What The Greek's Wife Needs - Dani Collins Page 0,35
thought he was asking about last night. In front of all these people. And everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her as though they were also curious to know how she felt after some heavy petting with her estranged husband.
As her stomach swooped and panged, however, she remembered she was sick.
“Feeling much better,” she said in a strangled voice. “No fever. I’m actually quite hungry.”
“Good. Let me introduce you.” He drew her toward the half-dozen men and women in casual but crisp business wear. A few gave side-eyes at Leon’s comfortable wrangling of Illi, but they offered Tanja warm smiles.
“Good morning,” Tanja said shyly as she tried to memorize the names of two different lawyers, a PR manager, a photographer, Leon’s PA, and a stylist who looked at her the way her brother looked at a salvaged boat—like scraping the seaweed and barnacles would be a ton of work but hopefully worth the effort.
“Help yourself,” Leon said to Tanja, nodding at the heaping platters of brunch items.
He moved to where an infant swing had been suspended in the shade near the head of the table and secured Illi into it. He gave it a nudge, and they all laughed at the way Illi squealed and began to happily kick her legs.
Moments later, when Tanja came to the table with her filled plate, Leon loomed beside her, holding the chair closest to Illi, to the left of the head of the table.
His gallantry flustered her. Was he trying to show off?
If he noticed her blush, he didn’t let on.
“Kyrkos texted that you don’t need antibiotics. Rest, fluids, and vitamins.” He nodded at the pill bottle standing next to her water glass.
“Thanks. Did you ask what I should take for the rage blackout over having my child exploited?” she asked in an undertone.
“Ha.” His barked laugh made everyone turn their heads, wanting in on the joke. “I already know what to take for that.” The corner of his mouth curled with a lack of mercy. “The sweet serum of revenge. I’ve already ordered it.”
She widened her eyes. “In the form of?”
“I’ve rescinded my offer to host him and his wife aboard this yacht. Presumably, whatever Cameron gets for the photo is sufficient compensation for his house call. The doctor’s ex-wife and her new beau, however, have been invited to enjoy a month aboard Poseidon’s Crown in the location of their choice.”
“Oof.” Tanja sat back against the cushions in her chair. “You’re not a man to cross, are you?”
“I’m really not,” he said with a flinty smile.
Tanja’s heart went cold as she remembered she had crossed Leon.
“I’ve spoken to Georgiou about how things were left on Istuval.” Leon nodded at the lawyer on his right. “We’ll have several meetings through the rest of the day to address how we’ll proceed. Eat up.”
She looked at the scrumptious tropical fruits and flaky pastries before her, but her appetite was gone.
Leon had managed to keep his hands and lips off women for five years. There had been nights when he’d thought he would go around the bend with sexual frustration, but aside from ogling the occasional pair of legs or a really nice rack, he’d managed to keep his libido firmly leashed.
Until last night when he had completely lost his head.
Was that what celibacy did to a man? Because he shouldn’t have gone from zero to a hundred in the space of a sigh. He’d still been catching up on sleep from pulling an all-nighter aboard the trimaran. And he’d been in a terrible mood, peeved about a lot of things, not least that one old friend had betrayed him while the other clearly couldn’t stand him. His own hypocrisy annoyed him most of all. He was stung that Zach still resented him over their broken deal, but he had no intention of forgiving the opportunistic doctor for taking advantage of him. Yes, he was a blackened kettle calling out the pot.
When he’d settled on the bed next to Tanja, he had only wanted to turn off his brain and sleep. He hadn’t even allowed himself to fall deeply asleep. He’d been listening for the baby so she wouldn’t wake Tanja.
Tanja’s restlessness had tripped something in him, though. He’d woken in a rush of sexual awareness that he might have ignored if their conversation hadn’t turned so intimate.
Why had he felt compelled to tell her he’d been forgoing sex? It wasn’t that he felt embarrassed or proud of it. He had never worn