Not Elsa, he grimly corrected, moving forward to meet her.
His Elsa had been quiet and gentle, even a bit timid, while this leggy blonde crossed the tarmac as if she owned it. He met her halfway, determined to slow her down. “Careful,” he ground out.
Georgia lifted her head and looked at him, brows pulling. “Of what?” she countered, a hint of irritation in her voice.
From afar she was striking. Close, she was astonishingly pretty. Even prettier than Elsa, maybe, if such a thing was possible.
And for the second time he thought this was a critical error, bringing her here, now, when there was so much time left before the baby’s birth. Not because he was in danger of falling in love with his late wife’s ghost, but because his relationship with Elsa had never been easy, and her senseless death had filled him with guilt. He hoped the baby would ease some of the guilt. He hoped that becoming a father would force him to move forward and live. And feel.
Elsa wasn’t the only ghost in his life. He’d become one, too.
“You could trip and fall,” he said shortly, his deep voice rough even to his own ears. He didn’t speak much on Kamari. Not even to his staff. They knew their duties, and they did them without unnecessary conversation.
One of her winged eyebrows arched higher. She gave him a long, assessing look, sizing him up—inspecting, cataloging, making a dozen mental notes. “I wouldn’t do that,” she said after a moment. “I have excellent balance. I would have loved to be a gymnast, but I grew too tall.” She extended her hand to him. “But I appreciate your concern, Mr. Panos.”
He looked down at her hand for what would probably be considered too long to be polite. He’d never been overly concerned about manners and niceties before the fire, and now he simply didn’t care at all. He didn’t care about anything. That was the problem. But the Panoses couldn’t die out with him. Not just because the company needed an heir; he was the last Panos. It wasn’t right that he allowed his mistakes to end hundreds of years of a family lineage. Surely his family shouldn’t pay for who he was...what he’d done...
The baby would hopefully change that. The child would be the future. God knew he needed a future.
Taking her hand, his fingers engulfed hers, his grip firm, her skin warm against his. “Nikos,” he corrected.
Then he lifted his head and turned his jaw from her to give her a good look at the right side of his face, letting her see who he was now. What he was now.
A monster.
The Beast of Kamari.
He turned his head back the other way and met her gaze.
She looked straight back at him without a flicker of horror or fear. Nor did she reveal surprise. Instead her blue eyes, with their specks of gray and bits of silver, were wide and clear. He found it intriguing that she didn’t appear discomfited by the burns on his temple and cheek.
“Georgia,” she replied, giving his hand an equally firm shake.
Like the proverbial Georgia peach, he thought, releasing her hand. Her name suited her. Too well.
Despite the long hours flying, despite the pregnancy—or maybe because of it—she looked fresh, ripe, glowing with health and vitality.
Nikos, who hadn’t wanted anything or anyone for nearly five years, felt the stirring of curiosity, and the dull ache of desire. He hadn’t felt anything in so long that the stirring of his body was as surprising as the questions forming in his mind.
Was the attraction because she resembled Elsa, or was he intrigued because she seemed fearless when confronted by his scars?
Touching her hand, feeling her warmth, made something within him uncoil and reach out to her, wondering just who she was, wondering what she looked like naked, wondering what she would taste like if he put his mouth to her skin—
And just like that, after years of feeling nothing, and being nothing, and living as if numb or dead, he hardened, his body responding to her despite whatever else was happening in his head.
And yet this was what couldn’t happen. And this was why he lived on Kamari, away from people. It wasn’t to protect himself, but to protect others.
Nikos ruthlessly clamped down on the surge of desire, smashing it by reminding himself of what he’d done to Elsa, and what Elsa’s death had done to him.
But she wasn’t Elsa, wasn’t his wife. And even though she wasn’t a wife, he still wouldn’t take chances. She carried his son. Her health and well-being were essential for his son’s health and well-being. And so he’d take excellent care of the surrogate, but only because she was the surrogate. She was nothing to him beyond that. Just help...a hired womb...that was all.
All, he repeated, looking past her to his flight crew. He gestured, indicating that her luggage should be placed in the back of the restored 1961 military Land Rover. It was the best vehicle for Kamari’s rugged terrain, handling the steep twisting roads with ease. It was also his preferred vehicle since he could drive in summer without the soft top. In winter he kept the soft top up, but there were no windows. No glass to trap him.
He started for the vehicle, and then remembered the American’s ridiculous footwear. “Those shoes are not appropriate for Kamari,” he said curtly.
She gave him another long look and then shrugged. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said before setting off, heading toward the passenger side of his green Land Rover with her careless, leggy, athletic grace, the wind catching at her bright hair, making it shimmer and dance.
Definitely not Elsa, he thought.
Nothing about Elsa shimmered and danced. But she had once, hadn’t she? She’d been happy once...before she’d married him. Before she’d come to regret everything about her life with him...
Nikos smashed his hand into a tight fist, squeezing hard, fighting the past that haunted him always. He prayed the baby would mean new life...not just for the child but for him, too. He prayed that if he were a good father, he’d find peace. Redemption.
Or was it too late for that?
He forced his attention to Georgia. A footstool had been placed on the ground for her, making it easier for her to enter the lifted four-wheel drive vehicle, but she seemed amused by the stool, her full lips quirking as she stepped onto it and swung easily into the passenger seat.
He didn’t understand her smile. He didn’t understand such brazen confidence, either. She seemed to be throwing down the gauntlet. Challenging him.
He wasn’t sure he liked it. She’d only just arrived.
Fortunately he had his temper well in check. His pulse had quickened, but he was still in control. Once upon a time his temper had been legendary. But it was better now that he was older. He’d matured, thank God. He’d never really lost his temper with Elsa, but she’d been nervous around him. Skittish.
He shook his head, chasing away the memories. He didn’t want to think of Elsa now. Didn’t want to be haunted by the past any longer. It was why he’d hired the donor and surrogate. He was trying to move forward, trying to create a future where there hadn’t been one in far too long.
Climbing behind the steering wheel, he glanced at Georgia. She was fastening her seat belt and pale, gleaming hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back like a golden waterfall. Beautiful hair. Longer than Elsa’s had ever been.
Nikos felt a lance of appreciation, and then clamped down on the sensation, more than a little bit baffled by his attraction. He didn’t want to find Georgia Nielsen attractive. Didn’t want to find anything about her attractive. She was here as a surrogate...
A vessel.
A womb.
But his body had a mind of its own, and the heavy ache in his groin grew, his body tight with a testosterone-fueled tension that made him ruthless and restless. A tiger on the prowl. A beast out of the cage.
He didn’t like feeling this way. He didn’t like anything—or anyone—that tested him, challenging him, reminding him of his dark edges. He hadn’t known until he married Elsa that he had such a frightening personality. He hadn’t known until Elsa began hid
ing from him that he was such a beast...a monster...
Thirio.
Teras.
If he’d known who he was before he married, he wouldn’t have married. If he’d known he would destroy his beautiful wife with his temper, he would have remained a bachelor.
And yet he’d wanted children. He’d very much wanted to create a family. To have people of his own...
From the corner of his eye he saw Georgia cross one leg over the other, drawing his attention to her legs. The tunic hit high on her thigh and the boots stopped at her knee and her legs, in the gray tights, were slim and shapely.
“We’re about fifteen minutes from the house,” he said roughly, starting the engine, battling his thoughts, battling the desire that made him feel as if he had gasoline in his veins instead of blood.
“And town?” she asked, adjusting the belt across her lap.
His gaze followed, focusing on her waist. For the first time, he could see the gentle swell of her belly. She was most definitely pregnant. The cut of the cashmere tunic had just hidden the bump earlier.
The bump jolted him. His child. His son.
For a split second he couldn’t breathe. It was suddenly real. The life he’d made...his seed...her egg...
“Do you want to touch him?” she asked quietly.
He looked up into her face. Her cheeks were pale, and yet her gaze was direct, steady. “He’s moving around,” she added, lips curving faintly. “I think he’s saying hello.”
Nikos dropped his gaze to her hands resting at her side, and then back to the gentle curve of her belly.
“Isn’t it too soon for me to feel him moving?” he asked.
“It might have been a week or two ago, but not anymore.”
He stared at her bump for another moment, conflicted. He wanted to feel his son kick, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her, not wanting to feel the tautness of her belly or the warmth of her skin. She wasn’t supposed to matter in any way, and yet suddenly she wasn’t this vessel, this hired womb, but a stunning young woman carrying his son.
“Not right now,” he said, fingers curling around the stick shift, changing gears, driving forward. His gut was hard, tight. Air ached in his lungs. What had he done bringing this woman to him? How could he have thought this would be a good idea? “But it is good to know that he’s moving and seems healthy.”
“He’s very healthy. I trust you’ve been getting the reports and sonograms from my checkups?”
“Yes.” But he didn’t want to talk about the baby. He didn’t want to talk at all. She was here now so she didn’t have to fly late in the third trimester, but he hadn’t brought her to Kamari to create a friendship. There would be no relationship between them. He needed her to be safe, but beyond that he wanted nothing more to do with her, and the sooner she understood that, the better.