The Greek Bridegroom. HELEN BIANCHIN

too long. ‘Why would he do that? He has no control over my life.’

      Jace had questions he wanted to ask, but now was not the right time to get answers…even if she’d be willing to give them to him. ‘I’ll be in Melbourne for a few days with Luc. I’ll ring you.’

      ‘There’s no need.’

      He leaned closer and slid a hand to capture her nape, tilting her head so she had to look at him. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘There is.’

      For a heart-stopping second she thought he was going to kiss her, and she unconsciously held her breath, aware that a part of her craved the feel of his mouth on her own.

      There was a hunger she couldn’t quite control, and she trembled with it, wanting in that moment to be absorbed by this man. To have him take her to a place where she could temporarily forget the vindictiveness that lived inside Brad Somerville, and begin to repair the damage caused to her emotional heart.

      She heard a faint sound emerge from his throat, and she swallowed painfully as he brushed his thumb over the curve of her lower lip, tracing its fullness.

      His eyes were dark, too dark to determine his intent, and she felt the tension in him, the restraint, and knew instinctively the next move was hers.

      All she had to do was use the edge of her teeth, the tip of her tongue on the tip of this finger to offer an unspoken invitation.

      Dear God, she wanted to, she wanted him. Except she hesitated too long, and she thought she glimpsed the gleam of a faint smile, sensed the slight edge of his regret as she pulled back.

      Then he did smile, and the hand holding her nape gentled and soothed the tension there for a few seconds, then he released her and eased back in his seat.

      She felt as if her limbs were fused together, restricting mobility, and she was intensely aware of the sensual electricity apparent. Explosive and primitive, it shimmered as an elusive force, poised to shatter the shell she’d painstakingly erected around her fragile heart.

      ‘Goodnight.’ The word emerged as little more than a strangled sound, and she fumbled for the door-clasp, almost breathless in the need to escape.

      Except the constraint of the seat belt stopped her, and she uttered a silent cry as his fingers sought the safety clip and unfastened it.

      Within seconds she slid from the car and she almost ran the few steps to the haven offered by the entrance to her apartment building. The keys were plucked free from her purse and she selected the appropriate one as she punched the security code freeing the external door into the lobby.

      From there it took only a moment to use her key to gain the area leading to the triple bank of lifts.

      She was trembling by the time she reached her apartment, and inside she made for the kitchen, extracted bottled water from the refrigerator and gulped several mouthfuls before seeking a chair.

      The evening was over. Although instinct warned whatever she shared with Jace was far from done.

      It was as if something deep and primal was being resurrected from her soul, his. The sane, sensible part of her brain questioned any metaphysical connection, but the illogical part queried if they hadn’t been joined together in a previous life, and their souls were forcing recognition.

      Then there was Brad. She tamped down the memories and the pain. A few years was but a small window in the picture of her life. Hadn’t that been the professional advice given at the time?

      The sudden peal of the phone startled her, and she stood to her feet to take the call, except she was unable to reach the handset and pick up before the answering machine cut in.

      Her automated greeting was brief, and she hesitated, wary as to who would be calling at this time of night.

      ‘Having fun with your new man, sweetheart?’

      It was followed by a click as the caller replaced the receiver.

      Rebekah felt the blood drain from her face.

      Brad. There was no mistaking his voice.

      Shock jolted her senses and was quickly replaced by a sickening fear.

      Her telephone number was unlisted. What ruse had he used to gain it? Had he also gained access to her cell-net number?

      She crossed her arms and hugged them together across her midriff as her mind whirled with facts and possibilities.