Free The Contaxis Baby by Lynne Graham

might as well give you a lift,’ he proffered equably, determined to drag out her discomfiture for as long as he could. ‘What’s the address?’
    Ensconced in the opulent limousine while Sebasten made a phone call and talked in Greek, Lizzie was just counting the minutes until she could escape his company. She watched him spread the long, shapely fingers of one lean, bronzed hand to stress some point that he was making and her tummy flipped at the helpless recollection of how he had made her feel in his bed: driven, possessed, wild, ecstatic. All unfamiliar emotions on her terms and mortifying and painful to acknowledge in the aftermath of an intimacy that was not to be repeated.
    Having made arrangements to have her followed every place she went, Sebasten flipped open a business magazine out of sheer badness until the limo drew up outside the smart block of flats where she was staying. Only as she leapt onto the pavement like a chicken fleeing the fox did he lean forward and say, ‘I’ll call you…’
    Lizzie blinked and her long, naturally dark lashes swept up on her surprised eyes as she nodded, staring back at him while his chaffeur hovered. ‘You don’t have my number,’ she suddenly pointed out and before he could be put to the trouble of asking for it, she gave him the number of her mobile phone.
    When Lizzie finally sped from view, slim shoulders now thrown back, marmalade hair blowing back like a banner in the breeze and long, perfect legs flashing beneath her short skirt, Sebasten was recovering from the new experience of being told that nobody had a photographic memory for numbers and then directed to punch hers straight into his phone so that he didn’t forget it because she wouldn’t be at her current address much longer.
    Without a doubt, he was now recognising what might have drawn Connor in so deep, Connor, who had had strong protective instincts for the vulnerable: that jolly-schoolgirlish bluntness she practised, that complete seeming lack of a cool front, that seductive, what-you-see-is-what-you-get attitude she specialised in. And it was novel, different, but it was indisputably a pose designed to charm and mislead, Sebasten decided in contemptuous and angry dismissal.
    Did I really make him put my number straight into his phone? Lizzie asked herself in shock as she stepped into the lift. Oh, well, he already knew how keen she was and at least that way she deprived herself of the time-wasting comfort of wondering if he had just forgotten her number when he didn’t call. And he wouldn’t call, she was convinced he wouldn’t call, because he had been polite but essentially aloof.
    At no stage had he made the smallest move to touch her in any way and yet he was a very hot-blooded guy, the sort of male who expressed intimacy with contact. Indeed, looking back to the instant of their first meeting the night before, she was challenged to recall a moment when he had not automatically maintained some kind of actual physical contact with her. Yet in spite of that, when she joined him for breakfast he had been as remote as the Andes around her. Then why had he offered her the use of an apartment? Maybe such a proposition was no big deal to a male who might well deal in property, maybe it had even been his way of saying thanks for a sexually uninhibited night with a total tart. After all, weren’t all single men supposed to secretly crave a tart in the bedroom?
    As Jen answered the doorbell, Lizzie was pale as death from the effects of that last humiliating thought.
    ‘You have a visitor,’ Jen informed her in a disgruntled tone, her pretty face stiff with annoyance. ‘Your stepmother has been plonked in my sitting room since twelve, waiting for you to put in an appearance.’
    At that announcement and the tone of it, Lizzie stiffened in dismay. What on earth was Felicity playing at? All that needed to be said had been said and it was still a punishment for her to even look at her stepmother. And