Not Just the Greek's Wife
Page 54
She laughed at her husband’s prioritizing. She couldn’t help herself.
“You really believe he would have been offended if you hadn’t tried to talk him down that last twenty dollars?” She didn’t buy it.
“That was just for fun. Did you not see how much he enjoyed the exchange?”
“You both enjoyed it too much.”
“No indeed. It was just enough.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, the affectionate tenderness of the action going straight to her heart. “Now you have a memory to put with the carpet every time you walk in our foyer.”
“Watch out, someone is going to think you are a closet romantic, Ariston.” Someone like his wife.
“I am sure my reputation can handle it.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. The carpet you purchased for me on our first honeymoon—”
“With a lot less haggling,” she interjected. “You paid too much, but I did not mind.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
“What about it?” she asked when he said nothing further as they meandered back toward the cruise dock.
“Hmm?”
“The carpet in your office—you were saying something about it when I interrupted you.”
“Oh, yes. Only that it has brought a smile to my face on many occasions.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“Because you think I paid too much?” And he found that amusing?
“Because it reminds me of your very generous nature. Do you remember how you asked the merchant, who happened to be father and uncle to the women who made it, if you could give him money to pass directly onto the weavers in thanks for their skill and efforts?”
Honestly, she’d forgotten. “He was really pleased,” she remembered.
“Yes. As I’m sure the women were as well to receive the money.”
“So? That makes you smile, to think of that?” she clarified.
“Yes. Thoughts of you often make me smile.”
“If you don’t watch it, I’m going to think you’ve fallen for me.”
He didn’t look the least worried by the idea. “It is only natural that I should enjoy thoughts of my wife.”
“Way to sidestep the issue.”
He stopped in the street and looked down at her, his azure eyes probing. “Is there an issue?”
“No.”
“You are happy?”
“Very much so.” He made her feel like the most important woman in the world and how could she be anything less than thrilled with that?
Maybe words weren’t as important as actions. She’d still like them—those three very important words that said so much—but wasn’t about to live the rest of her life pining for something she might never have.
Enjoying what she did have sounded so much smarter.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WOULD you like to go swimming tonight?” Ariston asked as they entered their suite later to get ready for dinner. “We can take advantage of the privacy after the spa pool has been closed to the rest of the ship.”
“Yes …” Chloe’s voice trailed off, her eyes going wide at the changes in their room.
The table had been set elegantly for dinner, complete with white linens, LED candlelight and roses. Champagne chilled in a standing ice bucket beside it and a flat gift box rested on top of one of the place settings.
The bed had been turned down, rose petals strewn across its expanse, and chocolate truffles placed in the center of each of their pillows.
“What’s going on? We’re dining in tonight?”
“I hope you do not mind. It is our last night onboard. I wanted to spend it with you alone.”
“You really are a closet romantic,” she said with awe and just a touch of amusement.
He shrugged, but color burnished his cheekbones. “I ordered the honeymoon package. It is always good to check the quality of our services.”
Right. Likely story. “So, it’s all your ship’s staff’s fault?”
“You don’t like it?”
“Don’t be a jerk. I love it.”
He moved to stand near her, reaching out to brush at the hair that had escaped the clip she’d put it in that morning. “First an idiot, now a jerk … I am worried what will come next.”
“Man, you don’t forget anything, do you?”
“No.”
“I’ll have to make sure I remember that.”
“So, you are okay with having our last dinner onboard in our suite?”
“More than.” She loved the idea of having him all to herself.
They would be returning to real life fast enough where his company demanded most of his waking hours.