by Joanne Walsh
Dimitri crouched down too and patted McTavish. “Hey, boy, how’s it going?” He turned his attention back to Ben. “I’ve just come from the party myself, and I’m looking for Sally. She left before I had the chance to catch up with her and she’s not answering her phone. I’m just wondering if she’s returned here.”
“No, she hasn’t.” Ben paused, frowning. “That’s strange. I thought she arranged with my aunt and uncle to get a ride home with them at the end of the evening.”
A curl of alarm rose in Dimitri’s chest. Where the hell was she? Then an idea dawned. “I have a hunch where I might find her.” After giving McTavish’s muzzle one last ruffle, he rose before taking a couple of paces backward. “I’ll go into the village now. Thank you for your help. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“It’s not a problem. Do you want my number in case you can’t locate Sal?”
He waved a hand. “It’s okay. I have your aunt’s number in my contacts. If she doesn’t hear from me, you can assume I’ve found Sally.”
Hopping into the Merc, he roared off down the hill to the village square, where he parked up and walked across to the corner on which the store stood, his instinct telling him she would be there.
As he approached, he could see the shop’s door was slightly ajar. Pulling out his mobile phone, he tapped the flashlight app, then stepped inside. Moving carefully forward, the finger of his torchlight running over rubble that still littered the floor, he weaved his way to the counter. What was that noise? Stopping, he strained to listen. It sounded like…hiccupping. He peered over the countertop, angling his phone until he caught sight of a tumble of coppery hair in the pool of light. She was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, her head bent. After a couple of seconds, she became aware of him, lifting her pale face, her big eyes blinking. There were smudges of black around them and down her cheeks.
“I thought I might find you here,” he said gently. “Was Nik’s lamb kleftika that bad?” he joked, referring to the dish his brother had personally prepared for the party in honour of Greece’s entry into the Song Fest. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”
He got another little hiccup in reply. Edging around the counter, he went to stand next to her. “It’s dangerous to be in here in the dark. How about we go somewhere else and talk?”
For moments she didn’t move, then she attempted to get up, finding it difficult to find her feet.
“Here.” Placing a hand under her arm, he hauled her up to face him. “I’m thinking the beach at Trapazakia is a good place. Are you okay with that?”
Her breath hitching, she nodded, her fingers going to brush at her hair and her streaky, dusty face.
Once they were traveling towards Trapazakia, he threw her a glance. Gazing out of the window, she seemed far away, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “Did you get to eat at the party?” he ventured as a way of breaking the silence. “If you’re hungry, we could swing by Spiros’s and get takeout if you like.”
She started. “No. No, I’m good. Thank you,” she replied, turning to him, her eyes lingering on him for fleeting seconds before leaving to stare out of the window again. Time enough for him to catch the misery in their depths.
His hands gripped the steering wheel. He’d seen that look before. But he had no idea why it was there, either then or now.
Chapter Eleven
The night was balmy with a gentle offshore breeze. Above her, the Milky Way brushed the indigo sky, while in front of her the sea pulled languidly in and out. A perfect night for lovers, but not for her. Sally walked barefoot to the tide’s edge, the wet sand grainy beneath her toes. Dimitri must have seen her hurtling out of the party, why else would he have come after her? And now he wanted to talk. What was she supposed to say? Too much wine. Or, I ran away because you were chatting up other women and I couldn’t bear it? Walking into the water, she welcomed its cool ebb as it swirled softly around her ankles.
“Sally? Tell me what the problem is, agapimenos.” Dimitri’s question came from behind her.
He’d used an endearment—sweetheart. But, of course, he meant it kindly, not as sexy sweet talk. She reminded herself bitterly that, only a short while ago, he’d been getting up close with his fan girls. She turned around. He’d taken off his jacket, the thick white cotton of his shirt visible in the darkness, hugging his powerful chest and shoulders. An ache of longing immediately filled her, frustration following swiftly on its heels because she was utterly fed up with herself—how could she have let herself become so jealous of his relationships with other women? She hugged her arms around her. Somehow, she had to get her pants back on, stop caring and wanting him so damned much.
“Sally, what is troubling you?” He’d paced forward to where the tide frothed just an inch or so from his boots. “What is that English saying? A problem shared is a problem halved?”
“Or a problem shared is a problem doubled,” she flipped back.
“I think I just heard you tell me your problem is my problem too. So, what is it? Please talk to me.”
She didn’t reply, the pride that had carried her through fifteen years back in control and strangling her words. How could she ever explain any of it to him without humiliating herself?
“Do not shut me out. You and me, we’re working well together. We’re friends again.”
Friends again. There were a thousand miles of difference between what he thought they were and how she—her body—felt about him. But what he’d just said was the reality of how he regarded her, and she just had to deal with it, didn’t she? The store depended on it. Fiercely burrowing a toe into the sand, she wrestled with her wretchedness.
“Alison told me you were distressed when you quit the party. Did somebody say or do something? You can tell me.”
She raised her head. She had to come up with something, deflect him. Then she remembered her conversations with Nik and Hannah. Given that she and Dimitri were just friends again, surely, he would be uncomfortable with things being misinterpreted by others too? Especially if he was getting it on with Selene, or Ianthe, or whomever else. “I was dismayed some people I spoke with seemed not to understand we’re just working together on the store and my finances. That there’s nothing more to it.”
“Ah.” Pausing, his hand went to his chin, rubbing at it as if he was thinking. “You mean they’re thinking there is no smoke without fire. Okay, shall we go sit on the rocks farther up the beach? I think we need to talk about this.”
Just as she thought; he didn’t want the rumours getting out of hand either. “Alright, let’s go,” she said wearily, coming out of the water and following behind him towards the outcrop of sandstone he’d just mentioned.
“So,” he began after they’d settled on the wind-smoothed surface, “let me get this straight. What others are saying about you and me made you run out of the party?”
“Nik seemed to think we’re getting close, and when I spoke with Hannah, she brought it up too.”
“I see. And how do you feel about that?”
“Like I told you, I’m dismayed, Dimitri, really dismayed. It’s so annoying that people want to take a business partnership and spin it into something more.”
“But Nik and Hannah mean well. Isn’t it just wishful thinking on their parts? They love both of us and want the same kind of happy ending for us they’ve found with Frankie and Sergei.”
“I don’t need that kind of thinking. Or silly talk,” she gritted. Because she didn’t. It just stirred up her already churning emotions even more. She swivelled around on her rock perch. “Are you saying that I’m overreacting?”
“No. Just pointing out that their intentions are most likely good. And maybe you should not take it all so seriously.”
“But they’ve got it wrong about us. Doesn’t it annoy you?”
He sighed. “Not really.”
“What? I don’t get it. Why would you be happy to let them assume something about you that’s not true?”
&n
bsp; His features were silhouetted and inscrutable in the silvery light. “I know Hannah likes you a great deal, and I am sure Nik was just playing around with me like he always has. Big brother’s privilege. Altogether, I can think of worse things people might say about me.”
“But what if it were to screw up your—um—close relationships? You wouldn’t want that.” She was amazed he appeared so casual about it.
“My close relationships?”
She hesitated. “If…if you are seeing somebody right now, I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy to hear you’re supposedly involved with me as well,” she replied carefully.
“If I were seeing someone, you would be right, it could be an issue. But I’m not.”
“You aren’t?” He was still single! She sucked in a small breath.
“No. You appear surprised. Maybe you heard something else through the village grapevine you’d like to share?” he said, suddenly sounding irritated.
“I haven’t heard anything,” she hurriedly reassured him. “I just assumed you may be…seeing someone. Anyway,” she pushed on, desperately searching for a way out of the maze she realized she was losing herself in now, “I don’t want that kind of rumour around when I…I start dating again!”
“That is your plan? To start dating?” He lapsed into silence, and the only sounds were the gentle whooshing of the sea as it rolled in and out and the swishing of the pines on the cliffs in the breeze. “I wish you all the best with that, Sally,” he said after a while, “you deserve some happiness. Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Oh, goodness, no, not right now,” she dismissed, cursing herself. What had possessed her to blurt out the thing about dating? “Why, it’s been so long since I went out with anybody and things have changed such a lot since then, I’ve yet to figure out where to even start.”
“They certainly have changed. It is all apps and swiping right or left now, which doesn’t appeal to me. But meantime, you don’t want people thinking you and I are together and maybe spoiling your chances of finding romance?”
“Something like that.” Finding romance? How had she let this conversation get so out of hand?
“Then I have a suggestion. It’s something I was going to talk about to you next week in regard to the store, but I think it could be helpful if there’s any speculation about you and me.”
“Oh?”
“We can distract people with other things to talk about. I’m thinking of getting in touch with a contact I have at the Kathos Gazette to have them run a piece about our plans to reopen Sally’s. The newspaper will like the story about a new, sustainable business in the village, and it’s an opportunity for us to promote our plans, get the locals excited and looking at us in a positive way. Do you have any objections to being interviewed about it?”
She blew out her cheeks. “No, I don’t think so. It’s a great idea. Getting word out will help with lining up suppliers too.”
“Exactly. Okay, I’ll get onto it first thing next week. Now, can I be reassured that you’ll try not to let what others say get to you so much, and focus on the good things coming up instead?”
She nodded slowly. She got it. Just friends again. He was single. And content that she’d said she was contemplating dating other men. “I’ll try.” She hadn’t thought she could sink any lower.
“Good. I’m glad we have agreed on a strategy, and that I know for sure it wasn’t Nik’s kleftika that made you quit the party. Did you try any of the other food before you left?”
Shaking her head, she plastered a grin on her face. Not that it was likely he’d be able to see it clearly in the darkness, but she’d found in the past it was a good way to make herself sound amused and light-hearted when she didn’t remotely feel either. “I wasn’t hungry. It’s a shame because there was such an amazing selection to choose from.”
“Christo, you aren’t joking!” he laughed. “There were twenty-five countries finalling in the contest, for heaven’s sake, and food representing every one of them.” He sighed. “What a shame we never got to find out what the national dish of Bosnia-Herzogovina is.” He paused before reaching into his jeans pocket and fishing out his phone. “I’m thinking you must be getting tired so I’ll take you home. But before I do, there’s one important thing we need to know.” He tapped the phone’s screen a few times, then leaning in, his head close to hers, held the device up so she could see the video that was downloading. “Whether young Serge ever did win the contest.”
Despite her low mood, a small flicker of interest uncurled inside Sally as she watched the TV camera pan across the faces of the contestants, who stood waiting expectantly backstage for the results. It homed in on Despina and Sergei. The singer burst into a triumphant pout before she shoved Sergei out of the way and plonked herself firmly centre-shot, one hand on her hip, the other flicking the thick fall of her hair. The caption on the bottom of the screen confirmed Greece as the victorious country.
“He did it! He only went and bloody won it!” Sally exclaimed her delight.
“He certainly did,” Dimitri replied, “and you know what? We missed the celebratory Artic Kiss cocktails at the party that he ordered be served when he did.”
“Oh, no, not the Artic Kisses!” She turned, forgetting he was so near to her, and found herself nose to nose with him. His familiar warmth and scent—orange, amber and cinnamon—instantly seeped into her senses, igniting memories of those faraway olive grove evenings when they’d touched and tasted and caressed with abandon. She hesitated. Deep inside, she could feel some kind of primal instinct unleashing itself, hammering home with every beat of her heart that she needed him to kiss her right now. He doesn’t want you, an inner voice taunted her, he hasn’t for years and years. He’s happy for you to date other men. Her tongue moistened her dry lips. But you’ve never stopped wanting him, another voice beguiled, and he’s so, so close… You need him to kiss you, touch you, so badly…
Her hand seemed to take on a life of its own as it rose to his face and tentatively stroked along his jaw, her fingertips tingling as they made contact with the roughness of his stubble. Suddenly, words were no longer important, just the craving she had to feel the sensation of his lips on hers. Her breath caught as he inclined his head towards her. As his mouth melded with hers, it was if she was tasting sun-warmed honey, lush and molten, and she closed her eyes to drink in its sweetness.
Chapter Twelve
Dimitri’s fingers swept away her curls from around her face and shoulders, as the intensity of his kiss deepened. Allowing his tongue entry, she shuddered and groaned as it explored her mouth, flicking in and out. This was what she’d been yearning for—
But, within seconds, the honey turned bitter when she felt him push her away from him. “Mm…” She groaned again, her eyes flying open. He’d swivelled around, was clasping his hands tightly together over his knees as he stared out to sea, moonlight shadows throwing the seriousness of his expression into sharp relief. A wet blanket of comprehension threw itself over her. He was wishing he hadn’t kissed her.
“Dimitri,” she pleaded, reaching out to touch him, wanting to draw him back to her, to not be left alone here in this cold, lonely place.
He turned his head and her hand fell away as she glimpsed the harsh, thinned line of his lips. For a while, he didn’t speak. Then, pulling his gaze from her, he straightened. “I’ll take you home.” After standing abruptly, he began striding away.
For moments, she watched his departing figure, her soul sinking again like a stone in a deep pond. What had she done? He had kissed her, hadn’t he? She slid down the rock onto the sand, defiance replacing despair. He had kissed her, she reasoned angrily, so why had he stalked off? What the hell was she supposed to do now? She thought quickly. Perhaps if she walked the few hundred yards into Trapazakia, she could go to the Artemis TZ bar and ask them to call her a cab. Or she’d walk back to Agia Kalamaros if she had to. Pushing herself up, she marched across the beach.
*
Placing his coffee on the desk in the estate office, Dimitri turned on his laptop. Although it was Saturday morning, a time when he usually kicked back, he’d decided to catch up on this month’s sales figures; he needed something to take his mind off what had occurred last night. But after a few minutes of staring at a spreadsheet and seeing nothing but a jumble of numbers, he slumped back in his chair, the thoughts he’d been battling against crowding in.
He’d kissed Sally, and she’d kissed him back. Theos—after all this time! Images and sensations of how delicious her mouth and body had felt against his collided with his disbelief it’d happened. After fifteen long years of missing her, hungering for her, of fantasizing about what it would be like to taste her again, finally, he’d been able to pull the cork on his desire and it’d come flowing out like heady wine.
But then he’d acted like an ass. Instead of holding her, savouring the sweet moment, he’d walked away, his brain filled with shock and confusion. Their kiss had delivered a big, punching fist of bad memories, starting with that dark time when she’d ghosted him and gone with Manos instead. When she hadn’t wanted him anymore.
He ran a weary hand down his face. The pain was as fresh today as it had been then. He could recall in wince-making detail how, when Manos had delivered the news they were to marry, he’d got hideously drunk and Nik had carried him home. From thereon in, he’d tried to nail his emotions shut, done the guy thing of sticking by his friend Manos. But whenever he saw Sally, she’d acted like she didn’t care, and his hurt and anger had him barely able to meet her eyes. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t stop thinking about the scorch of her bare skin against his when they’d so nearly made love.
