With a new acquisition at stake, Giannis Gekas must shake his playboy reputation. Enlisting beautiful Ava Sheridan to pose as his fiancée should be the key. Yet behind closed doors, their attraction is anything but fake! But Giannis is furious when he learns Ava is keeping the consequences of their passion a secret. Now to legitimize his child, Giannis has only one option—make Ava his wife!

For my gorgeous grandson Casey James

CHAPTER ONE

THE PRE-DINNER DRINKS seemed to be lasting for ever. Giannis Gekas glanced at his watch as his stomach rumbled. He had been in meetings all day and the tired-looking sandwich his PA had brought him at lunchtime had lived up to its appearance.

He sipped his Virgin Mary cocktail and considered eating the celery stalk that garnished the drink. The voices of the other guests in the banqueting hall merged into a jangle of white noise, and he edged behind a pillar to avoid having to make small talk with people he did not know and had no interest in.

It was then that he spotted a woman rearranging the place name cards on one of the circular dining tables. He supposed she might be a member of the events management team responsible for organising the charity fundraising dinner and auction. But she was wearing an evening gown, which suggested that she was a guest, and she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder as she switched the name cards.

When Giannis had taken the private lift from his penthouse suite in the exclusive London hotel, down to the foyer, he had checked the seating plan in the banqueting hall to find out where he would be sitting for the dinner. He wondered why the woman had put herself next to him. It was not the first time such a thing had happened, he acknowledged with weary cynicism. The phenomenal success of his cruise line company had propelled him to the top of the list of Europe’s richest businessmen.

He had been blessed with good looks and even before he had accrued his wealth women had pursued him, since he was a teenager taking tourists on sailing trips around the Greek islands on his family’s boat. At eighteen, he had relished the attention of the countless nubile blondes who had flocked around him, but at thirty-five he was more selective.

The woman was blonde, admittedly, but she was not his type. He thought briefly of his last mistress Lise—a tall, toned Swedish swimwear model. He had dated her for a few months until she had started dropping hints about marriage. The dreaded ‘m’ word spelled the end of Giannis’s interest, and he had ended the affair and arranged for Lise to be sent a diamond bracelet from an exclusive London jewellers, where he had an account.

Dinner would be served at seven-thirty and guests were beginning to take their places at the various tables. Giannis strolled over to where the woman was holding on tightly to the back of a chair as if she expected to be challenged for the seat. Her hair was the colour of honey and fell in silky waves to halfway down her back. As he drew closer to her, he noted that her eyes were the soft grey of rain clouds. She was attractive rather than beautiful, with defined cheekbones and a wide, pretty mouth that captured his attention. The full lips were frankly sensual, and as he watched her bite her lower lip he felt a frisson of desire to soothe the place with his tongue.

Surprised by his body’s response, after he had decided that the woman did not warrant a second look, Giannis roamed his eyes over her. She was average height, with a slim waist and unfashionably curvaceous breasts and hips. Once again he felt a tightening in his groin as he allowed his gaze to linger on the creamy mounds displayed to perfection by the low-cut neckline of her black silk jersey dress.

She wore no jewellery—which was unusual at a high society event. Most of the other female guests were bedecked with gold and diamonds, and her lack of sparkling adornments focused his attention on the lustrous creaminess of her shoulders and décolleté.

He halted beside the table. ‘Allow me,’ he said smoothly as he drew out her chair and waited for her to sit down, before he lowered his tall frame onto the seat next to her. ‘It appears that we will be companions for the evening...’ he paused and glanced down at the table ‘...Miss Ava Sheridan.’

Wary grey eyes flew to his face. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘It is written on the card in front of you,’ he said drily, wondering if she would explain why she had swapped the place cards.

A pink stain swept along her cheekbones but she quickly composed herself and gave him a hesitant smile. ‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ She caught her lower lip between her even white teeth and a flame flickered into life inside him. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Gekas.’

‘Giannis,’ he said softly. He leaned back in his chair, turning his upper body so that he could focus his full attention on her, and smiled. With a sense of predictability, he watched her eyes darken, the pupils dilating. Charm came effortlessly to him. He had discovered when he was a youth that he had something: charisma, magnetism—whatever it was called, Giannis had it in bucketfuls. People were drawn to him. Men

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