Page 29 of Marriage Masquerade

“Nope. My powers of persuasion are notthatstrong” “

“And there is the baby’s father. Do you miss him?”

Gemma shrugged and turned away, strolling over to the wide expanse of windows.

“I don’t. I’m still angry more than anything when I think of him. If he truly loved me as he told me, why would he have let our relationship go so far without telling me the truth?”

“Perhaps he does love you and cannot get out of the marriage. I can see a man wanting to keep you—no matter what the cost.”

Gemma spun around—to find Nikos right beside her. How had he crossed the room so silently?

His dark eyes gazed down at hers.

She turned the wedding band on her finger, uncertain how to take his comment.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“And if I am?”

Gemma smiled. “It seems odd.”

She liked it too much. He might be comfortable flirting, but she must remember this was merely a temporary arrangement. She wasn’t falling for another man to have that expectation fall through.

“Perhaps too soon. In the meantime, come and tell me some more about my new wife.”

Sinking on the comfortable sofa cushions, Gemma wondered how she’d ever get up again. But they felt wonderful. Looking out the window, she felt as if she were on top of the world.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“What you were like at age five.”

“And if I tell you that, will you share with me?”

His childhood would fascinate her. About growing up in Greece. It sounded so faraway and so exotic.

“Of course, isn’t that also a part of marriage—besides the compromises you spoke of?”

Hal brought juice for them both and quietly retired.

Hesitating only a moment, Gemma talked about her childhood in Elmsville, Ohio. Wondering how different it was from his, she told about her first bicycle, about starting school and about slumber parties.

She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the view of the park, and not on the sight of Nikos sprawled so casually beside her on the wide sofa, lest she become tongue-tied and forget what she wanted to say.

At one point, he reached out and unfastened her clip. Fingers combing through her hair, he gazed at her while she talked.

She stopped talking and looked at him, her eyes wide.

“Your hair has sunshine in it,” he said whimsically. “And it’s as soft as the finest silk. I couldn’t resist touching it.”

His fingers toyed with strands, as if memorizing the texture.

“I’ve seen it worn pulled back for five years. But never like this, soft and full around your face.” He spoke as if talking to himself. “It suits you.”

“It’s easier to keep it pulled back at work,” she said breathlessly.

“Ah, but more feminine like this.”

Slowly, he leaned forward, and Gemma held her breath.

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