Christmas Baby For The Greek

“Yes, different. I’ve watched you. You’re warm and loving and kind. And so damned beautiful,” he whispered, running a hand through her long red hair. His gaze dropped to her low-cut red dress. “And so sexy you’d make any man lose his mind.”

Sexy? Her?

He cupped her cheek, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her lips, with butterfly kisses. Drawing back, he looked at her. “You’re the only one I want.”

Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her again until she forgot all her insecurity and doubts, until she forgot her own name.

When he released her, she was still lost in the heat of his embrace. Lifting his phone to his ear, he said unsteadily, “Pick me up on Central Park South.”

“You’re leaving?” she whispered, oddly crestfallen.

“I’m taking you home.”

“You don’t need to take me home. I have my MetroCard. I can—”

“Not your home.” His eyes burned through her. “To mine.”

The thought of going home with him, of what that could mean, caused her to shiver as images of unimaginable delights filled her mind. Her breathing quickened. “Why?”

His sensual lips quirked at the edges. “Why?”

“I mean...do you need something typed, or...?”

“Is that all you think you are?”

She blushed beneath his gaze. She bit her lip, then forced herself to respond. “You want to seduce me...?”

“How clearly must I say it?” he said huskily. He cupped her cheek, searching her gaze. “I want you, Holly. In my bed.” He ran his hand through her hair as he whispered, “In my life.”

And those three last words were the most shocking of all.

She stared at him. Once, she’d thought that working all hours and having a secret crush on her boss was the most she could expect out of life. Even earlier today, as she’d watched Oliver marry her little sister, Holly had been sure her future would be one of self-sacrifice, self-abnegation, caring for others, trying to ignore her own loneliness and misery.

Now, in Stavros’s arms, wrapped in his tuxedo jacket, looking up at the handsome Greek billionaire’s hungry black eyes, she felt like she’d suddenly traded a small black-and-white dream for a big Technicolor one.

His hand tightened on her shoulder. “Unless you still think you’re in love with Oliver.”

Holly took a deep breath, then slowly shook her head. In all her years working for Oliver, she’d seen only what she wanted to see: his boyish good looks, his cheerful, sly charm. She’d deliberately chosen to be blind to the rest: the laziness, the constant womanizing. “You were right,” she said quietly. “It was just a ridiculous dream.”

Stavros exhaled. “Then come home with me tonight.”

“I can’t...” Her heart was pounding. “I’ve never done anything like that.”

“You’ve played by the rules for your whole life. So have I.” His jaw tensed with an anger she didn’t understand as he looked up toward the moon, icy and crystalline in the frozen black sky. “The tycoon’s playbook. Dating models whose names I can barely remember now. Working twenty hours a day to build a fortune, and for what? To buy another Ferrari?” His lips twisted bitterly. “What has my life even been for?”

Holly stared at him, shocked that Stavros would allow himself to appear so vulnerable in front of anyone. It threw her into confusion. She’d thought of him as her all-knowing and powerful boss. But now, she realized, he was also just a man. With a beating heart, like hers.

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Gently, she put her hand over his. “You’ve created jobs all over the world. You’ve built amazing tech that—”

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

“It matters a lot...”

“Not to me.”

She took a deep breath. “Then what does?”

“This,” he said simply, and lowered his lips to hers.