The clouds had been gathering during the morning and by the time they boarded the boat at noon the sky was gray, the clouds ominously low.
“I am wishing I’d requested the yacht,” Nikos said, taking Georgia’s hand to steady her as she stepped into the low, sleek speedboat. “But maybe we’ll beat the storm.”
She’d had such a great day and a half on Amorgós, had loved her night with Nikos, enjoying every moment of their trip until they’d sat down in that café on the harbor.
Now it was hard to get the villagers’ cold stares out of her head. Nikos’s explanation didn’t help, as she sensed there were pieces missing from the story. She wanted to ask more questions but didn’t think this was the time. “I’m not worried about getting wet,” she said, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s just rain.”
“You might feel different when we’re flying at high speed across the water.”
The storm broke while they were halfway between Amorgós and Kamari, and there were a few drops and then the skies just parted and the rain came down hard, and the wind whipped at them. The rain was cold and fell in heavy wet sheets, pelting them. On the speedboat there was nowhere to go, and so the rain drenched them, water streaming from Georgia’s sweater when it could hold no more.
Nikos had offered his jacket when the first raindrops fell, but she’d refused. Now he simply overrode her protest and peeled off his coat, wrapping it around her slim shoulders and buttoning it over her chest.
“Nikos, I’m fine,” she laughed, pushing wet hair back from her face.
“You’re not. You’re chilled through,” he said. He reached out to touch her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Your skin is cold.”
“I’m not that cold.”
“You’ll get sick.”
“We’ll be back soon.”
“Not soon enough,” he said, drawing her into his arms and holding her securely against him. “Not taking chances.”
“You never do,” she answered as he shifted his hold, one of his arms circling her shoulders to keep her upright, while the other moved below the hem of his coat to clasp her waist.
She had been cold, but his body was warm, penetrating her damp clothes. She loved the feel of his hand on her waist, too. The intimacy of the touch wasn’t lost on her. From the beginning Nikos had been protective, and on Amorgós he’d remained close, always watchful, always there to lend a hand as she stood up or navigated a steep set of stairs, making her feel safe, desired.
It had been a long time since anyone was there for her. She’d grown accustomed to taking care of herself, taking care of others, and it was a novelty to have Nikos want to care for her.
Nikos’s hand at her waist was sliding down to her hip, and she sucked in air, eyes half closing, trying to ignore the faint shudder of pleasure.
“I knew you were freezing,” he said, his mouth near her ear, his warm breath stirring her senses.
She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to worry, that she wasn’t cold, just sensitive, her body still humming with emotion and sensation from their night of lovemaking.
The speedboat hit a wave and lifted. Nikos’s arm tightened around her, holding her steady.
Just then the baby kicked. Nikos’s head dipped. “I felt that,” he said.
Georgia’s heart turned over. A lump filled her throat. She put her hand over his, trying to control the panic rolling through her.
How was this going to work?
How was she going to do this?
How was she going to just get on a plane and leave Nikos and the baby?
* * *
Back on Kamari, Nikos disappeared into his room to shower and change and work, and Georgia did the same, except after her hot shower she couldn’t seem to settle down enough to focus on her books.
She sat on the couch and stared off into space, her attention drawn now and then to the window, where the rain drummed against the glass.
She had to study. The exam was important. Her future was important. Her goals hadn’t changed. Her priorities were still the same. Weren’t they?
But as the rain pounded on the roof and the wind howled outside, tugging at the old wood shutters, she found herself unable to see herself back in Atlanta.
She couldn’t imagine returning to school as if none of this had ever happened.
Uneasy with the future, unable to answer any of the questions eating away at her, Georgia forced herself to read. She would study. She had to study. Right now preparing for the test was the only thing she could control.
* * *
That evening they met for drinks in the library since the rain hadn’t let up. Nikos had laid a fire and the room was toasty warm.
He’d seated Georgia in one of the oversize wing chairs flanking the fire, and he took the other. The steady drumming of the rain was almost like music. Nikos couldn’t remember when he last felt so comfortable.
He was content.
It had been a good trip to Amorgós. It had been time well spent.
Georgia was studying the fire, and he used the opportunity to study her.
She was so beautiful. So uniquely Georgia Nielsen. Fierce and frustrating, provocative and strong, and ultimately breathtakingly wonderful.
He remembered tracing her face in bed, lightly running his fingertip over her stunning face, following the elegant arc of her winged brows, and then down her straight fine nose, over the generous softness of her full lips.
“You are so incredibly pretty.”
He didn’t even realize he’d said the words aloud until she turned and looked at him, those lovely, tempting lips curving up in a smile.
“I have a feeling blue-eyed blondes are your type,” she said, her voice warm with amusement.
He frowned. “Why did you say that?”
“You were very specific in your quest for a donor. Height, weight, hair color, eye color, ethnic makeup.”
“I also wanted healthy, educated, intelligent—”
“Blonde.” But her lips still curved. “But I’m not shocked. Men have types. Your type just happens to be slender blondes from Scandinavia.”
“No, my type just happens to be you. The world is full of blondes, but there is only one you.”
They ended up eating dinner in the library and then it was just a short walk to his room.
Georgia felt Nikos’s impatience as he shut the door behind him, locking it.
“I’ve never been in here,” she said, looking around. His room was simple with a large elegant bed, low handsome nightstands and a stunning glass chandelier overhead. “It looks Venetian,” she said.
“It is. I have a weakness for Venetian design.”
“Maybe you have some Venetian in your blood.”
He reached for her, drawing her to him. “I know I have you in my blood.” He lifted her face to his, kissing her lightly, his lips brushing over hers, teasing, making her sigh and arch into him.
“Kiss me,” she urged, sliding a hand into the thick, glossy hair at his nape and giving it a little tug. “Make me feel good.”
That was all it took for the simmering heat to ignite.
Nikos deepened the kiss, his lips parting hers even as his hand slid down her back, to the dip in her spine. He pressed her there, urging her closer. She loved the feel of his hand in the small