Antonio stood and held out his hand. “Come take a walk with me.” He wasn’t surprised when she refused to take it. He tucked his hands into his pockets and led the way to the French doors that opened onto the terrace. Outside they strolled the winding paths that crisscrossed the lawns. The air seemed fragrant with flowers, but Antonio kept catching hints of Claire’s scent. As they walked, he talked about the arrangements—he’d already spoken to the lawyer about the paperwork needed so Claire could marry him…and divorce him. His stomach tightened at the thought of her leaving again. How could he have so quickly become attached to her. But he knew the reason.

Their romance before had been a whirlwind. She had fallen into his arms at the airport, and he had fallen in love the way only a young man could—without thought or care for the future. Now he had to think of his sisters, and the businesses, and of Claire. She had her own life that she had built. But oh how he wanted to take her to Villa Livia and stay with her there for as long as he could hold her.

Touching a blooming white rose, Claire stopped and asked, “Why would your father do this to you? I mean, I get that he’s looking to control you still—but he seemed to really hate me. So why leave me anything? Why set this up to push you and me together?”

Antonio shrugged. “I’ve thought about that. In his will, Matthias said something about making up for a wrong done. I’m thinking maybe he was trying to undo what he had done.”

“So he decided I was okay after all?”

Antonio turned and looked at her, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It could be that he knew I…I haven’t been serious about any other women, Claire. Matthias wanted grandchildren, and he thought my sisters too young to marry and found I was too stubborn.”

“He must have hated having to give in and settle for me. Will everyone know this is just a pretend marriage?”

“My sisters and my lawyer are the only ones besides who will know we plan to marry and divorce. I don’t want—I will take the blame when the marriage ends. That won’t be hard. But while we are married, it must be real.”

“Well, of course in public—”

“Not just then, Claire. The staff, Gaia, even Dareios—they all need to see we are truly married.”

Claire gave a nervous laugh. “How are we supposed to pull that off?”

“We are going to be married. That means you have to stop jumping every time you think I’m about to touch you.”

She shook her head and stepped back. “Meaning I have to sleep with you?”

He touched her arm, ran his finger over her skin. “Is that really so terrible a thing?” He stepped closer to her, placing his hands on her hips. “There is still something between us, Claire. Maybe we need to let that fire burn hot and bright.”

Lowering his head, he placed kisses along her temple. He nudged her head back with his lips and moved his mouth to skim kisses over her cheeks and along her neck. He placed little sucking kisses along her jaw line, stopping to nibble on her earlobe. She gave a sigh. He licked the spot behind her ear that he knew was sensitive.

Claire grabbed for his shoulders. “Antonio…?” She sounded breathless.

He tightened his hold on her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I need you to kiss me—really kiss me.” With one hand wrapped into his hair, she pulled his mouth back to hers.

Antonio kissed her—deeply. He gripped her hips hard enough that he was certain he must be leaving imprints of his fingers. He stole the breath from her lungs. He licked her lips and dove back in for more. Heart pounding, he wanted to drag her to the grass, but he tried to remember where they were—and he was not a boy to rush into anything without thought.

Pulling away, he stared down at her. Her lips looked bruised and pink. The breeze lifted and tangled her hair. He smoothed it. Her breath seemed as rough and uneven as his, and her face looked pinked.

The first time they had fell for each other, they’d had allowed their explosive chemistry to dictate the path their relationship would take and it had ended in disaster. He had been too impulsive, too much the hot head, and too unwilling to listen to anything except his father’s words. This time around he wanted to make certain they would, at the very least, remain friends. That meant he needed to control this and not let it rule their lives.

He stepped back, but he kept hold of her hand.

Claire fell into step with him as he headed back to the house. “I still think everyone is going to believe I married you for your money—and then dumped you. How are you going to end up taking the blame?”

Antonio gave her a small smile. “Everyone in Athens knew Matthias Rosso—and everyone in the world knew of his reputation as a hard man. A cold man. It will be easy to make everyone think I am just like him. A few stories—a few business deals—and everyone will be congratulating you on your escape.”

She shivered and leaned closer to him. “I hate to think of you getting the blame.”

He shrugged. “It’s my plan. And I don’t care. We’ll have a small private ceremony here next week.”

“Next week. That’s moving rather quickly.”

“Yes, it is. And we will need to tell everyone it was fate that we met a second time. I’ll have my driver take you into the city after lunch. You can shop for your wedding dress—and anything else you wish.”

Claire stop on the flagstone terrace. “I don’t need new clothes.”

He smiled. “You want to marry in your jeans? And did you bring clothes that will hold up under the media’s scrutiny after we marry?”

“Well…” Claire dropped his hand and twisted her fingers together. “Not exactly.”

“The driver knows all the best shops—Eva and Alexandra have made certain of that.” Antonio watched her. He saw her jaw set and her eyes darken. Ah, he could not allow her to go stubborn on him. “You know what? Never mind. I will go with you. We’ll have lunch in the city.”

She took a step back. “Tonio, you don’t have to take me shopping.”

He smiled and pinched her chin. “It has been a long time since you’ve called me that. And the last time…we were in bed together.”

Pulling away, she lifted her eyebrows. “Yes, well, Dareios calls you that, too, and I hope you haven’t taken him to bed.”

Antonio stepped toward her, encroaching on her personal space. This time she held her ground. He smiled. Lowering his voice, he told her, “We are going shopping. I can help you pick out clothing that is appropriate for my future wife. Then you and my sisters can make whatever arrangements you wish for flowers and cake and anything else for the wedding.”

Claire lifted her chin. “Can Gaia make the cake? She…I think she’d be heartbroken not to be involved in your wedding.”

He smiled and nodded. “Our wedding. By the time we return from our honeymoon—”

“Hold on…Honeymoon? I thought this was supposed to be a month-long marriage?”

“You would rather stay here with the press following us everywhere? And then following even more once the divorce is announced.”

Claire sucked in a breath. “You’re right. Getting away is probably a great idea.”

Antonio nodded. Placing a hand on her lower back, he escorted her back inside the house. Dareios looked up from the dining table, which was now laden with food. Grinning, he held up a plate. “One day I will steal Gaia away from you.”

Antonio shook his head. “If you ate like that every day you’d be fat.” He turned to Claire. “What else do you need in your recording studio? Nick Stavos will meet with you in a few days, but do you wish to bring here the sound engineers you’ve worked with.”

“Could I?”

Antonio shrugged. “Why not. Aegis Studios always needs to know about good talent.”

“George Dean—he’s from Texas, and he’s one of the best mixers I know. He’s always saying he never gets out of the studio. And Steve usually works with him, and me. I don’t know anyone who can work a sound board like him.”

“Done. Dareios, we’ll meet later. I’m taking Claire into the city for lunch and shopping. Come, Claire.”

“Wait a second, if you need to meet with Dareios—”

Antonio waved off her protests. He reached for her hand. “That can wait.”

Claire crossed her arms, effectively leaving Antonio with his hand out to her. “We need to have a little talk about just how pushy you are sometimes.”

Heat washed through Antonio. But Dareios stood and slapped his shoulder. “Easy there. She’s not wrong, Tonio. You can be more than pushy.” Turning to address Claire, he offered a smile. “Koukla, it is our nature to protect those we care for—and sometimes that means we push too much.”

Antonio bit off the words to tell Dareios to butt out. He knew Dareios was trying to help, but he also wanted Claire to…to what? To bow to all his wishes? A smile warmed him. Claire’s stubbornness had always been something he had admired—up until the time his father had made it seem that she really was a scheming bitch. He began to think he was more like his father than he had ever known.

Crossing his own arms, he asked, “Claire, I’m sorry. Next time I start to act like such a jerk, you have my permission to punch me.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Claire said and lightly punched his arm. “And I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes.”

She hurried upstairs and threw a light shirt on over her T-shirt. She also grabbed her purse and slipped on some sandals. Heading downstairs, she found the guys waiting for her in the foyer. Dareios seemed surprised it really had only taken her a few minutes, but Antonio seemed ready to escort her into the city. She stepped outside to find a limo and driver already waiting for them, the engine humming. She shook her head. “A little lavish isn’t it? I thought you liked driving yourself—that you liked the control.”

Antonio opened the door for her. “Yes. But today we need the advantage of not having to hunt for parking—and having room for your packages.”

She climbed into the back of the limo. Antonio slid in next to her. Despite the room, he pressed close against her, his leg touching hers. Her face warmed, but she refused to move away—that was too much like giving up ground. Leaning forward, Antonio spoke to the driver in rapid Greek. He leaned back and smiled at Claire. “I’ve asked him to take us to Alexandra’s favorite shops. Eva is still too…too…”

“Experimental? Young? Goth?” Claire asked.

Antonio nodded. “All of that at times. Should I open some champagne?”

Claire shook her head. “Maybe just some water.”

He opened a compartment to reveal a full bar and pulled out a water. “Remember when we dined near the Acropolis? And you wanted to run barefoot over the ruins?”

She grinned. “And I scraped up my feet so badly you had to carry me. I was way too impulsive.”

“I liked that about you.”

“Your father didn’t.” She tipped her head and studied him. He had far finer features than his father—but she saw the same stubborn mouth and chin. “Why didn’t you defend me when he…when he accused me of being all those things? A…a whore for hire.”

Antonio pressed his mouth tight and looked out the window. The countryside began to fall away and the buildings of the city rose around them. He looked back at Claire. “I didn’t think you needed anyone to defend you. I thought…I thought you would defend yourself.”

“So you took my silence as what…agreement I really was all those things? A girl who only wanted your money.”

Antonio shook his head. He touched a finger to the back of her hand. “No…no, I never thought that. Not really. But I…I knew if you could not stand up to my father, he would…he was a tough man in many ways. Ruthless about getting what he wanted. I learned early that I had to stand up to him or be knocked flat. I stood between him and my sisters many times, but…but I knew if I married a woman who could not deal with him—”

“You thought I’d become a doormat?”

“No. More that he would drive you to a point where you must break. I’d seen him do the same with those who worked for him—they became strong, or they left, or they broke. There were no other ways to deal with Matthias.”

She stared at the bottled water in her hands and rubbed at the label.

“Was I wrong?” Antonio asked.

Claire looked up. She thought about how horrible Matthias had been—would she have been able to live with such a man as her father-in-law? Would she have broken? “We were both so young weren’t we? And…and you might have been right. I’m not sure…he might have driven even a deeper wedge between us. Maybe…maybe I should have told him to go to hell.”

“Instead, you walked out—and I, well, I did blame you for not being strong enough. But I have learned there are many kinds of strength. It took much for you not to break down in front of him. I know that now. It…it hurt when you left, Claire. I wanted then to think the worst of you—just as my father did. To believe his words were true. Because the alternative was to think you did not care enough to fight for me—for us.”

She looked up at him. “I cared. But I…I didn’t grow up in a family where you had to fight. And when you just stood there…well, I did think that meant your silence was agreement with what your father had said. I thought…I was sure you thought I really was all those things. And worse. I didn’t cry because I didn’t want you to see it.”

Antonio’s hand tightened around hers. “Can we start again? Perhaps?”

She shook her head. Turning her hand so that she held his, she smiled. But her heart tightened. “I…it would be nice, but we’re really two different people from two very different worlds. You have your life here in Greece—you have companies to run. I have my career, my friends in New York. I…I just don’t see any middle ground where we could meet.” She let her smile twist and pulled her hand away. “Besides, you’d probably be bored with a home-body like me. And your life—all this public stuff you have to do—that would drive me nuts. Maybe your dad did us a favor, one we couldn’t see back then.”

“I do not think so, Claire. But perhaps he is doing one for us now. Only it is too pretty a day to talk more of such things. Here is the first shop—and please, do not look at the price tags.”

The limo pulled up in front of a discreet boutique. Antonio got out and held out his hand to help her from the car. His touch, as always, quickened her pulse, but she let go as soon as she could and fussed with her purse strap. The dresses in the shop windows looked beautiful—elegant and sleek. And expensive. She glanced at Antonio. “I really can’t let you—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Yes, you can. Buy whatever you like. My only condition is that I must see it on you first.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her with him into the shop. She dragged at his arm, reluctant, her lips pressed tight. She was not going to let him shower clothes onto her—just like she was some…well, some kind of high-priced hooker he was buying.

That resolve was harder to hang onto. The two sales girls—both in elegant black dresses—glanced at her, skimmed their gazes over her clothes like she should be tossed out with the trash. But then they saw Antonio. Warm smiles appeared and both hurried to Claire. A rapid flow of Greek left Claire looking to Antonio for translations.

He let go of her hand and said, “English please. My…my fiancée is shopping for a wedding dress and a few other things she will need. Something for evening. A few things for afternoon.”

Smiling still, the clerks turned to her. They switched to English. One led her to a private dressing room, the other started to bring dresses—and Claire found the whole thing a little scary.

The dressing room was the size of her entire New York apartment. Antonio came in with her and soon was lounging on a couch, champagne in his hand as she tried on garment after garment. She kept rejecting them—until the green silk came out. It was light as gossamer, cut in a sheath that hugged her curves. She touched the fabric and thought she’d never felt anything like it. It not only made her eyes even greener, but the fabric seemed to shift colors in different light, like deep ocean water. Claire bit her lower lip. She just couldn’t let Antonio buy this.

But he lifted a hand and said, “We’ll take this one.”

Claire wanted to argue with him—but she couldn’t. The sales girls brought out gold sandals with a low heel to go with, a gold clutch and scarf. And Antonio agreed all were perfect. But Claire shook her head. “No, that scarf,” she said, and pointed to a multi-colored paisley shawl.

Her choice was instantly agreed upon by everyone except Antonio. He shook his head. “Eva would like such a thing, but it is too…too bright.”

Claire put a hand on her hip. “You said I could buy anything. Are we going to have an argument about it?”

He folded his arms. “Perhaps we should.”

She smiled and touched a finger to his chin. “Well, I’d win.” Heading behind the screen, she started to change. She gave the dress to the sales girls and they left the dressing room to package up her purchases.”

Claire shook out her jeans. And Antonio appeared around the screen, a light in his eyes. She clutched her jeans to her chest. “What are you doing here?” She tried to wave him away, but he stepped even closer.

“I gave to you on your choice—now I think you should give a little to me on my choice of what to do next.”

Jeans pressed to her chest and barely covering her bra and panties, Claire backed up a step. “And just what do you want to do? You do know the sales girls could walk back in at any—”

“They won’t. And I just want to do this.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her back out into the dressing room. He positioned her in front of the mirror and stood behind her. “You said no to ten dresses at least that were beautiful—you are beautiful.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve got nice hair and good eyes, but the rest.” She waved a hand at her body. “My hips are too big. I’m short and short waisted, and I—”

“And nothing. You are perfect.” He snatched her jeans away from her. She gave a gasp, but when she tried to cover her body, he took her wrists and pulled them to her side. “No, I want you to look and see yourself as I see you.” Pressing her hands to her sides he began to move them over her hips and then her stomach and then her breasts. He moved her hands with his, skimming her fingers over her skin as if they were his. Her skin prickled and heat burst inside her. She stared at her reflection, and at his skin—so dark next to her pallor. She watched as he moved her hands over her body.

“Your breasts are prefect—you do know the champagne glass, not the flute, but the original glass was patterned after a woman’s breast. It could have been your breasts used for that glass—they are the perfect shape and size. Taut with lovely nipples.” He ran her hands over her breasts. Her nipples hardened and she gasped. Antonio’s breath brushed her neck and he pressed closer behind her. She could feel his erection through her panties, hot and hard against her ass. “Your waist curves in—you could be Aphrodite—and the flare of your hips is enough to drive any man to utter distraction.” He pushed her hands over her stomach, and slipped one hand down under her lace panties and between her thighs.

Eyes closing, she let her head fall back on his shoulder. “Antonio—you can’t…we can’t…”

“Can’t…can’t…can’t! Why do you hang onto that useless word? Always you say it and yet you once were a girl who would run barefoot though the ruins of Athens.”

She tried to drag open her eyes—to pull away from him—but he held her prisoner in his arms. His voice drugged her arms and legs, left them heavy and left her reluctant to move away from that low, rough urgency she heard. “Antonio…” She tried to make the word a protest, but it came out needy.

“I love how you say my name.” He rubbed her hand over her mound and slipped her fingers into the dampness between her legs. “Now I want you to see yourself as I want to see you—lost to passion. I want to see you saying yes, not always that you cannot.”

She gave a moan. She shouldn’t…they shouldn’t. The risk of being caught…being seen…left her pulse pounding hard. And left her even wetter. Opening her eyes, she stared at the woman in the mirror.

Antonio had mussed her hair, left it wild around her face—and her eyes seemed even wilder. With one hand, he held her wrist and held her palm over her breast. With the other, he held her fingers between her thighs. She ached—she needed—she started to rub herself.

“Yes…yes…” Antonio’s voice purred in her ear. She glanced at him and saw the same wildness in his eyes—the same need. Letting go her wrists, he plunged his fingers into her. She came with a shout and he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. His fingers pushed deeper and she collapsed against him, unable to stand. Unable to do anything but come apart under his touch.

The tremors shook her, and Antonio quieted his touch until she could pull in a breath and look at him again. Her skin burned—with embarrassment and pleasure. He smiled at her. “Now will you start to think you are beautiful?”

She nodded. She couldn’t do anything else. He kissed her. A touch of his lips, a flicker of his tongue. She tried to pull him down for more but he stepped back. She swayed. “You should dress now.”

He left the dressing room—left her still shattered.

And she knew then that she was going to really have to watch her step.

Because she was too close to falling for him—and that would only lead to heartache when he divorced her and they went back to their separate lives.