Книга - Greek for Beginners

Greek for Beginners
Jackie Braun


That’s just about the extent of Darcie Hayes’ Greek before she touches down in Athens, ready to put her troubles behind her and indulge in a little sun, sea, sightseeing and, err, flirtation! But when Nick Costas, modern day Adonis, saves her from a con man, she begins to think there might be more to Greece than meets the eye…Nick is perfectly happy with his single status, but meeting Darcie makes him wonder if falling in love really would be the worst thing in the world. Is Nick actually considering pushing this… thing with Darcie past the Beginners stage and on to Advanced… ?







Alpha, beta, gamma, delta…

That’s just about the extent of Darcie Hayes’s Greek before she touches down in Athens, ready to put her troubles behind her and indulge in a little sun, sea, sightseeing and…er…flirtation! But when Nick Costas, modern-day Adonis, saves her from a con man, she begins to think there might be more to Greece than meets the eye….

Nick is perfectly happy with his single status, but meeting Darcie makes him wonder if falling in love really would be the worst thing in the world. Is Nick actually considering pushing this thing with Darcie past the Beginners’ stage and on to Advanced?


Greek for Beginners






“I think you put on your bikini to torture me.”

Nick stepped back so that he could do a slow inspection of her body. A groan of approval vibrated from his throat.

“I didn’t know you were going to knock on my door,” she pointed out. “So, torturing you is merely a bonus.”

Darcie was amazed at her boldness. Not only did she feel comfortable standing nearly naked before him—she felt sexy and confident. She turned slowly before presenting him with her back and glancing flirtatiously over one shoulder. “So, you like my suit, hmm?”

His gaze skimmed down a second time and he let out a low whistle. “I like the way you look in it, Darcie. You are beautiful.”

Better yet, she felt that way. Smiling in earnest, she asked, “So, you remembered to pack a pair of trunks, right?”

“I did.”

“Good. Put them on.”

She slipped around him and started for the door, but only managed two steps before his hands clamped on her waist and she was hauled back against his rock-hard chest.


Dear Reader,

I had so much fun writing Greek for Beginners. Darcie and Nick are two of my favorite characters to date. She’s the kind of woman I would be friends with—funny, smart and a little off-the-wall. And he’s exactly the sort of man who would capture my attention—handsome, sexy and coolly confident with a soft spot for family.

Now, I have a confession. I’ve never been to Greece. During a whirlwind European tour many moons ago, I visited Germany, Austria, Italy, France and England, but no matter how hard my friend and I tried, a jaunt to Greece just wouldn’t fit into our jam-packed itinerary. I’ve always regretted that.

The food, the customs, the culture, the sights, the history…all of it begs to be explored. Alas, for this story I had to settle for doing it via books and the internet. My apologies in advance if I got something wrong.

Someday, I would love to travel to Greece with my husband. I wonder if we would have as magical a time as Darcie and Nick do.

Happy reading!

Jackie Braun


Greek for Beginners

Jackie Braun






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT JACKIE BRAUN

Jackie Braun is the author of more than two dozen romance novels and novellas. She is a three-time RITA® Award finalist, a four-time National Readers’ Choice Award finalist, the winner of a Rising Star Award in traditional romantic fiction, and she was nominated for Series Storyteller of the Year by RT Book Reviews in 2008. She makes her home in mid-Michigan with her husband and their two children. She enjoys gardening and gabbing, and can be reached on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/authorjackiebraun) or through her website at www.jackiebraun.com (http://www.jackiebraun.com).


To Roma Costanzo

with thanks for all of her love and support!


Contents

Chapter One (#u11b88577-ffe5-5038-9b24-642adb026c44)

Chapter Two (#ude7aca16-ca4a-5238-9239-fbe18b4be0a1)

Chapter Three (#u0eb40229-6d2b-5152-aee4-49be5b6dc417)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE

If Darcie Hayes had any lingering doubts about her decision to call off her wedding a week before the “I dos” and end her engagement to her longtime beau, they were eradicated the moment she stepped off the plane in Athens and scanned the crowd.

A driver was supposed to meet her at the airport. That was part of the nonrefundable, all-inclusive Greek tour package that her spendthrift fiancé had booked for their honeymoon. The honeymoon she had decided to take alone.

Tad got their Buffalo, New York, condominium and their antisocial cat in the breakup. She’d figured a couple of weeks away from her well-meaning friends and family in sun-drenched Greece was a fair trade since she’d never liked the condo, and the cat had never liked her. Now, she had the sinking feeling that Tad had gotten the better end of the deal.

She saw no hand-printed sign bearing her name. Nor was anyone smiling in welcome and waving to gain her attention. For a brief moment, a handsome man on a cell phone stopped talking and their gazes met.

Her best friend Becky’s last text played through Darcie’s head.

Meet a man. Have a fling. Get ur sexy back.

Becky had wanted to come on the trip, but she hadn’t been able to get the time off work on such short notice. That wasn’t stopping her from giving Darcie all sorts of advice on how to spend her time, including having a fling. Well, if Darcie were going to cast caution to the wind, this would be exactly the sort of man she would pick to do it with. He was so gorgeous that her mouth threatened to fall open. It settled for watering, and she was forced to swallow or she would have drooled. The crowd of departing passengers surged around him then, obstructing her view. When the travelers cleared, he was gone.

After that, the only person who made eye contact with Darcie was a portly porter who approached with a trolley as she waited for her bags at the luggage carousel. It was just her luck that only one of the designer knock-offs showed up. It was the smaller of the two—the bag in which she’d packed her “second-string” outfits, the first string being the new clothes she’d bought especially for the trip. The bag sported wheels and a retractable handle, but the handle was out and dangling uselessly to the side. As for the wheels, one had been sheared off somehow.

The porter pointed to the missing wheel and busted handle, and then pointed to the trolley. Darcie nodded. Even though the bag was only one size up from a carry-on, when she’d hefted it onto the scale at the airport in Buffalo, she’d nearly given herself a hernia. She was more than happy to have someone else do the heavy lifting now.

The porter was old enough to be her father, but nothing about the smile he gave her was paternal. After loading her bag onto a cart, he winked. Then his gaze skimmed down and he said something in Greek that, even though she didn’t know what it meant, had her checking the buttons on her blouse to be sure they were fastened.

“I, um, can take it from here,” Darcie said, handing him a couple euros for a tip and then making a shooing motion with her hands.

Alone again, she heaved a frustrated sigh. So much for the part of her itinerary that read, “You will be met at the airport by a member of our friendly and efficient English-speaking staff and taken directly to one of Athens’s finest hotels.”

But then what her near-miss of a husband considered “sparing no expense” on the trip of a lifetime and how the majority of people would define the concept were two different things entirely. Tad had never earned a penny that he hadn’t pinched mercilessly afterward. Darcie was all for getting a good deal, but more often than not, you got what you paid for. She had a bad feeling this trip was going to be a case in point. The plane ride had been her first clue, wedged as she’d been for the long, transatlantic flight into a coach seat so narrow that even a runway model would have found the dimensions unforgiving.

Darcie wasn’t a runway model, nor would she ever be mistaken for one, even if at five foot eleven she had the height. She also had curves, the kind for which words such as big-boned and, her personal favorite, full-figured had been strung together. She’d long ago reconciled herself to that fact that no amount of dieting was going to result in her being considered dainty. Instead, through hard work and an amount of discipline she hadn’t known she’d possessed, she’d toned her body into its best shape ever for her wedding day. She’d planned to rock the church wearing a fitted white mermaid gown, but she’d never walked down the aisle.

That had been her choice, but still...

She headed for the nearest counter, putting her back into steering the trolley, which, she discovered, had an annoying tendency to veer to the right. All the way there, she prayed that one of the two uniformed men standing behind the counter would speak enough English to understand her.

“Excuse me,” she began, smiling at both. “Yia sas.” That meant “hello” and pretty much measured the extent of her Greek.

Luckily, one of the men replied in English, “Hello. How can I assist you?”

“Someone from my tour was supposed to meet me here and take me to my hotel, but I don’t see anyone. I was hoping you might know where I should wait for them.”

The man nodded. “What is the name of the company?”

“It’s Zeus Tours.” She rifled through her purse and produced a full-color brochure and a printout of her itinerary, which she handed to him.

The mouth under his thick moustache twitched with a smile and he nodded again. “Zeus Tours. Ne.”

“You know of them?”

“Ne,” he said again. It meant “yes,” but his amused expression didn’t leave her feeling relieved. Next to him, the other man had started to chuckle.

Oh, this didn’t bode well, but she forged ahead. “Um, so are they here?” She gestured to the busy terminal at large.

He glanced around. “I do not see Stavros.”

The other man said something in Greek that had them sharing a laugh.

“Stavros.” She repeated on a nod. “Am I supposed to meet this Stavros somewhere other than here?”

“Here. There.” The man shrugged. “I suggest you have a seat and make yourself comfortable.” He handed the papers back to her and pointed to a nearby bank of chairs. “It could be a while.”

“A while?” Her stomach dropped.

“Stavros keeps his own schedule. If he owns a watch, he never consults it.”

At this the man’s coworker hooted with laughter.

Darcie was tired and growing irritable. She wanted a shower, a nap and something to eat, not necessarily in that order. It wouldn’t hurt to throw in a drink somewhere, either. A nice glass of chilled white wine, perhaps. Or a shot of ouzo...straight from the bottle. What she didn’t want to do was spend any more of her first day in Athens in the airport as the punch line for a joke. But she worked up a smile and offered her thanks.

She was attempting to wheel the trolley away when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Darcie turned to find the gorgeous man she’d spied earlier. Her stomach took another dive, but this time for reasons that had nothing to do with disappointment.

Up close, she realized that he was taller than she was. Darcie actually had to look up. Even if she’d been wearing the highest pair of heels she owned, she only would have been on eye level. Six foot three, she figured, and every last inch of him was packaged in firm muscle beneath an untucked white linen shirt and a pair of designer jeans that fit snugly across the thigh.

His skin was tanned, his jaw subtly shadowed. His hair was nearly black and fell across brows of the exact shade. The eyes below those brows were a rich chocolate-brown and smiling even though his mouth held only the faintest curve.

“Hello,” he said.

Her tongue untied long enough for her to manage a basic greeting. “Hi.”

“I could not help but overhear your conversation. Maybe I can be of help,” he said in gorgeously accented English.

“I hope so.” It came out on a sigh and Darcie came to her senses. “What I mean is, my fi— Um, friend booked an all-inclusive vacation package with Zeus Tours. I was promised that someone would meet me at the airport, but...” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

“Ah, Zeus Tours.” Like the pair at the counter, the man apparently was acquainted with the company, but he didn’t laugh. Rather, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. “May I ask why you decided to book your trip with that particular company?”

“My, um, friend found them on the internet and got a really good deal.”

It sounded like he said, “I am sure she did.” He glanced around then. “And where is your friend?”

Tad was probably with his mother, Darcie mused. It had taken her six years to accept the fact that an engagement ring was no match for the tight knots in Evelyn’s apron strings.

“Couldn’t make it,” she replied, leaving off the telltale pronoun.

A pair of dark brows rose. “So, you came to Greece by yourself?”

Even a man who looked like a Greek god could be a psychopathic killer. So, Darcie said carefully, “Yes, but you know, it’s a guided tour and they’re expecting me.”

The man glanced around and then back at her.

“Well, I’m sure someone will be here...any minute.” She pulled out the brochure again and tapped the front of it with the tip of one finger. “I’ve been assured a safe and supervised good time over the course of the next two weeks.”

This time the man’s mouth joined his eyes in smiling.

“I apologize. I am making you nervous when I am only trying to help. Here.” He pulled out the cell phone she’d seen him talking on earlier. “If you give me the number, I will call the company for you. I know the owner. He and I went to grade school together.”

A psychopathic killer wouldn’t offer to make phone calls, she reasoned. She handed him the brochure.

Darcie could hear only one side of the conversation and it was in rapid-fire Greek, but she could figure out easily enough that the handsome stranger was irritated on her behalf. Whoever was on the other end of the line was getting an earful. When the man concluded the call, he returned the phone to his back pocket.

“Well?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, your ride has been delayed. I will take you to your hotel.”

“You...but...” she sputtered and glanced around, torn. She was eager to leave the airport, unpack and unwind in the comfort of her hotel room, but... “I don’t even know your name.”

He smiled. “I am Nick. Nick Costas. The men at the counter can vouch for me, if you would like. I fly in and out of this airport often enough. Or I can show you some identification.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled out his wallet and produced his driver’s license.

“The State of New York?” She glanced up. “You’re American?”

“Yes, for the past five years, but much of my family still lives in Athens. Between business and family, I am here often.” He pocketed his wallet. “And you are?”

Single now.

She cleared her throat and in a demure voice managed to respond, “Darcie Hayes of Buffalo. We’re practically neighbors.”

It was a stretch given that his address was on Park Avenue in Manhattan and she lived upstate, several hours away. They shared a time zone but were worlds apart based on the designer watch strapped to his wrist.

Still, he was attracted to her.

She may have been long out of practice when it came to flirting, but she knew male interest when she saw it. For a woman who’d spent several years waiting to walk down the aisle while her boyfriend deferred to his mother’s wishes, it was heady stuff indeed.

“It’s good to meet you, Darcie Hayes of Buffalo.”

He offered a hand and their palms met briefly. The simple contact managed to make her insides quake. Of course, they were shaky to begin with as a result of exhaustion and the fact that she’d bypassed the in-flight meal of mystery meat coated in unappetizing neon yellow gravy. Still, she pulled back her hand, worried she might make a fool of herself.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. And I really appreciate your help.” She tucked a hank of hair behind one ear. “Um, what did the tour company people say?”

“Stavros is...indisposed.”

Stavros, there was that name again. Nick said he’d gone to school with the man who owned the company, but she asked hopefully, “Is this Stavros the driver?”

“The driver, the tour guide and the owner of Zeus Tours.”

“Oh, boy. A real multitasker, hmm?” She blew out a breath. “When you say indisposed, what does that mean exactly? Has he fallen and broken his leg? Or contracted a nasty virus and is racked with fever?”

Nick shook his head. “Stavros is still lying in bed. He told me that he had a late night out with his friends and overindulged.”

“He’s h-h-hung over?” she sputtered incredulously.

“I am afraid so.”

Darcie gritted her teeth. She should have known. The moment Tad bragged that he’d gotten a great deal, it should have been abundantly clear that the dream Greek honeymoon trip he’d booked was too good to be true for a reason.

“I was really hoping this Stavros had a stomach bug,” she muttered. This surprised a laugh out of Nick. She asked him, “How familiar are you with Zeus Tours?”

Nick wasn’t laughing now. “I am familiar enough to know that Stavros pours more money down his throat than he puts back into his company. He took over when his father died two years ago. In that time, he has had to let go more than half of his employees. He is not a bad man, but neither is he a good businessman.”

Although she wasn’t normally one to air her complaints to a stranger, weariness had her muttering, “Terrific. Just terrific. I’m here for a vacation. God knows, I’m due for one. I haven’t had a day off work in two years. I’ve worked overtime and taken every crappy assignment I was handed without complaint so I could save up money for...for...” She waved a hand and tried to reel in her emotions. “Anyway, I was counting on the vacation described in the brochure—first-rate accommodations, air-conditioned motor coaches for sightseeing with a knowledgeable guide, authentic Greek cuisine at some of the country’s best restaurants. Is this company going to be able to deliver on any of its promises?”

“No.” He didn’t hesitate at all, making that one word all the more damning.

Darcie closed her eyes briefly. “Of course not. Half of my luggage is missing. What showed up is, well, the half I wish were missing. Not that it really matters, given that my dream vacation is turning out to be a bust and I haven’t even gotten out of the airport yet.” She sighed. “I should have taken the condo and Rufus.”

“Rufus?”

“Also know as the spawn of Satan. He’s a cat,” she added when Nick continued to frown. Not that her explanation made anything clear. She shook her head. “Never mind. Trust me when I say, this is the story of my life.”

“Come.” Nick smiled. “You can share this story of your life on the drive to your hotel.”

Why not?

Darcie decided to listen to the little voice telling her that Nick Costas wasn’t a threat. After all, it was the same little voice that had told her to cut all ties and run where her ex-fiancé was concerned, so she figured it knew what it was talking about. It had taken her several years to pay attention the last time. She only had two weeks in Greece. She was going to make the most of them. Starting now.

“In the mood for a good laugh, are you?” she asked wryly.

Nick smiled again. Oh, he was in the mood...for something. A diversion at the very least, and he figured he’d found one. A pretty one, too, given the woman’s tumble of chestnut hair, wide-set Aegean blue eyes and a body that would have made the ancient goddesses green with envy.

He’d come to the airport that day with every intention of leaving Greece and returning to his home in Manhattan. He’d booked a flight to New York, a flight that would be boarding shortly without him. Just as well. He’d been angry with his family and their unabashed matchmaking and had allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment.

Of course, he would have to be back in Greece within a fortnight anyway. No amount of irritation would cause him to miss his brother’s wedding. He would never live down the talk otherwise. And there was plenty of that already since Pieter was marrying Nick’s childhood sweetheart, Selene.

Half of Athens was gossiping about it, waiting for a fight to erupt between the brothers. Nick was determined not to indulge the gawkers, as awkward and, yes, painful, as the situation was. He lamented the strain between him and Pieter. He regretted the division in his once unified family. But neither could be helped. The best he could do was to gather up his dignity and feign indifference.

“Allow me,” he told Darcie and took over pushing the trolley. Five steps later, he nearly took out a bank of unoccupied chairs.

“It wants to go in circles,” she warned.

She was shaking her head and smiling. He liked her smile. Her lips were inviting even without any added gloss. A lovely diversion, he thought again.

And why not? He was entitled. He had no strings to tangle him up. He hadn’t had those since Selene. That was the way he preferred it, too, as he’d pointed out to his grandmother that very morning when Yiayia expressed concern about his ongoing single status. Nick had no such concerns. What he had was a plan, a meticulously crafted five-year plan to grow his auction business. After that, he might start thinking about settling down, but never again would he allow his heart to be broken. Once was enough.

“Is this part of the story of your life?” he asked Darcie, motioning to the wayward cart.

“That’s right.” She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but since you’re being so nice, I feel I owe you the truth. I’m a magnet for bad luck.”

“Really?”

“Really. Swear.” She traced a cross over her very impressive chest.

Nick followed the progress of her fingertip before allowing his gaze to lift to her lips again. “Perhaps your luck is about to change.”


TWO

While she waited for Nick to retrieve his car from the long-term parking lot, Darcie called Becky. Even if she didn’t think Nick was a psycho, she decided it would be wise to let someone know she had arrived safely in Athens and was now in the hands of a stranger. Calling her parents was out of the question. Ditto for her sisters. That left Becky, who answered on the fifth ring.

“Someone had better be dying,” her friend muttered ominously, and Darcie realized it was the middle of the night in Buffalo.

“I’m not dying, just checking in,” she said. “Sorry I woke you, Becks. I forget about the time difference.”

“Darcie? Oh. Hey.” She pictured Becky struggling to a sitting position on her bed and trying to force the cobwebs from her head. “Is everything okay?”

Darcie scuffed the toe of one shoe against the pavement. “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, my flight arrived on time, but I’m missing half of my luggage. The good half.”

Becky had helped her pack, so she commiserated. “That stinks. On the bright side, now you have a valid excuse to buy more clothes.”

“Yeah.” Like Darcie could afford to do that. She coughed and continued. “Oh, and there’s been one other small glitch. No one from the tour company was at the airport to meet me.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. You need to report them to the Better Business Bureau or something.”

“I know. Apparently, the owner of the company is a lush.” She forced out a laugh. “Figures, right? I mean, Tad got such a good deal on this vacation there was bound to be a catch.”

Becky muttered something obscene about Tad. It wasn’t anything Darcie hadn’t heard before. Her friend had been quite vocal in her dislike of him. That had been a source of contention between the two women in the past, but no longer. She found herself wondering what Becky would make of Nick.

“I hope the rest of the trip goes smoothly,” her friend said.

Unfortunately, based on what Nick had told Darcie, she had her doubts. She told Becky as much.

“What are you going to do? Can you get a refund and hook up with a different company?”

“I don’t know.” The fine print on the package said the price was nonrefundable, but Darcie planned to try anyway. She figured she had nothing to lose. “In the meantime, I have a ride to the first hotel on the itinerary. The tour group is supposed to stay there for a couple of nights. That should give me time to see if the company is going to be able to deliver on any of its promises and, if not, make other arrangements.” At least she hoped it would.

“Good. Darcie, if you need money—”

“No. I don’t. But thanks.” Not only could Becky not afford it, but she’d also been generous enough already, letting Darcie crash at her apartment until she found a place of her own. That certainly beat moving back in with her parents, even temporarily. What thirty-year-old woman wanted to do that?

Darcie took a deep breath then and, keeping her tone nonchalant, said, “You’re going to love this. The person who agreed to drive me is this insanely gorgeous man with an accent that is to die for.”

There was a slight pause before Becky asked, “You’re taking a cab, right?”

“No. Actually, I met this man in the airport and he...offered to drive. He showed me identification,” she hastened to add. “His name is Nick Costas. He lives in Manhattan, but he’s from Athens originally.”

“Darcie, I don’t know,” Becky began, worry evident in her tone.

“What happened to, ‘Have a fling and get ur sexy back?’ Hmm?”

“Well, I didn’t actually expect you to take my advice! When do you ever listen to me? I mean, if you listened to me, you never would have given Tad the time of day, much less wasted six years of your life engaged to him.”

Point taken. Becky had told Darcie from the start that Tad was a first-class mama’s boy and would stay that way.

“Relax. I’m not having a fling. It’s only a ride to a hotel. Nothing more.” Except maybe in her fantasies.

“Okay, but call me when you get there.”

“I will.”

“Promise me, Darcie. I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep until you do.”

“I promise. I’ll call.”

She hung up just as Nick’s car pulled to the curb. Unlike the other boxy subcompacts parked nearby, it was a sleek, low-slung convertible.

“Nice car.” She tapped a finger to her lips as she studied its graceful lines. “A 1963 Porsche, right?”

He nodded slowly. “A 356 Super 90 Cabriolet, to be exact.”

“Fully restored?”

“Yes, but with original parts. And I have a certificate of authenticity from the manufacturer.”

“Ooh. That pushes up its value.”

“It does.” Nick tilted his head to the side. “How is it that you know so much about automobiles?”

Darcie chuckled at his incredulous expression. “I work for a classic car magazine. I guess I picked up a few things along the way.”

“You’re a writer.”

She frowned. Not for lack of wanting, she thought. “No. I just check the facts of articles other people write.”

“Which magazine might that be?”

“Automobile Enthusiasts Monthly. It’s relatively small and based in Buffalo. You probably haven’t heard of it.” Darcie hadn’t until Tad’s friend had offered her the job just before her engagement.

“I have a subscription. I find it very factual.” He got out of the car and stood beside her. “What else can you tell me about this particular model Porsche?”

“Well, as I recall, it was very popular in America when it first came out.”

“It still is among collectors.”

“And you’re a collector.” It made sense. A man with a Park Avenue address likely would have the disposable income to indulge his whims, even ones that ran into six figures.

But Nick was shaking his head. “I collect for others. As much as I like this automobile, I will not be buying it. It will go to whoever pays the most to possess it. It is what I do for a living.” He pulled out a business card, which he handed to her. It read, Costas Classic Auto Sales and Auctions.

“Impressive.”

“It would appear that you and I have two interests in common.”

“Two?”

“Classic cars and...” His smile could have melted a glass and made it clear what that other interest was. She smiled in return and hoped the laughter that followed came off as worldly rather than the sort fueled by giddiness and nerves.

“Let me take your bag,” he said.

The Porsche had a rear engine, meaning its trunk was in the front. When Nick opened the compartment, Darcie eyed the small space.

“Gee, maybe it’s just as well the airline lost one of my bags. I don’t think both of them would fit in here. I guess when you own one of these babies you have to travel light to travel in style.” She glanced at Nick, a question forming. “Where’s your luggage?”

The left side of his mouth rose. “On a plane bound for New York.” At her puzzled expression, he added, “I was planning to fly back today.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

“I decided I was being rash.”

“So you missed your flight and offered assistance to a perfect stranger instead,” she replied dryly. Talk about rash...and flattering. Just wait until she told Becky that. Her friend was going to hyperventilate. As it was, Darcie’s breathing was a little uneven.

“A stranded stranger,” Nick corrected. His smile was full-blown this time and very effective. “One who is also very beautiful.”

Her heart fluttered and she blinked. “Oh.”

“You are blushing.”

“I, um...” She waved a hand, not certain how to reply.

“Surely, you have been told before that you are beautiful?”

“Of course I have.” She rolled her eyes. “All the time, in fact. We’re talking daily. It gets old.”

The truth was no, at least not in the past several years. Tad wasn’t one for compliments. Even during the courtship phase of their relationship, pretty words had been few and far between. After he’d slid an engagement ring on her finger? Forget about it.

“You know how I feel about you, Darcie. That should be enough.”

Maybe it should have been. But it wasn’t. Every now and then, especially when she was PMSing and feeling bloated and unattractive, a compliment would have been nice.

And then there was his mother. Evil Evelyn, as Becky had dubbed her. The older woman was quick with thinly veiled digs about Darcie’s appearance, including her good “birthing hips.”

“You are beautiful,” Nick said again. “And your blush only makes you more so.”

This time, Darcie accepted the compliment with what she hoped was a gracious smile. Beautiful. Why not? Wasn’t beauty in the eye of the beholder? And what a beholder.

Nick opened the car door for her before heading around to the driver’s side. It was another small courtesy that made her feel like she’d stepped into some sort of fairy tale.

“Shall I put up the top?”

“No,” she told him. “Leave it down. I can use the fresh air after all those hours in a stuffy airplane.”

And, okay, in her fairy tale, a ride in a Porsche convertible only added to the romance.

He was seated behind the wheel now. “Even if it means tangled hair?” He reached over and coiled the end of one lock around his index finger. If he wound it any tighter, she would be forced to lean closer to him.

While their gazes held, she blindly plumbed the depths of her oversized purse until her fingers encountered an elastic band. Pulling it out with the same verve a magician uses to produce a white rabbit, she announced, “I believe I have a solution for that.”

Nick eyed the elastic band a moment before uncoiling the lock, and she hastily tugged her hair into a ponytail.

“Very clever, but you missed some.”

This time, he made contact with more than her hair. His fingertips were warm against her cheek as they corralled the wayward strands and tucked them behind her ear. The gesture might have been construed as friendly if not for the gleam in his dark eyes or the Richter-scale-worthy effect it had on her pulse.

A car horn blasted behind them. Its driver yelled something in Greek. Nick yelled something back in the same language, but his tone was more circumspect than annoyed, and his expression could only be described as pleased.

To Darcie, he said, “People are in too much of a hurry. I prefer to take things slowly. Rushing is no good.”

With that, he turned the key in the car’s ignition. The Porsche’s powerful engine growled to life and they were off.

Nick wasn’t familiar with the hotel listed on her itinerary, but he plugged the address to The Santor into his cell phone and downloaded directions as he merged into traffic.

“It should take about forty minutes to get there,” he said as they left the airport behind.

Darcie settled back in her seat, determined to take in the sights along the way. Not only was this her first time in Greece, but it was also her first trip abroad. Indeed, other than a couple of weekend jaunts to Toronto with Becky, she’d never been outside the United States. Despite the passing scenery, however, she remained almost painfully aware of the man seated next to her, and her gaze kept returning to his profile. God, he was handsome and he’d made it plain that their attraction was mutual. This might not be a fling exactly, but it was awfully damned flattering to have such a good-looking man paying attention to her.

When he turned and caught her staring, she blurted out, “Were you always so buff? I mean, a car buff. Were you always a car buff?”

“Car buff?”

“Interested in cars,” she clarified, relieved that her slip of the tongue hadn’t made it past the language barrier.

He nodded. “My uncle raced them for a time, and the summer I turned sixteen, I traveled with him on the European Grand Prix circuit.”

“That sounds exciting.”

Nick smiled in agreement. “It was. Very.”

“Did you ever race?”

“I considered it at one point, but no.” He shrugged. “Ultimately, I was more interested in the cars—that is to say their overall design—than how fast they could travel on a closed course. So, when I was eighteen, I bought a 1957 Porsche Speedster I found advertised in the newspaper.”

“Wow. Nice first car.” Hers had been her grandmother’s ancient sedan. It was the size of a small country and guzzled fuel like a college student guzzles coffee while studying for final exams. Darcie had happily traded up to the decade-old compact she still owned.

Nick was chuckling. “Not really. It needed a lot of work, which is why I could afford it. I spent the entire summer tracking down all of the parts to rebuild its engine.” His smile was both nostalgic and proud.

“And you were hooked,” she guessed.

She’d felt that way the first time she’d composed an article for her high school’s newspaper. Three paragraphs on changes to the lunch menu and she’d known what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now, eight years after earning a degree in journalism, she could barely claim to be a journalist.

Nick was saying, “Hooked. Yes, I was. Especially after I decided to sell the Speedster at auction in Kalamai two summers later. Collectors came not only from all over Greece, but from other parts of Europe to bid on it. I loved the excitement. So, I used the money from the sale to buy another car, fix it up and auction it off. Later, I decided I did not want to go to the auctions, I wanted to run them. So, that is what I do.”

She heard satisfaction in his tone. Pride. How long had it been since she’d felt either of those emotions when it came to her own job? How long had it been since she’d dreamed of bigger and better things for herself when it came to her career? Her life? Settling. Darcie had done so damned much of it.

“Did you come to Greece on business then?” she asked.

Nick shook his head and some of his dark hair fell across his forehead. It lent an air of recklessness to his already pulse-pounding good looks.

“Not this time. I came for a family wedding.”

Wedding. Even spoken with Nick’s gorgeous accent, the word brought Darcie up short, reminding her as it did of her recent close call with “I do.” How different her life might be right now if a week ago she hadn’t finally found the courage to act on what her heart—and, well, Becky—had been telling her for so long. Tad wasn’t the right man for her.

“Yet you were going to leave today.”

“I would have been back. The ceremony does not take place until the Saturday after next.”

His response had her blinking in surprise. “That’s more than two weeks away, and you’re already here?”

“It is expected,” he replied.

Darcie detected a slight edge to his tone and thought she understood its source. She knew all about family expectations. She had three sisters, two older, one younger, all of them happily married and busily procreating as if the survival of the human race depended on them. Meanwhile, Darcie had passed the big three-oh mark in the spring and the only thing that remained of her eagerly anticipated nuptials was the stack of gifts that would have to be returned when she got back.

A groan escaped. At Nick’s quizzical glance, she said, “I feel your pain. My family can be, well, difficult to please at times. So, who’s getting married?”

“My brother Pieter.”

“I take it he lives here.”

“Yes. As does my entire family.”

Yet Nick made his home in a city across the Atlantic. Interesting. “No apron strings for you,” she murmured.

“Apron strings?”

“Nothing. Are you and your brother close?”

“We used to be closer.”

At that, his lips flattened into a grim line, leaving her with the distinct impression there was much more to the story. Still, she kept her curiosity in check and changed the subject. They engaged in polite small talk until they arrived at their destination. Even before she saw the hotel, she knew it would be a dive. The oath that slipped from Nick’s lips told her as much.

Luxury accommodations? Right. The squat, two-story building looked like it should have a date with a wrecking ball, despite the sign out front printed in Greek and English that announced it was Under Renovation. It was more rickety than some of the country’s ancient ruins. Glancing around, Darcie realized The Santor wasn’t located in the best of neighborhoods, either. As hungry as she was, she didn’t think she would be comfortable hoofing up the block to the restaurant she spied there. At the moment, two men were loitering out front, smoking cigarettes and passing a liquor bottle back and forth.

With her earlier hysteria threatening to return, she muttered, “Rufus really wasn’t so bad.”

Nick’s brows drew together. “Your cat?”

“No longer. I was thinking good riddance after what he did to my favorite silk dress. But now...” She shrugged.

“Has anyone ever told you that the story of your life is very confusing?”

“Only all the time.”

“I’ll walk you in and see you settled.”

No protest passed Darcie lips. Since it would have been token at best, she didn’t see the point. No way did she want to go inside that death trap by herself.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

Nick retrieved her sorry-looking bag and they made their way to the entrance on a makeshift walkway of cardboard that had been placed over mud puddles. On either side of the door were potted palm trees whose fronds were coated with thick, grayish construction dust.

Nick held open one of the grimy glass doors. “After you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She took a halting step inside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Once they did, she wished they hadn’t. The lobby was filled with an assortment of power tools and building supplies, and every last inch of the place was as dust-coated as the palms outside. Her apprehension kicked into high gear as she imagined the condition the rooms would be in.

As if sensing her hesitation, Nick placed a hand on the small of her back and propelled her toward the reception desk. A woman stood behind it. Darcie pegged her to be about forty-five and a chain smoker. A lit cigarette dangled from her lips and a second one burned merrily in the ashtray on the countertop. The woman squinted at them through the haze created by both dust and smoke.

“Good afternoon.” The greeting was offered in Greek as she set the cigarette in the ashtray.

“Good afternoon,” Nick replied. His gaze flicked to her name badge and he added, “Pesha. How are you today?”

He said this in English, which Pesha apparently understood and could speak, because she switched to English as well.

“I am much better now.” Her smile was flirtatious and made it clear why. Darcie couldn’t fault the woman for that. Nick had certainly brightened her day. “How can I help you?”

“My friend has a reservation.”

“Friend.” Her smile widened and she exhaled. Residual wisps of smoke curled out from the woman’s nostrils. Not terribly attractive, but they did distract one from the tar stains on her teeth. “What is the name?”

“Darcie Hayes,” Nick said.

There was no computer to consult, only a thick, leather-bound book through which Pesha began flipping. Finally, she glanced up.

“Sorry. I have no one by that name registered here this week.”

“Um, what about for a Darcie Franklin.” It would have been her married name. She avoided meeting Nick’s questioning gaze.

More page flipping ensued before Pesha shook her head. “Oxi. I cannot find that name among my guests, either.”

“There must be some mistake. The tour package was booked months ago and paid in full.”

“Tour package?” Pesha said slowly. “Which tour package might that be?”

“A multicity, sightseeing excursion that was booked through Zeus Tours.”

“Stavros!”

The woman spat out the name with enough force to turn the two benign syllables into the vilest of curses. But she wasn’t done. She continued in Greek, gesturing wildly the entire time. Darcie was left with no choice but to grit her teeth and listen. By the time Pesha switched to English again, she had worked up a good head of steam.

“That man owes me for the last three tour groups that stayed here. I have told him, no more! I have been turning his customers away all day.”

She selected one of the cigarettes from the ashtray and took a long, lung-blackening drag.

“Um, when you say no more,” Darcie began.

“I will not honor any more of his bookings unless he pays me in advance.” Pesha stamped out the cigarette for emphasis.

“I can understand your annoyance with Stavros.” Darcie was pretty annoyed with the man herself. “But I paid in full for a room at The Santor.”

Sure, the accommodations were crap, but it was the principle of the matter. They were crap for which Tad’s credit card already had been hit.

Pesha picked up the second cigarette and inhaled deeply before blowing out a stream of smoke that shot past Darcie’s left shoulder. Even so, wisps of it lingered and stung her nose.

“No, you paid Stavros in full, but he has not paid me. He has not paid me for too long!” Pesha chopped at the air with the hand holding the cigarette, sending ashes flying. Darcie was only glad the woman wasn’t clutching a sharp object. “And until he does, I will not be putting up any more of his tour customers. Now, if you wish to pay with cash, I will be happy to give you a room.”

Darcie could see the woman’s point. Pesha had a business to run and Stavros had stiffed her more than once. Still, it left Darcie in a bind, and if she had to shell out more money for a room, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be in this fleabag establishment. She turned to Nick, who apparently read her mind.

“I will take you to another hotel. Perhaps something that is closer to shopping, restaurants and nightlife.”

Darcie cleared her throat and added, “But reasonably priced. My budget is limited.”

Pesha bristled as they turned to leave.

“You will not find a better bargain than The Santor,” she insisted.

Since so much of Darcie’s life was left to fate at the moment, it was with a sense of destiny that she replied, “I’ll take my chances.”

* * *

Mindful of what Darcie had said about her budget, Nick took her to one of the chain hotels in the city, even though it offered neither the charm nor the ambience of the nicer and pricier establishments he would have preferred. But it was conveniently located and tidy, with a smoke-free lobby and a concierge who appeared eager to please.

After she booked a room, they lingered near the bank of elevators. He wasn’t in a hurry to leave. In fact, he almost regretted having to say goodbye. Darcie didn’t seem eager to end their association, either.

“How good are the chances that Stavros will refund the money for my trip?” she asked.

“Not good. My guess is he does not have the money to refund.”

She made a humming sound. “That’s what I was afraid of. At this rate, I will be on a flight back to New York before the end of the week.”

Her budget, Nick assumed. He meant it when he said, “That would be a shame. Greece is a beautiful country with so much to see.”

It might not have any effect, but he planned to call Stavros on her behalf and apply a little pressure. Darcie Hayes and unsuspecting travelers like her shouldn’t have to pay for the man’s bad business decisions and personal habits.

Nick’s reasons, of course, weren’t all pure. His gaze took in the long line of her legs. Even in flat shoes she was a tall woman. Statuesque was the word that came to mind. Sexy applied, too, given her well-rounded curves and the toned backside he’d glimpsed. Why did he get the feeling she was unaware of the power of her allure? In his experience, most women who looked like she did weren’t. They flaunted their looks, used them to get what they wanted. The fact that Darcie didn’t made her not only refreshing, but also a puzzle.

Nick liked puzzles. They ranked right up there with games of chance when it came to guilty pleasures.

“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done,” she was saying.

“I have done nothing.”

“I disagree. You’ve acted as my personal driver for the past couple of hours. I’d probably still be sitting in the airport with my busted-up luggage waiting for a ride that wasn’t coming if it weren’t for you.”

She was all but tipping over on her nose. The signs of exhaustion were unmistakable, from the shadows under her eyes to the droop in her shoulders. He doubted that she would last an hour in her room before sleep claimed her, and knew a moment of regret that he wouldn’t be there when she awoke.

“I am happy I could help. I would hate for a visitor to my homeland to go away with an unfavorable impression of Greek hospitality. Stavros Pappanolos’s poor example notwithstanding, you will find that the people here are very generous and helpful.”

“Oh, you’ve more than made up for Stavros.”

She cleared her throat. There was that becoming blush again. Nick leaned forward, drawn by her reserve. Before he could kiss her, she held out a hand that poked into his solar plexus. Her cheeks flamed bright red now.

“Well, I guess this is where we say goodbye,” she said.

Was it? Nick didn’t think so. But she was tired and he had fences to mend with his family.

He took her hand and meant it when he said, “It has been entirely my pleasure, Darcie Hayes.”


THREE

Darcie was still on Nick’s mind the following day as he sat in his grandmother’s kitchen having a midmorning snack of freshly baked koulourakia portokaliou. The sweet, orange-flavored cookies were a staple in Yiayia’s house, precisely because they ensured company.

His parents were there as well. George and Thea Costas lived right next door. In fact, Nick’s entire extended family was clustered together in a small geographic area on the western edge of Athens. True to tradition, Pieter already owned a house just down the road. In two short weeks, he and Selene would live in it together as husband and wife.

Even the sweetness of the cookie wasn’t enough to wipe out the bitter taste in Nick’s mouth.

“Your tea is growing cold,” Yiayia said, interrupting his thoughts. The snow-white hair coiled on her head made a striking contrast to her usual black frock. Sophia Pappas had been a widow for twenty-three years and still wore the color of mourning. She also considered it her duty as the family’s matriarch to meddle as she saw fit. “And you are frowning, Nikolos. Is something wrong with my cookies?”

“Nothing is wrong with your cookies.” He took another bite and smacked his lips for emphasis. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“This is a difficult time for you.” His grandmother nodded sagely.

“Only because everyone insists on making it so.”

“Have you given any more thought to Pieter’s request?” his mother asked.

It took an effort not the crush the cookie that remained in his hand. Pieter wanted Nick to be his koumbaro or best man at the upcoming Greek Orthodox ceremony. As such, it would be Nick who put the crowns on Pieter and Selene’s heads and switched them back and forth three times to symbolize their union.

Nick wanted no part of that. He couldn’t believe his brother even had the nerve to ask.

“I have said no too many times to count, Mama.”

She frowned. “I wish you would reconsider. He is your brother, Nick. Your only brother.”

“Pieter conveniently forgot that when he started seeing Selene behind my back.”

“You were gone, Nick. You went to America to start your business,” Thea reminded him unnecessarily. “You told Selene you understood when she said she did not want to move to New York, too.”

What Nick understood was betrayal. Despite what he’d told Selene at the time, he’d held out hope that she would change her mind. In his heart, he’d believed that the two of them would marry eventually. Until Pieter.

“I will not be his koumbaro. Be happy that I have agreed to attend the wedding at all.”

“Be happy, be happy,” Yiayia chided with a shake of her head. “You would do well to listen to your own advice, my boy. You will not find a bride of your own if you do not look.”

“I can assure you, I do not lack for female companionship.”

“Take care how you speak around your grandmother,” George interjected gruffly.

Nick recognized the tone. It was the same one his father had used when Nick stepped over the line as a boy. He was over the line now, too. And so he apologized.

“I am merely trying to point out that if I wanted a wife I would have one.”

He wouldn’t call himself the black sheep of the family, but his wool was definitely dyed a different shade than his brother’s, much to his mother’s and Yiayia’s regret. In addition to his Manhattan apartment, Nick kept a house just outside Athens near the Aegean. His whitewashed home was situated on a hillside and boasted panoramic views of a harbor that was dotted with yachts and fishing boats. His mother claimed the view soothed his restless nature. In some ways, watching all of those boats sail out into open waters only fed it.

“The women you know in Manhattan are not proper wife material,” his mother said.

This was true enough, in part because at this point in his life, with a business to build and the related travel taking up so much of his time, he wasn’t ready to settle down.

Still, he couldn’t resist asking, “How do you know this, Mama? You have not met any of the women I have been with since Selene.”

“I do not need to meet them. I am your mother. I know.” Thea folded her arms.

He loved his family. He loved Greece. But ever since he’d sold that first automobile to a collector living in the United States more than a decade earlier, he’d known that he would never settle for the quiet and predictable life he would have endured living here and working with his father.

His family had never understood Nick’s obsession with classic cars and his desire to see them restored, much less the pleasure he took from connecting a collector with exactly what he or she sought. They were proud of him, certainly. Through hard work, shrewd investment and a little bit of luck, Nick had managed to turn his passion into a multimillion-dollar enterprise. They just wished he’d decided to base it in Athens rather than New York.

“Besides, those women are not Greek,” Yiayia said.

It boiled down to that for his grandmother. His mother, too, though she was less inclined to say so out loud. Both women wanted Nick to marry a nice Greek girl, preferably one from a family they knew, so that he would return home, buy a house nearby and settle in. It wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t keep them from trying.

Sure enough, his mother was saying, “I saw Maria Karapoulos at the market yesterday. Her daughter Danika was with her. She has moved back from London. Her job there didn’t work out.”

“Just as well. They don’t know how to make a proper cup of tea in England,” Yiayia observed. Both women laughed. “How does Danika look? As pretty as ever?”

“Prettier,” Thea said. “She has lost some weight, and I think she has contacts now. She wasn’t wearing her glasses. She has such lovely eyes.”

“And she comes from a nice family,” his grandmother noted.

Nick sipped his tea and said nothing. The eyes he was thinking about were blue and belonged to Darcie.

His mother went on. “I invited her to the wedding. Her parents were already on the guest list. It seemed rude not to extend an invitation to her as well.”

“Good. Good. She will have fun at the wedding,” Yiayia said. “Especially if she has someone to dance with.”

Even though his tea was plenty sweet, Nick added a little more honey and tried to ignore the conversation going on around him. But he knew what was coming.

Sure enough, his grandmother added, “Nick could be her escort.”

He gave his tea a vigorous stir. “No.”

How many times must they go through this particular exercise before his mother and grandmother accepted that he didn’t need or want their help to find a date? He’d considered asking one of the local women to come with him just to get Thea and Yiayia off his back, but that posed a problem of its own. Thanks to all of the gossip, the single women in his social circle saw Nick as a challenge or as an object of pity. He didn’t want to be viewed as either.

He glanced over at his father, hoping for an ally, but George pushed his chair away from the table and rose. Motioning over his shoulder, he said, “The drain in the bathroom sink is running slow. I promised your grandmother I would take a look at it.”

“I will give you a hand,” Nick offered.

But George shook his head. “No. You finish your tea. I can manage on my own.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Nick drawled sarcastically.

His father stopped at the doorway. “You might listen to your mother, you know. I remember this Danika she speaks of. The girl comes from a good family. You could do worse.”

Now there was a recommendation. The room was quiet after his father’s exit. Nick was just starting to think the topic had been dropped when his mom said, “You are not going with anyone. It would be a shame for two young, single people to attend alone.”

Yiayia clapped her hands together. “So it is settled. Nikolos will take her.”

“No. I will not take her.”

“No?”

Nick blotted his mouth with a napkin and worked to keep his tone civil. “I am not going to take Danika or any of the other women you two have suggested to the wedding. I have said no and I mean no.”

“No! No! Always no!” His grandmother gestured with her arms before demanding, “Give us one good reason why not.”

A curvy young woman with deep blue eyes, killer legs and a thick, wavy mane of hair came to mind and inspiration struck.

“I have a date.”

Both older women blinked in surprise. His mother was the first to find her voice. “You have a date?” she asked skeptically.

“For the wedding?” Yiayia added, her tone equally dubious.

Lying did not come easily to Nick, no matter how good he considered the cause, so he answered her question with one of his own. “Is that so hard to believe? I am not repulsive, you know.”

“You are as handsome as Adonis,” his mother affirmed, undeterred. “But just yesterday you stormed out of here after the grocer’s daughter happened by and your yiayia invited her in for a cup of tea.”

“Happened by?” His brows rose. “She was dressed for cocktails, not tea. It was a setup. I do not appreciate your matchmaking. Nor do I need your help, as well-intentioned as it may be.”

Thea sighed. Nick hoped that was a sign that the matter would be dropped, at least for now. Unfortunately, his grandmother wasn’t done.

“Who is this woman you have invited to your brother’s wedding? When did this happen? You have not mentioned her before.”

Since nothing had actually happened yet and very well might never, Nick decided to answer Yiayia’s other question first. “You do not know her. She is an American.”

“American.” His grandmother put a hand to her chest and frowned.

“It is not a disease, you know.” He chuckled, hoping both to lighten the mood and to divert the conversation. Neither woman cracked a smile, however.

“You know her from New York?” Thea asked.

“Actually, I met Darcie in Greece.” Which wasn’t a lie. He saw no need to mention when or where.

“Darcie. What kind of a name is Darcie?” Yiayia’s frown deepened. “It does not sound like a Greek name.”

His mother had other concerns. “Does she live in Athens?”

“No. She came here on holiday.”

When his conscience bucked, he rationalized that he wasn’t lying to his mother and grandmother. He was merely offering a selective version of the truth.

“What does she do for a living?” Yiayia inquired.

“She works at a car magazine.” Beyond that, Nick knew precious little about Darcie Hayes other than the fact that he found her very attractive. At the moment, he also found her his ticket out of a tight spot. “I tell you what. I will bring her by some time and you can ask her all of these questions yourselves.”

He thought he was off the hook, or at the very least had delayed his day of reckoning. Yiayia dispelled that notion.

“Good. I will set an extra plate for supper.”

“S-supper?” he sputtered. “Tonight?”

“We will eat at seven.”

“Come early,” his mother added with an eager smile that sent his insides churning.

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Darcie had forced herself to stay awake until 9:00 p.m. the previous evening. She’d called Becky as promised and explained about her changed itinerary, after which she had collapsed face-first on the bed and slept like the dead. When she awoke just before ten o’clock the following morning she had a deep crease from the sheets across her right cheek, but after nearly thirteen hours of uninterrupted slumber she felt almost human. She also was starving again.

If the tour had panned out as advertised, she already would have enjoyed a buffet breakfast with her fellow travelers and been boarding an air-conditioned motor coach headed for the Parthenon on the Acropolis. She showered and dressed, donning tan shorts and a fitted white T-shirt before lacing up a pair of sneakers. For one moment she allowed herself to picture the floral sundress and new sandals in her missing luggage. Shaking off her wistfulness, she headed for the door, eager to leave the hotel and start exploring. The day before, she’d been too exhausted to do more than walk up the block from the hotel to a small market that the concierge had recommended. She’d bought bread and fresh fruit. Today, she was in the mood for a real meal and ancient ruins.

It came as a total surprise when the first sight to greet her when she entered the lobby was Nick Costas striding purposefully through the main door. He broke into a smile that made her knees weak. It buoyed her ego that he appeared so pleased to see her.

“Darcie. Excellent. You are still here.”

“Hello, Nick. Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” He shook his head. “Not at all.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I sense a but coming?”

“Because you are too perceptive.” He laughed. “You were on your way out.”

“Yes. To eat.”

“May I join you?”

“Okay. I should warn you that I’m not sure exactly where I’m going. I was just planning to wander around until I found a restaurant that looked appealing.”

“May I make a suggestion then?”

“By all means.”

“I know a wonderful spot not far from here that makes the best moussaka.”

“Moussaka. My favorite,” she said, although she had no idea what it was. Intrigued by both the meal and the man, Darcie agreed.

Nick took her to an out-of-the-way café that made her feel as if she had stepped back in time thanks to the building’s neoclassical architecture. Conversations stopped as they wound their way to a table in the back of the small, crowded establishment. Darcie got the feeling she was the only tourist among the patrons. After giving her a cursory glance, however, the other guests returned their attention to their own tables.

A waiter appeared not long after they settled in their seats and took their order. She asked for the moussaka, in part because Nick had recommended it, and because she was unfamiliar with the other items on the menu. He ordered the same, as well as coffee for the pair of them and a bottle of sparkling water.

“I get the feeling I’m in store for an authentic Greek meal,” she said once they were alone.

“You are. I hope you like it.”

Her stomach was growling loud enough to be embarrassing. “I’m sure I will,” she told him. “Um, what exactly is moussaka?”

His rich laughter rumbled. The sound was pleasing, especially since she didn’t feel his amusement came at her expense.

“It is a dish made with eggplant. Do you like eggplant?” he asked.

“I love it. Yum.”

She’d eaten it...once. It had been breaded and pan-fried, and then slathered in Evelyn’s homemade tomato sauce and melted parmesan cheese. The indigestion Darcie had experienced afterward likely had been the result of Tad’s mother’s fault-finding throughout the meal rather than the food itself.

Nick apparently wasn’t fooled. “You are an adventurous one, I see. Willing to try new things.”

She liked his assessment, even if the speculative gleam in his eye gave her pause.

“I believe in being open-minded. Why not take a few chances?”

Nick smiled. “Why not indeed?”

A moment of silence passed as he studied her. She found it hard not to fidget given the intensity of his gaze. Was he picturing her naked? Darcie sucked in her stomach just to be on the safe side and found the courage to ask, “Perhaps you should tell me what’s on your mind.”

“A favor.”

“Oh.” She stopped holding in her stomach.

“You look disappointed?”

She brushed her hair back from her face. “Not at all. Ask away. Ask for anything. I owe you.”

This time his laughter was low, intimate and ridiculously arousing. “That is not the sort of thing you should tell a man, agapi mou. If I were without scruples, you could find yourself in trouble after making a statement such as that.”

Darcie was too intrigued and too attracted to Nick to be alarmed. Maybe it was the warmth that radiated from his dark eyes, or the slightly self-deprecating quirk of his sensual lips. She was sure he posed no threat to her safety. To her sanity? Well, that remained to be seen.

“But you do have scruples.”

“How can you tell?”

“A man without them would not have bothered to help me yesterday without asking for anything in return.”

“Yet here I am one day later, begging a favor.” His lips quirked again.

“Begging is different than demanding. A man without scruples would demand, I think.”

“I am glad you see it that way.” His expression sobered then. “You are certainly under no obligation to agree to my proposition. I want to make that perfectly clear from the outset.”

Proposition? The mere word, said as it was in that delicious accent, caused heat to curl low in Darcie’s belly. Sitting with Nick inside the little café, she felt worldly, sophisticated and a lifetime removed from the awkward young woman from Buffalo who had allowed herself to be browbeaten into inertia by Tad’s overbearing mother.

Darcie was pleased to find her voice was magnificently matter-of-fact when she replied, “It’s clear, Nick. So, what is this proposition of yours?”

“I would like to invite you to dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?” She blinked.

Maybe she’d heard him wrong. Darcie wasn’t disappointed, but she was somewhat surprised. Sharing another meal seemed, well, a little mundane given his dramatic lead-in. Maybe proposition had a different meaning in Greece than it did back in the United States. Or maybe she’d imagined the speculative gleam in his eyes. Or maybe she was just too long out of practice with members of the opposite sex to be able to figure out their intentions beyond mere flirting.

“Dinner. Yes.” He hesitated then before adding. “With my family.”

Her mouth fell open at that. She knew she was gaping, yet it was a full thirty seconds before she could force her lips to close. She’d dated Tad for more than a year before he’d taken her home to meet his mother. Little had she known then that he’d been doing her a favor. Still...

“Are you going to say anything?” Nick asked at last. A grin lurked around the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m just a little surprised by the invitation.”

“I have no doubt of that. We have only just met, after all. And it is a big favor to ask.”

The server returned with their bottle of water, a couple of glasses and two demitasse cups of coffee, forestalling her reply. Darcie took a sip of the coffee. It was stronger than she was used to, very sweet and hot enough that it burned her tongue. She barely noticed the pain. She was too preoccupied with the gorgeous man sitting across from her. Things like this didn’t happen to her. There had to be a catch. Or a camera crew lurking nearby, waiting to jump out and tell her she’d been punked.

She glanced around, ruled out a hoax and asked, “Why do you want me to meet your parents?”

“Not only my parents. My grandmother will be there as well.”

“Why not?” She lifted her shoulders. “The more the merrier.”

“Yes.” But there was nothing merry about his expression. He looked downright grim.

“So, um, why? Not that I’m not flattered by the invitation,” she hastened to assure him. “But I’m curious.”

“I told you that I was in Athens because my brother is to be married.”

She nodded. “In two weeks.”

“My mother and grandmother have had their heads together for months trying to find a date for me.”

“You can’t find one on your own?” Darcie winced as soon as the words were out. “What I mean is, so you are single.” She winced again and picked up her coffee, braving a second burn on her tongue if it would keep her from blurting out any more embarrassing remarks.

“I’m not in a relationship at the moment.” A pair of dark brows rose. “And you? I should have thought to ask if you are involved with anyone.”

“Nope. No one.”

And she had to admit, her emancipation—that was how she was coming to view it—felt pretty darned good right now. She was free. Free of Tad’s lukewarm affection and his mother’s passive-aggressive jabs. Free of her own mother’s well-meaning interference and her married sisters’ well-meaning advice. Free of self-doubt. Well, mostly free. Yes, Darcie was happily free to flirt, to enjoy the company of a handsome man and to accept, if she so chose, his invitation to dinner.

And she so chose.

His dark eyes warmed. “That is good. Very good.”

“Oh?”

“It would not do for me to be propositioning a woman who is already spoken for.”

“No worries there.” Feeling emboldened, she added, “I speak for myself these days.”

“Another reason to like you. Now, back to my predicament. My mother and grandmother mean well. They think I am pining.”

“Pining?” She didn’t like the sound of that. It implied another woman was in the picture.

He shook his head. “Perhaps lonely is a better word.”

Better, but improbable. “I don’t think so. You don’t look lonely to me.”

More to the point, men who looked like Nick Costas didn’t tend to get lonely. They tended to have smartphones filled with the names and numbers of women who were eager to share meals and mattress space.

Nick took a sip of his coffee. “Lacking for companionship,” he said at last.

Laughter bubbled out before she could stop it. “Sorry. I find that even harder to believe.”

“Unfortunately, my mother and grandmother are less inclined to see the truth. So, they have been...matchmaking. I told them I have no need for their help.”

“Because you can get your own dates.”

“Yes, as our lunch proves. But...” The corners of his mouth turned down and he shrugged.

“How do I figure into this?”

Darcie thought she knew, and she was already flattered, but since jumping to conclusions was her specialty, she decided a little clarification wouldn’t hurt. Besides, it would be really embarrassing if she was wrong.

“There is a woman who recently returned to Greece after living in London for a few years. My mother knows her mother, and has invited both of them to my brother’s wedding. Now I am expected to be her escort. I told her and my grandmother that I already have a date. You.”

The smile he sent Darcie could have melted a glacier. She shivered anyway and gooseflesh pricked her arms.

“Oh.” Her mouth threatened to fall open again. She kept it closed by putting her elbow on the tabletop and propping her chin on her fist.

“What is this look?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.

She dropped the hand from her chin and busied herself lining up the cutlery next to her plate. “I was going for nonchalant, but I suppose you could call it gobsmacked.”

“Gobsmacked? I am not familiar with this term.”

“Um, it means shocked.”

“Because we barely know one another,” he guessed.

“Sure.” She moved the knife one-sixteenth of an inch to the right. “That reason will do.”

“It is a lot to ask, but I was hoping you would agree.” When she continued to fuss with her utensils, he reached across the table and settled his hand over hers. “I would be most grateful.”

Darcie glanced up and moistened her lips. It was all Nick could do not to moan. That sexy mouth of hers was going to be his undoing. The table was narrow enough that it would take little effort to lean across it and kiss her. It was tempting. She was tempting.

“I don’t speak Greek,” Darcie said, interrupting his fantasy.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure he could speak at all.

“Nick?”

He cleared his throat, bemused by the strange infatuation he felt. “That will not be a problem. Both of my parents are fluent in English, and my grandmother knows enough to get by. I can always translate if she does not understand something or if you do not.”

“That’s...good.”

And still she hesitated. So, he decided to sweeten the deal. “Have you had any luck getting a refund on your tour?”

“No. I left a message last night and planned to call again today.”





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