"I warned you we'd be thorough," Noelle said with a smile.
And with every passing hour, Brianna and Dimitrios grew closer. Whatever the interruptions during the day, they always made time to be together last thing at night. Walking the beach after dark, stolen kisses and touches that set her on fire, and hard-won restraint: these formed the foundation of their new understanding, the pattern of their renewal, even though every inch of her body screamed for the ultimate intimacy, the easing of a perpetual ache that only he could bring.
When they'd first met, she'd fallen in love with his cosmopolitan tastes, his sharp intelligence, his wit and charm. She'd been seduced by the deep, exotic purr of his voice, and his masculine beauty. By his passion and sensitivity.
This time she loved him for all that and more. For laying bare all the misunderstandings and lies that had come between them, and for taking the time to court her, just as he'd promised he would. Most of all, though, she loved him for the father he'd become.
He stole her heart with his gentleness with his little girl; with his patience and tenderness. She loved how his big hands cradled Poppy's little body; how he snuggled her against his shoulder. She loved his tone of voice, his face as he watched her sleep, his pain when she cried. Everything to do with his daughter made Brianna want to put her arms around him and give him comfort and support however she could. With her body, her heart, her soul, her life.
Somehow she resisted, knowing it was too soon. There was too much else going on and all of it so steeped in emotion that it was hard to separate sex from stress; empathy from love. She had to be cautious. He'd broken her heart once. She'd never survive his doing it a second time.
"You're going to wear yourself to a shadow worrying about the two of them, if you're not careful," Erika informed reprovingly.
But her words, Brianna noticed, lacked the bite of a week ago. "I can't help it, Erika," she replied. "They both mean too much to me. In any case, you worry, too. I know you do."
"Because I belong with them. But how long before you grow tired of the whole business and walk out, just like the other one did?"
"I'm not my sister, Erika, and I don't play fast and loose with other people's lives, especially not a child's. I love that little girl as if she were my own."
"Hmm," came the reply on a disparaging sniff. "Time will tell, I suppose."
The next morning, though, she scooped up the last hot breakfast scone and deposited it on Brianna's plate before Dimitrios could reach for it.
"I do believe you're winning her over," he remarked, sotto voce, as the housekeeper went to refill their coffee cups.
From the other side of the breakfast room, Erika said sharply, "I heard that!"
But there was no real sting in her tone. In fact, when she turned back to the table, the hint of a smile played over her mouth.
Moved by the small gesture of acceptance, Brianna realized that this was what real families were all about-affectionate teasing and loyalty and devotion and the willingness to give one another a chance. Why hadn't Cecily recognized the gift she'd been given, and grabbed hold of it with both hands?
Brianna knew why. Because her poor sister had never learned how to love unselfishly. She and Brianna had only ever known the fickle approval of a parent perennially dissatisfied with her lot in life. To their mother, they'd always been either a burden or the means to an end; something she could exploit to her own advantage. If the desired results didn't bring her the rewards she felt she deserved, her children paid the price. And Cecily had continued along the same path with Poppy, showering her with attention when it suited and ignoring her when it didn't.
Well, no more, Brianna decided, as she lay in bed that night. The destructive pattern of behavior ended here.
"I've made my decision, Dimitrios," she announced, the next morning. "About us. And if your offer to make me a permanent part of your life still stands, I'd very much like to see if we can make it work."
Chapter 7
He regarded her solemnly. "So soon? Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You've really thought it through?"
"I've really thought it through," she confirmed, somewhat disconcerted by his measured response. She'd expected a little more enthusiasm. Unbridled ecstasy, even. After all, picking up where they'd left off four years earlier had been his suggestion, not hers.
"In case I haven't made it clear," he said, holding her in his serous gaze, "I'm not looking for an affair. I want you as my wife."
As proposals went, this one left something to be desired, enough that she looked at him blankly, wondering if she hadn't heard him correctly. "Your what?"
"My wife, Brianna. As in Kyria Dimitrios Giannakis."
No mistaking it, this time. He couldn't have made himself any clearer if he'd had it emblazoned in gold on his forehead.
Elation fizzed through her veins, heady as champagne. Dimitrios, her husband? She'd buried that particular dream a long time ago, yet here it was, resurrected from the ashes. A modern-day miracle.
If something sounds too good to be true, Carter's voice whispered in her head, just as it had often enough in the past, take care, because it probably is. Look for the hidden agenda, Brianna. Don't be so ready to take everything at face value.
But she turned a deaf ear. He'd been referring to business; to the dog-eat-dog world of international modeling. This was different. This was about matters of the heart. About love and commitment. What for so long had seemed a hopeless fantasy had suddenly turned into a reality, and she wanted to jump up and dance with sheer happiness. She wanted Dimitrios to catch her in his arms and swing her off her feet and smother her in kisses.
Instead he remained seated, spelling out his terms with the uncompromising exactitude he no doubt brought to his corporate acquisitions.
Except … she wasn't a corporate acquisition. Was she?
Her skin prickled as if a cold wind had drafted up her spine. Reining in her initial uprush of delight, she said, "I wouldn't have it any other way, Dimitrios. I'm really not interested in being your live-in mistress."
"You'll be taking on a husband with a ready-made family, not to mention a new country and a whole new life that leaves no room for your celebrity career. I want more children, Brianna, and I expect my wife to be a hands-on mother."
"Well, just in case I haven't made it clear to you," she retorted, adopting an equally direct manner, "I consider being a wife and a mother far more of a career than walking the runways of Milan and Paris. But while you might not hold that world in very high regard, let me point out in its defense that it taught me a lot about dedication, patience, and self-discipline. As I see it, they're qualities which should meet your exacting standards at the same time that they stand me in very good stead as a wife and mother."
His beautiful, sexy mouth twitched. "Yes, ma'am! If I spoke out of turn, consider me well and truly chastised."
"Furthermore," she went on, really hitting her stride, "marriage is a contract between equals, not a favor conferred by one party on the other. Marrying you won't make me your chattel, Dimitrios, it'll make me your partner."
"I agree. I just want you to be sure you can live with my expectations. I settled for less than I wanted with Cecily. I won't settle again. One failed marriage is enough. I want you to be happy, Brianna, but-"
"There's no doubt in my mind that in becoming your wife and Poppy's mother, I'd be gaining far more than I'd be giving up," she said, torn between understanding and resentment. "Far more, in fact, than I ever dared dream about or hope for. I've only ever loved one man, Dimitrios, and that man is you. But if that's not enough to convince you that I know what I'm getting myself into, then perhaps you're the one who's not sure."
His dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh, I've never been more certain of anything my entire life. But I feel obligated to point out that I can be difficult. Some might even say high-handed."
"How about downright bossy, not to mention arrogant?"
"I'm Greek. It's the nature of the beast, at least in my case."
"I've noticed."
"You think you can handle me?"
"About as well as you can handle me, which is to say it'll be enough of a challenge that life will never be dull."
At that, he broke into a smile that took her breath away. His gaze softened. Grew dark with emotion. He pushed his chair back from the table so abruptly it crashed to the tiled floor. "Come here, woman," he ordered, his voice rich as molasses, and hauled her into his arms. "This bossy, arrogant Greek wants to kiss his bride."