She Can't Say No to the Greek Tycoon: The Kouvaris Marriage / The Greek Tycoon's Innocent Mistress / The Greek's Convenient Mistress

She Can't Say No to the Greek Tycoon: The Kouvaris Marriage / The Greek Tycoon's Innocent Mistress / The Greek's Convenient Mistress
Kathryn Ross

Annie West

Diana Hamilton

The Kouvaris MarriageMadeleine never dreamed she would marry an attractive Greek billionaire! But three passionate months into the marriage, Maddie is devastated to learn that Dimitri’s sole reason for marrying her was to conceive a child. And Dimitri is determined to keep Maddie at his side – and in his bed – until she bears the Kouvaris heir…The Greek Tycoon’s Innocent MistressCat McKenzie is set to inherit a fortune – and Nicholas Zentenas will bed her, wed her and finally get his revenge on Cat’s family. Cat has never met such a powerful, commanding man, and when Nicholas offers her a business contract and a weekend in Venice she is powerless to resist. Now Nicholas is in danger of finding that Cat is not at all what he thought…The Greek’s Convenient Mistress Sophie Patterson is shocked when Costas Palamidis turns up on her Sydney doorstep. Costas’s precious little girl’s life is in grave danger – Sophie is the only person who can help…even if it means returning to the family who turned their back on her… Soon Sophie finds herself in bed with Costas…but can she ever be more than his mistress?

She Can’t SayNo to the Greek Tycoon

THE KOUVARIS MARRIAGE DIANA HAMILTON

THE GREEK TYCOON’S INNOCENT MISTRESS KATHRYN ROSS

THE GREEK’S CONVENIENT MISTRESS ANNIE WEST

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

THE KOUVARIS

MARRIAGE

DIANA HAMILTON

About the Author

DIANA HAMILTON is a true romantic, and fell in love with her husband at first sight. They still live in the fairytale Tudor house where they raised their three children. Now the idyll is shared with eight rescue cats and a puppy. But, despite an often chaotic lifestyle ever since she learned to read and write Diana has had her nose in a book – either reading or writing one—and plans to go on doing just that for a very long time to come.

PROLOGUE

DONE!

Maddie Ryan straightened, hot and sweaty beneath the sun that blazed from a cerulean sky, and rested her grubby hands on her curvy hips. Every leaf and bloom was perfect, the terracotta planters were arranged in attractive groupings around the arcaded courtyard. The ancient central stone fountain was beautifully restored and finally working, sending a silvery plume of water dancing skywards, then falling back into the shallow stone basin, creating lovely water music.

Everything was ready for tonight’s party and her first important commission as a landscape gardener was successfully completed, a commission given by her best friend since schooldays, Amanda.

Thinking of Amanda, she grinned. It was an unlikely friendship—everyone had said so—the tomboy and the fastidious, delicate blonde beauty. But it had worked. On leaving school, Amanda had made her mark as a top model and led a truly glamorous lifestyle. But Maddie, working her way through horticultural college, hadn’t been envious, just happy for her—especially when she’d fallen in love and married a fabulously wealthy Greek tycoon.

Then, three months after the wedding, she’d phoned one chilly spring day. ‘How do you like the idea of a well-paid working holiday? Cristos has bought this fabulous villa just outside Athens. The house is perfect but the grounds are a neglected mess—especially the courtyard. I fancy something Moorish. Could you take the commission? Cristos said money no object.’ A breathy giggle. ‘He’d do anything to please me. He’s not like your normal Greek male; he treats women as if they have minds of their own!’

Tomorrow Maddie would be returning to England with a fat cheque, a tan, and a bunch of happy memories—and the hope that her mother had fielded at least a couple of responses to her adverts in the local press while she’d been away.

Turning to make one final check on the discreetly hidden irrigation system that kept the planters watered, she noticed the stout wooden door that led from the courtyard to the lemon grove swing open. Thrusting out her lower lip, she huffed away the strands of caramel curls that were tangling with the thick upsweep of her lashes and got an unimpeded view of the hunk—no other description fitted—who had sauntered into the courtyard.

Like her, he was dressed casually. Almost threadbare faded jeans, against her skimpy cotton shorts, and an ancient black vest top that except for size matched her own. One of the locals, she deduced as he strolled towards her, looking for casual work. But, unlike the late adolescents she’d hired to help with the heavy stuff, this guy looked older—thirty-four or-five at a guess.

Out of work, with a wife and a brood of young children? Looking to pick up a few days’ pay? What a waste. With looks like his he would never want for work as a male model: tall, dark and gorgeous, his face crafted to guarantee weak knees in the female population. Strong bones, a firm, commanding mouth with just the right hint of sensuality, she listed to herself. Adding, as he came nearer, an intriguing pair of warm golden eyes fringed with sinfully long dark lashes.

Those fascinating eyes held a question as he halted in front of her, and Maddie had to swallow an annoying constriction in her throat as she apologised with genuine sincerity. ‘The project’s finished. We’re no longer hiring. I’m sorry.’

‘Is that so?’ He didn’t look disappointed. He actually smiled. And the effect was electrifying. Fresh perspiration broke out on her short upper lip. A dark eyebrow quirked. ‘And you are?’

‘Mad.’ Qualifying that quickly, in case he thought she really was, she went on, ‘Maddie Ryan. Project designer.’ Christened Madeleine because her mother, having given birth to three boisterous boys, had longed for a daughter she could dress in pretty clothes and bring up to be ultra-feminine. But Madeleine had refused to answer to anything but Mad—or Maddie, at a pinch—and could clearly remember back to the age of three or four, when her poor mother had tried to dress her in something pink and frilly for her birthday party. She had gone stiff as a board, screaming her head off as she’d refused to wear anything so girly.

She adored her parents, but she idolised her big brothers, and had always set out to prove she could do anything they could do—from climbing the tallest trees and tickling trout to paddling a home-made raft across the lake on the estate where her dad was employed as head groundsman. Eventually her mother had resigned herself to having a tomboy daughter—freckle-faced, permanently grubby, sticking plasters adorning her coltish legs, untameable curls—and loved her more than she’d thought possible.

‘So you are English?’ The sexy golden eyes wandered over her, and, nodding the affirmative, Maddie felt her flesh quiver as his eyes swept back up to fuse with hers. In all of her twenty-two years no man had ever had this effect on her, and the unaccustomed and scary stinging sensation of intimacy shook her rigid. ‘Do you speak my language?’ he asked, on a throaty purr that sent something hot sizzling through her veins. Then his eyes dropped to her wide mouth, lips parted as she puzzled over why he should ask that. His attractively accented voice had implied more than mere politeness. ‘I am interested to know how you relayed your wishes to your workers.’

‘Oh—that!’ Maddie relaxed. Friendly question. Friendly she could handle, no problem. She’d had plenty of male friends, both at school and at college. Been best mates with most of the village boys. But never a serious boyfriend. None of her male friends had ever picked her as his special girl. They’d treated her as one of them—come to her with any problems, discussed stuff—but when it came to romance they’d picked the sort of flirty girlies who could simper and giggle for England.

Speedwell-blue eyes smiled. ‘No, I don’t speak Greek. I picked up a few words from the casuals—’ her smile broadened to a wide grin, her neat freckle-banded nose wrinkling ‘—but I sort of guessed they’re not words one would use in polite company! Nikos—the permanent gardener Cristos hired—is pretty fluent in English, and he translated for me.’

Her voice tailed off. Flustered, she noted that he didn’t seem to be listening to her side of this strange conversation. Had he simply asked the first thing to come into his too-handsome head just to keep her talking? Because he was back to making that slow, thoroughly unsettling inventory of her too-bountiful body again, his eyes lingering too long for her comfort on the smooth golden thighs directly beneath the ragged hem of her skimpy shorts.

Pressing her knees close together, to guard against a decidedly perverse instinct to shift them apart and tilt her hips towards that gorgeous, power-packed rangy body, she decided to get rid of him. Aiming for repressive, her words emerged in a husky tone she didn’t recognise as her own. ‘Did you want something? Can I help you?’

Worryingly, he moved just that little bit closer. His broad shoulders lifted infinitesimally, the bronzed skin gleaming like oiled silk, as it made her wonder what that skin would feel like beneath her fingers.

He gave no answer, but the silence sizzled with something unspoken and his slow smile made her tremble, made her wonder what was happening here—because as sure as hens laid eggs no male had ever made her feel this strange before. This—this what? Expectant?

She swallowed thickly just as he said, ‘I think that for now you should find shade.’ With lazy grace, the lightest of touches, he brushed a strand of damp hair away from her hot forehead. ‘You are hot. Very hot!’ Golden eyes danced. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Not if I see you first, was Maddie’s wild unspoken thought as she took the hint and scurried away from his unsettling presence, heading for the wide door that led to the cool interior of the villa. Her skin was still tingling where he had so lightly touched it, sending responsive quivers down her spine.

Typical Greek male, she fumed. Most of the casuals had been the same. Unable to stop strutting their stuff when a female was around. She’d been able to overlook them, no trouble at all. She didn’t do flirting. Didn’t know how. Didn’t want to know how. Hadn’t had any practice.

But the stranger had been different. And how! It had made her feel uncomfortable. An extra large dose of charisma, she decided as she reached the sanctuary of the suite of rooms she’d been given. A knock-out dose that would make him irresistible if he had seduction in mind.

Seduction? She wasn’t going to go there. No way! No doubt he acted that way with any female under ninety. So snap out of it, she scolded herself.

Getting out of her work clothes, she headed for the shower and put him quite brutally out of her mind. Or tried to. With little success, she conceded with vast annoyance.

The party was going with the sort of discreet swing that only serious money could contrive. Ultra-glamorous guests wandered out from the lavish buffet to the courtyard, wine glasses elegantly in hand, murmuring congratulations for the romance of the strategically placed uplighters, the plants Maddie had chosen for their perfume, the pale roses and sweetly scented jasmine festooning the pillars of the arcade. And because Amanda and Cristos, bless them, had made sure everyone present knew she was the creator of the lush loveliness, Maddie kept her fingers crossed that some of the guests might remember her if they needed any work done in the future.

Amanda joined her on the secluded stone seat Maddie had retired to to get her breath back after answering so many horticultural questions, a glass of chilled white wine in her hot hands.

‘It’s going perfectly. Everyone’s impressed. You never know—you might get one or two commissions.’

‘I hope so!’ Maddie grinned at her friend. ‘I’d love to work here again—I’ve fallen in love with the country! And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for thinking of me.’

‘Who else would I think of, dolt?’ Amanda’s lovely face dimpled with affection. ‘And take my advice—if you are offered a commission, charge top dollar. These people come from the top layer of Greek society—money coming out of their ears—they expect to pay mega-bucks. Offer them cut price and they’ll come all over squeamish and run a mile!’

‘I’ll remember that slice of cynicism!’ Maddie took a grateful long sip of wine and pushed her untidy fringe out of her eyes with her free hand, her dancing blue eyes wandering between the groups of beautiful people who were slowly circulating, chatting, the women discreetly pricing and placing each other’s jewels and designer dresses.

Dressing for the party, Maddie hadn’t even tried to compete. Heck, how could she? Willowy she wasn’t, and her wardrobe was as sparse as the hairs on a balding man’s head. So she’d got into the only dress she’d brought with her—a simple blue shirtwaister, plain but presentable.

She immediately wished she didn’t look so ordinary when she saw him.

An uncontrollable something made her heart leap and her stomach perform a weird loop. The guy she’d tagged as a casual worker—magnetic in a white tuxedo, urbane, elegant—was obviously one of the super-wealthy beings her friend mixed with now she’d married into the highest stratum of Greek society. All his attention was being given to the dark, fashionably skinny beauty clinging to his arm as if she’d been grafted there.