The Sarantos Baby Bargain

by Olivia Gates

  She’d known, from Aristedes’s background and from Andreas’s slight Greek accent, that he’d spent his formative years in Crete. She’d had no idea exactly when he’d come to the States. Now she knew. And that they’d been that destitute. That must have entailed endless difficulties and uncertainties.

  It was impossible to imagine Andreas as a boy, poor and powerless. But maybe that had been responsible for turning him into this self-contained, invulnerable entity.

  She suppressed a wave of sympathy with all she had, kept her distance as she prepared her part of the meal. He didn’t try to invade her space, either. He took no opportunity to brush against her or touch her, though as they moved around the kitchen, there were plenty of those. Every time one presented itself, she held her breath, every nerve ending in a rage of anticipation. But he took advantage of none.

  Even though his aloofness kept pushing her frustration higher, she was amazed at how easily and efficiently they worked together. It was as if they did this every day.

  When the meal was ready, he set the table while she fed Dora and Hannah cleaned up. They sat down in the kitchen, as he’d insisted on observing their everyday practices.

  Naomi sampled the salmon and was once again amazed. It was the best she’d ever had. His seasoning brought out the fish’s natural taste, and made her eager for the next bite of complex and incredible flavors. When she and Hannah said so, he merely accepted their praise, without a show of either pleasure or modesty. He knew he was good.

  He had to be superlative in everything, didn’t he?

  But what flabbergasted Naomi was that he was entertaining.

  Now that he was actually talking, and not only brooding and distilling his responses to absolute minimums, he was witty, sometimes even funny. The strangeness of the situation was the only thing that kept her from engaging him fully, from demonstrating the effect his wit and drollness had on her.

  At one point, as he related anecdotes about his early childhood, he said, “I barely saw my father, growing up, and I considered Aristedes an entity unto himself, whom I didn’t consider in the simple terms of a male or female role model. My brother Leonidas was still a work-in-progress at the time. Then one day I demanded a dress like my sisters. I felt discriminated against, wearing only shorts and pants. It was only then that my mother broke the news that I couldn’t wear a dress because I was a boy. You can’t imagine my shock at that disclosure.”

  Naomi couldn’t hold back anymore; she burst out laughing.

  For this overwhelmingly masculine man to be sitting here admitting he’d thought he was a girl, had been happy thinking it, and crestfallen when he’d found out the truth, was just...hilarious.

  He slanted her a long-suffering glance. “Go ahead and laugh. My sisters howled for days. And with every stage I passed through after that earthshaking revelation, their amusement escalated.”

  “What stages were those?” she spluttered.

  “The usual. Denial, then anger then bargaining...”

  She snorted. “Bargaining?”

  “I was certain there must be something that could be done to stop this condition in its tracks, or to reverse it.” At her renewed peals of laughter he sighed in mock despair. “You can laugh now, but I was grief-stricken. I felt so betrayed when I found out this condition was permanent.”

  Thankfully, for her. Or maybe not so thankfully. His overriding maleness had cost her six years, and would probably be the source of torment for the rest of her life.

  But even this thought couldn’t dampen her mirth right now. “You must have been very young.”

  “Six. It took me a year to accept my terrible fate.”

  After that, the conversation flowed, so spontaneously, so enjoyably. Hannah made few contributions, watching them with evident pleasure and keeping Dora entertained all through the meal.

  It felt so natural having him there, talking to him that way, that Naomi had to keep reminding herself this was indeed Andreas, the man who’d shut her out all through their relationship, who’d never showed her any of the ease and unaffectedness he offered so freely now. By the end of the meal, it was difficult to accept that her dinner companion and that other Andreas were one and the same man.

  Was this the real him? If so, what had kept this wonderful person locked up in ice all these years? What had happened now to thaw him out? It couldn’t be her, since she’d never succeeded in unleashing these facets of him before.

  But being exposed to said facets only caused her condition to worsen. She had to fight the urge to drag his hands to her burning cheeks or aching breasts, or to lean into him and rest her head on his chest. From the look in his eyes, she surmised that he saw it all—and chose not to respond with the merest touch or even an acknowledgment.

  After a brief lull as Hannah rose to fetch dessert, Naomi said, “I thought you left town.”

  This came out too much like an accusation for her liking.

  But the contrary emotions he wrung from her were tearing her in two opposite directions. She did want him to leave. For Dora’s sake. But when she’d thought he’d left without a word, after the night they’d had, the thought had been a hot poker in her middle.

  He thanked Hannah as she placed his crème brûlée in front of him, then said, “I’m here to stay...for a while.”

  Conscious of Hannah’s piqued attention, Naomi emptied her voice of expression. “For how long?”

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On when I’ll conclude the business I have here.”

  “What if you don’t, or can’t?”

  One formidable shoulder rose in an indolent shrug. “I’ll deal with the possibilities as they arise. My plans are fluid.”

  Just as her insides were, being this close to him.

  After that, she let him draw her back into their bantering, though it was more difficult to keep up her end, since thoughts of him leaving and her fluid-with-desire state had put a damper on her mood.

  Then they moved back to the family room for coffee.

  The cats rushed to climb on his lap as soon as he sat down, but Dora insisted on evicting and replacing them. Since they considered her the baby of the family, while they were old and wise felines, they moved on, in obvious displeasure. They didn’t go far, though, and sat flanking him again, grooming the fur messed by the tussle with Dora.

  Andreas let the baby explore him, not helping or hindering her. Soon she made it impossible for him to continue his conversation with Naomi, demanding his attention by grabbing for his phone, belt buckle and anything he held. She whined when he refused to bow to her will.

  He did that without a trace of irritation. Naomi wondered how, since Dora was being very irritating. Which was probably a good thing, she reasoned, since it would give him a taste of what it would be like if he took on responsibility for her, even if not as her main caretaker.

  But if he showed no irritation, neither did he exhibit any indulgence, not in the way he regarded Dora, not in his refusal to let her use him and his articles for her new take-apart or teething toys.

  At Dora’s latest antic, trying to find out if the silky bronze hair on his chest was attached, things took a turn for the confrontational.

  When he stopped her, if not gently, at least carefully, the baby’s lip curled downward.

  “You’re a demanding little tyke, aren’t you?”

  For good measure, Dora’s chin shook and her eyes filled with tears.

  “And a grade A manipulator, too.”

  Dora lunged again at his open shirt in pursuit of her interrupted experiment, making Naomi rush to take her away.

  Andreas raised a hand, staying her movement. Sitting back down, she itched to end this, since Dora began to sob with frustration as he held her chubby little hands at bay. Short of snat
ching her from him, and making this even worse, there was nothing Naomi could do but wait and see how he would handle it. She had no hope it would be in any way suited to a baby.

  With both of them ignoring her presence completely, they locked horns, Dora’s eyes indignant and swimming in tears of frustration, his contemplative yet unyielding.

  Then in a very quiet voice, as if he was whispering in confidence, he said, “Here’s how it will be, Dorothea. These are my hairs, and they stay on my chest. You don’t get to feel bad about not getting something you shouldn’t ask for. But I promise, when you want something you can have, I’ll let you have it. How about that?”

  And wonder of wonders, the willful, tearful expression on Dora’s face dissipated as he calmly discussed the situation with her as he would with an adult. Then, seeming to accept his nonnegotiable terms, she gave a yell of glee, as if she hadn’t been agitated a moment ago, and threw herself on the chest she’d been keen on attacking, and rubbed her face in it. Andreas made no attempt to hug her, as anyone else would have. Which didn’t deter Dora in the least. Moments later, she raised her head with a smile that Naomi could swear was deferential, then she scrambled off him and went about her business.

  Although the situation had been calmly resolved without her intervention, Naomi felt compelled to say something.

  “Sorry about that. She’s not usually so demanding. It must be the novelty of having someone other than Hannah and me around. And a man, at that.”

  His gaze acknowledged that the one man who’d been a constant presence in her life, Petros, had been taken from her when she’d been too young. She had either forgotten him or hadn’t really formed any memories of him.

  Andreas’s eyes grew thoughtful. “She doesn’t see any men?”

  “None like you.”

  He made no comment on that, her placing him in a category of his own, but his stare made Naomi’s every cell start to sizzle like popcorn.

  To break the tension she muttered, “I guess she was exploring her boundaries with you, since you’re a new and totally different person. She already knows her boundaries with us.”

  “Are you sure she has any? You and Hannah anticipate all her needs and whims. That’s the reason she’s undemanding. You leave her nothing to demand.”

  “Are you saying we’re overindulging her?”

  “Claws back into your paws, mother lioness. I’m not criticizing your upbringing methods, I’m observing. As someone new around here, I might be able to see what you can’t, because you’re too used to the dynamics in your family and too settled in its rules. But I do think there’s a definite risk of overindulgence here. If only from her growing up realizing she’s the center of your and Hannah’s universe.”

  “I’m sure you have a suggestion how to rectify this.”

  “None. It must be next to impossible to look at someone this size, someone so totally dependent on you, and be objective. Considering the situation, too, it’s understandable you’re trying to compensate her, and perhaps ending up overcompensating.”

  “So what you’re really saying is that I’m a bad mother.”

  She was expecting him to say “you’re not a mother at all” or something to that effect, but he again surprised her. “I have no idea what kind of mother you are, Naomi. I’ve been here a few hours and Dorothea spent those focusing on me. I had only fleeting impressions of your relationship—which could turn out to be totally off the mark on closer inspection. But I expect you’d be as efficient in this role as you are in everything else. I’m only wondering if your overachieving tendencies might not be best applied in this field.”

  “I’m an overachiever?”

  “You most definitely are, and that is something to be proud of. In your professional life. With Dorothea, on the other hand, it could lead to...”

  “...overindulging her.”

  “It’s likely, and it would be understandable. That said, if you say she’s undemanding in general, I’ll take your word for it. She did respond promptly to my refusal to indulge her whim, after all.”

  Naomi bit her tongue so she wouldn’t admit that it was his handling and influence that had resolved the situation so amicably, not the baby’s responsiveness.

  Still, she felt the urge to explain Dora’s character more. “She is overly inquisitive sometimes, but it’s not whims that make her demanding. She just gets very interested in things, in how they work, what they’re made of. Demanding brats often lose interest as soon as you give them what they fussed for. But once you give Dora what she asked for, she sits aside and examines it for hours. All her favorite toys are articles from around the house that she demanded, and she never lost interest in them. In fact, she keeps finding new uses for them, alone or together.”

  “Seems we have an inventor on our hands. But it’s too bad she got interested in things I couldn’t let her have. My phone and belt could have been negotiated, but my chest hair...that would have to remain taboo.”

  Naomi’s smile broke out, wiping away her defensive tension. Though he didn’t smile back, there was an unknown warmth in his eyes that felt better than any smile could have.

  Moments of silence ensued as Hannah came back from the kitchen and Dora and the cats came asking permission to climb over him again. With a nod of consent, he let them, sat back like a lion letting the kids of the pride have free range of his great body. Dora was now on her best behavior, imitating the cats in their sinuous grace as they showed him acceptance and affection with rubs and head butts. Andreas let them have their fill of exploring the body that was twice as big as the females they were used to, and must feel very different, too.

  In the middle of playing, on cue at eight, Dora curled over his chest and promptly fell asleep.

  Andreas sat there looking down at her as if he’d had a live grenade tossed in his lap.

  Naomi rose to take her, and his whisper, dark and hushed, stopped her in her tracks. “She looks exactly like Petros.”

  Swallowing the immediate lump in her throat, Naomi nodded. “Yeah, only with Nadine’s eyes.”

  He made no response, his gaze pinned on Dora’s peaceful face as she surrendered to slumber in the security of his presence.

  Long moments passed before he finally spoke. “If she’s anything like him on the inside, she’ll turn out to be an angel.”

  Her heart felt too full to make an answer, so Naomi merely reached for Dora. He made no move to help as she carried her away, nor offered to accompany her as she put her in bed.

  Once Naomi came back, Andreas turned his gaze from Hannah to her. “You must be tired, too. Hannah said you wake up early with Dora, and that makes your days even longer.”

  “I don’t know about Naomi, but that’s definitely it for me.” Hannah stood, stifling a yawn.

  Andreas rose to his feet at once, making Naomi blink.

  He’d never stood when she did, at least not out of gentlemanly politeness.

  But she hadn’t observed him around others much, certainly never with an older lady. Maybe it was his old-world Greek blood kicking in or something.

  He shook Hannah’s hand with what passed for warmth in his book, and again thanked her for her hospitality and for sharing her evening and kitchen with him.

  Hannah fairly swooned with delight as she assured him the pleasure had definitely been hers. She met Naomi’s eyes briefly as she rose to kiss her good-night. It was clear the woman thought Andreas was a god and that it would be Naomi’s phenomenal luck if he was interested in her. It was clear Hannah would do anything to facilitate that interest. Such as pretending to be unable to keep her eyes open so Andreas would have time alone with Naomi, if only minutes before he left.

  As soon as she’d disappeared, Naomi turned to Andreas.

  Having him alone for the first time tonight, she couldn’t wait anymore for all the
things she was dying to know.

  Why had he come? Why had he been this way all evening? What did he decide? And most important of all...what would he do now? Right this second?

  He strolled past the coffee table, approaching her. “Thank you for this evening, Naomi.”

  She stood rooted, waiting for him to reach her.

  He didn’t. He headed in the other direction, and was halfway out of the room when she realized he was leaving.

  Did he want her to run after him, ask him to stay? Was this to make up for when she’d told him to get out?

  Though he’d better not get used to it, she had no choice but to bow to his wishes now. He’d yet to tell her what he’d decided.

  Rushing after him, she caught up with him at the door.

  He turned after he opened it, and it felt like a reversal of those last moments in his suite. His gaze was at its most unfathomable as he looked at her. Her blood surged to every inch of skin nearest to him, seeking his touch, begging his assuagement.

  If he kissed her now, what would she do? Just let him, or meet him halfway?

  He only said, “Kalinychta, Naomi,” and walked out.

  Unable to believe he’d just said good-night and left, she staggered forward, gripping the door for support. Her aching eyes clung to him as he walked away, willing him to turn so she could show him she wanted him to come back, to carry her to bed and end this gnawing hunger.

  He just kept going, bypassed the elevator and headed for the stairwell. In seconds she heard his footfalls, sure and steady on the marble steps, receding until they were no more.

  With her heart clanging in her chest, she shakily closed the door and leaned on it, disbelief expanding inside her.

  He’d gone.

  But...had he really gone, or would he come back?

  If he didn’t tonight, when would he?