.

hand reached up and wrapped around his neck. In that moment, he lost his fingertip-hold on reality. Popi leaned into him. Her lips moved over his, taking the lead in this arousing dance. She was so hot that everywhere she touched him, he felt singed. And he didn’t want her to stop.

      He’d kept to himself for too long. He told himself that was why her kiss was sweeter than the passion fruit Moscato wine being passed around the wedding. He assured himself it was all an illusion that would soon pass. But the longer they kissed, the more he craved her.

      Apollo let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her waist. Her baby bump kept him from being able to pull her as close as he would like. It was a reminder that this wasn’t a fantasy. Popi was very much flesh and blood.

      He should stop this. He should put some distance between them. He took a small step back—at least he thought it was a step—but Popi was still leaning into him as their lips moved hungrily over each other.

      Her fingers spread out over his chest, scattering his thoughts of ending things. The V-neck of his shirt allowed her fingertips to touch his bare skin. It was as though just by her touch alone, she branded him as her own.

      No woman, no kiss, had ever affected him so deeply. It was like they’d been made for each other. She was the half that made him whole.

      A drum roll echoed through the garden and pounded reality back into his head. He pulled back and looked at her. It took them each a moment to catch their breath. He hadn’t come here to kiss Popi. His fingers moved over his mouth, still remembering the softness of her touch. He drew in an uneven breath.

      Kissing her had been a mistake. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to talk to her—to look at her—without recalling that earth-moving kiss. And he couldn’t afford to be distracted. There was too much at stake.

      He stepped away. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

      Popi’s gaze darkened. “The song has ended. Now I want answers. Who are you?”

      “Do you really not recognize me?”

      “No.” She studied his face. “Why should I know you? Are you famous?”

      “In a manner of speaking.” He’d been fodder for the tabloids off and on his whole life. Billionaire heir spotted here...spotted there. “I’m Apollo Drakos.”

      Her mouth gaped. Her eyes reflected the rampant thoughts racing through her mind. It took her a moment to press her glossy lips together.

      Popi’s gaze narrowed. “Where have you been? We tried to reach you right after the accident, but no one knew what had happened to you.”

      “It doesn’t matter—”

      “Of course it matters.” Her voice assumed an accusatory tone. “You should have been here.”

      His muscles tensed as yet another person heaped guilt on him. He deserved the condemnation and accusations, but there was nothing she could say that he hadn’t already said to himself.

      “I’m here now.”

      “Then you know about the accident and that we had the funeral—”

      “I know all of it. My attorney filled me in.”

      Her gaze searched his. “Then what are you doing here on the island?”

      “I’m here to claim the Drakos heir.”

       CHAPTER FIVE

      NO. THAT CAN’T be true.

      Popi’s arms immediately wrapped around her midsection. She’d heard rumors about the man standing before her. Apollo was known to be reckless and selfish. No way was he going to steal away into the night with this baby. Not on her watch. But try as she might, the rush of words clogged up in her throat. The back of her eyes stung with tears of frustration and a flurry of hormones.

      Popi’s sister, Andrina, had said Apollo was a playboy—taking what he wanted and leaving a string of broken hearts across the globe. But Popi considered herself lucky. He’d stolen a kiss, not her heart.

      Okay, maybe they’d shared much more than a fleeting kiss. But something had clicked between them when they’d been chest to heaving chest, lip to eager lip.

      Maybe she’d let herself sympathize with the pain that had been reflected in his eyes. Maybe her own grief had her acting out of character. Whatever had her lip-dancing with him, it had nothing whatsoever to do with her heart.

      She knew Mr. Globetrotter over there lived off his very large trust fund. He never put down roots anywhere. From all Popi had gathered, she had been certain he wouldn’t want to complicate his carefree life with a baby.

      And with her own parents getting older, they weren’t up to the day-to-day care of a baby. That left her to raise her sister’s child. And that’s why she’d spoke with an attorney to get the adoption started.

      “This surely can’t come as a surprise,” he said.

      Her brows drew together in confusion. “You mean you showing up on the island unwanted and uninvited? Or did you mean you trying to charm me with your smooth words and kiss—”

      “I wasn’t trying to charm you. We both got caught up with the music and the dancing. It wasn’t all one way.” His pointed gaze met hers. When she opened her mouth to deny the accusation, he continued. “Don’t bother. Remember I was on the other end of that kiss.”

      Wordlessly, she pressed her lips together. Perhaps it was best to pretend that kiss hadn’t happened—for both of their sakes.

      Though the music of the reception floated in the background, Popi was no longer in the mood to laugh and smile. Yes, she would have to go back to the party and put on a happy face, but not before she set a few things straight.

      “You’ve wasted your time coming here,” she said. “When this baby is born, I’m not going to allow you to walk away with it.” Not a chance. She’d heard way too many stories about this guy, who acts first and thinks later. The baby wouldn’t be safe with him.

      He pressed his hands to this trim waist. “You can’t stop me. I’m its uncle.”

      “I’m the aunt.”

      They stood quietly, glaring back and forth. Each waited for the other to back down. He’d be waiting a very long time, because she was never going to back down. This baby was too important.

      From the stories she’d heard of Apollo, he had been a wild child. And as an adult, he did and said what he wanted without care to others. So why had he grown quiet? Why not say what he really thought? That she wasn’t deserving of raising his niece or nephew, because secretly she had her own reservations. The guilt over her sister’s death continued to eat at her.

      Popi shoved aside the troubling thoughts. “You have some nerve coming here months after your brother and sister-in-law’s deaths and throwing around demands. Where were you for the funeral?”

      Apollo glanced down at the ground. She’d hit a nerve. Perhaps he wasn’t as self-centered as her sister had let on. Perhaps there was a bit more to Apollo. But not enough to just turn the baby over to him. That wasn’t going to happen, even if this man turned out to be a saint, which she knew he wasn’t.

      When her sister had first approached her about being a surrogate, Popi had outright rejected the idea. She’d thought she was too young to go through everything involved with pregnancy—not to mention the associated pain.

      She’d told Andrina to find another way. Looking back, Popi felt so bad about giving her sister such a hard time. At the time, she hadn’t known about her sister’s repeated miscarriages that had devastated both Andrina and Nile. Her sister had held it all in, not wanting her family to know that she felt like a failure as a mother and wife. But when the