But he wouldn’t be there, and he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her.
He wouldn’t be able to protect her if things went wrong.
Which was why he’d brought her to Kamari.
What he needed to do was smash the desire. He had to control the attraction, and he could, if he just kept Elsa in his mind.
He’d crushed Elsa. He couldn’t do that to Georgia.
* * *
The next morning when Georgia woke, she was grateful she’d slept well, but she couldn’t quite smash the little anxious voice inside her, the one that kept reminding her of what she’d almost said last night at dinner.
My baby.
She’d caught herself in time, and didn’t think Nikos had noticed the slip, or her swift substitution, but she had, and it was eating at her.
This was a problem.
Why had she even thought the words? My baby...?
Where had that possessive pronoun come from? It had never been her baby... It wasn’t ever going to be her baby. She didn’t even like referring to the child as a he, preferring the impersonal “it” as a way of keeping distance...remaining detached.
Now she worried she wasn’t quite as detached as she’d imagined.
Determined to silence the nagging voice, Georgia pushed the button that alerted the staff that she was awake. When one of the housemaids appeared at her door, Georgia asked for a light breakfast so she could start studying.
A tray arrived fifteen minutes later filled with bowls and dishes—thick, creamy yogurt, sliced fruit, warm pastries and an impressive silver pot of coffee.
Georgia ate at the little table in her living room, and then she set the tray aside and grabbed her books. She studied at the table all morning, and then at noon took a break to go to the pool to swim. She had swum yesterday and had managed thirty laps. Today she wanted to see if she could do forty, hoping the extra exercise would quiet her anxiety. She was right to have been worried about being here on Kamari for the third trimester. It wasn’t going to be easy. She didn’t feel calm or secure.
Hoping it was just hormones, she retrieved her goggles and kickboard from the pool house and began her swim.
She was halfway through her laps and paused at the wall to catch her breath. As she lifted her swim goggles, she spotted Nikos diving in the other end of the pool.
She caught only a glimpse of his body before he disappeared into the water, but he was in amazing shape—well built and tan, with hard, cut muscles everywhere.
He swam underwater halfway down the pool to finally surface on his back. Nikos did a couple of easy strokes, showing impressive form, before flipping over onto his stomach to continue down the pool, toward her.
Georgia felt a flutter of nerves and quickly pulled her goggles into place and set off down her lane. It was a big pool, and the white lane line divided the length into sides. He wasn’t in her side, he’d taken the empty lane, but that didn’t calm her down. Even though there was plenty of room for both of them, she felt increasingly self-conscious, especially when she could see him pass on the other side, his big bronze body slicing through the water.
He was a very good swimmer, a very strong swimmer. Gradually Georgia found herself watching him instead of continuing with her own laps.
He’d only just gotten in but he’d already swum six laps, making quick progress with his dark head down, his stroke smooth and steady. He had that kind of kick that was powerful without creating lots of splashing.
Each time he reached the wall, he did a neat flip turn, pushing off the tiles to glide beneath the water, before surfacing midway down the pool to continue swimming to the end.
She was impressed. He had to have once been a competitive swimmer.
Intrigued, Georgia grabbed her kickboard and began kicking her way down the pool, keeping her chin tucked in the water to try to hide the fact that she was watching Nikos.
She liked that he wasn’t paying her any attention. She enjoyed just looking at him, studying his muscles and the way they bunched and tightened as he sliced through the water. From his tanned skin it was obvious he swam often, and he kept swimming for the next thirty minutes.
Georgia gave up, though. She found it too distracting to have him there. She was heading for the steps when Nikos suddenly appeared at her side.
“All done?” he asked.
She sat down quickly on the middle step, the warm water lapping at her shoulders, hiding her figure. She wasn’t usually prudish, but she felt almost naked in the suit, which was difficult when your body no longer felt like your body. Her breasts were so much fuller. Her belly was rounded. Every inch of her skin prickled, sensitive. “Yes.” She was nervous, and she didn’t even know why. “Do you swim daily?” she added, trying to fill the silence.
“I try to. I like that it’s something I can do year-round.”
“You’re good.”
“I’m calmer after a swim. I find it’s good to work off aggression and tension.”
She studied his profile. She was beginning to realize that he was always careful to present her with the side of his face that wasn’t scarred. That made her feel a pang of sorrow. He was so aware of how he looked to others, so aware that his scars must be unpleasant to others.
“Were you always...aggressive?” she asked, using his word, not sure if it was truly the right word for him. The more she got to know of him, the less aggressive she found him. He struck her as a man who was protective and prideful, but what man wasn’t?
“No.” He flashed white teeth. “I was quite shy as a boy. Painfully introverted.”
“What changed you?”
He opened his mouth to answer and then changed his mind, giving her a shrug instead.
“Something must have happened,” she persisted.
“I grew up. Became a man.”
She wanted to reach out and turn his face. She wanted to see the pink scars, see where they disappeared into his hairline, and how they changed the hairline, and how they curved over his ear. She suspected he wore his hair loose and long to hide as much of the scars as he could.
“If your son inherits your good looks, he will be very lucky,” she said with a smile.
Nikos frowned and looked at her quickly, his expression shuttered. “Is that a joke?”
She blinked in surprise. “No. You’re very, very good-looking, Nikos—”
“You are pulling my leg.”
“I’m not.”
“I know what I am.” His dark gaze met hers. “I know what you called me. Lykánthropos.” The edge of his mouth curled up. “That was a first, but it fits.”
“I don’t know what you just said.”
“Werewolf.” He was still smiling, but the smile hurt her. It was so hard and fierce and yet behind the smile she sensed a world of pain.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered, feeling a pang of guilt and shame. “It had nothing to do with your scars.”
“It’s okay. As I said, it fits.”
“That’s not why I said it.”
“I’ve heard worse—”
“Nikos.” She could barely say his name. Her heart hurt. “It wasn’t your face. It’s not the scars. It’s the way you were hanging on my door, filling the space up. Your energy was just so big, so physical. You are so physical...” Her voice faded as she could see he wasn’t even listening to her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now you know why I swim. I have a lot of energy. I’ve been told that I come across as very physical, and it’s unpleasant for others. I don’t want to be unpleasant for others. I wasn’t raised to make women uncomfortable.”
For a moment she couldn’t speak or breathe. Her eyes stung, hot and gritty. Her heart felt impossibly tender. Somehow everything had changed between them. Somehow she felt as though she were the aggressor and she was hunting him, chasing him with a pitchfork...
“I have a feeling you’ve been labeled unfairly,” she said when she was sure she could speak. “I don’t kno
w that you are as aggressive as you think you are. In fact, I would say you are more protective than aggressive.”
“That’s because you don’t know me well.”
“What do you do that is so aggressive?”
“I have a forceful personality.”
“This is true. But what specifically do you do that warrants the label? Do you yell...hit...punch...shake? Do you threaten women—”
“No! None of that. That is terrible.”
“So what do you do? Are you hostile towards people? Antagonistic?”