Christmas Baby For The Greek (HQR Presents) Page 9

  “Everyone but you.”

  “Everyone including me,” she said softly, staring out her window at the snowy Alpine valley, with its picturesque, colorful chalets beneath sharp, brooding mountains. He watched her silently, hoping it was true.

  She believed that they were heading to Greece for one night, which they were. What she didn’t know was that, after their brief visit to his father’s villa, Stavros intended to take both her and the baby back to live in New York.

  He’d make her his wife. By any means necessary.

  When they arrived at the tiny airport, his driver opened the SUV’s door, then took their bags and folding stroller from the trunk. Holly carried the baby across the tarmac and up the air stairs to his new Gulfstream G650ER. As Stavros followed her, his gaze fell on the sweet curve of her backside in the snug black leggings, and he felt a flash of heat.

  Eleven months. That was how long he’d been without a woman.

  His night with Holly had been the most incredible sexual experience of his life.

  She’d ruined him for all other women.

  It was strange. He’d never thought of it in those terms. He’d assumed his lack of desire had been caused by radiation and chemotherapy treatments, while keeping up his workaholic schedule so no one would guess at his illness. Sex had been the last thing on his agenda.

  But from the moment Holly had answered the door of that snowy chalet, her cheeks rosy and her sweater and leggings showing off her perfect hourglass shape, the whole past year of pent-up desire had exploded inside him with a vengeance.

  Great, he thought resentfully. Now his libido chose to come alive? With the one woman on earth who seemed immune to him?

  Or was she?

  He looked at Holly, now sitting in an opposite chair inside the jet, as far away from him as possible, holding their baby in her lap.

  The flight attendant appeared. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Minos? Your usual Scotch?”

  Stavros’s gaze remained on Holly, tracing the curve of her neck, her red hair curling down her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts beneath her loose sweater. Was she nursing, or had her breasts always been that big?

  Holly looked up. “I’d like some sparkling water, please.”

  “Of course, madam. Sir?”

  As Stavros looked at Holly, their eyes locked. The air between them sizzled. Images went through him of last Christmas, when she’d been naked in his bed. The heat of her body sliding against his own, her soft cry joining his hoarse shout as their mutual desire exploded. He was hard as a rock.

  “Champagne,” he said. “It’s a celebration. A new start for us both.”

  Holly’s eyes widened, her cheeks turning pink. Quickly, she turned her head away.

  But it was too late. Because now he knew. In spite of her anger, in spite of her hatred, she was as sexually aware of him as he was of her.

  And he suddenly realized there were additional benefits to taking her as his wife. Reasons that had nothing to do with taking care of their child.

  He’d seduced her before. He would seduce her again. And this time, it would be forever.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SITTING IN A red convertible, as Stavros drove it down the coastal road clinging to the edge of the Aegean Sea, Holly looked out at the bright turquoise water. She felt the warm wind on her face. Felt Stavros’s every move beside her. It was like torture. Holly’s heart lifted to her throat.

  Why had she ever agreed to this?

  Guilt, she thought. Back in Switzerland, she’d convinced herself that however Stavros had betrayed her with his playboy ways and lying lips, her baby’s grandfather was blameless. Now, she cursed the good intentions that had led her to come to this small Greek island.

  Yes, she wanted Freddie to have a grandfather. Of course she did. She felt bad for the elderly man, who sounded like an honest, decent sort of person, to be stuck with such an obviously neglectful son as Stavros. He deserved to know he had a grandson.

  Her motives hadn’t been purely noble, it was true. Some part of her had hoped desperately, after Stavros spent a little time with their baby, he’d grow bored with the care of parenting a child, and decide to give up custody, and leave them alone.

  But being this close to Stavros was difficult. Holly threw him a troubled glance. Every time he’d tried to speak with her on the trip from Switzerland, she’d coldly cut him off. But her own feelings frightened her. The truth was, part of her still desired him. Part of her, a very foolish part, still held on to the dream of being a family.

  She’d never be that stupid again, she told herself fiercely. And they’d only be on this Greek island a single night before she returned to Switzerland. What damage could a single night do?

  Hearing her baby chortling happily in the convertible’s back seat, she looked back and shivered. One night could change everything.

  “Almost there,” Stavros murmured beside her, glancing at her sideways. She felt a flash of heat.

  “Is Greece always this warm in November?” she said in a strangled voice.

  “It is warmer than usual.” His sensual lips curved up on the edges, as if he knew exactly how his nearness was affecting her. He lazily turned the wheel with one hand, driving the luxury convertible down the twisting road with no effort at all. Her gaze lingered on his powerful forearms, laced with dark hair below his rolled-up sleeves.

  It was just the sun making her hot, she told herself. As it lowered toward the western horizon, she felt too warm in the sweater and leggings she’d worn from Switzerland. Her feet were roasting in their leather boots. “I didn’t pack any summer clothes.”

  “Don’t worry.” Stavros glanced at her, his eyes traveling over her. “It’s been arranged.”

  “You always arrange everything,” she sighed.

  “My assistant contacted my father’s housekeeper and let her know we were on the way. She will provide anything you or Freddie might need.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “Uh... Thanks. I guess.” She tried to smile. “What did your father say when he heard about the baby?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t tell him.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t spoken to my father for twenty years.”

  “Twenty—” Her jaw dropped. “Did you even tell him we were coming to visit?”

  Stavros’s hand tightened on the steering wheel as he drove the convertible swiftly around the thread of road clinging to the edge of the island’s cliffs. He said evenly, “My assistant told the housekeeper. I presume she let him know.”

  Holly was scandalized. “But it’s rude!”

  “Rude,” he growled. “What about—”

  Stavros cut himself off, staring stonily ahead at the sea.

  “What about what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s not like you to censor yourself.”

  “Forget it,” he said abruptly. “Ancient history.”

  But he stomped on the gas, driving the red convertible faster along the cliff road of this small island in the Aegean.

  Holly looked at him, from his tight shoulders to the grim set of his jaw. She said slowly, “Why haven’t you spoken to your—”

  Her voice cut off as they went past a grove of olive trees to a guarded gate. A white-haired guard approached the convertible, scowling. Then his eyes went wide. “Stavi?”

  “Vassilis,” he replied, smiling up at him. They spoke in Greek. Stavros indicated Holly and Freddie, mentioning their names. The guard replied, nearly jumping in his excitement, before he waved them through.

  “You know him?” Holly said as Stavros drove the car past the gate.

  “He was kind to me when I was young.” His voice seemed strained. He roared the convertible up the hill, finally parking in front of a grand villa, whitewashed and sprawling across the cliff, on the edge of t
he sea. With a deep breath, Stavros abruptly turned off the engine. He stared up at the villa.

  “Are you all right?” Holly asked.

  He seemed almost as if he dreaded what was ahead. Which Holly didn’t understand. What could there be to dread about a lavish villa on a Greek island paradise?

  Unless it was the same thing that had made Stavros not speak to his father in twenty years. Holly suddenly wondered what they were getting into.

  “Stavros,” she said slowly, “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Without looking at her, he got out of the car. Unlatching the baby seat in the back seat of the convertible, Holly followed with Freddie.

  They hadn’t even reached the imposing front door of the villa before it flew open, revealing a plump, white-haired woman. She cried out, clasping her hands over her heart. “Stavi!”

  Looking at her, his eyes went wide.

  “Eleni?” he whispered.

  Rushing forward, the petite, round woman threw her arms around him with a sob. She was much shorter than Stavros. Awkwardly, he patted her on the back. His expression was stricken. Holly couldn’t look away from the raw emotion on his usually stoic face.

  The white-haired woman spoke in rapid Greek, tears filling her eyes. He answered her slowly in the same language. She turned to the baby in Holly’s arms.

  Stavros said in English, “Holly, this is my father’s housekeeper, Eleni. She’s worked here since I was a child.” Reaching out, he stroked his baby’s soft dark head. “Eleni, this is my son, Freddie.”

  “Your son!” the housekeeper cried in accented English. She patted the baby’s plump cheek with tears in her eyes. Eleni turned to Holly. “You are Stavros’s wife?”

  “Uh, no,” Holly said awkwardly, shifting her baby’s weight on her hip. “I’m Holly, his...” His what? Baby mama? Cast-off lover? “His, um, friend.”

  “Friend?” the housekeeper repeated with a frown.

  Turning to Stavros, she said something sharply in Greek. Lips quirking, he answered her in the same language.

  The old woman looked mollified. As servants collected their luggage and moved the convertible into the nearby garage, the housekeeper turned to Holly with an innocent smile. “You must be tired from your journey, Miss Holly, you and the baby. Everything is ready. Won’t you come in, please?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Holly replied, throwing Stavros a confused glance as she followed them into the villa, cradling her baby in her arms.

  Stavros’s head tilted back as they walked through the foyer. “This place is smaller than I remember.”

  The housekeeper’s wrinkled face smiled. “It is not smaller. You are bigger.”

  Small? Holly’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she looked around her. It was like a palace! The foyer opened directly into a huge room with a breathtaking view of the sun lowering into the sea with streaks of orange and red. An elegant chandelier hung high above the priceless antique furniture and marble floor.

  Freddie gave a hungry whimper, and Eleni crooned, “Poor baby, you are tired. I will show you to your room.”

  Their room? As in, Holly and Stavros would be sharing one?

  No. Surely not. Holly had made it very clear to Stavros that she had no interest in spending time with him. Especially not time of an intimate nature!

  “Thank you, Eleni,” Stavros said. He lifted a dark eyebrow. “When can I convince you to move to New York?”

  “What would I do there? You live in a hotel!”

  “Anything. Or nothing.” He looked at her seriously. “You deserve to rest, after taking care of us when I was young. You were my mother’s only friend when she was here. At least accept a pension?”

  “Oh, no.” Blushing, the older woman ducked her head. “I won’t take charity.”

  “It’s not charity. It’s gratitude.”

  “No. I couldn’t. But thank you, Stavi. If you ever need a housekeeper, let me know. You’re a good boy.” She smiled at him, then turned as servants passed with their luggage. “Your room is this way, if you please.”

  As they followed the housekeeper down a long hallway, Holly whispered to Stavros, “What did you say to her earlier?”

  He frowned. “When?”

  Her cheeks went warm. “At the door when we arrived. When I said I was just your friend, she looked so upset. Until you said something to her in Greek.”

  “Oh.” His black eyes gleamed with amusement. “I told Eleni not to worry. I will marry you soon.”

  His words caused a jolt that nearly made her trip. Then she rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

  Stavros raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m joking?”

  He hadn’t lost his arrogance, that was for sure. “I’ll never marry you, Stavros. No way, no how.”

  He tilted his head with a crooked grin. “We’ll see.”

  Holly’s worst fears were confirmed when the housekeeper led them to a magnificent bedroom, with a balcony overlooking the sea. In the center of the room was a single enormous four-poster bed, and in the corner, a crib. Nearby, a changing table had been set up, with everything a baby could need. A rocking chair was placed by the windows.

  “Perfect, yes?” Eleni said, smiling.

  “It’s beautiful, but...” Holly bit her lip as she looked around. “Where will I sleep?”

  The housekeeper laughed, her eyes dancing. “I am not so old-fashioned as to believe you sleep in separate rooms.” Going to the enormous walk-in closet, she said to Stavros, “For your wife and baby.”

  Just hearing herself described as Stavros’s wife caused a frisson of emotion to dart through Holly. She stuck out her chin. “I’m not—”

  “Thank you, Eleni,” Stavros interrupted as he looked into the closet. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a stack of bills from his wallet. “Will this cover the cost of the clothes?”

  Eleni shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not necessary. Your father still owes you and your mother for what he never—”

  “No,” he said grimly. He gently placed the money in her hands. “You know I’d never take money from him.”

  “I know,” the woman agreed. She looked at the bills. “But this is too much.”

  “Keep it.” With a smile that didn’t meet his eyes, he said, “You made my life here endurable. For Mom, too.”

  Hearing the strained edge to his voice, Holly stared at him. His face looked almost...vulnerable.

  What had happened in his childhood? Why hadn’t he spoken to his father in twenty years?

  Not even the most gossipy secretaries in the New York office, the ones who kept track of Stavros’s every lavish date with starlets and models, had spoken about his childhood. Stavros’s American mother had died when he was a teenager. That was all they knew.

  Now Holly felt like there was some big secret. Some tragedy. She watched as the petite, elderly woman hugged him fiercely, tears in her eyes, saying something in Greek.

  Stavros stiffened, then shrugged, and said in English, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  “It is good of you to bring the baby here to meet him,” the housekeeper responded.

  “Is he here?”

  Eleni looked embarrassed. “Not yet. I did tell him about the baby. He knew you were coming.” Her cheeks went red. “He said he might be back for dinner, but he might not, depending...”

  “I remember how he was. With Mom.”

  The housekeeper looked sad, then squeezed his arm as she said softly, “Your mother was a good lady, Stavi. I was so sorry when I heard she died. I wish she could have lived to see all your success.”

  “Thank you.” His handsome face held no expression. He pulled his arm away. “There is no point in waiting for him. Perhaps we could have dinner on the terrace?”

  “Of course.” Eleni brightened. “Whenever you like.”<
br />
  Stavros looked at Holly. “Are you hungry?”

  As if on cue, her stomach growled noisily. She blushed as the others laughed. But dinner wasn’t what she was worried about. She bit her lip. “Er, about this bedroom—”

  “We’ll have dinner in an hour,” Stavros told the housekeeper, who nodded and left, still smiling.

  Holly turned on him. “Stavros, you can’t imagine we can share a bedroom!”

  Stavros tilted his head, a half smile on his lips. “Can’t I?” He glanced toward the baby, who’d started to fuss. “Freddie, what’s wrong?” He reached out for the baby. “Let me—”

  Instinctively, Holly moved the baby out of Stavros’s reach. “He’s tired.”

  He asked quietly, “I know I don’t have experience. But won’t you let me try to hold my son?”

  It was the first time he’d asked.

  “I’m sorry, it’s not a good time.” Holly’s cheeks went hot. She, who always prided herself on being kind, knew she was being a jerk. She was just protecting Freddie, she told herself. It was only a matter of time before Stavros realized he didn’t want to be a father. He would let them down. Why pretend otherwise? Why even let herself hope? “He’s hungry. I need to give him a bath, then feed him and get him ready for bed.”

  “Of course,” he said stiffly. Lowering his head, he tenderly kissed the baby’s head. “Good night, my son.”

  Guilt built inside her, all the way to her throat.

  He straightened, and said quietly to Holly, “Can you make your way to the terrace in an hour?”

  “It’s right outside that big room? By the foyer?”

  He gave a short nod.

  “I’ll find it.”

  “Until then.” With a small bow, he left. Holly looked after him, until the baby whimpered plaintively in her arms.

  Was she being unkind, insisting on believing the worst of Stavros? Was it possible he actually wished to be a loving father to Freddie?

  If he did, and Holly pushed him away from their son, then she would be the selfish one. Was she really protecting their baby? Or just wanting to punish Stavros, to make him suffer for the way he’d hurt her, by seducing and then abandoning her?