Christmas Baby For The Greek
“It doesn’t have to change for you...”
“You’re wrong,” he said simply. Reaching out, he took her hand across the table. “I want us to be a family.”
He heard her breath catch. Her hand was suddenly trembling. Nervously, she tried to pull it away, turning toward the villa. “I should check on the baby...”
“Eleni will listen for him.” He was close, so close, to achieving his objective. Leaning forward, holding her hand, he urged, “Give me a chance.”
Silence fell. Then she said in a small voice, “It would take time for me to trust you again.”
Joy rushed through him. “Whatever time you need—”
“I want separate bedrooms tonight.”
Silence fell.
Separate bedrooms? That was not at all what he wanted. What he wanted was to make love to her tonight. Right now. But since he’d just promised her time, what else could he do?
“Very well,” he said stiffly.
Exhaling, Holly looked out at the sea. “It’s beautiful here. Like a dream.” She tried to smile. “The white puffs of cloud look like ships in the moonlight.”
Stavros watched her. “I like the joy you take in life. Most people forget that when they leave their childhoods behind. If they ever even knew.”
She snorted, her expression incredulous. “You think I’m a child?”
“Far from it,” he said quietly. “You’re the most intensely desirable woman I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes widened. Then her lips curled in a brief, humorless smile. She clearly didn’t believe a word. “That’s quite the compliment, considering how many you’ve known.”
“None hold a candle to you.” He looked at her across the table. “There’s been no other woman for me, Holly. Not since we were together.”
She blinked, then slowly looked at him. “What?”
“I don’t want anyone else,” he said simply.
For a moment, their eyes locked in the moonlight. He saw yearning in her lovely face. Then, as if on cue, the lights in the villa’s windows behind them went dark, and she seemed to catch herself. Biting her lip, she rose with an awkward laugh. “It’s late. I should go to bed.”
Polishing off his glass of wine, he rose to his feet. “Of course.”
“Should we bring in the plates?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“I don’t want someone else cleaning up my mess.” Picking up her plate and glass, she paused. “What about your father’s plate?”
“Leave it.” He added with irony, “He doesn’t have your same concerns.”
Stavros picked up his own plate and glass, and the bottle of wine. As they walked back across the terrace, he felt the chill of the deepening night. A cool sea breeze blew against his skin. He looked up at the sprawling white villa.
Getting her into bed was going to take longer than he’d thought. And marrying her would be even longer.
But he didn’t know how much more of his past he could share with her. Every small story was like pulling his soul through a meat slicer. He would have far preferred to seduce her.
But he’d seen the change in her. He saw it now, as they took the dishes back to the enormous, modern kitchen. The anger in her eyes when she looked at him had changed to bewilderment, even wistfulness. His plan was working.
So he’d just have to endure it.
Stavros walked her back to their large guest bedroom. Passing her without a word, he quickly grabbed his leather overnight bag. He paused only to look down at his baby, sleeping in the crib. He didn’t touch him, out of fear he might wake.