Three years later, Mythelios, Greek Islands
ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT.
The heat wasn’t helping. Even though he’d been back in Greece since the middle of July—two months after the earthquake—Chris still wasn’t quite used to the temperature. His body was firmly set to Manhattan mode and Manhattan temperatures. It also didn’t help that the island of Mythelios was still recovering from that earthquake.
His late grandmother’s home didn’t have air-conditioning either. And, since the island still remained in repair mode, renovations that weren’t crucial to the infrastructure and safety of the citizens had been put on hold.
Air-conditioning would have to wait.
He yawned as he opened the doors to the small terrace of his grandmother’s beautiful villa. He leaned over the balcony, watching the sun rise over the Aegean Sea.
It had been a long time since he’d watched the sun rise bright and beautiful over the turquoise sea of his youth. It had been years since he’d picked olives in his grandmother’s garden or swum in the sea. The garden was overgrown now, but up on the top level of the house he had an unobstructed view of the horizon.
His grandmother’s home was the oldest and the highest of the old homes that had been built into the cliffs of Mythelios. It had thankfully fared pretty well during the earthquake, only suffering slight damage, while newer homes had suffered and crumbled.
It was funny how it had managed to stay intact through the powerful quake.
It was funny how nothing really seemed to have changed here since he was a young man.
He’d been in America for so long, pursuing women and his career, that he’d forgotten to stop and smell the roses—or in this case the orange blossoms that wafted up from his late grandmother’s garden.
His life for the last three years in New York City had been endless parties, women and work. Work had been his priority. He’d let nothing get in the way of becoming the top neurosurgeon on the eastern seaboard.
Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. One thing had gotten in the way—and that was the reason for his sleepless nights and why he’d returned to Greece.
An ill-fated one-night stand in a long string of the one-night stands he’d had in order to get over losing the woman he truly loved had led to him having a baby dropped off on his doorstep. Well, not so much on his doorstep. He’d paid a lot of money to the mother so he could keep his son.
Baby Evangelos was his world now, and even though Chris could afford a nanny, and had one for his infant son, she was entitled to take a night off—as she had last night. He was on feeding and diapering duty whenever that happened.
Chris scrubbed a hand over his face.
Why had he let his life go completely sideways like this?
When had it gotten to be so hard?
Right—he knew exactly when that had happened: when he’d walked away from Naomi and put his career before love. That was when it had all gone to heck. He’d left behind the only woman who had ever broken down the careful walls he’d created to keep people out. She’d started to come even before his work, and that had annoyed him.
He’d sworn he would never settle down—not after watching his parents’ disastrous marriage crash and burn.
So he’d left her. Frozen her out and left her behind in Nashville while he pursued his high-flying career in New York City. And even worse, she’d loved him and he’d held her back. He hadn’t been able to give her what she’d wanted, and yet she’d turned down an excellent job for him. That guilt still ate away at him.
He hadn’t been able to forget about her. So he’d tried moving on by bedding a series of different women. And that was how he’d ended up with Evangelos.
And there was no question that he loved his son. He loved being a father—something he’d never thought that he’d ever want—but this was not how he had pictured his return to his home village.
“Nice abs!”
Chris frowned and then looked down to see Ares walking through the square in the tiny village. His long curls were hidden under a baseball cap—one that Chris had sent him when he first went to America.
Ares had been one of his best friends since he was a child. He was one of the four founders of the Mythelios Free Clinic and he worked in emergency medicine. All his friends were back on Mythelios now, since the earthquake, when one of their number—Theo—had put out a call for their help.
Ares had boyish good looks, and the silly hat that Chris had sent him as a joke looked so out of place on him, but it made Chris smile nonetheless. He was glad to be back with Theo, Deakin and Ares, even though they were working in the clinic and he wasn’t.
Of course none of them had a baby yet.
“Put a shirt on!” Ares teased again, laughing.
“Where are you off to?” Chris called down, ignoring the teasing.
“The clinic. Actually, I was going to come see you. There’s a case I’d like your opinion on.”
“I’m not here to practice medicine. I came back just to lend a hand and deal with my grandmother’s death.”
“Come on,” Ares begged. “I need your expert opinion. Besides, it’s high time you got your hands dirty at the clinic you helped found.”
Ares had a point—and he did miss working. He missed neurosurgery.
Chris nodded. “Okay. I’ll come by when Lisa comes back.”
Ares raised his eyebrows. “Who’s Lisa?”
“Evan’s nanny.”
“Ah, and here I thought the infamous Greek Valentino of Manhattan was up to his old tricks.”
Chris snorted. “And since when do I have time for that?”
“Well, you must’ve had some time,” Ares teased. “You’re the only one with a kid.”
Not for long, since Cailey Nikolaides was four and a half months pregnant now. Cailey was a nurse at the clinic, and Theo’s wife.
“Look, either come into the house or get to work. You’re going to wake the neighbors with your incessant shouting in the streets!” Chris called.
Ares winked. “See you in a couple hours.”
Chris watched him jog away through the narrow alleyways of the old part of the island, where other villas like his grandmother’s clung to the side of a cliff by the sea. The homes were brightly colored and connected by narrow cobblestone streets that eventually wound their way down to a large square dominated by a church, and then there was a small path to the docks and to the clinic.
The bell at the church rang out the time, waking up this sleepy island that was only an hour’s ride by ferry to Athens, a city much more modern in comparison to the simple way of life that still dominated Mythelios.
He yawned, stretched and looked down.
Dammit.
He wasn’t wearing anything at all. Good thing the balcony was solid, and not an open terrace like they had in the larger cities, because he’d fallen asleep naked.
He had to get some clothes on fast, before Lisa came back.
He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea.
That had been his problem his whole adult life—he seemed to give all the women