Mollie Molay - My Big Fake Green-Card Wedding

Because you are a woman in an established society, a small pragmatic voice answered. In a traditional country like Greece, unmarried women were still expected to be guided by their fathers. Especially in her home village of Nafplion.

Not me! Melina vowed as she made for the elevator. Somewhere, somehow, she would find a way to keep her independence and to live out her heart’s desire. At least for a few years.

“Ah, Melina, there you are! I was just coming back to get you.” Eleni pushed her way through the open door. “Hurry, the elevator will leave without you.”

“There’s always another elevator.” Melina laughed as she squeezed in alongside her friend. “What’s so special about this one?”

“Trust me.” Eleni wiggled her way to the back of the elevator and pulled Melina with her. “This one is our elevator.”

“I’m starving.” Arianna wiggled and grumbled beside her. “It’s so crowded in here, I can hardly breathe.”

Pushed back against a solid, masculine body, Melina quickly realized she was almost skin to skin with the man who stood behind her. “Excuse me,” she murmured, and tried to give him space. It didn’t work. What was working, to her dismay, was the effect of the man’s pungent shaving lotion. The scent, combined with the pressure of his firm chest against her back, brought her hormones to attention. The sound of his deep, raspy voice in her ear didn’t help her to think too rationally, either.

Wondering if the intimate contact was having the same effect on him, she belatedly realized that he was speaking with an American accent. Ignoring her faint apology, he continued his conversation with the other man who also shared their space.

“My ex called this morning to inform me she intends to remarry next week.”

“Congratulations!” a Greek-accented voice answered. “Just think of all the money in alimony you’ll save.”

“That’s not the point, Peter,” the American went on. “Jeanette made it clear she expects me to come home to take care of little Jamie while she’s on her honeymoon.”

“That is understandable, my friend. After all, Jamie is your daughter.”

“Of course. I’m nuts about Jamie,” the American agreed. “It’s not just the short notice, I don’t know how to take care of a little girl on a daily basis.”

Melina felt like an eavesdropper as the very masculine and warm chest behind her heaved a deep sigh. “The problem is, I have to travel on business a great deal,” the American went on. “I’m going to have to look for both a housekeeper and a nanny when I get back to the States.”

“Why spend money for two women when one would do?”

“One?” There was a pause. “I’m not sure one woman could handle both jobs. You have a family, Pete. Which do you think is a better idea, a housekeeper or a nanny?”

“Neither,” Pete answered with a wry laugh. “We Greeks are more practical than you Americans. Forget a nanny or a housekeeper. What you need is a wife.”

Melina’s antenna quivered as the elevator stopped one more time to let a passenger out before continuing on up to the roof. Myriad thoughts raced through Melina’s mind.

A housekeeper? The position had to be, as her American colleagues frequently said, a piece of cake. As a dutiful Greek daughter, she was well versed in taking care of a home…. She’d learned to cook for five people…How difficult could feeding two people be?

A nanny? As the only girl in her family, she’d often helped her mother with the care of her two younger brothers. For the past two years she’d also taught Greek language to young embassy children and, in the process, had wiped more than a few runny noses. How different could the job of a nanny to one child be?

Here was her chance to get her heart’s desire and still be able to put off her father’s demand that she marry, she thought. It was worth a try.

The elevator, empty except for Melina, her two friends and the two men behind her, finally reached the roof garden. Tables, shaded against the afternoon sun by dark green umbrellas, were surrounded by pots of colorful flowers and vine-covered trellises. The scent of warm food at the buffet table filled the air.

Eleni poked her in the ribs. “We’re here,” she whispered. “Go ahead. Now is your chance.”

Her chance? Had Eleni overheard the men’s conversation and put one and one together? Had Eleni read her mind?

Melina was so engrossed in preparing a logical approach to the American that one of the two men exiting the elevator bumped into her.

“Ah, Melina Kostos! I thought that was you!”

Melina pulled her wayward thoughts together. “Uh, hello, Peter. I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking. How are you?”

“Excellent,” he said with a broad smile. “Even better now that I’ve met you again. Come, let me introduce you to my American friend, Adam Blake.”

Peter Stakis was a friendly sort and a member of the Greek embassy’s trade office. Peter often visited the American embassy on business. He was also a good friend of her family’s. “I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Blake.”

“Likewise,” the American businessman said, an admiring look in his eyes.

To Melina’s relief he looked approachable. She decided to come right out with it. To talk to him frankly and to solicit his cooperation. It was just a matter of finding the right way to say what she wanted to say without appearing the complete fool.

She was about to introduce her friends when Eleni grabbed Arianna’s arm and made for an empty table. “We’ll see you later!”

Peter raised an eyebrow at their abrupt departure, shrugged, and gestured to the buffet table offering up hot food, salads, sandwiches and drinks. “Since it appears you are now alone, will you join us for lunch, Melina?”

“Thank you, I would like to.” Melina couldn’t figure out how Eleni had known which elevator to take for Melina to meet her destiny, but she was grateful. Even more so when Eleni had had the foresight to take Arianna and leave. Now, to find a way to get rid of Peter before she made her pitch. The fewer people who overheard her, the better. Especially someone who knew her family.

The scents of pita-wrapped sandwiches and the traditional Greek salad of cucumbers, walnuts and tomatoes pulled her to the buffet table. Maybe, she prayed silently, her stomach would stop fluttering if it were full.

“Salad, please,” she told the server. “With just a bit of oil and vinegar dressing.”

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” the American asked as he hovered over a tray of moussaka.

Melina glanced at the inviting displays of cold cucumber pita sandwiches and the container of hot moussaka. Never mind the chocolate chip cookies and the baklava that begged for her attention. It all looked delicious. But the truth was, she was too nervous to eat. It wasn’t every day a woman came face-to-face with her destiny.

“I usually don’t eat much at noon,” she answered, gesturing for a glass of iced tea.

Peter’s American friend didn’t seem to have a problem with food, she thought enviously as she watched him ask for a double helping of moussaka. Like all Greek girls, she’d been raised to know how to cook for a family. If she wound up as Adam Blake’s housekeeper, she vowed, he would never lack the Greek food he seemed to favor.

“How are your parents, your brothers, Melina?” Peter asked as they were seated.

“Fine, thank you,” she said, sipping her iced tea to take her mind off Adam Blake’s clear hazel eyes, the deep cleft in his square jaw and his innate sensuality. How in heaven’s name could she be attracted to a man she’d just noticed but had never been introduced to before? “Busy with the family pistachio business.”