All That Glitters Read online

  He stood also, calmly laying his napkin aside. "I'm taking you home," he said, "if I have to drag you to my car. Now, do you want to make your exit in a dignified manner, or slung over my shoulder? Before you decide, let me assure you that no one will come to your aid. Money does have its uses, you know."

  "Yes, I know," she agreed frigidly. "It allows some people to act like bullies without fear of retribution. Very well, shall we leave?"

  He smiled in grim triumph and placed a bill on the table, and even in her anger she was startled at the amount he had laid down. She looked up in time to see him nod to the maitre d', and by the time they had made their way across the room her wrap was waiting. Nikolas took the wrap and gently placed it about her shoulders, his hands lingering there for a moment as his fingers moved over her flesh. A blinding flash of light told her that this, too, had been photographed, and involuntarily Jessica shrank closer to him in an effort to hide. His hands tightened on her shoulders and he frowned as he looked down at her suddenly pale face. He looked around until he located the photographer, and though he said nothing, Jessica heard a muttered apology somewhere behind them. Then Nikolas had his arm firmly around her waist and he led her outside, where his car was just being driven up. When the doorman and the young man who had brought the ear had been settled with and Nikolas had seen that she was securely buckled into her seat, he said, "Why do you flinch whenever a flash goes off?"

  "I dislike publicity," she muttered.

  "It scarcely matters whether you like it or not," he said quietly. "Your actions have made certain that you will have it, regardless, and you certainly should be used to it by now. Your marriage made quite a lot of grist for the mill."

  "I'm aware of that," she said. "I've been called a bitch to my face and a lot worse to my back, but that doesn't mean that I've ever become accustomed to it. I was eighteen years old, Mr. Constantinos"—she stressed the word—"and I was crucified by the press. I've never forgotten."

  ' 'Did you think no one would notice when you married a rich, elderly man of Robert Stanton's reputation?" he almost snarled. "For God's sake, Jessica, you all but begged to be crucified!"

  "So I discovered," she said, her voice catching. "Robert and I ceased going out in public when it became obvious that I would never be accepted as his wife, though he didn't care on his own account. He said that he would find out who his true friends were, and there were a few. He seemed to cherish those few, and never said anything that indicated he wanted his life to be any different, at least in my hearing. Robert was endlessly kind," she finished quietly, for she found that even the memories of Robert helped to calm her. He had seen life so clearly, without illusions and with a great deal of humor. What would he think about this predatory man who sat beside her now?

  He drove in silence and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, tired and rather drained. All in all, it had been a long day, and the worst part was still to come, unless he decided to act decently and leave her alone. But somehow she doubted that Nikolas Constantinos ever acted in any way except to please himself, so she had best brace herself for war.

  When he pulled up in the drive on her side of the house, she noticed thankfully that Sallie and Joel were home and were still awake, though her watch told her that it was ten-thirty. He cut off the engine and put the keys in his pocket, then got out and came around to open her door. He leaned in and helped her to gather her long skirt, then all but lifted her out of the car. "I'm not an invalid," she said tartly as his arm slid about her waist and pulled her against his side.

  "That's why I'm holding you," he explained, his low laughter brushing her hair. "To prevent you from running."

  Fuming helplessly, Jessica watched as he took the key from her bag and opened the door, ushering her inside with that iron arm at her back. She ignored him and marched into the kitchen to check on Samantha. She knelt and scratched the dog behind the ears, receiving a loving lick on the hand in return. A puppy squeaked at being disturbed and it too received a lick of the warm tongue, then Jessica was startled as two hard hands closed over her shoulders and pulled her to her feet.

  She had had enough; she was tired of him and his arrogance. She exploded with rage, hitting at his face and twisting her body in his grasp as he tried to hold her against him. "No, damn you!" she cried. "I told you I won't!"

  Samantha rose to her feet and gave a growl at seeing her mistress treated so roughly, but the puppies began to cry in alarm as she left them and she turned back to look at her offspring. By that time Nikolas had swept Jessica off her feet and into his arms and was back through the kitchen door with her, shouldering it shut behind him. He wasn't even breathing hard as he captured her flailing arms, and that made her even angrier. She arched her back and kicked in an effort to wiggle out of his arms; she hit out at that broad chest, and when that failed to stop him, she opened her mouth to scream. Swiftly he forced her head against his shoulder and her scream was largely muffled by his body. Blinded and breathless with fury, she gave a strangled cry as he suddenly dropped her.

  Soft cushions broke her fall, then her body was instantly covered by his hard weight as he dropped down on her and pinned her. "Damn you, be still," he hissed, stretching a long arm up over her head. For a sickening moment she thought he would slap her, and she caught her breath, but no blow fell. Instead, he switched on the lamp at the end of the sofa and a soft light bathed the room. She hadn't realized where they were until he turned on the lamp and now she looked about her at the comfortable, sane setting of her living room. She turned her head to look up with bewilderment into the furious dark face above her.

  "What's the matter with you?" he barked.

  She blinked. Hadn't he been attacking her? He had certainly been manhandling her! Even now his heavy legs pressed down on hers and she knew that her skirt was twisted above her knees. She moved restlessly under him and he let his weight down more heavily on her in warning. "Well?" he growled.

  "But…I thought…weren't you attacking me?" she asked, her brow puckering. "I thought you were, and so did Samantha."

  "If I had been attacking you, the situation was reversed before I got very far," he snapped. "Damn you, Jessica, you don't know how tempting you are—and how infuriating—" He broke off, his black eyes moving to her lips. She squirmed and turned her head away, a breathless little "No" coming from her, but he captured her head with a hand on each side of her face and turned her mouth back to him. He was only a breath away and she tried to protest again, then it was too late. His hard mouth closed over her soft one, forcing her lips open, and his warm, wine-fragrant breath filled her mouth. His tongue followed, exploring and caressing her inner mouth, flicking at her own tongue, sending her senses reeling.

  She was frightened by the pressure of his big, hard body over hers and for a moment her slim hands pushed uselessly at his heavy shoulders. But his mouth was warm and he wasn't hurting her now, and she had never before been kissed like this. For a moment—only one moment, she promised herself—she allowed herself to curve in his arms, to respond to him and kiss him back. Her hands slid over his broad shoulders to clasp about his neck, her tongue responded shyly to his; then she no longer had the option of returning his caresses or not. He shuddered and his arms tightened painfully about her and his mouth went wild, ravaging, sucking her breath hungrily from her body. He muttered something, thickly, and it took her dazed mind a minute to realize he had spoken in French and to translate the words. When she did, her face flamed and she tried to push him away, but still she was helpless against him.

  He slid one hand under her neck and deftly unhooked the halter strap of her bodice. As his mouth left hers and trailed a fiery path down her neck, she managed a choked

  "No," to which he paid no attention at all. His lips moved the loosened straps of her bodice down as he planted fierce kisses along her shoulder and collarbone, licking the tender spot in the hollow of her shoulder until she almost forgot her rising fear and quivered with pleasure, clutching his