chin to give him a haughty stare. "Well?" she demanded. "What do you want, now that you've dragged me in here?"

He stood watching her, his black eyes grim and his mouth set in a thin line that at any other time would have made her apprehensive but now left her curiously unmoved. He had thrust his hands into his pants pockets as if he didn't trust himself to control his temper, but now he took them out and his eyes gleamed. "It always amazes me how you can look like a queen, just by lifting that little chin."

Her face showed no reaction. "Is that all you brought me in here to say?" she demanded coolly.

"You know damned well it isn't." For a moment he had the grace to look uncomfortable, and a dull flush stained the brutal cheekbones. "Jessica, what you saw…it wasn't serious."

"That really doesn't matter to me," she thrust scornfully, "because our relationship isn't serious, either. You don't have to explain yourself to me, Nikolas; I have no hold on you. Conduct your little affairs as you please; I don't care."

His entire body jerked under the force of her words and the flush died away to a white, strained look. His eyes grew murderous and an instant before he moved she realized that she had gone too far, pushed him beyond control. She had time only to suck in her breath to cry out in alarm before he was across the room with a lithe, savage movement, his hands on her shoulders. He shook her violently, so violently that her hair tumbled down about her shoulders and tears were jerked from her eyes before his mouth closed on hers and his savage kiss took her breath away. When she thought that she would faint under his onslaught, he lifted her slumping body in his arms and carried her to the soft, worn sofa where their host had obviously spent many comfortable hours. Fiercely he placed her on it and covered her body with his, holding her down with his heavy shoulders and muscular thighs. "Damn you!" he whispered raggedly, jerking her head back with cruel fingers tangled in her hair. "You have me tied in knots; I can't even sleep without dreaming about you, and you say you don't care what I do? I'll make you care, I'll break down that wall of yours—"

He kissed her brutally, his lips bruising hers and forcing a moan of protest from her throat, but he paid no attention to her distress. With his free hand he slid down the zipper of her dress and pulled the cloth from her shoulders, and only then did his mouth leave hers to press his sensual attack on the soft mounds of her breasts.

Jessica moaned in fright when her mouth was free, but as his hot lips moved hungrily down her body, a wanton need surged through her. She fought it fiercely, determined not to surrender to him after what had passed between them tonight, knowing that he thought her little better than a whore. And then he had gone straight into Diana's arms! The memory of the smugly victorious smile the woman had given her sent tears streaming down her face as she struggled against his overpowering strength. He ignored her efforts to free herself and moved to press completely over her, his hands curving her against his powerful, surging contours. He was feverish with desire and she was helpless against him; he would have taken her, but when he raised his head from her throbbing breasts, he saw her tear-drenched face and stopped cold.

"Jessica," he said huskily. "Don't cry. I won't hurt you."

Didn't he understand? He had already hurt her; he'd torn her heart out. She turned her head away from him with a jerky movement and bit her bruised lip, unable to say anything.

He eased his weight from her and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe her face. "It's just as well," he said grimly. "I don't want to make love to you for the first time on a sofa in someone else's house. I want you in a bed, ma chere, with hours in which I can show you how it should be between a man and a woman."

"Any woman," she said bitterly, remembering Diana.

"No!" he refuted fiercely. "Don't think of her, she means less than nothing to me. I was foolish—I'm sorry, darling. I wanted to ease myself with her, to relieve the tension that you arouse and won't satisfy, and instead I found that she leaves me cold."

"Really?" Jessica taunted, glaring at him. "You didn't look so cold to me."

He tossed the tear-wet handkerchief aside and captured her chin with one hand. "You think not? Did I act as if I was carried away by passion?" he demanded, forcing her to look at him. "Did I kiss her as I kiss you? Did I say sweet things to her?"

"Yes! You called her— No," she interrupted herself, becoming confused. "You said she was lovely, but you didn't—"

"I didn't call her darling, as I call you, did I? One kiss, Jessica! One kiss and I knew that she couldn't even begin to damp down the fires you've lit. Won't you forgive me for one kiss?"

"Would you forgive me?" she snapped, trying to turn her head away, but he held her firmly. Against her will she was softening, letting him talk her out of her resolve. The heavy weight of his limbs against her was comforting as he wrapped her in the security of his strength, and she began to feel that she could forgive any transgression so long as she could still touch him.

"I would have snatched you away from any man foolish enough to touch you," he promised her grimly, "and broken his jaw. I don't think I could control myself if I saw someone kissing you, Jessica. But I'd never walk away from you; I'd take you with me."

She shuddered and closed her eyes, recalling those awful moments when she had watched their embrace. "Neither can I control myself, Nikolas," she admitted hoarsely. "I can't bear to watch you make love to another woman. It tears me apart."

"Jessica!"

It was the first admission she had made that she cared for him, even a little. Despite their closeness over the past weeks, she had still resisted him in that, had refused to tell him that she cared. Now she could no longer hide it.

"Jessica! Look at me. Look at me!" Fiercely he shook her and her eyes flew open to stare into his blazing, triumphant eyes. "Tell me," he insisted, bending closer to her, his mouth poised above hers. His hand went to her heart, felt the telltale pounding, and lingered to tenderly stroke the soft womanly curves he found.

"Tell me," he whispered, and brushed his lips against hers.

Her arms went about his shoulders, clinging tightly to his strength as her own was washed away in the floodtide of her emotion. "I love you," she moaned huskily. "I've tried not to—you're so…arrogant. But I can't help it."

He crushed her to him so tightly that she cried out, and he loosened his hold immediately. "Mine," he muttered, pressing hot kisses over her face. "You're mine, and I'll never let you go. I adore you, darling. For weeks I've been half-mad with frustration, wanting you but afraid of frightening you off. You'll have no more mercy from me, you'll be my woman now!" And he laughed exultantly before he sat up and helped her to pull her gown back up. He zipped it for her, then his hard hands closed about her waist.

"Let's leave now," he said, his voice rough. "I want you so badly!"

Jessica shivered at the raw demand in his voice, elated but also frightened. The time had come when he would no longer allow her to draw away from him, and though she could feel her heart blooming at his admission of love, she was still wary of this man and the control he had over her.

Nikolas sensed her hesitation and pulled her close to him with a possessive arm. "Don't be frightened," he murmured against her hair. "Forget whatever has happened to you; I'll never do anything to hurt you. You said that you aren't frightened of me, but you are, I can tell. That's why I've suffered through these weeks of hell, waiting for you to lose your fear. Trust me now, darling. I'll take every care with you."

She buried her face against his shoulder. Now was the time to tell him that she had never made love before, but when she gathered her courage enough to raise her head and open her mouth, he forestalled her by laying his fingers gently across her bruised lips. "No, don't say anything," he whispered. "Just come with me, let me take care of you."

Her hair was a tumbled mass about her shoulders and she lifted her hands to try to twist it up again. "Don't bother," Nikolas said, catching her hand. "You look adorable, if anyone should see you, but we'll leave by the back way. Wait here while I make our excuses to our host; I'll only be a moment."

Left by herself, Jessica sat down and tried to gather her dazed and scattered thoughts. Nikolas loved her, he had admitted it. Love was the same as "adore," wasn't it? Certainly she loved him, but she was also confused and uncertain. She had always thought that a mutual declaration of love led to sweet plans for the future, but instead Nikolas seemed to plan only on taking her to bed. She tried to tell herself that he was an extremely physical man, and that afterward he would want to talk about wedding plans. It was just that she had always dreamed, in her heart, of going to her husband in white, and of de-serving the symbol of purity. For a moment she toyed with the idea of telling Nikolas she didn't want to leave, but then she shook her head. Perhaps she had to prove her love for Nikolas by trusting him as he had requested and giving him the full measure of her love.

Then it was too late to worry, because Nikolas came back, and she drowned in the possessive glow of his dark eyes. Her nervousness was swamped by her automatic response to his nearness and she leaned pliantly against him as he led her out of the house by the back way and to his car parked down the narrow, quiet street.

London was a golden city by night, gleaming like a crown on the banks of the Thames, and it had never seemed more golden to her than it did tonight, sitting quietly beside Nikolas as he drove through the city. She looked at the familiar landmarks as if she had never seen them before, caught by the unutterable loveliness of the world she shared with Nikolas.

He didn't drive her home, as she had expected, but instead they went to his penthouse. That alarmed her, though she wasn't sure why, and she hung back, but he pulled her into the elevator and held her close, muttering hot words of love to her. When the elevator doors slid open, he took her hand and led her down the quiet, dim hallway to his door. Unlocking it, he let her inside and followed, locking the door behind him with a final-sounding click. She had gone a few steps forward and now stood very still in the darkness, and with a flick of his finger he switched on two lamps. Then he went over to his telephone console to make sure his automatic answering service was on.

"No interruptions tonight," he said, turning to her now. His eyelids drooped sensuously over his gleaming eyes as he came to her and drew her against his hard body. "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked, his lips moving against her temples.

She closed her eyes in ecstasy, breathing in the heady male scent of him, basking in his warmth. "No, nothing," she replied huskily.

"Nor do I," he said. "I don't want alcohol dulling my senses tonight; I want to enjoy every moment. You've obsessed me from the first moment I saw you, so forgive me if I seem to…" He paused, trying to find the word, and she smiled tenderly.

"If you seem to gloat?" she murmured.

"Gloat is too strong a word, but I do admit to a sense of triumph." He grinned.

She watched with a pounding heart as he shed his dinner jacket and draped it over a chair. His tie followed, and his satin waistcoat, then he came to her and she shrank back at the look on his face. So would the Spartan warriors of long ago have looked, proud and savage and lawless. He frightened her, and she wanted to run, but then he had her in his arms and his mouth covered hers and all thoughts fled as her senses were filled with him.

He lifted her and carried her along the corridor to his bedroom, shouldering the door closed behind them, then crossing to the huge bed and standing her before it.

Sanity fought with desire and she choked, "No, Nikolas, wait! I have to tell you—"

"But I can't wait," he interrupted huskily, his breathing ragged. "I have to have you, darling. Trust me, let me wipe out the touch of the others who have hurt you."

His mouth shut off anything else she might have said. He was far more gentle than she would ever have expected, his hands moving over her with exquisite tenderness, molding her to him as his lips drank greedily of hers. She gasped at the surge of pleasure that warmed her, and she curled her slender arms about his neck, arching herself against his powerful form and hearing his deep groan reverberating in her ears like music. With shaking hands he unzipped her gown and slid it down her hips to lie in a silky pool about her feet. He caught his breath at the slim, graceful delicacy of her body, then he snatched her close to him again and his mouth lost its gentleness as he kissed her hungrily. He muttered love words in French and Greek as his strong, lean fingers removed her underwear and dropped it carelessly to the floor, and she thrilled at the hoarse desire so evident in his voice. It was right, it had to be right, he loved her and she loved him…

Feverishly she unbuttoned his silk shirt, her lips pressing hot little kisses to his flesh as she revealed it. She had never caressed him so freely before, but she did so now, discovering with delight the curling hair that roughened his chest and ran in a narrow line down his abdomen. Her fingers flexed mindlessly in that hair, pulling slightly, then her hands dropped to his belt and fumbled awkwardly with the fastening.

"Ah…darling," he cried, his fingers closing almost painfully on hers. Then he brushed her hands aside and helped her, for she was trembling so badly that she couldn't manage to undo the belt.

Rapidly he stripped, and she caught her breath at the sight of his strong, incredibly beautiful body. "I love you," she moaned, going into his arms. "Oh, Nikolas, my love!"

He shuddered and lifted her, placing her on the bed and following her down, his mouth and hands all over her, rousing her to wilder, sweeter heights, then slowing and letting her drift back to awareness before he intensified his efforts again and took her to the brink of madness before drawing away. He was seducing her carefully, making certain of her pleasure, though he was going wild with his own pleasure as he stroked her lovely curves and soft hollows.

At last, aching with the need for his complete possession, Jessica moved her body urgently against him. She didn't know how to demand what she needed; she could only moan and clutch at him with frantic fingers. Her head moved mindlessly from side to side, rolling on the tawny pillow of her hair. "Nikolas—ah, beloved," she moaned, scarcely knowing what she said as the words tripped over themselves coming from her tongue. She wanted only his touch, the taste of his mouth on hers. "I never knew—oh, darling, please! Being your wife will be heaven." Her hands moved over his muscled ribs, pulling at him, and she called out to him with surrender plain in her voice. "Nikolas…Nikolas!"

But he had gone stiff, pulling away from her, and he rose up on his elbow to look at her. After a moment she realized that she had been deserted and she turned her head to look at him questioningly. "Nikolas?" she murmured.

The silence lengthened and thickened, then he made an abrupt, savage movement with his hand. "I've never mentioned marriage to you, Jessica. Don't delude yourself; I'm not that big a fool."

Jessica felt the blood draining from her face and she was glad of the darkness, of the dim lights that left only black and white images and hid the colors away. Nausea roiled in her stomach as she stared up at him. No, he wasn't a fool, but she was. Fiercely she fought back the sickness that threatened to overwhelm her, and when she spoke, her tone was even, almost cool.

"That's odd. I thought marriage was a natural result of love. But then, you've never actually said that you love me, have you, Nikolas?"

His mouth twisted and he got out of bed, walking to the window to stand looking out, his splendid body revealed to her in its nudity. He wasn't concerned with his lack of dress, standing there as casually as if he wore a suit and tie. "I've never lied to you, Jessica," he said brutally. "I want you as I've never wanted another woman, but you're not the type of woman I would ever take as my wife."

Jessica ground her teeth together to keep from crying out in pain. Jerkily she sat up against the pillows and drew the covers up over her nakedness, for she couldn't be as casual about it as he could. "Oh?" she inquired, only a slight strain revealed in her voice, for, after all, hadn't she had years of experience in hiding her feelings? "What type of woman am I?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "My dear, that's rather obvious. Just because Robert Stanton married you doesn't make it any less an act of prostitution, but at least he married you. What about all the others? They didn't bother. You've had some unpleasant experiences that have turned you against men, and I was prepared to treat you with a great deal of consideration, but I've never considered making you my wife. I wouldn't insult my mother by taking a woman like you home to be introduced to her."

Pride had always been a strong part of Jessica's character and it came to her rescue now. Lifting her chin, she said, "What sort of woman would you take home to Mama? A nun?"

"Don't get vicious with me," he snarled softly in warning. "I can deal with you in a way that will make your previous experiences seem like heaven. But to answer your question, the woman I marry will be a virgin, as pure as the day she was born, a woman of both character and morals. I admit that you have the character, my dear; it's the morals that you lack."

"Where will you find this paragon?" she mocked, not at all afraid of him now. He had already hurt her as badly as she could ever be hurt; what else could he do?

He said abruptly, "I have already found her; I intend to marry the daughter of an old family friend. Elena is only nineteen, and she's been schooled in a convent. I wanted to wait until she's older before we became betrothed; she deserves a carefree youth."

"Do you love her, Nikolas?" The question was torn from her, for here, after all, was an even deeper pain, to think that he loved another woman. By contrast to this unknown, unseen Elena, Diana seemed a pitiful rival.

"I'm fond of her," he said. "Love will come later, as she matures. She'll be a loving, obedient wife, a wife I can be proud of, a good mother to my children."

"And you can take her home to Mama," Jessica mocked in pain.

He swung away from the window. "Don't mock my mother," he hissed between his teeth. "She's a wonderful, valiant woman; she knew your late husband—are you surprised? When she heard of his disastrous marriage, she was shocked and dismayed, as most people were. Her friends here in London who wrote to her about you didn't ease her worries for an old friend. Should I insult her now by showing up with you in tow and saying, 'Mother, do you remember the gold-digger who took Robert Stanton for all he was worth and ruined the last years of his life? I've just married her.' Were you really such a fool as to think that, Jessica?"

Jessica flung aside the covers and stood up, her bearing erect and proud, her head high. "You're right about one thing," she said in a clipped voice. "I'm not the woman for you."

He watched silently as she went over to her gown and picked it up from the floor, slipping quickly into it. As she slid her feet into her shoes, she said, "Good-bye, Nikolas. It's been an interesting experience."

"Don't be so hasty, my dear," he jeered cruelly. "Before you walk out that door, you should consider that you could gain even more by being my mistress than you did by marrying Robert Stanton. I'm prepared to pay well."

Bitter pride kept her from reacting to that jibe. "Thanks, but no, thanks," she said carelessly, opening the door. "I'll wait for a better offer from another man. Don't bother seeing me out, Nikolas. You aren't dressed for it."

He actually laughed, throwing back his arrogant head. "Call me if you change your mind," he said by way of good-bye, and she walked out without looking back.

She called Charles early the next morning and told him that she would be out of town for several weeks. She hadn't cried, her eyes had remained dry and burning, but she knew that she couldn't remain in London. She would return only when Nikolas had left, flown back to his island. "I'm going to the cottage," she told Charles. "And don't tell Nikolas where I am, though I doubt that he'll bother to ask. If you let me down in this, Charles, I swear I won't ever speak to you again."

"Had a spat, did you?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice.

"No, it was really a rather quiet parting of the ways.

He called me a whore and said I wasn't good enough to marry, and I walked out," she explained coolly.

"My God!" Charles said something under his breath, then said urgently, "Are you all right, Jessica? Are you certain you should go haring off to Cornwall by yourself? Give yourself time to calm down."

"I'm very calm," she said, and she was. "I need a holiday and I'm taking it. You know where I am if anything urgent comes up, but other than that, I don't expect to see you for several weeks."

"Very well. Jessica, dear, are you certain?"

"Of course. I'm perfectly all right. Don't worry, Charles. I'm taking Samantha and the pups with me; they'll enjoy romping around Cornwall."

After hanging up, she made certain everything in the house was turned off, picked up her purse and walked out, carefully locking the door behind her. Her luggage was already in the car, as were Samantha and her wiggling, energetic family, traveling in a large box.

The rest in Cornwall would do her good, help her to forget Nikolas Constantinos. She had had a close call and she was grateful that she had escaped with her self-respect intact. At least she had prevented him from realizing how shattered she was.

Turning it over and over in her mind as she made the long drive to Cornwall, she wondered if she hadn't known all along just what Nikolas thought of her. Why else had she mentioned marriage at such a moment, when he was on the brink of making love to her? Hadn't she subconsciously realized that he would not let her think he intended marriage in order to seduce her?

She was glad that she hadn't told him that she was a virgin; he would have laughed in her face. She could have proved it to him, he would no doubt have demanded proof, but she was too proud. Why should she prove anything to him? She had loved Robert and he had loved her, and she would not apologize for their marriage. Somehow she would forget Nikolas Constantinos, wipe him out of her thoughts. She would not let his memory destroy her life!