Greek for Beginners (9 page)

“Mmm. 'Kay. I have no problem with that.”

“No?” He kissed her cheek.

“None whatsoever.”

“Good.”

“It is good.” Bordering on incredible, she decided, as his hands moved up her sides and his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts.

“So, that is yes?” His voice was low, strained. “You will stay?”

Darcie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I'll stay, Nick.”

SEVEN

“We had better
go
.”

Nick made that pronouncement with no small amount of regret. But if he and Darcie stayed in his home much longer, the sparks he was experiencing were bound to ignite into an all-out blaze. And he had just convinced her that he was not, in fact, offering her a place to stay in exchange for a bedmate. He still had no doubt that Darcie and he would move beyond the hypothetical when it came to having a fling, but he'd meant what he said last night—he wanted both of them going into it with open eyes and clear expectations.

That and he couldn't explain exactly why, but he didn't want the flash and burn of spontaneous sex. With Darcie, when it happened, he wanted to take his time. He wanted to make it last, make it count. Something told him she deserved that. So, he collected his keys from the kitchen counter and steered her out the door as quickly as possible. She didn't object.

On the drive back to her hotel, he said, “I will be by tomorrow morning at nine to collect you. We can move your belongings to the house and then spend the afternoon wandering near the seaside, if you would like.”

“That sounds fine, but what about work? Do you have a car you need to go see or one that you want me to start researching online?”

Nick shook his head. “I think tomorrow will be a day off for both of us. Work can start the following day.”

* * *

“Oh, my God! You're moving in with Nick!”

Becky didn't sound as scandalized as she did jealous. And no wonder. After Darcie had sent her friend a photograph she'd snapped of Nick at the Parthenon, Becky had emailed back that she would be on the next flight to Athens if Nick had a friend she could meet who was even half as good-looking.

No friend. Only a brother and he's getting married
, Darcie had emailed back. She'd left out all of the nuances to that particular story, not sure what to make of them herself.

Now, she told Becky, “I'm not moving in with Nick. I'm moving into his house.”

“You say potato.... Is there really a distinction?”

Darcie couldn't help but laugh. Nor could she help but be grateful that she'd called Becky before calling her family. She could only imagine what her parents were going to make of the latest twist in her trip itinerary. They hadn't exactly been thrilled about her going on her honeymoon solo. Even though she was a grown woman, she knew they worried. She'd promised to check in a few times during her trip. Her conversation with Becky qualified as a test run, so Darcie strove to clear up any misconceptions. She needed to have her story down pat before relaying it to her mom and dad.

“There's a big distinction. Nick will not be there. He is going to stay with his parents.”

She went on to explain the rest of the arrangement to Becky
—
the work she would be doing for Nick in exchange for the free lodgings. By the time she finished, it sounded like a perfectly platonic business deal, especially since she didn't mention the skill with which Nick kissed or the way she responded to those kisses. No sense pouring kerosene on a fire that was already burning cheerfully all on its own.

“So, it's a business arrangement,” Becky said slowly.

“Exactly. Who knows? Nick says he uses freelancers to put together his auction booklets. Maybe I'll be able to snag some of that work when I get home, too. It's not exactly full-length feature writing, but it's a start. I can get my feet wet, begin collecting clips.”

“You want to write again?”

Darcie had never stopped
wanting
to write, but as a practical matter, while working full-time as a fact-checker, she hadn't had the wherewithal to seek out freelance opportunities. Besides, Tad had not been encouraging. A journalism career, especially one that eventually might take her to New York, wasn't in the cards for his future wife.

“My life is in chaos anyway. Why not try new things? You know, take some chances.”

“Oh, you won't get any argument from me. I always felt you gave up on your dream job much too easily. That's another reason I never liked Tad. He wasn't supportive when it came to your goals. It was all about him. His happiness. His career. His mother,” she added drolly. “I'm glad to see your backbone returning.”

“Greece has been good for me,” Darcie replied. “A new start.”

“Yes, and a hot man who treats you like a goddess doesn't hurt, either.”

They both laughed, but Darcie knew there was some truth to her friend's words. In the short time she'd known Nick, she had started to feel more confident, more desirable, more in control of her future. Maybe those changes would have occurred regardless once she'd called off her engagement. Still, she credited Nick for accelerating the process.

But did that mean she could handle a no-emotional-strings-attached fling with him? Darcie didn't know. Sure, she flirted a good game, but she'd also confessed her unworldliness to Nick. She was pretty sure that was what had him holding back.

After Darcie hung up, she called her mom and dad.

Neither of her parents had a problem with her new living arrangements, especially since Darcie left off the part that Nick owned the house where she would be staying. In fact, she left out a lot of details where Nick was concerned, only mentioning that he'd offered her a freelance opportunity.

Like Becky, her father was thrilled that Darcie was returning to writing.

“That's the best news I've had in a long, long time,” he told her. The pride she heard in his voice made her eyes sting. He'd never stopped believing in her.

“Thanks, Dad.” Since her mother was on the extension, Darcie asked, “And you, Mom? What do you think?”

“I'm happy if you're happy.” But her voice didn't hold pride as much as trepidation.

“But?”

“I don't know.” Then, apropos of nothing, she said, “Tad stopped by today. He dropped off some wedding gifts from our side of the family that had been mailed to the condo.”

Not sure what else to say, Darcie replied, “That was nice of him.”

“He also brought a box of miscellaneous things you left behind when you moved out.”

“Oh.” Again, she was at a loss for words.

“I know you often felt second in line to his mother, but by calling off the wedding, well, I think you've made your point. I think things would be different now if you got back together. He...he really loves you.”

Darcie swallowed, wishing it were as simple as that. Wishing she could want the same suburban life her married sisters had so happily embraced.

“But I don't love him, Mom. Not the way I should if I am going to spend the rest of my life as his wife.”

“He said he's been trying to reach you but that you haven't returned any of his calls.”

Four on her cell. All of which Darcie had let go to voice mail. “I know. And I will.”

“When?”

“When I get back.”

“Honey—”

“Mom, please. It's over. You need to accept that and so does Tad. He and I, well, we want different things in life.”

“What is it that you want, Darcie?” Her mother's tone had turned impatient. “What is it you
think
you're looking for?”

It was her father who answered. “Stop badgering the girl. She simply wants more than what Tad can offer.”

Darcie closed her eyes. Bless her dad. He got it. He understood. Her mother, meanwhile, remained perplexed.

“Are you sure it's not just a case of cold feet?” she asked. “A lot of brides get them. It's natural.”

“I'm positive, Mom.”

And Darcie was, especially when she thought about Nick and all of the heat the man could generate inside of her with a single, simple smile.

* * *

The move to Nick's house the next morning was accomplished easily. Darcie had only the one, forlorn-looking bag after all. She'd still heard nothing from the airline about her missing piece of luggage. With her luck, it would show up in Greece about the time she was to return home. Whatever. She was making do and, now that she didn't have to worry about paying for lodgings, she'd decided she was entitled to make a few more wardrobe purchases. Already Nick had mentioned having dinner again. She couldn't very well keep wearing the same dress. And she was starting to feel a little too touristy outfitted in T-shirts, shorts and sneakers. She might as well hang a camera around her neck and strap on a fanny pack to complete the cliché.

Once they arrived at Nick's house, she stood in the driveway and breathed in the sea-scented air, looking forward to the stroll through town that he promised her. The day was warm, but the breeze kept the temperature from being unpleasant.

That was until they went inside and Nick offered a tempting smile and said, “We never got to the bedrooms yesterday.”

They hadn't gotten to a lot of things while in his house the day before, Darcie thought, not sure whether it was relief she felt or something more damning.

Even so, she smiled in return and made a sweeping motion with one hand. “Lead the way.”

Three bedrooms opened up off the hallway at the top of the stairs. Each had its own bath. Two of the rooms, including the master, faced the harbor and sported private balconies. The master was large enough to accommodate a small sitting area in addition to a king-sized bed. The chairs were upholstered in a luscious aquamarine, which, when combined with the deep blue duvet cover, mimicked the colors of the harbor. The art on the walls featured nautical themes, although the works themselves were more abstract in nature. Darcie was no connoisseur, but the pictures appeared to be signed originals or numbered prints, all of which were expertly matted and framed.

Nick came up behind her as she gazed out at the harbor. She swore she could feel the heat from his body warming her back even though he stood a respectable distance away.

“This is a very, um, restful view,” she said.

“You would think so.” Dry humor tinged his voice. “Right now, I am feeling very restless, especially when I think of you sleeping in my bed.”

“About that.” She cleared her throat and turned. “I think I will take one of your guestrooms.”

“Are you sure? I spared no expense on that mattress. I think you would be more comfortable in here.”

She didn't agree. Indeed, she had a feeling that she would toss and turn all night on the mattress in question, tortured by detailed fantasies and the lingering scent of his cologne. She wasn't quite ready to slip into Nick's bed
—
alone or otherwise.

Darcie chose the guestroom next door. It offered the same stunning view as the master and could hardly be considered small, even if it only had one chair rather than an actual sitting area. If she wanted to sit at all up here, she would do it on the balcony in one of the cushioned chaises.

It only took her a few minutes to unpack her clothes and toiletries, and then she met Nick downstairs, where he showed her around his home office. Like the rest of the house, the furnishings were modern with clean lines. The wooden desk was stained a deep brown. The bookshelves just behind it were glass and metal. Every electronic gadget one could wish for—tablet, laptop, digital printer and copier
—
would be at her disposal.

He showed her how to log on to the internet using his laptop, as well as how to access her own email account. With a few clicks of the mouse, he also brought up a raft of research sites that he used to locate collectible cars and determine their value. Given her current job, she was familiar with several of them. Then he opened a file on the laptop and pulled up a catalog from a previous auction at his warehouse just outside Manhattan. It had been created using software Darcie knew well. In addition to color photographs of the automobiles and the prices they were likely to bring at auction, the catalog included several paragraphs describing the vehicles.

Nick tapped his index finger against the screen. “This is the sort of thing I will need you to write for me. Facts tend to be bland. Bland does not generate interest, let alone bids. People need to be persuaded to part with their money, especially in such vast sums. The catalogs are sent out in advance and help generate not only interest, but excitement.”

She grinned. She knew where he was heading. “Trust me. The facts won't be bland or boring when I get done with them. I'll make those cars sound so sexy and irresistible that even you will be tempted to bid on them when they come up for auction.”

“That is exactly what I was hoping to hear.”

Darcie's gaze fell on a framed picture of a younger Nick standing with another man in front of a race car. His uncle, she surmised, recalling their conversation from the day they met. This was the man who had kick-started Nick's passion for cars and, ultimately, set into motion his career.

“Does your uncle still race?”

“No. He is retired. But racing is in his blood. He sponsors other drivers now.” Nick pointed to the photograph. “He still owns that car. He won a Grand Prix with it. He retired not long afterward and the car retired with him. He said he couldn't part with it.”

“Is it difficult?” she asked.

“Is what difficult?”

“Parting with the cars that you like?” She sent him a grin. “It's obvious that you have a weakness for a finely engineered automobile.”

“I do, but they are not my only weakness.” His gaze was on her mouth.

“Nick,” she said pointedly.

“What were we talking about again?” he asked.

“Cars. Selling them. Even the ones you would like to keep for yourself.”

“Ah. Yes. I remember now.” He shook his head and shrugged. “I enjoy the automobiles while they are in my possession. That is enough.” His gaze was on her mouth again. “I do not need to own something to enjoy it. Not everything is meant to last.”