Greek for Beginners (7 page)

“'Lo,” she mumbled.

“Are you alone?” It was Becky.

Darcie rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I'm alone. Why wouldn't I be alone?”

“You were supposed to call after your date with Mr. Tall, Greek and Gorgeous,” her friend reminded her. “When you didn't, well, I thought...”

No need for Becky to fill in the blank. Darcie's imagination had been busy doing that very thing for most of the night.

“Nick dropped me off at the hotel just after ten. I fell asleep soon after. Alone. Sorry I didn't call. I was just too tired. Jet lag and all.” It was a handy excuse, but not the whole truth. The whole truth was Darcie hadn't wanted to examine more closely the evening, its ending or the insane attraction she felt for the man in question.

But Becky wasn't giving her an out this time. “So, how was it?”

“Nice. I had a good time.”

“Nice? A good time? Sheesh, Darcie. I called for details. Not the abridged version you save for your mother.”

Darcie chuckled at that. “My mother is never going to hear any version, abridged or otherwise, where Nick is concerned. I think she still may be holding out hope that Tad and I will get back together and there will be no need to deal with the stack of gifts she promised she would help me return.”

“Speaking of Tad, I ran in to him at our favorite coffee shop.”

“Tad doesn't like coffee.” He complained the beverage stained his teeth.

“I know. Even stranger, he made a point of coming over and saying hello to me.”

That was surprising. Tad and Becky didn't like one another, but over the years, they had brokered a truce of sorts—a truce Darcie would have assumed null and void now that the wedding had been called off.

“He asked if I'd heard from you.”

“He did not.”

“Swear. He wanted to know how you were doing.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him we'd talked and that you were having a fabulous time with a hot Greek man.”

“You did not!” Darcie exclaimed.

“Okay, those weren't my exact words. But I did tell him that his bargain trip had turned out to be a bust and that you'd been stranded at the airport until a nice man came to your aid. Tad said he'd been trying to reach you on your cell. For that matter, I have, too.”

Darcie glanced toward her discarded purse on the chair in the corner. “I silenced the ringer before dinner with Nick's family last night. I haven't turned it back on. Did Tad say why he was calling?”

“No. He looked, well, like he was kind of lost without you.”

“Tad?” Darcie couldn't help but be surprised. “I didn't think he would notice my absence. He still has his mother, after all.” She shook her head. “That was mean. I don't want him to be unhappy.”

“That's because you're a nice person, Darcie. Too nice. Tad took advantage of that. So, are you going to call him? I don't think you should.”

“I won't. At least not until I return home.” When her friend started to object, Darcie pointed out, “We have to talk, if only so he knows where to forward my mail. Besides, I'm the one who called off the wedding, Becks. That makes Tad the injured party.”

A snort came over the line. “Do yourself a favor, and don't feel too sorry for him. Remember, he's the reason you found yourself stranded in Greece.”

“Yes, but that's turning out okay.” A grin spread over Darcie's face.

“I knew it! Tell me everything about last night. And remember, no skimping when it comes to details.”

She still wound up giving Becky an abridged version of events, leaving out completely the arrival of Pieter and Selene at the end of dinner, and the awkward tension that had followed. Darcie didn't want to more closely examine the feelings Nick stirred in her. It was easier just to leave it at mutual attraction. The timing for anything else was completely wrong
—
apparently for both of them.

As their conversation wound up, Becky said, “Have fun exploring the Parthenon. Hey, take a picture of Nick with your phone and send it to me. I want to see your hot man for myself.”

After they said goodbye, Darcie had less than an hour to get ready. The elevator doors slid open at the lobby with five minutes to spare. When she stepped out, the hot man in question was standing to one side of the reception desk. His mouth curved into an appreciative smile that turned her insides to mush. With one look, he made her feel beautiful, desirable and once again ready to toss caution to the wind. That was enough, she decided.

“Kalimera su,”
she said when she reached him.

His brows rose.

“One of the few Greek phrases I know. Did I say it right?”

“You did. Good morning to you, too.” He kissed her cheeks, lingering long enough to make the greeting less platonic. “You look lovely, by the way.”

“You do, too. Not lovely, but...” Good enough to gobble up in a T-shirt that fit snugly across his chest. She coughed and forced her gaze back to his. “Um, ready to take in the sights?”

By way of an answer, he took her hand.

* * *

Growing up in Athens, Nick had been to the Parthenon dozens of times. He experienced it anew seeing it through Darcie's eyes. She was in total awe.

“It's hard to believe something built more than four hundred years before the birth of Christ is still standing.”

“Not all of it is,” Nick pointed out.

“But enough of it remains to hint at its former grandeur,” she argued. “Those columns are massive. Haven't you ever wondered how the ancient Greeks managed to get them up without modern tools and machinery?”

He grinned. “I am now.”

“I'm serious, Nick.”

“So I see.”

“There's very little in the United States that dates back more than a couple hundred years. Yet here stands a temple, a stunning example of Doric-style architecture, I might add, that was designed by Phidias to honor Athena, the patron goddess of your city, and constructed more than two thousand years ago.”

“Your knowledge of the Parthenon is impressive,” he said.

“I read about it.” She started to laugh. “Over there.”

Nick turned to find a large sign listing the same facts Darcie had just spouted. He started to laugh, too, and then pulled her into his arms. He didn't let her go. Both of them sobered.

“I like your sense of humor,” he said.

“It's one of my better attributes.”

“I can think of other attributes that I prefer even more.” He slid his hands down her back and, even though he wanted to place them elsewhere, he forced them to stop at her waist. They were in public, after all, and surrounded by camera-toting tourists.

“You must mean my eyes.” She batted the lids. The eyes in question were laughing at him. “I've been told they're a pretty color.”

“You are enjoying this,” he accused.

“Enjoying what?” she asked a little too innocently. “I don't know what you mean.”

“I do like your eyes,” he agreed. “But they aren't what kept me awake last night.” As intended, his bald assertion wiped the smile from Darcie's face. Then he asked, “How did you sleep? Did you toss and turn?”

“I...I...” She swallowed.

“That is what I thought.”

Those blue eyes narrowed. “That's not fair.”

“Why?”

“I did toss and turn, but I'm still suffering from jet lag.”

“You are full of excuses.”

“It's true.”

“All right. I have a cure for that.” His voice was low and for the briefest moment his hips bumped against hers as he spoke. “Would you like to know what it is?”

“Right now? Right here?” She gave a panicked glance around.

Nick brushed the hair back from her cheek and leaned closer. His lips purposely grazed her ear when he whispered, “Warm milk.”

“Warm—” Darcie dissolved in a fit of laughter that drew curious stares from passersby. When she composed herself, she accused, “You set me up.”

“I cannot be responsible for the thoughts you entertain.” His voice dropped an octave. “Although I would not mind hearing what they are.”

She put a hand on his chest and playfully pushed him backward half a step. “Oh, no. I'm not walking into a trap a second time.”

Just that quickly, he erased the distance she'd created, and pulled her close. “Now I
really
want to hear those thoughts. Over dinner, perhaps? Say yes.”

“Well, when you put it that way. Yes.”

SIX

Nick changed his
mind several times before settling on a restaurant. Even then he wasn't sure he'd made the right choice. He had no doubt Darcie would enjoy the food and the ambience. They were what made it so difficult to get a table at Moscophilero...unless one had a long history with the owner, as Nick did. But the restaurant's location gave him pause. It was in Piraeus and, as such, much closer to his house above the harbor than anything in Athens would be. Within fifteen minutes of his paying the check, he and Darcie could be ensconced in his living room sipping a nightcap. As for what they could be doing within an hour, that gave him pause.

Where was this heading? Where did he want it to head? Such questions had never arisen with the other women he'd dated, but Darcie was...special. In addition to turning him on to an extent he'd never experienced, she also brought out his protective instincts. Add in her recently ended engagement and Nick didn't want to rush her. But he did want her. So, he needed to be sure they were both after the same thing: a mutually satisfying, albeit short-term, sexual relationship. Recriminations afterward wouldn't do.

Ultimately, he decided to tell her their destination and see if she would prefer to stay in Athens proper.

“I wouldn't mind seeing the seaside,” she told him when they met in the hotel lobby.

Her assent did little to quell his nerves. But when they stepped outside, her laughter did.

“Nick Costas, man of many cars. I never know what you'll be driving next.” Her lips curved.

Earlier, when he'd taken Darcie to the Parthenon, he'd been driving an Aston Martin coupe. He liked to get behind the wheel of the automobiles he would be auctioning, especially those he purchased himself and for whom he had no specific collector in mind, to get a feel for how they handled. In this case, however, the cherry-red Jaguar roadster would never see the auction block. It belonged to him and had for the past few years. He kept it at his house in Greece for personal use. In New York, his vehicle of choice was a 1966 Corvette Sting Ray.

“You will get a prize if you know the year this car was manufactured,” he said.

“Hmm. Let's see. Streamlined body and covered headlights.” She pursed her lips and glanced inside. “Sunken floor pans. Four-speed manual gearbox.” Straightening, she said, “I'm going to say it was built in nineteen sixty...five.”

“You are close. Sixty-six.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What would my prize have been?”

She had to ask. His body tightened, but he managed a casual shrug. “I was going to let you drive it.”

“Then it's just as well I got the answer wrong,” she told him on a laugh. “The steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car.”

“For the United States,” he agreed.

“That increases the value, of course, a fact of which I am sure you are aware.”

He nodded, pleased by her astuteness and an idea niggled. He pushed it to the back burner. “Fewer than a thousand of the right-hand drive models were produced in 1966.”

The restaurant was busy when they arrived. They were shown to their table in a prime location at the window that offered an unparalleled view of the harbor. The day was winding down, the sun starting to set. Boats, both commercial and pleasure craft, were heading in for the night.

“I could sit here all day,” she murmured. “What is it about water that is so...compelling?”

Nick lifted his shoulders. He couldn't put it into words, but he understood what she meant. The view drew him. It always had. It was one of the things he missed when he was in Manhattan, and one of the reasons he knew he would never sell his home here, even though he did not spend very much time in it.

A black-vested waiter came by and took their beverage order. Darcie opted for a glass of white wine. Nick ordered the same. A moment later, the man was back with their drinks and a complimentary platter of olives, cheese and dense bread.

“Khristos sends his regards,” the waiter said.

“Khristos?” Darcie asked once they were alone.

“The owner. He and I are old friends.”

She lifted her glass of wine. “To old friends then.”

Nick raised his glass as well, but he had a different toast in mind. “And to new friendships.”

She smiled in agreement and clinked her glass against his.

“You know, even though I have only known you a short time, I do consider you a friend, Nick.”

In the time it took her to say so, the word lost all of its appeal. “Merely a friend?”

“A very handsome one.” She arched her brows. “Better?”

“A little. My ego thanks you.”

Darcie selected an olive from the platter and popped it into her mouth. His started to water, only to go dry when she turned the question back around on him.

“What do you consider me? If your answer is a nuisance, feel free to make up something else. My ego will be every bit as appreciative as yours was.”

Nick chuckled. “I suppose I should confess that initially I considered you a delightful distraction.”

“That was when you offered me a ride from the airport.” She nodded, selected another olive. Before popping it into her mouth she added, “Then you saw me as your ticket out of a tight spot with your mother and grandmother.”

“A lovely ticket.”

She batted her eyelashes comically and murmured her thanks. “And now, after spending the better part of the day touring ancient ruins with me, are we pals?”

Another time, Nick would have laughed. But he weighed her words carefully and then weighed his own. “Not by my definition, but English is my second language. The fact is, Darcie, friendship seems a rather bland term for us. Do you not agree?”

“What other term do you have in mind?”

“That is my dilemma. I have no other term.” He sipped his wine. “I was hoping you might.”

“Well, if we're being honest, I don't think platonic applies to our situation.”

He agreed, of course, but was curious to hear Darcie's reasons. “Go on.”

A couple blotches of color worked their way up from her neck until they flamed on her cheeks. “Speaking only for myself, I like kissing you. I'm pretty sure people who are merely friends don't kiss—” she cleared her throat “—like that.” She cleared her throat again. “Or enjoy it quite so much.”

“We are attracted to one another,” Nick agreed. “And I, too, like kissing you.”

“My friend Becky would say that what you and I have going qualifies as a fling. Well, a baby fling, really, since we're not...”

Sleeping together went unspoken, but Darcie may as well have screamed it. Nick heard the words loud and clear and finished her thought with a silent
yet.

He hid his grin behind the rim of his glass and sipped his wine. He liked Darcie's friend's assessment. After all, in addition to sex,
fling
implied impermanence. It bolstered his assumption that Darcie, who had so recently freed herself from her own betrothal, wasn't looking for true love and a lasting commitment any more than he was. She was after excitement, a little fun.

Still, he needed to be positive.

“And, if instead of this baby fling, we were to have a very adult one, what then?”

She moistened her lips. “I'm not sure I understand your question.”

“What would you expect?”

The waiter picked that inopportune moment to return and take their dinner orders. Nick clenched his teeth and waited to hear Darcie's response.

“This is all very hypothetical,” she began once they were alone again. “I'm not really the sort of woman who goes around having flings, especially of the adult variety.”

“I never assumed otherwise,” he hastened to assure her. “In fact, you might say that is the reason I am seeking clarity on the matter.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “First and foremost, I would expect the truth. I won't tolerate lies.”

Her response surprised him a little. Even though it was none of his business, he asked, “Did your fiancé lie to you?”

“I'm sure he would say no.” She pursed her lips, as if considering. “I think Tad lied to himself much more than he lied to me. He said I was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but, in the end, it wasn't going to be just the two of us.”

Nick's brows shot up at that, but he kept his voice neutral when he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I wouldn't have been marrying just him. I would have been marrying his mother, too.” The shiver that accompanied her words appeared involuntary rather than manufactured for effect.

“I gather that his mother did not like you.”

“I wasn't good enough for her son. Tad's quite the catch. A
doctor
,
you know.” She emphasized the word in a way that Nick imagined other people had in speaking to Darcie. “But that doesn't change the fact that he's a world-class mama's boy.”

“Obviously, I do not know Tad or his mother, but my guess is that no one would have been good enough for her son, even a woman as wonderful as you.”

“Thanks.” Darcie smiled. “And I know what you mean.”

Did she? If so, Nick thought that might have been a recent development. Her uncertainty would explain why Darcie had been flustered by a simple compliment when he first met her.

She was saying, “Evelyn's fault-finding might not have been such a big issue if we hadn't spent so much time with her. Dinner practically every evening, church on Sundays. The last straw was when Tad started talking about adding another master suite on to her house instead of continuing to look for a house of our own after we got married.”

“Pieter and Selene will live down the street from my parents, who, as you know, live next door to my grandmother.”

“Next door and down the street are not the same as under one roof with shared main living spaces. I always felt on guard around Evelyn. I couldn't slouch without hearing her comment on my poor posture.”

“Tad allowed this?”

“He has a blind spot a mile wide where his mother is concerned.”

“Then he got what he deserved,” Nick said. “He lost you, but gets to keep his mother.”

Her lips twitched. “And don't forget Rufus. He's keeping the cat, too.”

“Good riddance, spawn of Satan.”

Darcie laughed.

They were both quiet for a moment. Then Nick said, “I am sorry that things didn't work out.”

Sympathy was expected, though Nick actually felt no such thing. If Darcie were now a married woman, they never would have met, and he still would be dodging his family's matchmaking attempts. His relief was selfish, his reasons rooted in his current situation, he assured himself. They had nothing to do with that tug of attraction and something less definable that he felt when he was with Darcie.

“Well, I'm not sorry. I mean, I'm sorry that I let things go on for so long and that Becky wound up shelling out good money for a tangerine gown that she isn't going to be able to wear anyplace except maybe a costume party.” Darcie shook her head on a laugh. “God, I must sound so cold.”

“Not at all. More like honest,” Nick said.

He appreciated honesty. And he appreciated her situation. A woman who had recently ended her engagement would not be looking for another relationship so soon. But...

“Getting back to our possible fling, in addition to honesty, what else would you expect?”

“I don't know. This is an awkward conversation.”

“It is all hypothetical, remember?”

“Hypothetical or not, it's still awkward. As worldly and sophisticated as I'd like you to think I am, I'm...just not.” She shrugged.

When she said things like that, his protective instincts kicked into high gear. For all of her bravado and flippant comments, she was vulnerable and uncertain. She could be hurt. Hell, she already had been by a man who claimed to love her, but had allowed his own mother to belittle her.

Darcie shifted in her seat. “Maybe you should tell me what you would expect.”

“Fair enough.” He picked up his glass and took a drink, allowing the crisp white wine to bathe his tongue as he searched for the right words. “I would expect to have more dinners such as this one. I enjoy our conversations.”

“And?”

“Well, like you, I would expect honesty.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “And?”

“Whatever were to happen naturally between us, it would be mutually agreed upon and enjoyed.”

“A very diplomatic answer,” she said.

“Something for both of us to think about.”

Their entrées arrived then and the conversation turned to benign topics. Nick was eyeing the dessert menu, if only to prolong their evening, when Darcie said, “That was almost as good as the dinner your mom and grandmother made.”

“I will be sure to pass along your compliment. You have room for dessert tonight, yes?”

She grinned. “I'm on vacation. I get to indulge.” When he lifted a brow, she clarified, “In sweets.”

They ordered coffee and two pieces of chocolate cake layered with a decadent mousse filling. The cake was delicious, but what made his mouth water was watching Darcie savor each bite.

He set his fork aside and, after taking a sip of coffee, asked her, “Have you decided where I will be taking you tomorrow?”

“I was thinking the Temple of Zeus and Hadrian's Arch. That is if you have the time.”

“I will
make
the time.”

* * *

Darcie had blown her diet big-time with that delicious dessert, so it was a good thing the scrumptious man she'd spent the evening with came calorie-free. Still, if one of them had to go straight to her hips, she would rather it be Nick.

“You are smiling,” the man in question noted as they returned to the hotel. “Care to share your thoughts?”

“No.” She pressed her lips together tightly afterward to keep from smiling again.