Niko's Stolen Bride

“I am Nikolaos Maragos,” the man said in a voice that dripped over Kara like molten chocolate caressing a sweet cherry center. “I’ve come to take you away.”

What woman hadn’t dreamed of hearing those words from a handsome man? A champion who would rescue her from the mundane issues of everyday life or the disgrace of a failed wedding. She was stunned by the surge of longing that raced through her veins. No, she wasn’t dreaming – but this was the wrong man.

His hand was cool and dry as he reached to take hers, his fingers roughened by some type of work or adventurous play. She could easily imagine him climbing the bare face of a cliff or skiing down a run with the finesse of an Olympic athlete. The scattering of dark hair across the back of his hand blended with the tanned, olive of his skin. It looked soft to the touch. Kara curled the fingertips of her other hand into her palm to stop herself from reaching to find out. He brought her hand up, his wide, warm lips brushing across the sensitive inner plane of her wrist. Her skin throbbed there, as if he had brought that one spot to brilliant, vibrant life.

She snatched her hand back, placing one palm over the place his lips had touched. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, her voice high and harsh.

The flow of giggling women who made up her group surrounded her as if sensing she needed their aid. In the bright light of the hotel lobby, they looked the worse for wear after their long night. Her friend, Terry, had mascara smeared across one cheekbone, Jenny was flushed an unbecoming shade of pink and Harriet’s hair was escaping from the prim bun in which she wore it. Kara had looked forward to this night for months, but her bachelorette party had ended when she’d caught Frank, the man she’d thought she was going to marry, dirty dancing with a blonde in the back of his Hummer limousine.

After that, the girls had celebrated her near miss, as they called it. A nightmare was how she thought she’d always remember it.

One bar had edged into another as the night wore on and the ladies grew rowdy. Perhaps because they were visitors to Sanibel Island, they had felt temped to stray from the high road, flitting from one man to the next. Their brightly colored resort wear distinguished them from the locals, making Kara think of them as exotic butterflies, drunk on fermented nectar. After a while, Kara refused the shots and fruity concoctions her friends tried to press on her and sat alone, watching and sipping coffee that had gone cold.

Undoubtedly, regrets would be setting in with the coming of dawn. Her gaze briefly met that of the man beside her. Hers had started already, with a dull ache in the pit of her stomach that warned her that, as bad as the night had been, the coming day would be pure hell.

“Whatcha got cornered over here?” Terry demanded in her New Jersey drawl.

Harriet peered over her taller friend’s shoulder for a better look at the man. “Yummy. Share?”

“Not now, Harry. It’s all about Kara.” Terry swiveled to give Harriet a stern look.

The effect was ruined when she tottered on her strappy red heels. Kara stretched out a steadying hand, but Nikolaos was there ahead. As he reached for her, Terry became boneless, melting toward his broad chest like a homing pigeon to its roost. Grasping both her arms, the man set her upright as easily as if she were a child. He held her there for long seconds before letting her go.

“Well,” Terry said, pouting in disappointment. “I see this one’s taken.”

Jenny pushed Terry aside and stepped close to the man, her head tilted back as she peered at his face. “Hey, I saw you at one of the clubs! You danced with Kara. What gives?”

Kara glanced up at the man beside her, wondering if he would deny it. He was watching her, his expression unreadable. Earlier tonight, those eyes had held unmistakable invitation.

She’d been tempted.

For the first time in a year, she had been free to do anything she wished, and the idea of giving Frank a taste of his own medicine had called to her with the sweet sting of revenge.

Jenny looked back over her shoulder at Kara. “He’s scrumptious. You calling dibs?”

In the dim bar, the Greek had been heat and comfort and solid bulk. In the intense light of the lobby, he was stunningly attractive. Not merely handsome, in male-model style, but tough and capable-looking. His clothes were expensive, designer, but it was his face that drew Kara’s attention. His features were fascinating to her, so unlike those of her family who’d inherited the coloring and fine bones of their Scottish ancestors. He had a broad forehead and brows that were slashing lines of black. His eyes were almost almond-shaped with a sultry slant, encased in thick, dark eyelashes.

“Hardly,” Kara said. “Girls, this is Elaina’s brother, Nikolaos.”

“Please, call me Niko,” he said with a polite incline of his head.

Jenny swung around to face him again. “So you two are related. That would make you what?”

“Technically a step-uncle,” the man admitted, “though only in a legal sense.”

“Oh, you two have been bad!” Jenny crowed.

Kara felt heat rise into her cheeks. Why hadn’t he told her who he was when they met earlier in the club? He had approached her as she leaned against the wall trying to drown her dreams of a perfect wedding in a bottle of rum. Drawing her onto the wooden floor, he had cradled her in his arms, his body moving against hers with the effortless grace of a skilled dancer.

She had surrendered to sensation, allowing her body to relax and glide with the thrumming tempo of the loud music. The hard planes and angles of his muscular body fit so perfectly against her curves that she had imagined her pale skin fusing with his sun-bronzed darkness. Her friends, the crowded dance floor and the mediocre local band playing to an intoxicated vacation crowd all faded into the background.

She had needed him, the human touch, the sweet connection of their bodies — had craved it to help her forget.

She had let her palms drift up the bunched muscles of his arm, passing over the black tee-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders to rest against his neck. She had curled the tips of her fingers into his dark hair, the texture like black silk, smooth but a little rough at the ends.

It was heaven.

It was so wrong.

“All they did was dance,” Harriet protested. “They’d have done that at the reception, if there had been one. I mean if Kara and Frank were getting married today, there would have been a – well, you get it.”

Jenny looked from Kara to Niko, her gaze speculative. “They kissed too.”

Niko shook his head. “That was not a kiss.”

Kara started to object, but the words died on her lips. In truth, their kiss had been a mere brush of skin. As the music slowed, he’d slipped one hand against her nape and the other at her back, tugging her firmly against his lower body. Nerve endings cracked and fired. She had felt every contour of his ribs, even the sharp edge of the metal button on his jeans. He bent his head toward her and their lips met with the lightness of a warm summer breeze.

Somewhere deep in the rum-punch, dazed depths of her brain, she had known he could deliver so much more. An intense urge had driven her to find out just how good his lips would feel. She leaned into him, mutely pleading. Before she could embarrass herself further, Harriet had grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the door and the waiting limousine.

He would not have refused, she was certain.

Normally, she wasn’t good at picking up cues from body language, but something in the intent way he had stared convinced her he was aware of the connection between them. It reached out to her now, like the sticky tendrils of a spider’s web, drawing her back to the warmth of his skin.

“Nikolaos!”

Kara flinched at the sound of her step mother’s voice. Turning her head, she saw Elaina emerging from the nearby elevator, followed closely by her husband. She was a beautiful woman with long, dark hair and voluptuous curves who usually had the men in the room following her every move. Around her, Kara felt gauche and underdressed, especially this morning when she was rumpled and the hint of stale cigarette smoke from the clubs clung to her dress.

As the woman glided to a halt next to her half-brother, he bent to kiss her lightly on both cheeks.

“Surrounded by women, as usual, I see,” Elaina said in practiced tones. “You promised to let me know the moment Kara arrived.” Greek by birth, Elaina had attended college in the States and worked as an interpreter, traveling the world with her father, who owned a shipping company. That was, until six months ago, when she had married Kara’s father. The quick marriage had been a shock to all who knew them. Not that her father didn’t deserve a companion after so many years of being a widow, but Kara for one had expected him to choose someone a bit older.

Elaina’s brother, Niko, was close to Kara’s age. He was the youngest of Elaina’s siblings and the only one who had accepted the invitation to the wedding. When his flight from Athens to Miami had been delayed, Elaina had fretted like a mother hen the whole afternoon.

Kara’s father dropped the bag he was carrying onto a nearby chair covered brightly in a botanical print, then reached to greet Niko with a handshake. Her father was tall and lean with narrow shoulders and a scattering of gray in his longish hair. Niko’s shoulders were broader and he was muscled in a way the older man had never been. Next to Niko’s solid strength, her father seemed frail and thin.

“Dad!” She reached to wrap the older man in a quick hug. “There was no need to wait up. I’m all grown up now.” Her attempt at gentle humor fell a bit flat, but the last thing she wanted this morning was to hash over the break-up with Frank. Her stepmother had seen it all and was certain to have told him the sickening details. Elaina had left the party immediately after the scene, catching a cab back to the resort. Kara was glad to see Elaina go, glad to be free of her dampening presence. Not that it had mattered.

“But you’re still my baby,” he whispered against her cheek before letting her go. “How are you doing?”

She smiled and nodded as she blinked away the sheen of tears that threatened to overflow. She had not cried over Frank all night and had no intention of starting now. Anger was what she needed, a deep and bitter flavor that would protect her from the sting of his betrayal.

“I need a nap,” Harriet announced to no one in particular. “I feel like a horse. They sleep standing up, right?”

“Yes, let’s go to our rooms.” Jenny grasped her friend’s arm and gently turned her toward the bank of elevators. “Kara, are you coming?”

“In a minute.” Kara waved them on as they called loud, cheery good-nights. Just before the elevator doors closed, Jenny made some movement that drew her attention. Her friend’s lips were pursed, one eyebrow quirked in inquiry as her gaze tracked between Kara and the Greek idol of a man beside her father. Kara shook her head in denial, but couldn’t miss her friends knowing laugh just before the doors blocked her from sight.