Chapter 1
Alex Stoner could think of several reasons why he should return to his office, but only one to linger over his lunch in the Plaka. And she wasn't even his type. He checked his watch, then shook his head as laughter rumbled in his chest. Was he crazy? He'd spent almost two hours trying to make eye contact with a tourist—who was so busy shopping for souvenirs she hadn't noticed him. She was a tourist. Ah, but what a tourist. Those long legs, that willowy figure, and the face of an angel...
"Get a grip, Stoner," he said to himself, drumming his fingers on the table. This was his last full day in Athens before he flew out to his island retreat. Plenty of work was waiting back at Stoner Exports, plus that mysterious three-fifteen appointment. He rolled his eyes as more tasks came to mind. He hadn't packed, and somehow he was going to have to fit in a rug-factory inspection. And he still had work to do on the upcoming meeting with the Grimaldi brothers.
He began reaching for his sunglasses and cell phone, then hesitated. The trees were shading him from the late May sun, his street table offered an excellent view of the Acropolis, and another Athens siesta was about to begin. More important, he told himself as he settled back in his chair, it didn't hurt to look.
"She's not your type, Alex."
Alex glanced sideways at the taverna owner, groaning just loud enough for Dimitri to hear and smile.
"You know me too well, Dimitri, but I passed up the honey cakes today, and I ought to have something sweet." He looked down the narrow street, searching for the slender brunette.
"You should be at home sampling the sweets of a wife, my friend. Making sons." Presenting the check, Dimitri demanded as only an old friend could, "What happened to the French girl?"
Alex stood, pulled several bills from his pocket, and placed them on the table. "She left me."
"I know she left you. But why?"
Alex's gaze had strayed back to the little shop blaring bouzouki music. He checked his watch again. The brunette had gone in there fifteen minutes ago. "If you must know," he murmured absently, "because I wouldn't take her to Zephyros with me."
Dimitri patted his own shirtsleeves, then laughed loudly, causing several pedestrians to turn and look their way. "She demanded a piece of your soul, and you wouldn't share it," he said.
Again, a knowing look passed between the two men. Alex had fallen in love with the uncomplicated lifestyle on Zephyros years ago. Although he could never quite explain it to himself, he'd made it a point never to mix his city life with his island life. Keeping his business clients away was easy enough. The hard part was keeping a lover from finding out about Zephyros. Dimitri offered him a scolding look, then retreated into the taverna. Alex retrained his eyes on the pedestrian-filled street.
For seven years he'd lived and worked in Athens. Seven years and he couldn't remember the last time he'd stretched a non-business lunch to three o'clock. He ran his fingers through his straight blond hair and sat back down. Hadn't he read that life ran in seven-year cycles? An amusing thought, but he doubted it. Of course, if he were approaching a momentous change, it wouldn't hinge on eye contact with a pretty stranger.
With Dimitri's distracting conversation he'd lost sight of her. Where had she gone? He lit a cigarette, then stubbed it out after two puffs. He was quitting. It was just a matter of time.
Where was that brunette, and why had she made such an impression? Perhaps it was her youthful energy that had captured his attention, or the casual manner in which she flipped back her shimmering curtain of hair. The way she moved in her short denim skirt, pink sweater, and pink leather flats reminded him of girls from his college days. He thought about that for a moment. The appeal of a college girl to his thirty-three-year old self seemed vaguely perverse, or worse, reeking of sentimentality.
He felt his eyebrows lift with that last revelation, because if Alex Stoner knew anything about himself, he knew he wasn't a sentimental fool. Not the way some men were. Still, there was something warmly satisfying about the brunette. From a distance, he could handle "warmly satisfying."
After several minutes his waiting was rewarded. She stood in the middle of the street counting her money, in view of every pickpocket in the popular shopping district. She wet her lips, then rested the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth as she mentally calculated. He shook his head in masculine appreciation. She was probably being overcharged by every merchant in the Plaka. Shifting several packages, she began walking in his direction. With unnamed relief, Alex reassessed her age as late twenties. She was definitely alone, and by the looks of it, doing her best to bring the art of souvenir shopping to new heights.
Large gold earrings danced against her jaw and in and out of the long curves of her hair. He leaned forward in his chair. Her eyes were the color of root beer, and they were eagerly drinking in her surroundings.
Then it happened.
Alex caught her gaze and held it. She smiled warmly. He returned the smile quickly and reached for another cigarette. What the hell had he expected? A flirty little wink, an open invitation to join her, or even a quick roll of her eyes to discourage him? Any of that wouldn't have surprised him, but that smile... that warm and open smile. He lit the cigarette and drew in deeply. A familiar loneliness resonated painfully within him. He didn't like stirring up those feelings, and avoided them whenever they started emerging. Besides, he was getting too old for this kind of torture.
Repositioning her packages again, she tossed her hair away from one eye and checked her watch. Without another glance, she hurried into a narrow alleyway.
"A guileless one," announced Dimitri from the doorway. He pulled a cloth from the glass he was polishing and shook the twisted material at Alex. "You always manage to pass them up, but if you hurry—"
"Always," Alex confirmed, picking up his cigarettes. He slipped them in his shirt pocket, gave his friend a mock salute, and began his walk back to his office.
Taste of Love: A Romance Sampler Page 26
