A Baby On The Greek's Doorstep (Mills & Boon Modern) (Innocent Christmas Brides, Book 1)

by Lynne Graham

  ‘I have to go back to work tomorrow.’

  ‘Give me that trip to Greece and you’ll never have to work again,’ Tor murmured sibilantly. ‘Seriously, the world will become your oyster.’

  Breathless, Pixie whispered, ‘And Jordan?’

  ‘He gets therapy and a new start, but he has to be in the mindset to change, otherwise, I warn you, you’re wasting your time,’ he warned her flatly.

  ‘I want him to have that chance...’

  ‘Marry me and we’ll be a family,’ Tor told her.

  And it was the perfect promise because Pixie longed to be part of a family again more than she wanted anything else. Jordan’s deception had hit her hard and, while she still regarded her brother as family, he was now somewhere on the outside of that charmed circle until he could prove himself decent again.

  ‘OK... I’ll go to Greece with you for a visit and I’ll apply for unpaid leave from my job. I don’t want to just give it up. I like working,’ she admitted, while scarcely able to credit that she was willing to take that leap of faith into the unknown with him.

  But her world and its boundaries had changed irrevocably, she acknowledged ruefully. She could no longer trust Jordan because, clearly, he was addicted to gambling. He had stolen her inheritance from her, frittered away her hard-earned cash, destroyed her trust. Even if Jordan recovered, it could be years before she could have faith in him again because addiction was a slippery slope and he would always be fighting temptation. And Jordan had put both her and Alfie at risk. Tor, at the very least, was keen to put Alfie’s best interests first, and that Tor was keen to introduce their son to his family impressed her. He could’ve kept Alfie as a dark little secret and visited him discreetly and nobody would ever have known that the little boy existed.

  Instead, Tor had chosen to be open and honest with his relatives and he was making room for his son everywhere in his life. Only, what did that mean for her? Not marriage, she couldn’t marry a man simply because he had got her pregnant, could she? But everything in her once stable world was shifting, she conceded apprehensively, and it was happening so fast that it left her breathless.

  ‘You and Alfie will need new clothes. It’s much warmer out there,’ Tor completed. ‘A shopping trip is on the cards.’

  But Pixie was still thinking over his insistence that she consider marrying him. She had noticed that he had finally removed his wedding ring but naturally she hadn’t said anything about it. ‘Why do you want me to consider marrying you?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘Two parents would be better than one for Alfie. I want him to have my name and my family, to become part of that support system. I want to be fully involved in his upbringing, not standing on the sidelines. Without taking him away from you, I want to share him,’ he delineated tautly. ‘But that’s all for him and me. For us—well, we’d be a work in progress but we’d be a family and the attraction between us is strong.’

  ‘I would need love.’

  ‘I have to be honest. I don’t think I could do love again.’

  ‘Because you’re scared,’ Pixie breathed in a softer tone of understanding.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with fear,’ Tor asserted between gritted teeth of repudiation, insulted by that interpretation of his natural reservations. ‘I grew up with Katerina. She was my first love. I was young, naïve and idealistic. I’m not that boy any more. I’m a man and my expectations of a woman are much more practical and prosaic. You have abilities that I respect and value. Loyalty to your brother, in spite of the fact that he’s let you down badly. You have compassion for the weak because, make no mistake, Jordan is weaker than you and in trying to help him you could be setting yourself up for a world of hurt and disappointment.’

  ‘I’m willing to take that chance and, even though some of what you’ve said makes sense, I’d want more than practicality in marriage. I’d want passion.’

  ‘I can give you passion,’ Tor told her boldly, shimmering eyes welded to hers, and all the oxygen in the car suddenly seemed to be sucked up. ‘I can give you as much passion as you can handle.’

  ‘Passion and love from a guy who’s willing to take a risk on me.’

  ‘Successful bankers estimate the risks they take in advance and without emotion getting involved.’

  Pixie nodded in acceptance and sighed. ‘I’m not a cold person.’

  ‘No, you’re not...and my family are not cold either. For Alfie’s sake, I’m glad you are the way you are, but that doesn’t change the fact that you and I are very different. We would only work as a couple if you could accept those differences.’

  ‘I’d always be wanting more,’ Pixie told him, wondering why her eyes were prickling and stinging, why she suddenly felt all worked up about a perfectly innocent and unthreatening conversation. Aside of that sexual sizzle between them, they didn’t suit and that was that—better by far to see and accept that now than try to fight it. So, Katerina had been his first love, his only love, which was probably why her treachery had been so massively damaging. After all, if he couldn’t trust the girl he had grown up with, who could he trust?

  ‘I have every hope that you’ll change your mind,’ Tor murmured. ‘Should I have lied and said that I could give you what you want?’

  ‘You can’t fake emotion. I’d have seen through you.’

  ‘Most people can’t read me.’

  ‘I saw you at your lowest. You have certain tells,’ she told him gently, thinking of his body language that night when Alfie had been conceived: the haunted dark eyes, his lean, restless hands shifting with the grace and eloquence that were so much a part of him, the emotion that seethed inside him, the emotion that he denied and suppressed.

  Tor elevated a fine ebony brow. ‘We’re definitely going to have to discuss the tells.’

  Emerging from that disturbing recollection of their first meeting, Pixie went pink, trembling a little as that unavoidable flood of physical awareness shifted like melted honey down deep inside her, warming her from the inside out as she pressed her thighs together and stiffened defensively. She wanted to slap herself for even those few moments of remembrance, for an indulgence she no longer allowed herself. To maintain boundaries, she too needed to put that intimate past knowledge of Tor behind her.

  ‘No, we’re not arguing about this any longer...you are not buying me clothes!’ Pixie told Tor heatedly. ‘You can pay for Alfie’s clothes, but not mine.’

  ‘Have you any idea how much money I must owe you in terms of child support?’ Tor enquired calmly.

  And it was precisely that calm and lack of embarrassment that riled Pixie. She didn’t want to discuss money with Tor. She didn’t want to admit that she was pretty much broke because she’d never had sufficient cash to manage to save. Paying what she had believed to be her share of the mortgage and buying food every month had cleaned her out and reduced her wardrobe to ‘must-have’ slender proportions.

  She had forgotten what it felt like to buy something just because she liked it or fancied something new because, nine times out of ten, Alfie had needed something more. And now Tor was trying to hand her credit cards, open accounts for her, put her in the hands of some fancy stylist so that she could do him proud in Greece, and it was all too much for her to handle. Registering that she was on the brink of silly tears because he wasn’t listening to her, Pixie pushed her trembling hands down on the arms of her chair and stood up.

  ‘I can’t listen to any more of this... I’m out,’ she said thinly, and walked out of the dining room.

  Tor released his breath in a groan and drained his wine glass, pushing away the plate in front of him because his appetite had died. For long minutes he sat and pondered his dilemma. How was she planning to buy clothes without money? Why was she so resistant to his financial help when it came to her personal needs? Had he ever even heard of a woman refusing a new wardrobe before?

 
When the table was being cleared, and after he had politely refused his housekeeper’s suggestion that she make something else for him to eat, Tor vaulted upright and followed Pixie upstairs. There was nothing more frustrating than someone who walked away from a dispute, he registered in frustration, although he could not recall ever having an argument with a woman before the night on which Katerina had died. He and Katerina had never argued prior to that, had had no differences of opinion, minor or major. In essence they had not talked that much. Maybe those had been revealing signs of an unhealthy or, at the very least, boring relationship, he conceded grimly. How did he know? He hadn’t had a single relationship since then and if he had ever had any skills in that field, they had to be distinctly rusty.

  He knocked on her bedroom door and scowled. That was another problem: the whole ‘separate bedrooms’ thing was tying him up in knots. Why did she make such a big deal of sex? Sex was physical, not a pursuit anyone needed to imbue with magical properties or meaning. Was it because the only time she had indulged in sex she had ended up pregnant? Or could she simply be resistant to his advances because that one-off experience with him had been lousy? That drunk, how considerate could he have been? Tor clenched his teeth together and wondered if he could bring himself to ask. He knocked again. He needed to know, he needed details. He recalled sufficiently to be aware that he had enjoyed himself thoroughly, but that did not mean that his partner had also enjoyed the experience.

  ‘What?’ Pixie demanded aggressively as she flung the door wide on him. Dragged out of the shower by the knocking on the door, she was in a thoroughly bad mood.

  There she was, not even five feet tall and barefoot and wrapped in a stupid towel, which covered her delectable curves from neck to toe. Why did his housekeeper buy such huge towels in his household? Tor wondered absently. And why did the angry fire of challenge in Pixie’s bright blue eyes turn him on?

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘No, we don’t,’ Pixie argued, trying to close the door on him.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Tor decreed, stalking over the threshold, automatically gathering her up into his arms, a warm, struggling, fragrant bundle of damp femininity that fiercely aroused him. He was shocked by that reaction as he carefully laid her back down on the bed. ‘You explain to me now why you won’t allow me to buy you clothes when you need them...’

  ‘Where’s your furry loincloth? You’re behaving like a guy who just walked out of a Stone Age cave!’ Pixie snapped back at him.

  ‘I need to understand the problem before I can fix it,’ Tor breathed in a raw undertone.

  ‘I don’t need you to fix everything in my life,’ Pixie muttered. ‘I mean, you’ve already spent a fortune trying to sort out Jordan. Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘That was our agreement and I haven’t spent a fortune. You wouldn’t let me buy the house for him.’

  ‘No, because that would have cost too much and Jordan needs to rebuild his life somewhere new,’ Pixie reasoned. ‘He has to become self-sufficient again and he shouldn’t be rewarded for what he’s done. You don’t need all of us hanging on your sleeve like scroungers.’

  Tor gave up the ghost and groaned out loud in frustration, sinking down on the edge of the bed and raking impatient fingers through his cropped black hair. ‘Why would you think for one moment that I would look on the mother of my child as a scrounger? Have I done or said anything to give you that impression?’

  ‘Well, no,’ she conceded grudgingly. ‘But it’s how I feel... Why is the clothes thing so important to you?’

  ‘I want you to feel comfortable with my family and friends. I don’t want you to feel inappropriately dressed or out of place.’

  ‘Are you afraid my appearance is going to embarrass you?’ she whispered, thinking that if she flew out with her well-worn winter wardrobe there was a good chance that it would, and that there was an even stronger chance that she might be mistaken for one of the cleaners that came into the town house to clean several times a week. And that would definitely embarrass everybody, not just her. He was winning the argument, she thought ruefully—he was winning without even trying.

  Tor closed a large hand over hers. ‘Nothing you could do would embarrass me. I’m thinking of your comfort, your ability to relax.’

  ‘Maybe it would help if you told me about where you’re taking me.’

  ‘An island called Milnos. I bought it a few years ago. The property I built is large enough to house my family when they come to visit. They live on Corfu. One of my brothers, Kristo, is still at school. Dimitri is at university and the eldest, Nikolaos, works for my father in his shipping company.’

  ‘No sisters?’

  ‘None. And so far I’m the only son who has married. Sofia was my parents’ first grandchild and her death hit my family as hard as it hit me,’ Tor confided tautly, trying to ignore the small fingers gently smoothing over his thigh in a gesture that he knew was intended to offer comfort but which was, instead, travelling straight to his groin and winding him up. ‘That’s why I want them to meet Alfie. My family are overdue for a glimpse of a brighter future.’

  ‘Yes, I’m pretty sure you haven’t been a bundle of laughs to be around,’ Pixie mumbled, and then flushed at having made that tactless comment. ‘Sorry—’

  Tor grinned down at her, relishing the flushed triangle of her animated face beneath the tousled curls. ‘You could be right... I’ve been all about work and nothing else for a long time, but I’m lighter-hearted around you...when we’re not arguing, of course.’

  ‘OK. I’ll see the stylist and pick clothes,’ Pixie muttered with a slight grimace. ‘But I’d much prefer not to have to let you pay.’

  Tor stared down at her, dark golden eyes unashamedly hungry. ‘Do you think you could include some sexy underthings in the selection?’ he murmured thickly.

  Her cheeks burned. ‘What would be the point?’

  ‘My imagination thrives on fuel,’ Tor husked, bending down slowly.

  Her fingers skimmed up from his wide shoulders into his luxuriant black hair. He smelt amazing to her, fresh and earthy and male, a faint hint of citrus fruit in his designer cologne, that scent achingly familiar to her, achingly evocative. It was the same cologne he had worn that night. Her brain was telling her with increasing urgency to push him away, to sit up, to stop touching him, but her body was rebelling against common sense with Tor that close. She could feel the heat of his big body through the towel she was wrapped in, the stinging sensation of her nipples snapping taut, the warm damp ache making her feel hollow between her thighs. Every nerve ending was sitting up and taking screaming notice. It was like a wave of physical insanity taking her over.

  ‘I like your fingers on me,’ Tor muttered raggedly as he lowered his mouth to hers, let those sensual lips play across hers in a wildly arousing fashion that brought her out in a fever of awareness and damp heat. ‘I’d like them all over me, your mouth as well—’

  ‘We said we weren’t doing this.’

  ‘You said. I didn’t make any promises,’ Tor said urgently against her parted lips before his tongue delved between, and suddenly speech of any kind was beyond her. And she was bargaining shamelessly with herself: a few kisses. Where was the harm in that? And he was such an amazing kisser, it would be foolish to deny herself the experience.

  Her hand slid off his thigh over his crotch, tracing the hard thrust of his erection, and he shuddered against her, his mouth hotter and harder than ever on hers, and she wanted nothing so much as for him to whip off the towel, lay her back and sate the unbearable longing as he had once before. She wanted him and he wanted her, no denying that. But when it went wrong, she thought frantically, Alfie would be caught up in the fallout and her relationship with Tor would become fatally toxic. Having sex with Tor again would come with a price tag attached and a series of risks. One or both of them would ultimately be disappointed and that would lead
to discord.

  ‘We can’t do this,’ she groaned against the urgency of his mouth.

  ‘I can do this fine,’ Tor contradicted.

  And discomfiture washed over her because she had encouraged him, given him expectations, and she didn’t like to be provocative. ‘You shouldn’t touch me,’ she told him.

  ‘You shouldn’t touch me either.’

  Her face burned so hot she was afraid that she would spontaneously combust. ‘I’m acting like a tease and that’s not me.’

  ‘No, you need time to decide what you want and I’m not giving you space the way I promised because you’re too damn tempting,’ Tor growled, setting her back from him, scorching golden eyes smouldering over her discomfited face. ‘I’m just naturally impatient and assertive when I want something. You need to push back hard to handle me when I get too enthusiastic.’

  ‘But how does that work when I’m enthusiastic too?’

  ‘You marry me,’ Tor said simply.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘NOT WITHOUT LOVE,’ Pixie protested.

  ‘I’ve got lust covered,’ Tor said almost insouciantly as he reclined back on her bed, completely unashamed of the arousal tenting his tailored trousers. ‘I’ve got lust in spades.’

  And Pixie thought about it in that moment—seriously thought about marrying a man because she couldn’t keep her hands off him—until all her common sense stood up and screamed at her to get her brain back in gear.

  ‘We need more,’ she told him heavily.

  ‘We’ve got Alfie, and Alfie will benefit from having an equal share of both of us. Two parents together, united.’

  ‘You’re still hung up on Katerina.’

  ‘No. I’ve taken the ring off. That’s behind me. I can’t promise love because that’s an emotional state and I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling like that again,’ Tor told her frankly. ‘But I can tell you that I’ll be faithful and trustworthy and secure.’