Kostas's Convenient Bride: Kostas's Convenient Bride / Desert Prince's Stolen Bride. Кейт Хьюит

started pouring onto the deck, filling the chairs around them, and even if Kayla had been inclined to answer Andreas, which she was not, there was no way it was happening now. He realized it too.

      She gave a pointed look to his hands on her shoulders and he released her, his reluctance clear.

      That look of frustrated endeavor on his face would have been humorous under any other circumstances. Some answers Andreas Kostas would just have to learn to tolerate going without.

      They all had lessons to learn in life and he’d taught her one of the most painful.

      Sometimes, you had to give up on dreams. Full stop.

      Despite its tense beginnings, Kayla ended up enjoying the cruise very much. She snapped picture after picture on her smartphone as they approached the Statue of Liberty.

      “You’re going to run your battery out taking all those photos,” Andreas teased.

      She turned to him, unable to suppress a delighted grin. “Tell me this doesn’t touch even that stone-cold heart of yours. Your mother immigrated to the US.”

      “Not via Ellis Island.” But there was an expression on his face that said he was more moved than he wanted to acknowledge.

      “Coming to America was a big deal for your mom, wasn’t it?”

      Andreas shrugged. “She had no life for her back in Greece. Her lover had paid her off, expecting her to get an abortion, something her faith would never allow her to do. Her entire family had rejected her.”

      “Because she was pregnant with you?”

      “Because Barnabas Georgas was their livelihood and she was an embarrassment to him.”

      “That sucks.” But Kayla knew firsthand that parents didn’t always put their children’s interests first.

      Andreas gave a bark of a laugh. “That is succinctly put, Miss Jones.”

      She smiled, a blush warming her skin. She loved making this man laugh. It did not happen often.

      Andreas’s brilliant green gaze sizzled across her skin. “You are so beautiful when you do that.”

      “What?” she asked, feeling like somehow the oxygen had gone missing from the fresh sea air around them.

      “Blush. It’s lovely against your café au lait skin.”

      “That’s a pretty way of saying mutt.”

      Andreas went rigid, his emerald eyes snapping with unexpected fire, his jaw hewn from granite. “What did you just call yourself?”

      “I didn’t call myself anything.” She rolled her eyes. “Stop pretending you don’t know what I mean. I’m not all pure Greek like you. My mom was some kind of mix of white whatever and my dad was clearly at least part black, or where did these lovely kinky curls come from?”

      “That makes you typically American. Not a mutt.” Oh, his voice was serious, each word pronounced with exaggerated care.

      “Right. Whatever, Andreas.”

      His hand came up to cup the back of her neck, his other landed on her thigh, warm and heavy. “Not whatever, you will never use such a derogatory term in reference to yourself again.”

      “I bet it’s exactly how Genevieve would describe me.”

      “If she ever made the mistake of doing so, not only would I fire her but I would make sure every businessman of my considerable acquaintance knew not to engage her services.”

      “Yikes, dial it back a notch, Andreas. She didn’t say anything.” Despite how the other woman clearly looked down on her.

      “You are my friend, Kayla.”

      “The way you’re holding me feels like more than friendship, Andreas.” Kayla’s heart was running way too fast, her breath coming in short little bursts.

      If he didn’t move away from her, she was going to make a fool of herself and do something spectacularly stupid. Like kiss him or something.

      “It does, does it not?” Instead of moving away, he leaned closer.

      The announcer said something about the statue and a flurry of photography went off around them, but Kayla could not make herself look away from Andreas. The expression in his eyes was one she’d seen many times before, but not for six years. She was afraid to trust her own eyes now. What if she was seeing what she had wanted to see for so long? What she’d absolutely given up on altogether not an hour past?

      What if that look wasn’t what she thought it was at all?

      But she was no virginal teenager. She knew this feeling well.

      The tension surrounding them had nothing to do with being right in front of the Statue of Liberty for the first time. It had everything to do with his lips being mere inches from hers, his torso being so close, she could feel the heat of his body.

      “What will this feel like, I wonder?” he asked.

      Then his lips covered hers before she could ask what he meant. And for the first time in six years, Kayla felt at home. Safe. Connected. Andreas’s mouth moved against hers and Kayla kissed him back, shock giving way before the absolute rightness of the feeling of his lips against hers. Andreas kissed her deeply, his hand on the back of her neck holding her in her in place for his mouth to plunder hers, to stamp determined possession, the hand on her thigh moving up to her waist and around to her back until she was completely surrounded by her former lover.

      The sound of clapping, wolf whistles and laughter finally broke them apart. Only then did Kayla realize what a spectacle they’d made of themselves and that the cruise boat was treading water in front of the statue for the tourists to take pictures. Many of whom were way more interested in her and Andreas.

      The blush that burned her cheeks this time was hot and uncomfortable, prickling all over her body. Andreas, the jerk, just laughed, looking for all the world like he got caught kissing in public places like this all the time. Which she knew was not the case. Not even close.

      She glared up at him. “Fix this.”

      “What do you want me to do?”

      “Make them stop staring and saying those things.”

      “It is okay, Kayla. We were doing nothing wrong.”

      “We were kissing like a couple of teenagers.”

      “I’d forgotten how much I enjoy kissing you.”

      “I know.”

      “You sound annoyed by that fact.”

      “I’m not the one who decided we made better friends than lovers. Oh, darn it.” She looked around frantically, hoping no one had overheard what she’d just said.

      No such hope. There were way too many people avidly interested in her and Andreas, hanging on their every word.

      She bit her lip and stared up at him. “This is so embarrassing.”

      “Being my lover is embarrassing?” he asked, sounding offended.

      She was going to beat him, she really was. “We aren’t, not anymore.” She wasn’t saying that word again. Grown woman or not. Thank you very much.

      His look was way too speculative for her liking, but all he said was “I think you’d better get your pictures if you plan to get any.”

      “You expect me to take pictures after that?” Her hands were shaking.

      He smiled that brilliant smile he shared so rarely with others and pulled his own smartphone out, then proceeded to take several snaps of the statue, making sure she was in the foreground of a couple of them. He even did a selfie shot with them both. It was surreal and Kayla wasn’t sure what was going on.

      When the captain started