The Greek's Pregnant Lover

It was covered with a cotton spread in eggshell-white, decorated with intricate stitching a single shade darker. Gauze curtains draped the bed, the large picture window and the French doors leading out onto the second-story balcony that wrapped around the house. The armoire, dresser and matching bedside tables were heavy wooden pieces, stained dark. It was easy to tell that this had been a man’s room, but she still liked it. A lot.

Taking in the gorgeous view, she skimmed off the royalblue shortwaisted jacket she’d donned over a paler blue sheath dress that morning. She tossed it over the back of one of the twin oversized armchairs. They faced a large stone fireplace that was laid for a fire.

Interesting. If the weather leant itself toward doing so, she would want to talk to Jean-René about incorporating fireplaces in the main areas of the resort at least.

“Pardon me, but do you speak English?” she asked the maid, who was now sliding their cases under the huge bed and out of the way.

“Yes.”

“Great, because my Greek is nonexistent.”

The young woman smiled. “You are American, yes?”

“Yes. I took Spanish in school.” It was the only language she knew she would find at any high school, no matter where her father had been stationed, so she could take it for the full four years. “Will it get cold enough in the evenings to light the fire?”

“Some, yes. Not so cold, but the fire, it is cozy.”

“I see.” Piper smiled. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Mr. Nikos give instructions for us to share a room?”

do not know. On Monday, the housekeeper, she tell me to ready the room for Kyrie

take pains to hide their sexual relationship, but he was not usually so blatant in a work setting. Before his revelations over dinner

her confusion about the man

to his children. He had also made it clear he did not anticipate ever entering into a permanent relationship with her. All bets were off

assertion he was nothing like his parents hadn’t been necessary for her to realize Zephyr Nikos would insist

just wasn’t sure what she wanted

on a cushioned wrought-iron lounger on the terrace outside their

vague. “No.

like a

“Not this time.”

not the answer he wanted,

house? I don’t think so. Mansion more like. How many bedrooms does this place

them large suites like

you tell this is the master?”

“How did you tell?”