But the Panoses couldn’t die out with him. Not just because the company needed an heir; he was the last Panos. It wasn’t right that he allowed his mistakes to end hundreds of years of a family lineage. Surely his family shouldn’t pay for who he was...what he’d done...

The baby would hopefully change that. The child would be the future. God knew he needed a future.

Taking her hand, his fingers engulfed hers, his grip firm, her skin warm against his. “Nikos,” he corrected.

Then he lifted his head and turned his jaw from her to give her a good look at the right side of his face, letting her see who he was now. What he was now.

A monster.

The Beast of Kamari.

He turned his head back the other way and met her gaze.

She looked straight back at him without a flicker of horror or fear. Nor did she reveal surprise. Instead her blue eyes, with their specks of gray and bits of silver, were wide and clear. He found it intriguing that she didn’t appear discomfited by the burns on his temple and cheek.

“Georgia,” she replied, giving his hand an equally firm shake.

Like the proverbial Georgia peach, he thought, releasing her hand. Her name suited her. Too well.

Despite the long hours flying, despite the pregnancy—or maybe because of it—she looked fresh, ripe, glowing with health and vitality.

Nikos, who hadn’t wanted anything or anyone for nearly five years, felt the stirring of curiosity, and the dull ache of desire. He hadn’t felt anything in so long that the stirring of his body was as surprising as the questions forming in his mind.

Was the attraction because she resembled Elsa, or was he intrigued because she seemed fearless when confronted by his scars?

Touching her hand, feeling her warmth, made something within him uncoil and reach out to her, wondering just who she was, wondering what she looked like naked, wondering what she would taste like if he put his mouth to her skin—

And just like that, after years of feeling nothing, and being nothing, and living as if numb or dead, he hardened, his body responding to her despite whatever else was happening in his head.

And yet this was what couldn’t happen. And this was why he lived on Kamari, away from people. It wasn’t to protect himself, but to protect others.

Nikos ruthlessly clamped down on the surge of desire, smashing it by reminding himself of what he’d done to Elsa, and what Elsa’s death had done to him.

But she wasn’t Elsa, wasn’t his wife. And even though she wasn’t a wife, he still wouldn’t take chances. She carried his son. Her health and well-being were essential for his son’s health and well-being. And so he’d take excellent care of the surrogate, but only because she was the surrogate. She was nothing to him beyond that. Just help...a hired womb...that was all.

All, he repeated, looking past her to his flight crew. He gestured, indicating that her luggage should be placed in the back of the restored 1961 military Land Rover. It was the best vehicle for Kamari’s rugged terrain, handling the steep twisting roads with ease. It was also his preferred vehicle since he could drive in summer without the soft top. In winter he kept the soft top up, but there were no windows. No glass to trap him.

He started for the vehicle, and then remembered the American’s ridiculous footwear. “Those shoes are not appropriate for Kamari,” he said curtly.

She gave him another long look and then shrugged. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said before setting off, heading toward the passenger side of his green Land Rover with her careless, leggy, athletic grace, the wind catching at her bright hair, making it shimmer and dance.

Definitely not Elsa, he thought.

Nothing about Elsa shimmered and danced. But she had once, hadn’t she? She’d been happy once...before she’d married him.