The Greek's Christmas Baby

Aristide closed his eyes against the pain in his head. He did not know what to think and he could not trust his own judgment. Not when it came to a woman he'd forgotten so completely.

There had to be a reason for that and he could think of no other than the one Kassandra had hinted at—that Eden was the kind of wife nightmares were made of.

CHAPTER FOUR

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"Are you ready to go?"

Aristide turned at the sound of his wife's husky voice.

Eden had pulled her soft brown hair back in a French braid, leaving her face exposed to his view. However, her carefully controlled features and wary gray gaze told him nothing of what was in her mind, nor why she had chosen to come rather than sending his brother to see to his discharge.

She had called him last night too, ostensibly so he could tell Theo goodnight, but she had asked how Aristide was feeling and sounded genuinely interested in the answer. She had not rushed to get off the phone when he finished talking to the baby either, wanting to know what the doctor had had to say.

Aristide hadn't wanted to discuss Dr Lewis's visit, choosing instead to bring up Eden's altercation with Kassandra. When he told her how much her action displeased him, his wife's tone had gotten colder than the Arctic. She'd hung up quickly enough then after little more than a stilted goodbye.

He had not expected her to show up in his hospital room this morning.

She made no move to take her coat off, but stood ramrod straight by the door, as if ready to make a hasty exit if he made a wrong move. Either she was the best actress living, or underneath the avarice that had prompted their marriage, she was vulnerable in an unexpected way.

"I have been ready for the last hour."

She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin at a defensive angle. "I'm sorry you had to wait. The doctor said ten-thirty."

Her body language screamed, Do not touch me…stay out of my space.

The hands-off attitude hit him on the raw, especially considering how he'd spent the morning stewing over the implied intimacy of his wife's relationship with the doctor. Aristide found himself crossing the room to pull her into his arms before he even thought about it.

He might not remember her, but this woman was his wife and no way was she going to hold back from him like he was some kind of pariah.

She gasped when their bodies collided. "What are you doing?"

She didn't sound nearly as composed as she had a moment ago and he was curiously satisfied by that reality.

His mouth hovered over hers. "Greeting my wife."

She opened her mouth and he closed his over it. He watched in fascination as her gray eyes widened and then slid shut, thick black lashes fanning her pale cheeks. He closed his eyes too, allowing sensation to take hold.

Their lips fit together with a perfection he had never known with another woman and she tasted as sweet as Christmas divinity. Not at all like a piranha wife with dollar signs in her eyes.

Her lips trembled under his and he deepened the kiss, claiming possession in a way that was wholly instinctual. She let him, her entire body trembling now as he explored the warmth of her mouth.

He closed his hands around her waist and lifted her against him, his own body shuddering at the contact. It felt incredibly familiar when her arms locked around his neck and her tongue slid along his with tentative aggression. He couldn't believe the impact that one small touch had on him, but he was ready to toss her on the bed and make the sweetest kind of love to his forgotten wife.

Was in fact aching with the need to follow through on the promise of her pliant lips against his.

He broke the kiss. "You taste like I know you."

"I do?" She sounded so damn hopeful, he felt his first pang of guilt for forgetting her.

"Evidently my body knows you even if my mind does not."

She winced as if the words hurt her and maybe they had.

"I enjoyed it."

She let go of her hold around his neck, pressing against his chest as if she wanted him to release her. "Yes. Well, sex has never been a problem for us."

It was his turn to wince. She made it sound as if that was the only thing they got right and not like she thought that was all her fault. He had no way of denying it, but his pride smarted at the possibility.

He released her. She stepped away and, looking down, smoothed her coat. He let her get away with the small evasion, needing a moment to collect himself as well. He could not remember a simple kiss ever being so devastating to his senses. If their intimacy was always this explosive, his marriage made a lot more sense to him.

So did the birth of their son.

"I was expecting Sebastian this morning."

"He's waiting in the car."

"I did not expect you," he clarified.

"I didn't tell your family about our argument yesterday."

"So they expected you to do the honors?"

"Yes."

"Why not tell them?"

She looked at him then, her expression scornful. "You would prefer I shared our personal troubles with the others?"

She was right. He rarely revealed the most private parts of his life to anyone, even his mother and older brother. It was disconcerting to realize that while she was a complete mystery to him, she knew things about him even his closest friend wouldn't be aware of.

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"So you were doing as you thought I wanted?"

"Not really. Yesterday, I didn't particularly care what you thought."

He didn't know why, but he didn't believe her. "You did not?"

"No." She frowned at him like an evil genie and he almost expected to disappear in a puff of smoke. "I didn't buy it when the doctor said you were worried and sent him after me with my coat, either."

"He was being kind. It was his idea," Aristide said, feeling stung and conversely annoyed she was right that he had not been the one to think of her comfort.

He disliked even more the feeling of guilt that knowledge engendered in him.

She turned away, but not before he saw the look of hurt that crossed her features. "That's what I thought."

"So, why did you not tell my family if I made you so angry?"

"I didn't see any reason to increase their present turmoil." She took a deep breath and turned back to face him once more, this time her face as smooth as marble.

If her lips were not still red from his kiss, he would not be sure it had even happened.

"You Kouroses put a great store by strong marriages and family relationships. If your mother or brother thought we were having problems, it would worry them and I don't think they need any more worry right now. They've been upset enough by the accident and your loss of memory."

"Are you trying to say we should attempt a façade of the happy, loving couple in front of them?" If she knew him as well as a wife should, she would know that, though he was intensely private, he never lied to his family.

"That would be impossible, but I was hoping you would save open hostility for behind closed doors. Our son does not need to sense his mom and dad are at odds either. He's had a rough few days as well."

"Of course, but you are assuming we will continue to argue?"

"It's inevitable in the current situation."

"That does not sound like we have the most harmonious marriage."

"On the contrary. One of the reasons I'm hoping you will be reasonable about this is that neither your family, nor our son, are used to seeing us at odds. Until this trip to New York, we got along great, but my tolerance is at a very low ebb at the moment. I might even characterize it as nonexistent."

"Why is that, I wonder?"

"That isn't something I want to discuss until you've regained your memory."

"You are so sure I will challenge your tolerance?" She made it sound like he was the husband from Hades and that image of himself was not acceptable.

"As long as Kassandra Helios is in our lives, she'll do her best to instigate trouble between us. I'm no longer willing to ignore her machinations and, because of that, we're bound to fight. It's as simple as that."

"She is a long-term employee and a friend. You will not speak about her that way to me."

"Whereas I'm only your wife…that at least has not changed, memory or no memory."

Before he could answer the implied accusation in her words, the morning-shift nurse came in with a wheelchair.

"What is this for?" he demanded.

"Hospital policy," she said with a flirtatious smile that made his wife purse her lips cynically. "You have to be escorted downstairs."

Eden's eyes now glowed with provoking mockery, but she said nothing. It was obvious she knew how much he would hate the idea of being pushed in a wheelchair and found his predicament much too amusing for his liking. She obviously didn't mind his arrogance being taken down a notch, or two.