you’ll be back on Thursday at six o’clock?’
Eva sighed at his dogged persistence. ‘I said I would, yes.’
Markos nodded his satisfaction. Eva might not know it yet—might not want to know it—but that single kiss they had shared had told him that she wanted him too. And Markos had every intention of pursuing her until he had her exactly where he wanted her. In his bed.
‘I totally agree.’ Markos grimaced as he saw the look of horror on Eva’s face on Thursday evening as the two of them entered the sitting room of what was now his penthouse apartment on the top floor of Lyonedes Tower. He had received a call from Security a few minutes ago, informing him of her arrival downstairs. Most if not all of the Lyonedes employees had gone home now—including Markos’s secretary.
‘I think bland must have been the middle name of the previous interior designer.’
‘I was thinking it’s just plain ugly…’
Eva couldn’t think what on earth had possessed the previous designer to choose cream and beige as the colour scheme in this beautifully appointed room. The furniture, though obviously expensive, was unattractively square and minimalist, and the only saving grace to this room was the impressive one hundred and eighty degree view of New York, visible from the huge picture windows that covered two of the walls.
Not only was the colour scheme insipid in the extreme, it didn’t suit the man who now lived here. Markos’s swarthy complexion, dark hair and piercing green eyes required that he be surrounded by the warm colours of the Mediterranean: terracotta, with touches of green and blue, maybe the palest hint of yellow…
Eva brought her thoughts up short as she realised her interior designer instincts had taken over from her common sense. It was two days since she had last seen Markos—two days and two restless nights—during which time Eva had become even more determined that she did not want to spend any more time in this man’s company than she absolutely had to. To do so would be opening herself up to all sorts of disappointment. As such, knowing how this room should look was one thing. Being the one to effect those changes was something else entirely.
Of course it didn’t help Eva to remain detached and professional to see that Markos was dressed as casually as she was this evening. The darkness of his hair was still damp from the shower, and he had obviously changed out of the formal suit he had worn to work today. He was now wearing a black shirt, the collar unbuttoned at his throat and the sleeves turned back to just below his elbows, with a pair of faded blue denims clearly outlining the leanness of his waist and his perfectly taut bottom and long legs.
She straightened briskly. ‘Are the rest of the rooms as awful?’
‘Worse.’ He grimaced.
Eva found that hard to believe. ‘How many rooms are there?’
‘Four en-suite bedrooms, kitchen, breakfast room, formal dining room, a gym—’
‘Okay—a lot.’ She grimaced, rummaging through her capacious shoulder bag for her sketchbook and pencil as she continued to look about the room with narrowed, assessing eyes. ‘It looks more like an impersonal hotel suite than a private apartment.’
‘That’s probably because that’s what it was designed to be.’ Markos shrugged. ‘Drakon has his own place in Manhattan. This apartment was used only to entertain business associates in less formal surroundings than the offices downstairs.’
‘Do I want to know in what way they were entertained…?’ Eva eyed him derisively.
‘Just drinks and the occasional dinner,’ he assured her dryly.
‘I’ll believe you—thousands wouldn’t!’
Markos eyed her ruefully. ‘Your opinion of the Lyonedes family isn’t very high, is it?’
Eva felt the warmth of colour enter her cheeks. ‘I don’t know any of you well enough to make a sound judgement.’
‘Yet.’
‘Ever,’ she stated with finality.
‘I’ll go and make us some coffee while you look round,’ Markos suggested lightly.
‘Okay.’ Eva was relieved to be able to turn her attention to her surroundings as she began to sketch in her pad.
Markos stood for several moments and admired the way Eva’s denims clung so lovingly to her curvaceous hips and thighs. The firm swell of her breasts was clearly visible beneath a fitted green blouse, her long dark hair brushed back and secured in a ponytail that made her look younger than her years.
Markos smiled wryly as he realised she had become so absorbed in her work she seemed to have forgotten he was even there. ‘Cream and sugar?’
‘Fine.’ The tip of her tongue was caught between her teeth as she frowned in concentration.
Markos felt his shaft stir at the thought of all the more sensuous uses the moistness of that tongue could be put to. ‘Or alternatively I could lie naked on the bed and wait for you to join me?’ he said huskily.
‘Fine.’ Her eyes had a faraway look as she continued to sketch in her pad.
‘Or maybe swing naked from the chandelier?’ he added with amusement.
‘What did you say?’ She looked up sharply, her cheeks blushing a fiery red.
‘Never mind.’ He was still chuckling softly to himself as he walked down the hallway to the kitchen.
Eva felt the warmth of the colour in her cheeks as the rest of Markos’s conversation now penetrated the concentration that always enveloped her at the start of a new project.
Except she wasn’t going to start a new project.
Was she…?
That certainly hadn’t been what she had intended when she’d arrived promptly for this evening’s appointment—but one look at the blandness of what should have been a magnificent penthouse apartment and she had instantly been assailed with visions of how wonderful it could and should look.
Still, that didn’t mean she had to be the one who instigated those improvements…
‘Mmm—you were right the other night. Your percolator does make a delicious cup of coffee.’ Eva gave a satisfied sigh half an hour later, having taken her first sip of the strong brew.
The two of them were now sitting on stools across from each other at the breakfast bar in the sterile black and white kitchen.
‘Now you know where to come the next time you want a decent cup of coffee in the middle of the night.’ Seductive green eyes looked across at her in challenge.
Eva straightened, her expression rueful. ‘Seems a little extreme when there’s a coffee shop directly across the street from my own apartment building.’
‘I doubt it has the same fringe benefits,’ he drawled.
‘Oh, I don’t know—the young guy who serves behind the counter at weekends is pretty hot.’
It was Eva’s turn to laugh as Markos growled low in his throat, but that laughter faded as she became aware that it was the first time for a very long time that she had felt so relaxed in a man’s company she was actually allowing herself to flirt with him. And Markos was the very last man she should be feeling relaxed or flirtatious with!
She straightened on the barstool. ‘He’s about nineteen years old, and probably not into older women who could do with losing a few pounds,’ she said dryly.
‘Are you serious?’ Markos gave her a disbelieving look.
She gave a perplexed frown. ‘Sorry?’