The Best Man's Guarded Heart (10 page)

Her hand moved to his belly. His eyes popped open. He inhaled deeply when she gave him a dark, sultry look. He untangled himself from her and flipped onto his back, already lost to her touch. But while he was turning Grace flipped around too—and hopped out of the bed.

He caught her just as she was about to make for the door. He pulled her back into the bed beside him and wrapped his arms around her. ‘That was a dirty trick if ever I saw one.'

At first she smiled, with a look of guilty conscience, but then the smile faded, to be replaced by a troubled expression. ‘Andreas, please.'

His gut tightened. He ran his fingers lightly against her cheek. ‘What's the matter?'

‘I'm worried the flowers aren't right. That I've forgotten something.'

‘The flowers are perfect. And with your military-style planning you can't possibly have forgotten anything. The most important thing now is that you get some sleep.'

Her breath floated against his skin in broken anxious waves. ‘When I woke earlier it suddenly hit me that the wedding is
today
. I don't feel ready.'

He held her tighter to him. A hand gently stroking her hair, he whispered, ‘Everything's going to be okay. Sleep until seven. Then I'll come and help you with the prep work.'

She arched back and her violet eyes searched his. ‘Are you sure?'

‘That I want to be a florist's assistant? No. But I'll do it for you.'

To that she gave a small smile. ‘Really?'

‘Yes, really.'

They stayed locked together in that position for the longest while, staring into each other's eyes. Her lips lifted into a breathtaking grin and she whispered, ‘Thank you.'

A surge of protective desire tore through him, so strong he was momentarily stunned. He kissed her, deeply and intensely, and she responded in turn. They kissed as though their lives depended on it. He ripped her clothes from her. His head spun at the feel of her soft round curves again and he inhaled her scent.

He went to flip her onto her back, but she fought against him. She pushed
him
back onto the bed instead, and when they joined together he stared up into those violet eyes and his heart cracked open at the sight of the honest passion and warmth in her endless gaze.

* * *

Grace woke later to the sound of her name being called softly, a hand stroking her hair. She opened her eyes lazily and found Andreas crouched down beside her at the side of the bed. Freshly showered, he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He was so delicious she gave him a crooked smile. He smiled back, those green eyes flecked with gold and dancing with...contentment?

‘It's six-fifty.'

She gave a lazy nod, her body languid.

‘Take a shower and I'll get breakfast ready.'

She swallowed against a dry throat. ‘Thanks, but I need to go straight down to the workshop. I won't have anything.'

He raised an eyebrow to that. She thought he was about to argue, but then he gave a small shrug. ‘Fine, I'll go and get dressed in my room. I'll join you at the workshop in a little while.'

As he walked towards the door she had a sudden impulse to shout out, to tell him not to go. Not to leave her.

On shaky legs she made her way to the bathroom. Soon afterwards she stood under a scalding shower, her mind racing as her body gave up constant reminders of the intensity of her night with Andreas. A night full of passion and tender moments.

Her head dipped when she remembered that she would be leaving in two days. The hot water battered her neck. She gritted her teeth and clamped down on all thoughts of the future. It was futile. Sofia and the wedding needed her full attention today.

Ten minutes later she hesitated by the terrace door. She should leave immediately for the workshop, but the rich aroma of coffee and the draw of seeing Andreas again pulled her in the direction of the kitchen instead.

Barefoot, he wore navy shorts and a pale pink polo shirt, his back to her. She hovered at the door, weak with sexual attraction. She longed to go and run her hands through his damp hair, to tousle it, kiss that warm mouth, feel the pulse of his body when he pushed against her.

He turned with a lazy grin and beckoned her over to the breakfast counter. Her legs went weak.

‘I should go to the workshop.'

‘Come here. Now.'

It was lightly said, but the fire in his eyes told her it was an order—not a request.

When she reached him his hands landed on the waistband of her jeans, just above her hip bones.

‘
Kalimera
...good morning.'

Her insides melted at the low, sensual tone of his voice. He lifted her up to sit on the countertop.

As weak as water, her resistance was only a low gasp. ‘What are you doing?'

He gave her a wicked smile and, with one hand remaining on her knee, stood between her legs and reached along the countertop. He pulled a bowl towards them. He dipped a spoon into the bowl and brought up a spoonful of sinfully creamy Greek yogurt and glistening golden honey.

‘I'm going to feed you. You have a busy day ahead of you...' He paused and a mischievous glint danced in his eyes. ‘And you just had an exceptionally intense night.'

His eyes stayed glued to her mouth when she opened it, the tip of her tongue nervously running along her upper lip. She opened her mouth even wider and squirmed on the countertop as an explosion of tart yogurt and sweet honey hit her palette, but a groan of pleasure managed to escape.

‘That tastes
so
good.'

Andreas dropped the bowl to the countertop.
‘Thee mou!'
He pulled her towards him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His mouth tasted of freshly ground coffee, warm and safe. His kiss, at first light and playful, deepened as his hands reached under her sweater and moved up along her spine, around to dance on her ribcage and then over the lace of her bra.

He broke away and spoke against her hair. ‘This is impossible.'

She could only agree. With him, she lost all sense. Forgot everything she'd said she wanted in life.

‘I know...'

He pulled back and traced his thumb along her cheek, his eyes sombre but tender. ‘We need to be careful today.'

She moved to the side and hopped off the countertop. ‘Of course.'

‘We don't want anyone jumping to the wrong conclusion about our relationship.'

He was right—but that didn't stop her heart plummeting to the floor. She busied herself pouring a cup of coffee from the cafetière. ‘Absolutely. Last night was a one-off. I think we should just leave it at that.'

When he didn't respond she glanced in his direction. His arms crossed on his chest, he asked, ‘Are you saying that you don't want anything else to happen between us?'

‘Aren't you?'

‘When you leave on Monday where are you travelling to?'

Uncertain as to why their conversation had taken this direction, she frowned before she answered. ‘I'm taking a ferry to Chania, in Crete. There's a renowned wedding florist based there; I'm taking a two-day course at his school next week.'

‘Crete is a beautiful island...you will have a lovely time there.'

She had to act nonchalant, pretend that this conversation was
not
leaving her floundering as to how Andreas felt about her.

‘I was planning on returning to England towards the end of next week, in time for Matt finishing his exams, but I've decided to stay a little while longer.'

She had listened to what he had said about not feeling overly responsible for her siblings. It was time that she started to let them go and began building her own life in earnest.

She sipped some coffee and glanced at him. He was staring at her, deep in thought.

She should go, but an innate reluctance to leave him had her struggling for something else to say.

‘How do you feel about today?' He frowned, and she tried to ease the tension between them with a joke. ‘Are you
nervous
?'

He inhaled deeply. ‘What do you think?'

Of course he was. Her joke backfiring, she gave him a tight smile. Could she have been more insensitive? After everything he'd told her last night.

‘Sorry...of course you are.'

He nodded and poured himself some more coffee.

‘I'd better go and start on the bouquets, or at this rate Sofia will have none.'

He glanced at her briefly. ‘I'll join you in a little while to help.'

His tone was distracted, with no hint that they had spent the night in each other's arms, sharing a connection so deep that her heart had felt as if it was going to explode with the need to blurt out everything he meant to her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

W
ITH
S
OFIA
SURROUNDED
by the make-up and hair team, Grace slipped out of the bedroom they had taken over in the villa, telling Sofia's mum that she needed to do one final check on the flowers.

She ran all the way down to the workshop. Inside, the room was empty except for the centrepieces and the displays for the reception. While the wedding ceremony was taking place the local florists would take care of positioning them. The centrepieces were even more of a success than she had hoped. Andreas's uncle's porcelain vases emphasised the delicate beauty of the peonies and lisianthus.

Back outside, Grace ran towards the chapel, passing alongside the bay trees and lanterns elegantly lining the path. She smiled at the ribbons floating in the light breeze, but then a dart of pain shot through her heart.
Their time alone was over
. She pushed that thought away. The wedding guests would be arriving in less than half an hour. She needed to make sure all the flowers looked perfect.

As she approached the chapel her heart sank. The floral displays lined the red-carpeted aisle, sitting at intervals between the rows of white wooden seats. But the florists were still attaching the garland to the frame of the entrance to the chapel, and the garland for the bell tower still sat to one side of the terrace.

She rushed forward to help them and together they finished the door garland. At the same time Grace ran through with them the checklist of all the other jobs that were to be done. When she came to the corsages and boutonnières, the two women studied her blankly.

Grace closed her eyes for a second.
She had forgotten to arrange for them to be delivered to the bride's and groom's parties.
The guests would be here soon, and Christos and Andreas would need to be down at the jetty to greet them.

She raced back to the workshop, praying that the carefully constructed cascading curls the hairdresser had created, twisted into a half-knot at the base of her neck and topped with a spray of lisianthus, wouldn't fall apart.

In the workshop she grabbed the corsages and boutonnières and sprinted back to the villa. She heard loud voices coming from the formal sitting room. She gave a light knock and entered.

Christos was surrounded by at least ten friends, all larking about as Andreas helped him into his tuxedo jacket. They all turned as she entered, smiling at her curiously. She went to turn away, certain she had made a faux pas in her intrusion on this male domain, but Andreas's mother—beautiful and elegant in a powder-blue knee-length dress—suddenly appeared, and with an exclamation of delight gave Grace a warm hug.

‘
Kalosìrthes!
Welcome, Grace! How lovely to see you again.'

Over his mother's shoulder she briefly caught Andreas's eye before he resumed buttoning Christos's jacket. Her throat closed over at the sight of the intimacy between the two brothers, and when she pulled away from the floral cloud of his mother's perfume she bent to rearrange the boutonnières, desperate to hide the tears filming her eyes. What on earth would his mother think if she saw them?

There was a lot of good-natured jostling between Christos and his friends. Despite his mum's welcome Grace hovered on the outside of the group, awkward and unsure. She understood why Andreas was staying removed from her, in his desire to hide the truth of their relationship, but part of her longed for him to show some form of acknowledgement, some warmth towards her.

His father approached, pouring champagne into a flute, which he forcibly handed to her. ‘You are just in time. I'm about to make a toast.' He twisted around and held his glass up high. ‘To Christos and Sofia. May they have a
long
and happy marriage.'

A loud cheer went up from the other men and they all moved in to hug Christos, their affection and friendship for the groom clear. Her eyes darted to Andreas as he stepped out of the friendly jostling. His tight expression told her that he too had heard his father's heavy emphasis on
long
.

‘Aren't these flowers so pretty? Grace, you've done a fantastic job.'

His mother fussed around her, and Grace instantly knew that she was accustomed to deflecting any potential arguments.

A laughing Christos extracted himself from the group long enough to draw her into a hug. ‘Yes, thank you for all your work.' His eyes glinting, he asked, ‘What did Sofia say when she saw the flowers?'

Earlier Grace had taken Sofia to the workshop to show her the flowers. Sofia had burst into tears, and a horrified Grace had thought it was because she didn't like them, but Sofia had assured her it was because they all were so beautiful. The bridal bouquet—a hand-tied spiral cloud of pale pink Sarah Bernhardt and ivory Duchesse de Nemours peonies, finished off with a long length of silver-grey ribbon—now sat in pride of place on the bridal suite's dressing table, along with her own smaller version made with the
Sarah Bernhardt
.

Grace had never seen Sofia as worked up as she was today. And the last thing an already nervous-looking Christos needed was to know that his albeit deliriously happy bride had been shaking like a leaf all morning.

‘She loved them and she can't wait to see you.'

Christos gave a grin of relief which grew into a wide megawatt beam: the gorgeous smile of a man in love. Grace had to walk away for fear that tears would fill her eyes again at witnessing this real-life romantic tale unfolding before her.

She took a sip of champagne and dared a glance at Andreas, who had come to stand next to Christos. Both he and Christos were wearing beautifully tailored tuxedos, crisp white dress shirts and black silk ties. They both looked gorgeous...but when she glanced at Andreas memories of last night had her weak-kneed with desire.

He was staring in the direction of the other men, who had moved over to a table of food at the opposite side of the room. But her instinct told her he was attuned to everything she was doing—as though he was on tenterhooks about her letting slip the truth about what they had shared over the past few days.

Flustered, and feeling too hot, she placed her champagne flute next to the flowers on the coffee table. ‘I'd better get back to Sofia.'

‘Stay and help us fix the boutonnières,' his mother said, picking up one of the sprays. ‘When Andreas got married I couldn't get them to sit properly.'

Then, as though realising what she had said, his mother glanced towards Andreas and then his father in alarm. Christos threw a worried glance at Andreas, who stood rigid, still, tight-lipped.

His father bristled and in a low voice said irritably, ‘I thought we'd agreed not to discuss that wedding?'

Grace picked up his mother's corsage and turned her back to the men. Much taller than Mrs Petrakis, she fixed the single ivory-white peony backed with two sprigs of lisianthus to her powder-blue dress and gave her a sympathetic smile. She smiled back at Grace gratefully, blinking hard at the tears in her eyes. Eyes the same green burnished with gold as Andreas's... Though finished, Grace deliberately fussed with the corsage a while longer, until Mrs Petrakis touched her arm gently and nodded that she was okay.

Next Grace attached a boutonnière to Christos's lapel. She gave him a cheeky smile. ‘You look incredibly handsome today.'

Christos smiled back in delight. And then he lowered his head and said, for her ears only, ‘I'll take good care of her.'

Tears instantly filled Grace's eyes at his tender but heartfelt promise, and for a few seconds she wondered if she would ever meet a man who would be so keen and happy to marry
her
.

She busied herself with selecting the next boutonnière, and then steeled herself to approach Andreas's dad. He glanced down at her briefly, and then looked away. Though not quite as tall as Andreas, Mr Petrakis exuded the same power and strength as his oldest son. Her fingers fumbled with the catch of the pin and she could feel his impatience growing.

To distract him, but also in a bid not to allow herself to be intimidated by him, she stood up tall and looked him in the eye. She pretended to speak to the four of them as a group, but her gaze remained on his father. ‘I'm afraid that I've been a nuisance to Andreas over the past few days, but to his credit he has been courteous and generous at all times. You should be incredibly proud of him.'

Mr Petrakis glared at her impatiently. ‘Of
course
we're proud of him.'

Behind her she heard Andreas give a disbelieving laugh. And as she picked up the final boutonniere, Christos chortled and said, ‘My brother? Courteous? Who knew? You're mellowing in your old age, Andreas!' Christos threw an arm around Andreas's shoulder. ‘But you're right, Grace, about him being generous—he always has been.' Christos looked directly at Andreas. ‘Thanks for hosting the wedding.'

Behind her, Mr Petrakis cleared his throat noisily. ‘I still don't understand why you wanted it
here
. It would have been so much easier in Athens, rather than dragging everyone out into the middle of the Aegean.'

Andreas's jaw tightened. In an instant Grace wanted to stand up for him. ‘I think the majority of people would
love
to marry on this island—it has to be the most romantic place I've ever been. I'd happily stay here for the rest of my life.'

Flustered at the eyebrows rising around her, and the prospect of placing a boutonnière on Andreas's lapel, Grace walked towards him and, thoroughly distracted, said to Christos as she passed him by, ‘You must be pleased with Andreas's wedding present?'

Christos stared at her, confused. ‘What present?'

Panic soared through her veins and she looked at Andreas in alarm. His jaw had tightened even more, and irritation flared in his eyes.

‘I'll tell you later. It was to be a surprise.'

Grace hesitated in front of him. She swallowed hard as a deep blush fired on her cheeks. She gazed up at him and mouthed,
I'm sorry
.

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before looking away. The double lilac lisianthus was perfect against the black of his suit, but her fingers trembled so much she was worried that she'd never actually manage to pin it on. Her head spun from embarrassment, and the effect of standing so close to him. It reminded her of how good it had been to have those arms around her, being free to inhale his scent all night long, the way his body had dominated hers, the sensuality of his lips, his mouth...

Behind her, his father said, ‘Well, if Grace knows about the present, then I think there can be no reason why
we
shouldn't.'

Grace froze. Beneath her fingers Andreas's chest swelled as he inhaled a deep breath. She pulled away just as he spoke, his tone sharp.

‘Later.' He checked his watch and turned to Christos. ‘We should go down to the jetty—the first boats will be arriving soon.' As though to punctuate his words, the sound of a helicopter overhead reverberated through the air.

His father walked towards the door. ‘I'll go and greet the guests coming by helicopter.'

All the men disappeared from the room. Grace tried to ignore the way his mother was studying her and quickly made her excuses and left the room too.

She climbed the stairs and stood outside the bridal suite for a while, inhaling some deep breaths. How could the man who had looked at her with such impersonal detachment just now be the same man who had made passionate love to her last night? Had whispered private words of endearment.

He had made her feel as though she was the centre of his universe, but right now she felt as if she had been cast out of his world.

* * *

Beside him Christos jigged nervously as they waited for Sofia to arrive. The late-afternoon sun was dipping low behind them, casting shadows on the terrace. In front of them Grace's flowers looked like giant balls of marshmallow—the perfect romantic finishing touch to what even
he
had to admit was an incredible wedding venue.

His skin itched even at the thought.

He took a glance backwards to check for Sofia's arrival and caught his father's eye. Since he had arrived a few hours earlier his father had once again managed to push his every button. The same old grievances about how overworked he was and how lucky his friends were to have sons who gladly took over the family business. A none-too-subtle reminder of how this island should have been his all those years ago. And several digs as to how he hoped
this
marriage would last.

Andreas gave Christos a quick, encouraging clasp of the shoulder. ‘She'll be here soon. She can't change her mind and run away too easily on an island.'

He had to forget his father, forget his past, and concentrate on making this day special for Christos.

‘Cheers, brother, that's really reassuring.'

The two brothers grinned at each other and then Christos ducked his head down so that no one else could hear their conversation. ‘So what's this about a wedding present?'

Emotion thickened Andreas's throat and it was a while before he managed to speak. ‘The paperwork is in my office...I'm giving you half of this island.'

Christos studied him, speechless. ‘Seriously?' he said at last.

‘Yeah, seriously.'

The two men embraced and then stood side by side in silence. Eventually Christos spoke, ‘We had great times here as boys, didn't we?'

Andreas nodded. ‘And we'll have them again.'

Christos looked as though he was about to say something, but just then the sound of traditional music reached them. The trio of musicians, playing violin, bouzouki and the
toumbi
drum, would have led the bridal party all the way from the villa to the chapel.

Sofia was the first to appear behind the musicians, on the arm of her father, her dark hair covered in a lace veil. Beside him Christos inhaled a deep breath, and Andreas couldn't blame him. Sofia was radiating elegant beauty and happiness, her eyes dancing, her mouth a wide beam. And when her eyes met Christos's a single tear trickled down her cheek and Andreas had to turn away. He felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.