With Love From Athens

CHAPTER FOUR

IT FELT good to hold a woman whose curves hadn’t been ravaged by malnutrition. Whose bones, though delicate and fine, were not so brittle that he was afraid they’d break at his touch. Whose breasts hadn’t withered from bearing too many children she hadn’t been able to nourish properly. Who didn’t shrink in fear when a man touched her. Who smelled of flowers, not poverty.

“Stop it,” he said, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her hair.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking. I can hear your brain working overtime.”

“Well, I can’t help wondering—”

He pulled her closer, enough for her warmth to melt the block of ice he carried inside, and make him whole again. Whenever he returned from a particularly harrowing assignment, a woman’s soothing voice and generous, vital body always helped erase the hopeless misery he never got used to witnessing; the wasted lives, the terror, the shocking evidence of man’s inhumanity to man. “Don’t wonder, Emily,” he said, glad she’d left her shawl at the table, and loving the ivory smoothness of her skin above the top of her strapless dress. “Don’t ask any more questions. Forget everything and just be with me in the moment.”

“Not easy to do, Niko. You’re not who I thought you were.”

Sliding his hand down her spine to cup her hip, he pressed her closer still. “I know,” he said.

He was worse. Much worse. Not at all the high-minded hero she was painting him to be, but a man on a mission that was far from laudable where she was concerned. Blatantly deceiving her as to his true motives for dating her, at the same time that he used her to assuage his personal torment.

She stirred in his arms and lifted her face so that her cheek rested against his. The whisper of silk against those parts of her he couldn’t see or feel inflamed him. “I’m sorry I jumped to all the wrong conclusions about you.”

“You didn’t,” he muttered, fire racing through his belly. “I’m every bit as bad as you first assumed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

They weren’t dancing anymore. Hadn’t been for some time. While other couples dipped and glided around them in a slow foxtrot, they stood in the middle of the floor, bodies welded so close together that even if she weren’t a nurse well acquainted with male anatomy, she had to know the state he was in.

“What I don’t understand,” she continued, so intent on her thoughts that nothing he said or did seemed able to derail them, “is how you can show such compassion toward strangers, and spare so little for your father.”

“I didn’t bring you here to talk about my father.”

Her hips nudged against him, a fleeting touch that stoked his arousal to disastrous heights. “And I wouldn’t be here at all, were it not for him.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he ground out, dancing her back to their table sedately enough for his rampant flesh to subside. “With that in mind, I’d better get you home if you’re to be on the job bright and early in the morning.”

“Actually I usually don’t start work until nine. Pavlos prefers to have Georgios help him bathe and dress, and I join him for breakfast after that.”

He picked up her shawl and flung it around her shoulders. The less he could see of her, the better. “Even so, it’s growing late.”

She nodded sympathetically. “And you’re tired.”

“Among other things,” he replied ambiguously, gesturing to the waiter for the bill.

Outside, the temperature still hovered around twenty degrees Celsius, warm enough for the top to remain down on the BMW. “Rather than having to drive all the way back to Athens after you drop me off, why don’t you stay at your father’s house tonight?” she suggested, pulling the shawl more snugly around her as he started along the shore road to the villa.

“No,” he said, surprising himself because, at the start of the evening, he’d planned to do exactly that. Had had every intention of seducing her; of using her soft loveliness to erase the heart-rending images he’d brought back with him from Africa and, at the same time, prove his original theory that she would sell herself to the highest bidder. After all, she now knew he had money to burn.

But much though he still desired her, he’d lost his taste for using her. And if she was as duplicitous as he’d first suspected, he was no longer sure he wanted to know.

It was well after one o’clock in the morning. Within its walls, the villa lay smothered in the thick silence of a household at sleep. Except for Emily, who should have been exhausted, but was instead wide-awake and so disappointed she could have cried.

Pacing to the French windows in her suite, she stepped out on the balcony and promptly wished she hadn’t. The classical marble statuary in the garden, gleaming white under the moon, was too reminiscent of Niko’s stern profile as he’d driven her home; the cool whisper of night air on her skin, too much a reminder of his lips brushing her cheek as he kissed her good-night.

What had happened, that the evening was covered with stardust promise one moment, and over the next? They’d been so close, so attuned to one another when they were dancing. She’d known how aroused he was, had felt an answering tug of desire for him.

She’d thought, when he announced they should leave the restaurant, that after the way he’d held her, he’d at least end the evening on a high note with a kiss to rival the one from the week before. She’d wanted him to, quite desperately in fact, and why not? He’d redeemed himself so completely in her eyes, she was willing to fan the spark of attraction between them and let it take them to the next level. But rather than setting her on fire as she’d hoped, he’d brought her straight back to the villa and walked her to his father’s front door.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she’d said woodenly, hardly able to contain her disappointment.

“My pleasure,” he’d replied. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Then he’d bestowed that pale imitation of a kiss on her cheek, muttered, “Good night,” and raced back to his idling car as if he was afraid, if he lingered, she might drag him into the shrubbery and insist he ravish her.

What a contradiction in terms he was, she decided, turning back into her room. On the one hand, he was all cool suspicion laced with lethal charm and passion when it suited him, and on the other side of the personality coin, a reluctant hero and considerate escort more concerned about keeping her out past her bedtime than catering to his own base needs. Either that, or he took masochistic pleasure in keeping the women he dated off balance. And if that was the case, she was better off without him. One temperamental Leonidas at a time was enough.

“Out on the town till all hours of the night with that no-good son of mine, were you?” Pavlos inquired, glaring at her across the breakfast table when she joined him the next morning. “What if I’d needed you?”

“If you had, Georgios knew how to reach me.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“And exactly what point are you making, Pavlos? That I’m under house arrest and not allowed to leave the premises without your permission?”

Ignoring her sarcasm, he said baldly, “You’re asking for trouble, getting involved with Niko. Women are nothing but toys to him, created solely for his entertainment and pleasure. He’ll play with you for as long as you amuse him, then drop you for the next one who catches his fancy. He’ll break your heart without a second thought and leave you to pick up the pieces, just like all the others who came before you.”

Not about to admit she’d pretty much reached the same conclusion herself, she said, “I’m a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself.”

He scowled. “Not with a man like him, you don’t. He’s bad news, no matter how you look at it. Take my advice, girl. Stay away from him.”

A shadow fell across the floor. “Talking about me again, old man?” Niko stepped through the open French doors.

No custom-tailored Italian suit this morning, she noted, but blue jeans again, and a short-sleeved blue shirt revealing strong, tanned forearms. Not that the packaging counted for much. It was the man inside and his sexy, hypnotic voice that set her heart to palpitating.

Annoyed that he so easily snagged her in his spell, Emily averted her gaze, but his father continued to look him straight in the eye and said, “Know anyone else who fits the description?”

“Can’t think of a soul,” Niko replied evenly.

“There you have it then.” Pavlos thumped his coffee cup down on the table. “Why are you here anyway?”

“To have a word with Emily, and to see how you’re coming along.”

“You needn’t have bothered.”

“Obviously not. You’re as cantankerous as ever, which I take to be a very good sign that you’re recovering nicely.”

“And Emily doesn’t want to see you.”

“Why don’t you let her tell me that for herself? Or does the fact that you’re paying her to be your nurse entitle you to act as her mouthpiece, as well?”

“Just stop it, both of you!” Emily cut in. “Pavlos, finish your toast and stop behaving badly. Niko, the physiotherapist should be here soon, and I’ll be free to talk to you then.”

He shook his head. “Afraid I can’t wait that long. I have a meeting in the city—”

“Then don’t let us keep you,” his father growled, snapping open the morning paper and feigning great interest in the headlines. “And whatever you do, don’t hurry back.”

Niko’s face closed, and spinning on his heel, he strode off down the hall. But not before Emily caught the flicker of pain in his eyes that he couldn’t quite disguise.

“That,” she told Pavlos, “was both cruel and unnecessary.”

“Then chase after him and kiss him better.”

“An excellent suggestion,” she said, pushing away from the table. “Thank you for thinking of it.”

Niko had already reached his car when she yanked open the villa’s front door. “Niko, wait,” she called, running across the forecourt.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but made no move toward her. “If you’re here to apologize for my father, save your breath,” he informed her curtly. “I’m used to him.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said. “Look, I don’t know why he’s in such a foul mood this morning, but for what it’s worth, I want you to know that I don’t let other people dictate whom I should or should not associate with.”

“In this case, you might be better off if you did,” he said, once again turning to get into the car. “After all, he’s known me all my life which makes him some sort of expert on what I’m all about.”

Stepping closer, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. Although his skin felt warm, the flesh beneath was unresponsive as stone to her touch. Undeterred, she said, “Perhaps I’d have believed that yesterday at this time, but I know better now and it’ll take more than your father’s say-so to convince me otherwise. So if you’re using the scene back there in the house as an excuse to end our friendship, it’s not going to happen. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?”

He regarded her broodingly a moment. “Your time off,” he eventually admitted.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Why do you think, Emily? I want to see more of you.”

Again, the tell-tale lurch of her heart warned her how susceptible to him she was. “Then why the mixed messages last night, Niko?” she asked, deciding to lay her misgivings to rest once and for all. “Do you blow hot and cold with all the women you date, or have you singled me out for special attention?”

He didn’t bother to dissemble. Was, indeed, shockingly, hilariously blunt in his reply. “In case you didn’t notice, my dear, last night when we were dancing, I was sporting an erection that would have done a stallion proud. That ought to have told you something.”

Smothering a burst of laughter, she said with equal candor, “At the time, I thought it did. But after hustling me outside, you either decided I wasn’t quite your type after all, or else you lost your nerve.”

A flush of indignation stained his finely chiseled cheekbones. “I neither lost my nerve, nor anything else.”

“Then why the hasty brush-off?”

“There’s a time and a place for everything, Emily, especially seduction. I’m not the sex-in-the-backseat-of- the-car type of guy—which isn’t to say I didn’t want to take you to bed. But you’d given no indication you’d have welcomed such an overture. Just the opposite, in fact. You never stopped talking.”

“If you’d bothered to ask,” she said, “I could have told you we weren’t as far apart in our thinking as you seem to suppose. I just did a better job of hiding it.”

He blinked. “Are you sure you know what you’re saying?”

“Very sure. I realized the moment I set eyes on you that the chemistry between us could easily become explosive.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve left me at a loss for words,” he said, almost stumbling over his reply, “and I have a sneaking suspicion it won’t be the last.”

“Well, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying I’m ready to jump into bed with you, but…”

“But you won’t turn me down if I ask you out again?”

“I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “When’s the next time you have a few hours off?”

“Later this afternoon, from about three until seven.”

“I’ll pick you up at three-thirty. Wear something casual—slacks and a light sweater in case you get cold, and bring a camera if you have one. Today, we play at being tourists in the city.”

Then he kissed her. Hard and sweet. On the mouth. And made it last long enough that when he finally released her, she had to clutch the top of the car door to keep herself upright.

She’d read the travel brochures and thought she knew what to expect of Athens. Traffic congestion and noise and smog. Ancient, crumbling ruins sitting cheek by jowl with towering new apartment buildings. And overshadowing them all, the Acropolis and the Parthenon. But brochures didn’t come close to preparing her for the real thing.

Niko showed up not in the BMW but on a candy-apple-red motor scooter. Helping her onto the passenger seat, he plunked a bright red helmet on her head, fastened the strap, then climbed aboard himself and said, “Hang on tight.”

On that note, they were off, zooming through the outskirts of the city, weaving in and out of traffic, zipping up steep hills, along narrow streets and through tiny squares, until suddenly the famous landmarks were everywhere she looked. She should have been terrified at the speed with which they traveled. With anyone else, she undoubtedly would have been. But seated behind him, her front sandwiched against his spine, her arms wrapped around his waist, she felt fearless, confident.

She loved the wind in her face, the aromas drifting from the tavernas, the energy buzzing in the air. Loved the feel of him, all sleek muscle beneath his short-sleeved shirt, and the scent of his sun-kissed skin.

Finally he parked and locked the scooter, then led her through a pedestrian avenue lined with restaurants and cafés, and along a marble path to the top of the Acropolis. Up close, the sheer size and majesty of the Parthenon overwhelmed her. “I can’t believe I’m really here, and seeing it for myself,” she breathed. “It’s amazing, Niko. Magnificent! And the view…!”

She lapsed into silence, at a loss for words. Athens lay at her feet, a sprawling mass of concrete occasionally interspersed with the green of pine-covered hills.

“Gives a pretty good idea of the layout of the city,” Niko agreed, “but if ever my father decides he can get through an evening without you, we’ll come back another time, at sunset. Enjoying a bottle of wine and watching the lights come on is equally impressive.”

“What surprises me is that it’s not nearly as crowded as I thought it would be.”

“Because most tourists have gone home and left Athens to those of us who choose to live here. The smart ones, though, know that October is one of the best times to visit.”

They spent an idyllic few hours wandering among the ruins, stopping on the way down the hill for iced coffee at a sidewalk café, and visiting a beautiful little church tucked in a quiet square. But although everything she saw left Emily awestruck, it was what Niko brought to the afternoon that left the most indelible impression.

His lazy smile caressed her, hinting at untold pleasures to come. His voice reciting the history of the temples held her mesmerized. The way he took every opportunity to touch her—holding her hand to guide her over the uneven ground as if she were the most delicate, precious thing in the world to him, or looping an intimate arm around her shoulders as he pointed out some distant landmark—filled her with shimmering happiness.

With a casual endearment, a glance, he inspired in her an unsuspected passion and yearning. The blood seethed in her veins. She had never felt more alive; never known such an uprush of emotion.

Too soon it was six o’clock and time to head back to Vouliagmeni. The setting sun slanted across the lawns and the front door stood open when they arrived at the villa. “Are you coming in?” she asked, as he propped the scooter on its kickstand and swung her to the ground.

He shook his head. “No, karthula. Why spoil a perfect afternoon?”

“I wish it didn’t have to be like that,” she said, removing her helmet.

He took it from her, slung it over the handlebars and cupped her face between his hands. “It is what it is, Emily, and what it’s always been.”

“Well, I find it very sad. It’s not—”

He silenced her with a lingering kiss that emptied her mind of everything but the heady delight of his mouth on hers. “Oh,” she breathed, when at last it ended.

He lifted his head and stared past her, then, “I think we should try that again,” he murmured, and drawing her to him, kissed her a second time at even greater length.

An exclamation—most likely an expletive, judging by its irate tone—shattered the moment, and spinning around, Emily found Pavlos leaning on his walker, silhouetted in the open doorway.

“Wouldn’t you know it?” Niko said cheerfully, releasing her. “Caught in the act by my disapproving patera. I’d better make myself scarce before he comes after me with a shotgun. I’ll call you, Emily. Soon.”

A moment later, he was gone, disappearing down the long driveway in a candy-apple-red blur of speed, and taking with him all the joy the afternoon had brought. Because she knew without a shadow of doubt that the reason he’d kissed her a second time had nothing to do with her. He’d done it for the pure pleasure of stirring his father to anger.

Unbidden, and decidedly unwelcome, Pavlos’s earlier warning came back to haunt her. Women are nothing but toys to him, created solely for his entertainment. He’ll break your heart and leave you to pick up the pieces, just like all the others who came before you….

CHAPTER FIVE

PAVLOS wore such an unmistakable told-you-so expression that Emily knew she looked as let down as she felt. Shuffling along beside her as she stalked into the house, he crowed, “Lived down to my expectations, didn’t he?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Pavlos,” she informed him curtly, rallying her pride. “I had a fabulous afternoon.”

“And I ran a marathon while you were gone!” He elbowed her in the ribs. “Admit it, Emily. He disappointed you.”

“If you must know, you both disappoint me. Father and son—grown men at that—taking potshots at each other isn’t my idea of adult entertainment. Have you had dinner?”

“No. I waited for you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Ah, girl! Don’t let him do this to you. He’s not worth it.”

The edge of compassion softening his tone caused serious inroads on her composure, and that he happened also to be right didn’t make the advice any easier to swallow. “He’s not ‘doing’ anything,” she insisted. Except play fast and loose with her emotions, which she wasn’t about to admit to his father.

That night when he was preparing for bed, Pavlos slipped on the marble tiles in his bathroom and split his forehead open on the edge of the sink. Striving to maintain calm in the face of chaos—Georgios panicked at the sight of blood, was sure his beloved master was dying and blamed himself for the accident—Emily directed him to call for an ambulance while she attended to Pavlos who lay sprawled on the floor. Although somewhat disoriented, he swore irritably and smacked her hand away when she tried to prevent him from struggling to his feet.

Leaning against the tub, he scoffed, “I’m not dead yet, woman! It’ll take more than a cracked skull to finish me off.”

“It’s not your head I’m worried about, it’s your hip,” she said, applying a folded facecloth to the superficial cut on his brow. In fact, the sink had broken his fall and that he was able to sit on the floor without showing much evidence of pain was a good sign, but she wanted more scientific proof that he was as fine as he claimed.

The paramedics arrived shortly after and transferred him to the hospital for X-rays. Fortunately he’d incurred no further damage to his hip, required only a couple of sutures to his cut and vetoed any recommendation that he stay there overnight. “I didn’t bring you all this way to look after me so you could turn the job over to someone else,” he reminded Emily.

By the next morning, he sported a black eye but was otherwise his usual self. “No reason to,” he snapped, when she suggested letting his son know what had happened.

But, “He has a right to be kept informed,” she insisted, and left a brief message on Niko’s voice mail.

He didn’t acknowledge it until three days later when he again showed up unannounced as they were finishing lunch. “Very colorful,” he remarked, inspecting Pavlos’s black eye which by then had taken on a distinctly greenish hue. “Tell me, old man, do you plan to make a habit of abusing your body?”