Название | For the Greek Tycoon's Pleasure |
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Автор произведения | Lucy Gordon |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | Mills & Boon By Request |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781472044747 |
He came to stand beside her, close but not touching. “It is mesmerizing. The sunset will be spectacular.”
“Will we be able to watch it?”
“If that is your desire.”
“You’ve been very indulgent with me this trip.” Though since sharing his past with her, he had maintained a distance even his charm could not hide. Their discovery this morning had not altered that distance, despite other small changes in his behavior.
“You deserve a little spoiling.”
“I won’t complain about you thinking so.”
“Good.” He shifted beside her and she could feel his regard transferring to her from the view. “Speaking of being spoiled, do you want to attend the opening week with me?”
“I have no doubt you’ll be here for the grand opening, but I sincerely doubt it will be for the rest and relaxation the resort is going to offer.”
“I will make sure you are still pampered,” he assured her.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” he asked, not following.
“Don’t you think you could do with a bit of pampering?”
“I will avail myself of the spa services.”
“To check their quality standard, I bet.”
“So?”
“So, you’re something of a workaholic,” she clarified.
“As are you.”
“I love my business.” But she wasn’t really a workaholic. Once her business was established, she had every intention of cutting back her hours to make room for other things. “I never intended it to be everything in my life.”
“Then why do you consider the prospect of parenting the dissolution of your dreams?”
Shocked at his interpretation of her earlier words, she jerked in startlement. “I didn’t mean my business.”
He didn’t look like he believed her. “What did you mean, then?”
“It’s not something I want to discuss right now.” Really. Truly. It would do neither of them any good to hash over her old dream of building a life with a man who loved her, and the more recently acknowledged dream of having Zephyr be that loving man.
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got a chance, a masculine voice from behind them said, “You’ve arrived. Finally.”
They both turned to face an attractive black man.
Zephyr stepped forward with his hand out. “Ah, Jean-René. Good to see you.”
He turned back to Piper. “Pethi mou, this is our architect, Jean-René Tilieu. Jean-René, this is Piper Madison, our designer.”
Jean-René’s smile was white-white and full of charm as he bent over Piper’s extended hand, rather than shaking it. “An exceptional pleasure, mademoiselle.”
“Merci. I’m really looking forward to working with you. I find your work both inspiring and impressive.”
“Ah, you know the way to a man’s heart is flattery, non?”
Zephyr stepped forward and put his arm around Piper’s waist. “Piper does not flatter, she always speaks the truth.”
Jean-René gave them a speculative look and then met her eyes, his expression serious. “Then I am doubly honored by your praise, mademoiselle.”
“Piper, please.”
“That is an interesting name, n’est-ce pas?”
“I was named for one of my father’s mentors in the army,” she informed him.
Zephyr looked down at her. “You never told me that.”
“It’s a bit embarrassing, to be named after a grizzled army master sergeant who chewed tobacco and shot pistols with equal enthusiasm.”
“Piper is a feminine name, though, non? This master sergeant who chewed tobacco is a woman?” Jean-René asked.
Piper laughed. “No, Pipes is his nickname and I never asked how he got it.”
“That’s probably best,” Zephyr said, humor lacing his tone.
She smiled up at him. “That’s what I thought.”
“Two great minds.” Jean-René flashed that brilliant smile again. “Clearly this project is in sympathetic hands.”
“Without a doubt. I’ve studied your work in depth and I’ve worked on enough developments with Zephyr to know that our approaches are going to dovetail nicely.” Her only concern, and it was not strong, was how the Greek contractor would be to work with as he was a complete unknown to her.
“Très bien. Do you wish to discuss initial thoughts over dinner, or wait until tomorrow?” he asked Zephyr.
Zephyr turned his head so his and Piper’s gazes met. “What do you think?”
Why was he asking her? Maybe this was about watching the sunset. “Is the dining room on this side of the house?”
“No, but we can eat in here,” Zephyr replied.
“Mais oui, the view of the setting sun is magnifique. I saw the most glorious rays yesterday evening when I arrived.”
“Then it is settled.” She stepped away from both men and headed toward the stairs. “I’m happy to jump right in, as I’m sure you are both eager to do. Which room is mine?”
“I had the housekeeper put us in the master suite.” This time Zephyr did not ask her opinion and his expression dared her to disagree.
Like she was going to argue. She enjoyed sleeping with him. “I’ll see you upstairs, then.”
She went in search of the master suite, assuming it wouldn’t be difficult to find and she was right. The fact that she found a maid inside unpacking their cases was almost as big a clue as the giant four-poster bed that would have looked silly anywhere but a master bedroom.
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 royal-blue 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