The Right Path Part 6

"You're magnificent." Making a smal bow, he released her. "Did you know your eyes literal y throw darts when you're annoyed?" "Then I've the pleasure of knowing you're riddled with tiny holes," she returned. "Let me know when one hits the heart, Mr. Gregoras." "Nick, please," he said in a polished tone. "We could hardly start formalities now after al we've ... been through together." Morgan gave him a bril iant smile. "Very wel , Nick, you odious swine. What a pity this isn't the proper time to go into how detestable you are."

He inclined his head. "We'l arrange for a more appropriate opportunity. Soon," he added with the faintest hint of steel. "Now, let me get you a drink." Liz breezed up, pleased with the smiles she had seen exchanged. "You two seem to be getting along like old friends."

"I was just tel ing Mr. Gregoras how enchanting his home looks from the sea."

Morgan sent him a quick but lethal glance.

"Yes, Morgan was fascinated by it," Liz told him. "She's always preferred things that didn't quite fit a mold, if you know what I mean."

"Exactly." Nick let his eyes sweep over Morgan's face. A man could get lost in those eyes, he thought, if he wasn't careful. Very careful. "Miss James has agreed to a personal tour tomorrow afternoon." He smiled, watching her expression go from astonishment to fury before she control ed it.

"Marvelous!" Pleased, Liz beamed at both of them. "Nick has so many treasures from al over the world. His house is just like Aladdin's cave." Smiling, Morgan thought of three particularly gruesome wishes, al involving her intended host. "I can't wait to see it."

Through dinner, Morgan watched, confused, then intrigued by Nick's manner.

This was not the man she knew. This man was smooth, polished. Gone was the intensity, the ruthlessness, replaced by an easy warmth and charm.

Nicholas Gregoras, olive oil, import-export. Yes, she could see the touches of wealth and success-and the authority she'd understood from the first. But command sat differently on him now, with none of the undertones of violence.

He could sit at the elegant table, laughing with Liz and Alex over some island story with the gleam of cut crystal in his hand. The smoky-gray suit was perfectly tailored and fit him with the same ease as the dark sweatshirt and jeans she'd first seen him in. His arrogance had a more sophisticated tone now. Al the rough edges were smoothed.

He seemed relaxed, at home-with none of that vital, dangerous energy. How could this be the same man who had flourished a knife, or climbed the sheer wal to her balcony?

Nick handed her a gla.s.s of wine and she frowned. But he was the same man, she reminded herself. And just what game was he playing? Lifting her eyes, Morgan met his. Her fingers tightened on the stem of the gla.s.s. The look was brief and quickly veiled, but she saw the inner man. The force was vital. If he was playing games, she thought, sipping her wine to calm suddenly tight nerves, it wasn't a pleasant one. And she wanted no part of it-or of him.

Turning to Dorian, Morgan left Nick to Iona. Intel igent, witty, and with no frustrating mysteries, Dorian was a more comfortable dinner companion. Morgan fel into the easy exchange and tried to relax.

"Tel me, Morgan, don't you find the words of so many languages a bit crowded in the mind?"

She toyed with her moussaka, finding her stomach too jittery to accept the rich sauce. d.a.m.n the man for interfering even with her appet.i.te. "I do my thinking in one at a time," she countered.

"You take it too lightly," Dorian insisted. "It's an accomplishment to be proud of.

Even a power."

"A power?" Her brows drew together for a moment, then cleared as she smiled. "I suppose it is, though I'd never real y thought about it. It just seemed too limiting to only be able to communicate and think in one language, then once I got started, I couldn't seem to stop." "Having the language, you'd be at home in many countries."

"Yes, I guess that's why I feel so-wel , easy here."

"Alex tel s me he's trying to entice you into his company." With a smile, Dorian toasted her. "I've drafted myself as promoter. Working with you would add to the company benefits."

Iona's rich laughter floated across the table. "Oh, Nicky, you say the most ridiculous things."

Nicky, Morgan thought with a sniff. I'l be il any minute. "I think I might enjoy your campaign," Morgan told Dorian with her best smile. "Take me out on your boat tomorrow, Nicky. I simply must have some fun."

"I'm sorry, Iona, not tomorrow. Perhaps later in the week." Nick softened the refusal with the trace of a finger down her hand. Iona's mouth formed a pout. "I might die of boredom by later in the week."

Morgan heard Dorian give a quiet sigh. Glancing over, she noted the quick look of exasperation he sent Iona. "Iona tel s me she ran into Maria Popagos in Athens last week." The look of exasperation was gone, and his voice was gentle. "She has what-four children now, Iona?"

They treat her like a child, Morgan thought with distaste. And she behaves like one-a spoiled, wil ful, not quite healthy child.

Through the rest of the meal, and during coffee in the salon, Morgan watched Iona's moods go from sul en to frantic. Apparently used to it, or too good mannered to notice, Dorian ignored the fluctuations. And though she hated to give him the credit for it, so did Nick. But Morgan noted, with a flutter of sympathy, that Alex grew more distracted as the evening wore on. He spoke to his cousin in undertones as she added more brandy to her gla.s.s. Her response was a dramatic toss of her head before she swal owed the liquor and turned her back on him.

When Nick rose to leave, Iona insisted on walking with him to his car. She cast a look of triumph over her shoulder as they left the salon arm-in-arm. Now who, Morgan mused, was that aimed at? Shrugging, she turned back to Dorian and let the evening wind down natural y. There would be time enough to think things through when she was alone in her room again.

Morgan floated with the dream. The wine had brought sleep quickly. Though she had left the balcony doors securely locked, the night breeze drifted through the windows. She sighed, and shifted with its gentle caress on her skin. It was a soft stroking, like a b.u.t.terfly's wing. It teased across her lips then came back to warm them. She stirred with pleasure. Her body was pliant, receptive. As the phantom kiss increased in pressure, she parted her lips. She drew the dream lover closer.

Excitement was sleepy. The tastes that seeped into her were as sweet and as potent as the wine that stil misted her brain. With a sigh of lazy, languid pleasure, she floated with it. In the dream, her arms wrapped around the faceless lover-the pirate, the phantom. He whispered her name and deepened the kiss as his hands drew down the sheet that separated them. Rough fingers, familiar fingers, traced over her skin. A body, too hard, too muscular for a dream, pressed against hers.

The lazy images became more tangible, and the phantom took on form. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a mouth that was grimly beautiful and oh, so clever.

Warmth became heat. With a moan, she let pa.s.sion take her. The stroking along her body became more insistent at her response. Her mouth grew hungry, demanding. Then she heard the breathy whisper of a Greek endearment against her ear.

Suddenly, the filmy curtain of sleep lifted. The weight on her body was real, achingly real-and achingly familiar. Morgan began a confused struggle. "The G.o.ddess awakes. More's the pity."

She saw him in the shaft of moonlight. Her body was alive with needs, her mind baffled with the knowledge that he had induced them. "What are you doing!" she demanded, and found her breathing was quick and ragged. His mouth had been on hers, she knew. She could stil taste him. And his hands

... "This is the limit! If you think for one minute I'm going to sit stil for you crawling into my bed while I'm sleeping-" "You were very agreeable a moment ago."

"Oh! What a despicable thing to do."

"You're very responsive," Nick murmured, and traced her ear with his fingertip.

Beneath his hand he could feel the thunder of her heartbeat. He knew, though he fought to slow it, that his own beat as quickly. "It seemed to please you to be touched. It pleased me to touch you."

His voice had lowered again, as she knew it could-dark, seductive. The muscles in her thighs loosened. "Get off of me," she ordered in quick defense.

"Sweet Morgan." He nipped her bottom lip-felt her tremble, felt a swift rush of power. It would be so easy to persuade her ... and so risky. With an effort, he gave her a friendly smile. "You only postpone the inevitable."

She kept her eyes level as she tried to steady her breathing. Something told her that if al else he had said had been lies, his last statement was al too true. "I didn't promise not to scream this time."

He lifted a brow as though the possibility intrigued him. "It might be interesting to explain this ... situation to Alex and Liz. I could claim I was overcome with your beauty. It has a ring of truth. But you won't scream in any case." "Just what makes you so sure?"

"You'd have given me away-or tried to by now-if you were going to." Nick rol ed aside.

Sitting up, Morgan pushed at her hair. Did he always have to be right? she wondered grimly. "What do you want now? And how the hel did you get in this time? I locked ..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the balcony doors were wide open.

"Did you think a lock would keep me out?" With a laugh, Nick ran a finger down her nose. "You have a lot to learn." "Now, you listen to me-"

"No, save the recriminations for later. They're understood in any case." Absently, he rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. "I came back to make certain you didn't develop a convenient headache that would keep you from coming to the house tomorrow. There are one or two things I want to discuss with you."

"I've got a crate ful of things to discuss with you," Morgan hissed furiously. "Just what were you doing that night on the beach? And who-" "Later, Aphrodite.

I'm distracted at the moment. That scent you wear, for instance. It's very ..." He lifted his eyes to hers, "al uring."

"Stop it." She didn't trust him when his voice dropped to that tone. She didn't trust him at al , she reminded herself and gave him a level look. "What's the purpose behind that ridiculous game you were playing tonight?"

"Game?" His eyes widened effectively. "Morgan, my love, I don't know what you're talking about. I was quite natural." "Natural be d.a.m.ned."

"No need to swear at me," he said mildly.

"There's every need," she countered. How could he manage to be charming under such ridiculous circ.u.mstances? "You were the perfect guest this evening,"

Morgan went on, knocking his hand aside as he began to toy with the thin strap of her chemise. "Charming-"

"Thank you."

"And false," she added, narrowing her eyes.

"Not false," Nick disagreed. "Simply suitable, considering the occasion."

"I suppose it would have looked a bit odd if you'd pul ed a knife out of your pocket."

His fingers tightened briefly, then relaxed. She wasn't going to let him forget that-and he wasn't having an easy time blanking out that moment she had gone limp with terror beneath him. "Few people have seen me other than I was tonight,"

he murmured, and began to give the texture of her hair his attention. "Perhaps it's your misfortune to count yourself among them."

"I don't want to see you any way, from now on."

Humor touched his eyes again as they shifted to hers. "Liar. I'l pick you up tomorrow at one."