Kostas's Convenient Bride: Kostas's Convenient Bride / Desert Prince's Stolen Bride

“Watch me.”

“Watch me ignore you.”

This time the cabbie’s coughing could not hide his laughter.

Andreas glared at the hapless man and Kayla had never been as happy to arrive at her destination. The pedicab came to a stop in front of one of New York’s many tall buildings, the walls seemingly made of glass.

“You will love the view at this place. Men, they take their women here to impress them,” the cabbie said to her as he turned around to them.

Andreas grunted. It could have been agreement. It could have been Mind your own business.

“I’m sure you are right. Andreas is very good at guessing what I’ll like.” Except when it came to selling their company and uprooting her one certain sense of security.

* * *

The restaurant turned out to be on an upper floor with a view every bit as amazing as the cabbie had implied. Designed with the feel of Asian-modern fusion, the waitstaff were all dressed in crisp black and white and offered the kind of service found in only the most elite dining rooms.

They were perfectly solicitous, making sure she and Andreas had everything they needed. Kayla got the feeling that if they’d asked for something completely outside the restaurant’s purview, the smart maître d’ would have made it happen. The food was fantastic.

Andreas did his best to be an entertaining companion and that was doing nothing for Kayla’s determination to tell him no about the sex thing.

At one point she glared at him. “Would you just stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Being so nice.”

“You do not want me to be nice to you?” His brilliant green eyes widened with disbelief.

“No.” She let out a huff of frustration when his whole body got into the incredulity thing. “I know what you want and the answer is no.”

“Do not be so sure on either count, pethi mou.”

“Stop with the Greek endearments too. They aren’t going to work.”

“Work at what precisely?” he teased, his eyes glinting with devilment.

She humphed at him. “Whatever your plans are for later.”

“I assure you, you will like my plans.”

“You always think that. You are not always right.” The past forty-eight hours should attest to that definitively.

“I am almost always right.” The humor was there in his voice, right under the surface.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Maybe a little. Relax, Kayla. You are perfectly safe in this nice restaurant.”

“It is a nice place. Very nice. It’s a date kind of place, or the kind of place you take a client you want to impress. I’m neither.” Both of them needed the reminder. “I’m not even sure how you got reservations on such short notice.”

“Maybe you are simply a woman I care about, whom I would also like to impress, hmm?” he said, ignoring her comment about the reservations.

But that was a real thing, so he had to have exerted some kind of influence to get them. It made her feel more special than she wanted to. “Right. The day you care about impressing me, I’m going to eat my straw walking hat for breakfast with hot sauce.”

“I hope you like hot sauce because I have always cared about impressing you.”

“Don’t be dumb, of course you don’t.”

“You are the only living person I do.”

“That’s... I...” She just didn’t believe it.

“You know I do not care if I impress my Greek family.”

“And yet you have this elaborate plan designed to prove to them how great you are.”

“Or rather how much I do not need them.” He said it like she should know this. She supposed he’d said it often enough.

She shrugged. She simply didn’t believe him.

He raised his brows. “Who else do I care to impress?”

“Your future wife? Genevieve? Other billionaires? I don’t know.”

“None of the above.”

“Then why would you care what I think?”

“Because you are my friend.”

“You say that like you don’t have any others and we both know that isn’t true.” Well, sort of. He wasn’t a social guy.

Andreas Kostas was focused on his goals.

“Acquaintances, contacts, even casual friends maybe,” he listed. “But not people whose opinions will ever matter to me enough to change the course of my life.”

“Mine doesn’t either.”

He looked around them, then at her, his expression belying her words. “And yet here I am, in New York, when I am supposed to be in Portland having a makeover with the matchmaker.”

“I wonder if she’s going to give you hair extensions and a man bun. They’re pretty popular right now.”

Andreas shuddered. “Not going to happen.”

“Oh, I know, she’ll put you in jeans every day and those graphic tees that cling to your muscles and show off all the goodies.”

“You like to tease me.”