How was it possible for a man to be at once so masculine—and so beautiful? His black hair brushed the top of his ears. He had the face of an angel. Of a warrior. His Roman nose had been broken at least once, from the tiny imperfection of the angle. He had a full, sensual mouth, with a twist of his lips that revealed arrogance and perhaps more—cruelty?
His eyes gleamed down at her, dark as night. And beneath their black depths, for a moment she saw a ravaging fire of hatred—as if he wished she were dead, as if she were a ghost he’d long ago consigned to hell.
Then she blinked, and he was smiling down at her with tender concern.
She must have imagined that fiery hatred, she thought in bewilderment. Not surprising considering how screwy her head had been since the accident—an accident she couldn’t even remember!
“Eve,” he whispered as he stroked her cheek. “I thought I’d never find you.”
The touch of his rough fingers against her skin burned her. She felt a sizzle down her neck to her breasts, making her nipples taut and her belly spiral in a strange tightness. With an intake of breath, she searched his face, hardly able to believe the evidence of her own eyes.
This—this man was her lover? He looked nothing like she’d expected.
When Dr. Bartlett had told her that her boyfriend was on his way from Australia, she’d imagined a kindlooking man with a loving heart, a sense of humor. A gentle man who would share his troubles while they washed dishes together at the end of the day. She’d dreamed of a loving partner. An equal.
Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined a dark god like this, cruelly beautiful, masculine and so powerful that he could no doubt slice her heart in two with a look.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” he said in a low voice.
She searched his face, holding her breath.
But no memories rushed through her, no recollections of the hard curve of his cheek or the slightly wicked twist to his sensual lips. No memories of a thousand little intimacies between lovers. Nothing!
He helped her sit up. His hands lingered possessively on her back, causing a sudden heat across her body.
Eve licked her lips nervously.
“You are…you must be…Talos Xenakis?” she ventured, waiting for him to deny it. Almost hoping he would, and that her real boyfriend, the kind-faced man with the gentle eyes, would walk through the door.
The Greek tycoon’s hands on her back paused.
“So you do recognize me.”
She shook her head. “No. Your two employees…the doctor…they told me your name. They said you were on your way.”
He looked down at her, searching her face.
“Dr. Bartlett told me you had amnesia. I didn’t believe it. But it’s true, isn’t it? You really don’t remember me.”
She could only imagine how that must hurt him! “I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I keep trying, but the first thing I can remember is your employee—Kefalas?—pulling me from my car. It was a lucky thing they were in the car behind me!”
His lips seemed to curve imperceptibly. “Yes. Very lucky.” He sat up straight. “You will be leaving the hospital today.”
She took a deep breath. “Today?”
“Right now.”
“But…” She bit her lip then blurted out, “But I still can’t remember anything! I hoped when I saw you…”
“You hoped seeing me would bring your memory back?”
She nodded miserably. There was no point in feeling disappointed, she told herself fiercely, or making him feel more badly about it than he must already
!
But she couldn’t stop the lump in her throat. She’d been counting on the idea that when she saw the face of the man she loved, the man who loved her, her amnesia would end.
Unless they didn’t love each other, she thought suddenly. Unless she’d gotten pregnant by a man who was barely more than a one-night stand.