It was such a cheap word—so redolent of dire TV reality shows or girlish banter in the dorm. Not a word for a grown-up woman like her.
But it was the only word for him, and that was the problem. He just...radiated it. Whatever ‘it’ was. He had it in jaw-dropping amounts.
She tore her gaze away, grateful that her eyes were veiled with sunglasses too, berating herself silently for her illicit thoughts as they took their places at a shaded table in the open-air restaurant near the pools.
She gazed around in pleasure as Nikos recharged their champagne glasses. ‘This really is gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Completely over the top, but gorgeous.’
He gave a laugh, taking the menu proffered by a waiter. He sounded relaxed, at ease. ‘Well, be sure to mention that to the Prince when we meet him tomorrow.’
Diana stared. ‘Prince?’ she echoed.
‘Well, not the ruling Prince, but one of his nephews. He’s the main driver behind development here—and I have an interest in various of his ventures—but he has to proceed carefully. Several of his cousins oppose him, and several more want to push for a Dubai-style future. As it happens, we’ve been invited to his palace tomorrow for—of all things—afternoon tea.’
‘Afternoon tea?’ Diana echoed again.
‘Yes, Sheikh Kamal’s sister, Princess Fatima, is a big fan, apparently, and she welcomes any opportunity to partake of it.’
‘Good heavens!’ Diana exclaimed. ‘Well, I dare say to an Arabian princess afternoon tea is as exotic as a desert banquet would be for me.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You’ll have to guide me as to etiquette. I’m not at all au fait with royal protocol in the Middle East.’
‘We’ll get a briefing tomorrow morning from a palace official,’ said Nikos. ‘But I have every confidence in you, Diana.’ He paused, then disposed of his dark glasses. His expression was serious. ‘It’s thanks to you, you know, that we’ve been invited to the palace. Were I here on my own I would only be receiving a brief audience on a strictly business basis, in his office. Whereas with you to accompany me it has become a social engagement and, as you are probably aware, that takes things to a completely different level in places like this. It will open doors for me.’
She met his gaze. ‘I’m happy to be of use, Nikos. It makes me feel I’m...well, pulling my weight, I suppose.’ Her tone altered as she inserted a lighter note. ‘I’d better ensure I don’t do anything to shock the Sheikh or his sister. ‘
‘You’ll be perfect,’ he assured her. ‘It comes naturally to you—knowing the correct way to behave in any social situation.’
She gave a self-deprecating moue. ‘I can’t claim any personal credit, Nikos. I’ve had a very privileged existence. It’s people like you, you know, who didn’t have those advantages and yet are where they are today by their own efforts and determination, who deserve credit. All of us are who we are completely by accident of birth—and none of us is responsible for that.’
Was there a sudden veiling of his eyes? A sense of withdrawal behind a mask? If so, it made her conscious of just how little she knew about him. He had never spoken of his own background—only those few dismissive remarks about Greece. Other than that she’d gathered that he’d been brought up in France, spoke the language fluently, and he had made a passing reference to studying economics at one point.
As for his relationship with Nadya Serensky—she knew no more than what he had told her and that she did not have to feel any concern over his discarded trophy mistress. Nadya had married a Hollywood A-lister within weeks of Nikos finishing with her and was now queening it up in LA. Diana could not help but be relieved that she did not need to feel bad about helping herself to Nikos Tramontes.
For her own part, Diana had said very little about herself either. Nikos had asked no questions of her—and nor had she of him. After all, with their marriage being little more than a mutual business deal, there was no need for them to know anything much. All that was required was for them to be civil—friendly. Nothing more than that.
They enjoyed a leisurely lunch, and as it had during their engagement when they’d spent time together, Diana found the conversation flowing easily. Again, there was nothing personal in it—it was mostly about the Gulf, with Nikos briefing her as necessary to supplement what she already knew and then moving on to other parts of the world that her widely travelled husband was acquainted with.
It made for a perfectly pleasant meal, and after coffee they repaired to a poolside cabana. Diana changed in the private tented cubicle to the rear, emerging wearing a sleek turquoise one-piece and a cotton sarong in a deeper blue. The sarong revealed no more of her than her sundress had, and yet for all that she was aware of a sense of self-consciousness.
She sat herself down on a lounger, and was starting to anoint herself with sun cream when Nikos strolled up. He’d clearly changed elsewhere, and now dropped his bag on the lounger beside hers.
Diana tried hard not to stare—and failed dismally.
Oh, dear God...
She’d known in her head that he must have a good physique—his wide shoulders, broad chest, and absolutely no sign of any flab on him anywhere was an indication of that. But there was a difference between knowing it and seeing it in the flesh.
Taut, muscled flesh was moulded like an athlete’s, each pec and ab sculpted to perfection. She wished she’d jammed her concealing sunglasses back on her nose. Wished she could make her head drop. Wished she could just stop staring at him.
Her only saving mercy was that he didn’t appear to notice her fixed gaze. Instead, he dropped down on his lounger and reached across in a leisurely fashion to help himself to one of the large selection of magazines that lay on a side table. Diana could see that it took him no effort at all to use simply his ab muscles to take the reaching weight of his body.
Urgently she pulled her gaze away, made a play of putting down her sun block.
Nikos settled back to read. His mood was even better than it had been before. He could see she’d also taken one of the magazines—not a glossy fashion one, he wouldn’t have expected her to, but a popular history title. Satisfaction eased through him—and not just because he was very comfortably settled in a poolside cabana at an ultra-luxury hotel in the Gulf.
Because the woman he’d made his wife less than twenty-four hours ago was trying to pretend she was unaware of him right now.
He smiled inwardly. He’d been right to follow his instincts—to stick to his strategy of thawing the ice maiden Diana slowly before he moved in to melt her. He wanted her to relax in his company, lower her guard, become used to his constant presence.
So he gave no sign that he was perfectly aware of how aware she was of him, stripped to the waist, wearing only dark blue swim shorts, his long legs extended, feet bare. Instead he immersed himself in various articles in the financial magazine he’d helped himself to, while she read as well.