Greek for Beginners (5 page)

“Nothing.” She waved a hand. “Just, um...here we are.”

They had reached the elevator and Darcie still wasn't sure what she should do. He took the decision out of her hands by pushing the button.

“Are you coming up?” she asked casually.

“I would like to, but...” He shook his head.

“A gentleman,” she mused.

It sounded like he said, “A fool.”

“So, I'll see you to—”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all of the passion and skill he'd shown in the restaurant, but with far less of the restraint.

“
—night
.”

Nick's breath was sawing in and out, but he managed to mutter something in Greek that told Darcie he was every bit as turned on as she was.

Before the elevator arrived, he turned and walked away.

FOUR

Darcie needed an
outfit for dinner since nothing in her luggage full of second-string clothes seemed appropriate. But what did one wear to meet a man's parents when one barely knew the man?

She mulled that question as she wandered the labyrinth of streets near her hotel. Shops abounded, interspersed with cafés and taverns. The only problem was that the goods the stores sold were geared toward tourists: snow globes featuring miniature Parthenons, key chains and postcards. As for clothing, it fell into two categories: logoed T-shirts and the traditional Greek garb that she doubted anyone in Greece actually wore.

Two hours into her quest the arches of her feet were beginning to ache, but she decided to stray a little farther from the beaten path. After another half an hour, her persistence was rewarded when she arrived at the door of a small boutique that the owner of a nearby bakery had recommended. After licking the last crumbs of freshly made baklava from her fingertips, Darcie headed inside.

The boutique was small and totally kitsch-free. It also was expensive, with prices that reflected the quality of the garments on display. Darcie swallowed hard after glancing at the tag that dangled from a cap-sleeved cocktail dress made of red silk. She calculated the exchange rate in her head. It was far more than she felt comfortable spending, even though the dress was gorgeous. She moved on to another rack, but it was of no use. The garments there, while also lovely, were equally expensive. On a sigh, she turned to leave.

“May I help you find something?” a woman asked in English as she stepped out from behind the counter. She was about Darcie's age and nearly her height in a pair of killer high heels. The name tag pinned to her chest read Nerina.

Darcie shook her head. “I was just looking.”

“For anything in particular?”

She started to say no only to admit, “I've been invited to dinner this evening.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “With a man.”

“Yes. He's taking me to meet his parents.”

“Oh, this is serious. He is Greek?”

“No and yes.” At the saleswoman's perplexed expression, Darcie added, “No, it's not serious. At least not how you mean. We've only just met and...it's not serious. But, yes, he is Greek. Well, I guess he's actually American now, but he's from Athens. Originally. You know, he was born here.” She grimaced. “I'm probably not making any sense.”

“I understand. You are nervous.” Again, Nerina's knowing smile made an appearance. “Even though you have only just met, you like this man.”

“I do.”

It was the truth. What was not to like about a man who had been gracious and kind and treated her with respect, all while making it clear that he found her attractive and wouldn't mind seeing her naked?

Okay, so maybe Darcie had extrapolated that last part, but the kiss Nick had given her in the restaurant had made her toes want to curl. And the one in the lobby of her hotel? She was surprised she hadn't spontaneously combusted in the elevator afterward.

“Then we must find you something perfect for this evening.” Nerina turned to another rack and began flipping through the garments.

Darcie cleared her throat. “I'm afraid I'm on a limited budget. Actually, a very limited budget. I shouldn't be buying clothes at all, but the airline lost my luggage and...”

“And then you met this handsome man who has invited you to dinner to meet his parents, and you want to look stunning.”

Darcie sighed. “That about sums it up.” Placing a hand on her stomach to quell her nerves, she asked, “Do you take credit cards?”

Nerina nodded and then tapped her lips thoughtfully for a moment before bursting into a satisfied grin.

“I have just the dress.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, freshly showered, Darcie took her time getting ready, shimmying first into a bra and panties that weren't likely to be seen, but made her feel sexy and sophisticated nonetheless. Both pieces were lacy and utterly feminine, and the only articles from her trousseau that had made it into the lucky piece of luggage that managed to arrive in Greece along with her.

Afterward, she studied herself in the mirrored door of the closet with a critical eye. Turning sideways, she sucked in her stomach until her belly was concave and the bottom of her rib cage became visible. Gee, as long as she didn't breathe, she sported measurements that the pinups girls of the 1940s would have envied. But Darcie was fond of breathing, so she let out her breath on a gusty sigh. Goodbye twenty-four-inch waist.

Still, she liked her curves and the muscle tone she'd managed to carve into them thanks to six months' worth of grueling workouts with the personal trainer from hell. She reached into the closet for the dress she'd just purchased. She had to admit it showed off all of her assets to their greatest advantage.

Since the evening's dinner was at someone's home, Nerina had suggested a more casual wrap dress in a soft jersey fabric the color of ripe peaches. Both the color and the cut flattered Darcie. Best of all, she could pair it with flat shoes she already owned, saving her a second purchase. Nerina also had been generous on the price, declaring the garment on sale even though it was not marked as such.

“Enjoy your evening,” she'd said as Darcie left the shop.

Looking at herself in the mirror now, Darcie grinned. Oh, she planned to.

* * *

Peach was his new favorite color, Nick decided, when Darcie stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby. As he eyed her curves, the air backed up in his lungs. The reaction wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it was unsettling and rare when it came to women. Except for this woman. Around Darcie, he couldn't seem to catch his breath at all.

From the first moment he'd spied her in the airport, he'd found himself drawn to her, interested in a way that he'd initially assumed was purely the result of sexual attraction. He'd gone on instinct when he'd approached her and offered his assistance. He'd followed his gut again when he'd come to her earlier in the day, asking a favor. Nick didn't regret his impulses, but he knew a moment of panic when she smiled at him now and his mouth went dry.

“I hope I'm dressed all right. I wasn't sure what to wear,” she said.

“You look lovely.” He kept his gaze locked on her face, not trusting himself to take in those curves a second time without touching them.

“Thank you.”

A pair of glossed lips parted in a smile that was nearly impossible to resist. He bit back a groan and asked, “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

This time, instead of a Porsche, Nick was driving a 1965 Shelby Cobra.

“Very iconic,” she murmured of the cobalt-blue car that sported twin white stripes up its hood and down its trunk. “One of the most sought-after cars as I recall from fact-checking an article about one. Is it the real deal?”

“If you are asking if it is one of the ten special racing editions, yes.”

“Signed by Carroll Shelby?”

“Of course.” Once again, Nick appreciated the depth of her knowledge. A woman who spoke car. He'd never met one before.

“I'm almost afraid to sit in it,” she told him when he opened the door for her. “This baby goes for what? A couple hundred thousand American dollars?”

“Closer to three.”

“Well, there, you've put my mind at ease,” she replied dryly.

Nick chuckled. “Get in.” Since the car had no roof and only a low, curving windshield, he handed her a scarf. “For your hair.”

“Very thoughtful. Thank you. I feel Grace Kelly-ish. Or I would if I were a platinum blonde with classical features and a slimmer build.”

“There's nothing wrong with your hair color, features or your...build.”

She sent him a sideways smile. It sounded like she said, “I could get used to you.”

The drive to his grandmother's house was relatively short. Still, as they cruised through the city, Nick used the time to prep Darcie on his life, starting with the basics such as his age and education.

“I have not told them very much about you.”

“That's because you don't know very much about me,” she pointed out.

“I am eager to remedy that.” His tone hinted at something much more intimate than a family dinner. “I have told them that you are American and that we have not known one another for long. That way, they will not expect us to have all of the answers.”

Besides, the sexual chemistry between the two of them was very real and would go a long way to making their relationship plausible in his family's eyes.

Darcie was nodding. “All right. So, how did we meet?”

“I think we should keep it simple and as close to truthful as possible. I do not usually lie to my family.” He shifted his attention from the road to her when he added, “I do not usually lie to anyone.”

“I figured that. Same goes for me.” She took a deep breath. “So, we met in an airport.”

“Let's make it Newark.”

“I saw you across a crowded room, our eyes met and it was magic.” She laughed, but something about her assessment struck Nick as disturbingly accurate.

“How about if we just say I offered to give you a ride when yours did not show?” He turned, found himself lost in the same blue eyes that had sucked him in across the airport terminal and added, “I was only too happy to come to the aid of a beautiful woman.”

“The only problem with that is I do not live in New York City, but upstate in Buffalo.”

“You were in New York on business then.”

She nibbled her lip. “There's not much travel involved in my line of work. Not like yours. I can check facts over the phone or by computer. I've never had to hop a plane to do my job. Not that I wouldn't mind.”

“On holiday then?”

“I guess that's believable.”

“Have you ever been to New York?”

“Once. It was right after I graduated from high school. I went with my friend Becky and her family. We stayed at a hotel near Times Square and took in a Broadway show.” Her smile was wide and nostalgic. “I loved it.”

“The show or the city?”

“Both. All of that energy. I felt energized, too.”

Nick heard awe in her voice and understood it. That was how he'd felt the first time he'd visited New York
—
absolutely blown away by the mania, yet eager to be part of it, too. Athens was hardly a small town, either in population or in feel, but no other place Nick had traveled, which he did extensively for business, compared to New York.

“You will have to visit again. I would be happy to show you around.”

He meant it, he realized with a start. He could see her in his adopted city, enjoying the herb-crusted salmon at his favorite restaurant, sipping coffee at a sidewalk café near Central Park, window-shopping on Fifth Avenue. Most disturbing, Nick could picture Darcie in his apartment—his quiet and at times lonely retreat from the bustle of the city—curled up on his couch with a glass of wine in her hand, smiling at him in invitation.

She was smiling at him now when she replied, “Maybe I will.”

He swallowed and forced his attention to the least erotic thing he could think of. “Tell me about your family. Do they also live in Buffalo?”

“For the most part. I have three sisters. Two older, one younger, all of them married. They're scattered in the suburbs with their husbands and kids, driving minivans and carpooling to soccer games and gymnastic classes.”

“But not you.”

“To my mother's everlasting regret.”

“And your father? What does he think of your situation?”

“He tells me there's plenty of time to get married, have kids and buy a minivan.” She frowned then. “But...”

“But?”

“He thinks I'm wasting my talent at my current job,” she admitted quietly.

“Are you?”

Darcie made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “That's the subject for a very long conversation. Right now, I think we should stick to the basics.”

She was right, of course, but Nick was too curious about her to let the matter drop. “What talent is it that your father feels you are wasting?”

“I have a degree in journalism from Buffalo State University. I enjoyed feature writing. Some of my professors told me I had a flair for it. My plan was to work at a newspaper and once I had enough decent clips
—
”

“Clips?”

“Copies of articles I'd written. Once I had enough of those, I was going to apply for a job at one of the large women's magazines headquartered in New York.”

“So, you wanted to come to the big city?”

“I did,” she admitted on a shy smile. “Once upon a time I thought I could make a name for myself in publishing.”

“But?”

The smile vanished. Darcie shrugged. “Something came up and then the fact-checking job at
Automobile Enthusiasts Monthly
came along.”

“Do you ever do any writing for that magazine? You certainly know enough about cars to do a credible job of it.”

“The editor has let me do a couple of blurbs about upcoming car cruises, but nothing meaty or in-depth. He either tackles those himself—it's a small publication—or he farms them out to a freelancer. It doesn't hurt that the freelancer is a poker buddy.” She sighed. “So, I check facts.”

The more she said, the more questions Nick had. He contented himself by asking the one that cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“Do you enjoy your work, Darcie?”

“I suppose.” She shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

A tepid and telling answer, in Nick's opinion.

“You should do something you feel passionately about. Otherwise, what is the point?”

“I guess you would know, since you're obviously passionate about your work.”

He glanced over and waited until he was sure he had her full attention. “I am passionate about much more than my work.”