The Love Islands Collection. Jane Porter

Nikos, are putty in my hands.”

      “A gross exaggeration.” But he was smiling and she felt her heart turn over because when he looked at her like that, she felt as if she’d somehow won the lottery.

      * * *

      Georgia was right, he thought later, as they sat in the back of the small taxi that he’d hired to take them all over the island. She’d gotten under his skin and was working some kind of magic on him, and God help him, he liked it. Liked her.

      She made him feel things he didn’t think he’d ever feel again, and he loved her smiles and her laughter and how she seemed to radiate sunshine even on a gray, windy day.

      And while he enjoyed looking at her, he enjoyed talking with her even more. She was intelligent and witty and not afraid to stand up to him. Maybe he loved that most. She wasn’t scared of him and didn’t run away when he was impatient or frustrated. She held her own. She even pushed back, teaching him manners.

      The corner of his mouth lifted.

      She noticed. “You’re smiling,” she said, slipping her hand into his in the back of the taxi.

      He glanced down at their hands and how she’d so naturally linked them. “What are you doing?”

      “Pretending you’re my boyfriend.”

      “Why?”

      “It’s fun.”

      “We’re here to get distance.”

      “Kind of hard when we’re smashed together in a car the size of a sardine can.”

      He grinned ruefully. She had a point. It was refreshing. She was refreshing. She made him feel young and hopeful, as if he were but a boy with his whole life ahead of him. “You enjoyed lunch, though?”

      They’d explored the north end of the island during the morning, stopping at Tholaria and then Lagada, where they’d had a light meal, and were now heading south again, approaching the monastery outside of Chora, Amorgós’s principal town.

      “Very much so!”

      He told her they were on the way to Hozoviotissa Monastery, and he mentioned that there was a dress code, but she was fine in her long, slim skirt and lace-trimmed peasant-style blouse, which she’d topped with a cropped delicate cashmere sweater that revealed her bump.

      “In summer there are crowds,” he added as the taxi pulled over to the side of the parking lot to let them out. “But we are lucky that it is relatively quiet today.”

      It was a long, steep climb up dazzling white steps. “Is it a museum now?” she asked as they began the climb to the church.

      “No. It is still a monastery, but the monks are quite welcoming. They do have rules about visitors—no short skirts, bare midriffs or shorts on men—but we’re dressed appropriately and I trust you know how to behave in a church, so we shouldn’t have a problem.”

      They ended up spending an hour in the church and adjoining rooms. Nikos could tell from Georgia’s rapt expression that she very much enjoyed the visit. The interior of the church was quite austere but there was a calm inside that was profoundly sacred.

      Georgia knelt at one of the rails and prayed.

      Nikos stood back, wanting to give her space, and yet also determined to keep an eye on her.

      Later, as they left the church, she was quiet and somber.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked.

      “Nothing. I was just thinking of my family.”

      They were descending the stairs, and they were taking their time as the stairs down felt even steeper than the climb up. “Did you say a prayer for them?” he asked.

      “Yes. I always do. But I also said a prayer for you.”

      “And what did you ask for?”

      “Just that God will take care of you, and the baby.” She drew a breath and blinked. “He will, too. You just have to trust him.”

      Nikos shot her a swift glance, but her expression was serene and she was focusing on the steps.

      Halfway down she paused to glance back at the tall white face of the monastery built against the cliff. “I love places like that,” she said. “They always remind me of my parents.”

      “Because they were missionaries?”

      “They loved their faith and their work. And they loved each other. They were happy.”

      “But when they died, they left you and your sister penniless.”

      She shrugged. “Money doesn’t make people happy. It just pays for things.”

      His brow furrowed. “And what will make you happy, agapi mou?”

      “Doing something meaningful with my life.”

      “Like being a doctor?”

      She nodded. “And loving my family. That will make me happy.”

      They reached the taxi, and Nikos opened the back passenger door for her, but Georgia hesitated. “Do we have to get back in the car?” she asked. “Can we just walk for a bit?”

      “Chora is not far. We were going to visit the town and then head back to the harbor. Did you want to walk there?”

      “How long would it take?”

      “Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”

      “Let’s do it. It feels good to stretch our legs. I think I was getting a little carsick on the way from Lagada.”

      Nikos spoke to the taxi driver, but the driver shook his head and pointed to his watch. Nikos shrugged and pulled out his wallet, handing over a number of bills.

      “He had to take his mother to the doctor,” Nikos explained. “But he said there are always drivers at the tavern. It shouldn’t be a problem getting a ride back to Katapola.”

      “You’re not worried about having to find a driver?”

      “No. And I agree—it’s good to be out. It’s a nice day. You can feel spring in the air.”

      They set off, and Georgia tucked her hand through his arm. “I feel like I’m finally in Greece.”

      “I’m glad you’re happy,” he said, and he meant it.

      “Let’s stay overnight here. Let’s not go back.”

      “We have to.”

      “Why? You’re the boss. You make the rules.”

      He’d never seen her like this, not in the nearly two weeks she’d spent on Kamari. All day she’d seemed lighter...warmer and happier. She’d been thoughtful when they’d left the church, but she’d brightened again as they talked. “But we’re only an hour from home,” he said. “Too close not to go home.”

      “But that’s what makes it fun. We’re having a mini-holiday...and now we can make it a bigger adventure.”

      “And where would we stay?”

      “I’m sure there are plenty of hotels—”

      “It’s off-season. Most would be closed—”

      “I bet we can find one that’s open.”

      “And if we did, you’d be disappointed. They are not going to be luxurious. The rooms would be small and simple. Quite Spartan compared to anything you’d find at a resort.”

      “Or like your house?” she teased.

      “Or like my house,” he agreed.

      “You just don’t want to stay.”

      “I prefer the comfort of my bed,” he agreed.