Read Online The Best Man's Guarded Heart by Katrina Cudmore - Free Book Online Page A

beads of seawater dripping down over his taut golden stomach and disappearing beneath his turquoise shorts as they had yesterday morning.
    â€˜You’re alone.’
    Dressed in slim light grey trousers and an open-neck white shirt, his suit jacket thrown over one shoulder, Andreas stood in the doorway, a hand on his narrow hip.
    Why did her heart have to go bananas every time she saw him?
    â€˜The other florists have returned to Naxos with the wedding team for siesta. They’ll be back later this afternoon.’
    This was a detail she stupidly hadn’t factored into her plans.
    She inhaled a deep breath and decided to change the subject. ‘You look like you’re going somewhere.’
    â€˜I’m returning, in fact. I had a lunch date on Naxos.’
    Her head shot up as Sofia’s description of Andreas’s busy love-life echoed. She gave a wobbly smile, her chest weighed down with disappointment. ‘I hope it was enjoyable.’
    His gaze narrowed and he walked towards her bench. She wound wire around a new bunch of herbs but almost strangled them in the process. When he didn’t speak she eventually looked up at him, frustration now singing in her veins, along with a stomach-clenching sense of dejection.
    Dark, serious eyes met hers. ‘It was with my lawyer.’
    â€˜Oh.’ Heat exploded in her cheeks.
    She exhaled in relief when he walked away, but tensed when he went to stand in front of her project plans and designs for the wedding day, which she had hung on the wall earlier in order to brief the other florists. She should have taken them down again.
    His back still to her, he asked, ‘Aren’t you having a break? Lunch? A siesta?’
    The idea of lying in a darkened room with him had her glancing away from the messy sexiness of his hair, from the mesmerising triangle of the broad width of his shoulders and his narrow hips. ‘I can’t. I’m already hours behind with my timetable.’
    He continued to stare at the plans and her stomach did a nervous roll. What if he didn’t like them? Goosebumps of vulnerability popped up on her skin.
    When he moved she quickly gazed back at the sad-looking herbs and began to unwind the wire. Maybe she’d be able to rescue them; it wasn’t their fault, after all, that she had no sense.
    He placed his jacket down on the end of the bench. ‘Show me what to do.’
    No! He couldn’t stay. Her already shot nerves couldn’t take it. Nor her pride. ‘There’s no need.’
    â€˜One thing you need to learn about me Grace, is that I don’t say things lightly. And I don’t make an offer twice.’
    â€˜That’s two things.’
    At first he frowned, but then a grin broke on his lips. His eyes danced mischievously, defying her to say no again to his offer.
    Oh, what the heck? She needed all the help she could get.
    She gestured to the bench behind her. ‘I’m working on the garland for the chapel that I measured out last night. At this bench I’m assembling bunches of herbs, which I will then attach to the twine roping.’
    She cut a length of the wire and showed him the required length, to which he nodded.
    Then she picked up the herbs and said, ‘Take three stems each of rosemary and bay and create a bunch by wrapping the wire around the bottom of the stem.’
    He messed up the first bunch, tying the wire too loosely, but within a short few minutes he had picked up on the technique needed.
    They worked in silence and she forced herself to breathe normally. Well, as normally as her adrenaline-soaked body would allow. This was all so strange. Andreas Petrakis, one of the most powerful men in Greece, was standing before her, tying bunches of herbs.
    â€˜Why are you so nervous?’
    â€˜I’m not!’
    He gave her a lazy, incredulous stare.
    â€˜I’m not nervous—why should I be?’
    He gave a light shrug and went back to