Lucy Gordon - For the Greek Tycoon's Pleasure

A young man who introduced himself as the housekeeper’s grandson insisted on carrying their luggage in a yard cart.

“The patriarch preferred travel by sea, but his children insisted on faster transportation to the mainland,” Zephyr replied in response to her comment. “As to why it was a helicopter over a jet, I could not say. I think he balked at the excavation necessary for a flat runway long enough to service a jet.”

“We’ll be doing that excavation, won’t we? I mean guests are going to want to be able to fly in.”

The young man leading the way with his cart looked back at her, his expression troubled.

Zephyr did not seem to notice, but he shook his head in negation. “The focus of the spa resort is going to be total relaxation. It will start with a luxury yacht ride from the mainland.”

“I bet you’ll stick with helicopters.” But she would have enjoyed a decadent ride on a yacht.

Zephyr shrugged. “I am not a prospective guest.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Perhaps you should as well. We can attend the grand opening week together,” he said as he reached out to open the front door, only to have it swing inward before he touched it.

An elderly Greek woman welcomed them inside before shooting rapid-fire instructions at her grandson, who took his cart around to the side of the villa.

“The young, they forget the proprieties,” she said in perfect English, if accented charmingly. She shook her head. “Maybe that one should be a fisherman.”

“There will be many jobs for those willing to work both building the resort and working there after it is completed.”

“You will give first chance to locals?” the old woman asked with obvious hope.

“Yes,” Zephyr said decisively. “We do not want the year-round residents to feel disconnected to the resort. Their participation in the venture is essential.”

Her lined visage wreathed with a smile, the housekeeper led them into an oversized sitting room with a truly impressive view. The wall facing the sea had such large windows it felt like it was made of glass.

“Would you like refreshments?” she asked.

“Your former employer rhapsodized about the fresh lemonade made from local fruit.”

Appearing pleased by the request, the housekeeper nodded. “I will send a girl with a tray.”

“Thank you. Has Mr. Tilieu been told of our arrival?” Zephyr asked.

“He has, though how anyone could miss the sound of a landing helicopter, I do not know.”

Piper stifled a grin, while Zephyr obviously bit back a smile.

“I take it you prefer to travel by boat?” Piper asked.

“I prefer not to travel at all, but how others can stand to ride in those noisy things is a mystery to me.” The gray-haired woman waved her hands in dismissal.

“Sometimes needs must,” Zephyr said wryly.

“As you say, Kyrie Nikos.” Then she left.

He turned to Piper. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely gorgeous.” She didn’t even try to resist the lure of huge picture windows. “I could spend hours just looking out these windows.”

He came to stand beside her, close but not touching. “It is mesmerizing. The sunset will be spectacular.”

“Will we be able to watch it?”

“If that is your desire.”

“You’ve been very indulgent with me this trip.” Though since sharing his past with her, he had maintained a distance even his charm could not hide. Their discovery this morning had not altered that distance, despite other small changes in his behavior.

“You deserve a little spoiling.”

“I won’t complain about you thinking so.”

“Good.” He shifted beside her and she could feel his regard transferring to her from the view. “Speaking of being spoiled, do you want to attend the opening week with me?”

“I have no doubt you’ll be here for the grand opening, but I sincerely doubt it will be for the rest and relaxation the resort is going to offer.”

“I will make sure you are still pampered,” he assured her.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked, not following.

“Don’t you think you could do with a bit of pampering?”

“I will avail myself of the spa services.”

“To check their quality standard, I bet.”

“So?”

“So, you’re something of a workaholic,” she clarified.

“As are you.”

“I love my business.” But she wasn’t really a workaholic. Once her business was established, she had every intention of cutting back her hours to make room for other things. “I never intended it to be everything in my life.”

“Then why do you consider the prospect of parenting the dissolution of your dreams?”

Shocked at his interpretation of her earlier words, she jerked in startlement. “I didn’t mean my business.”

He didn’t look like he believed her. “What did you mean, then?”

“It’s not something I want to discuss right now.” Really. Truly. It would do neither of them any good to hash over her old dream of building a life with a man who loved her, and the more recently acknowledged dream of having Zephyr be that loving man.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got a chance, a masculine voice from behind them said, “You’ve arrived. Finally.”

They both turned to face an attractive black man.

Zephyr stepped forward with his hand out. “Ah, Jean-René. Good to see you.”

He turned back to Piper. “Pethi mou, this is our architect, Jean-René Tilieu. Jean-René, this is Piper Madison, our designer.”

Jean-René’s smile was white-white and full of charm as he bent over Piper’s extended hand, rather than shaking it. “An exceptional pleasure, mademoiselle.”

“Merci. I’m really looking forward to working with you. I find your work both inspiring and impressive.”

“Ah, you know the way to a man’s heart is flattery, non?”

Zephyr stepped forward and put his arm around Piper’s waist. “Piper does not flatter, she always speaks the truth.”

Jean-René gave them a speculative look and then met her eyes, his expression serious. “Then I am doubly honored by your praise, mademoiselle.”

“Piper, please.”

“That is an interesting name, n’est-ce pas?”

“I was named for one of my father’s mentors in the army,” she informed him.

Zephyr looked down at her. “You never told me that.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing, to be named after a grizzled army master sergeant who chewed tobacco and shot pistols with equal enthusiasm.”

“Piper is a feminine name, though, non? This master sergeant who chewed tobacco is a woman?” Jean-René asked.

Piper laughed. “No, Pipes is his nickname and I never asked how he got it.”

“That’s probably best,” Zephyr said, humor lacing his tone.

She smiled up at him. “That’s what I thought.”

“Two great minds.” Jean-René flashed that brilliant smile again. “Clearly this project is in sympathetic hands.”

“Without a doubt. I’ve studied your work in depth and I’ve worked on enough developments with Zephyr to know that our approaches are going to dovetail nicely.” Her only concern, and it was not strong, was how the Greek contractor would be to work with as he was a complete unknown to her.

“Très bien. Do you wish to discuss initial thoughts over dinner, or wait until tomorrow?” he asked Zephyr.

Zephyr turned his head so his and Piper’s gazes met. “What do you think?”

Why was he asking her? Maybe this was about watching the sunset. “Is the dining room on this side of the house?”

“No, but we can eat in here,” Zephyr replied.

“Mais oui, the view of the setting sun is magnifique. I saw the most glorious rays yesterday evening when I arrived.”