by Alison Tyler
Joanie smiled. "I promise."
As Cat started for the bathroom, Joanie added, "I appreciate your tact."
"I only wish I understood why I needed it," Cat said with a shrug.
"Maybe we can talk about it tonight."
Cat nodded. She took her shower, and when she stepped back in the bedroom, Joanie was gone. She decided to skip the roof garden's possible view of the Acropolis for the real thing.
A few years ago, when she had been in Greece on another picture, she had loved going there early in the morning just as the gates were opening. It was empty and relatively cool at that time of day.
Dressed in a white handkerchief cotton sundress, comfortable low-heeled sandals, and a large, floppy white straw sun hat, Cat did not find the afternoon heat oppressive. The almost empty streets attested to the fact that most other people did.
She stopped at a small taverna along one of the narrow roads that ultimately led to the Acropolis and had a light lunch. A distinguished, middle-aged gentleman, sitting alone at another table, smiled as Cat sat down nearby. After she ordered a salad and the traditional ouzo, she thumbed through a small tour book.
The ouzo came right away. As always in Greece, the clear, strong liquid with the hearty anise flavor was served alongside a large glass of cold water. Cat poured the ouzo into the water and stirred it.
"Ah, I see you know how to drink ouzo correctly on a hot summer afternoon. Many Americans try to drink the ouzo and then hurry to wash it down afterward with the water."
Cat looked across at the gentleman who had addressed her from the nearby table. He was not as old she had thought initially. No more than in his late thirties, she decided. He was darkly handsome, with finely chiseled features in a thin, angular face. In fact, he reminded her a lot of Luke. She felt a flash of loneliness as she smiled across at him. "It's more refreshing this way—and it goes down a lot easier." She took a long sip. "Are you Greek?"
"I am as Greek as you are American—correct?" He had a charming smile.
"Correct. Unfortunately, my mastery of the Greek language is nonexistent. How did you learn to speak English so well?"
"May I join you at your table and explain?"
Cat nodded a little hesitantly. She hoped the man did not assume she was interested in being picked up. It just seemed pleasant to have a nice chat over lunch before she headed over to the Acropolis.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Nikolas Panos, assistant curator of the Folk-Art Museum. Have you ever been there?"
"No. But it sounds interesting."
"You must come—as my guest. Besides the wonderful embroidery—sad to say, almost a dying art now—we have the finest collection in Greece of Theophilos Hadjimichael's artwork."
"Well, then I must come. I'm sorry to say I've never even heard of this artist, but from the way you say his name, he must be very special."
Nikolas Panos nodded serenely. "Tomorrow, if you come in the morning, I will be free to show you around. I assume this afternoon you are heading for the Acropolis."
"Yes. If I don't melt from the heat." She grinned.
"You do not look like the type." He gave her an assessing smile.
Cat had a strong feeling Nikolas Panos had every intention, after all, of picking her up. She was no longer so certain she was opposed to the notion. It might help settle in her own mind exactly how serious she was about pursuing her relationship with Luke.
Cat finished her salad and ouzo, agreeing to let Nikolas be her informal guide for the afternoon. She was glad she had already made plans with Joanie for tonight, not wanting to lock herself into a long evening with Nikolas as well, when she wasn't even sure she was doing something sensible.
They stepped out of the restaurant into the middle of the Agora, the ancient remnants of a once flourishing marketplace.
Nikolas began his tour by pointing out the Stoa of Attalus. "This beautiful reconstruction," he explained, "was built in 1956 for people to have the experience of what a second-century indoor shopping center was like."
They walked inside. Cat had passed by several times in the past, never pausing to visit the reconstruction. Now she realized what she had missed. On the outside, the structure, with its uniform rows of Doric and Ionic columns, gave no hint of the lovely interplay of light and shadow within.
"It's beautiful. If I close my eyes I can see the people donned in togas browsing about, looking for bargains," she added with an impish grin.
Nikolas chuckled. "I'm sure they found some. But these market places weren't only for commerce. They existed in every large city and were used for public meetings and just hanging out."
"Watching all the girls go by?"
"But, of course. We Greeks have always appreciated a beautiful woman. I am no exception." He gave her a more intimate appraisal as he smiled warmly.
Cat began to regret her decision. His interest seemed only to spark memories of another outing— that one in Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco. She suggested they head on to the Acropolis.
They strolled leisurely up toward the west side of the Acropolis, following the ancient Panathenaic Way. As they entered the Parthenon, Cat commented on its lovely salmon-colored marble.
"It was once sparkling white, as were all the buildings up here. This beautiful tint you see is the product of modern pollution."
"It touches everything, doesn't it?"
He smiled wistfully, his hand reaching out for hers. "Shall we walk?"
He guided her toward the south slope past Niki Apteros, a temple dedicated to the Athenian victories over the Persians. Only eighteen feet by twelve feet, this miniature building was a perfect gem. A few steps south, Cat came to an abrupt stop, gazing down at Herodes Atticus' theater. It was a spectular sight, a theater that was built in the second century ad. and was still used for performances today.
"Now I'm in my element," Cat said with a grin.
"An actress. I should have known."
Cat corrected his impression. Although Nikolas was well-versed in the English language, she had a hard time explaining the nature of her work. Even when he finally understood, he looked quite skeptical.
They sat down on the stone steps of the theater. Cat stared across at the exquisite facade that framed the stage. Her eyes focused on the ancient stone, but her mind wandered back to Luke. She remembered how he, too, had first thought she was an actress. She wondered what he was doing right now.
"You are a woman in love, yes?"
"What? No. I mean… Why do you ask me that question?"
"You keep drifting off, and there is a special look in your eyes when you do. You are far too beautiful to be without a lover. A pity for me," he said wistfully. "I knew when I saw you in the taverna that you must be in love. He is someone very special, then. And very lucky."
"Nikolas, you are so Greek. All Greeks are romantics, are they not?" she grinned.
"Yes. Of course we are. In these surroundings," he said with a sweeping gesture, "how could we not be?" He took her hand again.
"I don't know if I'm in love. I don't think I can be. There hasn't been enough time. The trouble is, I'm not sure I ought to give myself the time to find out if it could become love."
"You will," he said with confidence.
"A soothsayer, too."
"No. Just a man who has had some modest experience with women and knows when they will follow a chosen course. I feel certain, in your heart, that you have made your decision to seek out your man."
"I think, Nikolas Panos, that you are a perceptive and kind man. Thank you for this afternoon. You may not realize how valuable it has been for me."
"Ah, I think that means I will not see you tomorrow at my museum."
"Tomorrow I will be taking a ferry to Skiathos."
"Skiathos. A most beautiful island. An island made for love."
When Cat returned to the hotel, she found a note from Joanie saying that there would be one more person joining them for dinner, and could she meet them a
t the Vassilis nearby.
Cat showered, changed into a cool, silk lilac dress, and walked over to the restaurant. Joanie was already seated at a table nursing an ouzo. Sitting beside her, sipping a beer, was Dodger. Both of them looked up awkwardly as Cat joined them.
"What have we here? A truce?" Cat asked cheerfully in an attempt to ease the tension.
"Just barely," Joanie muttered.
"This was a stupid idea," Dodger said at the same time.
Joanie narrowed her gaze at Dodger, then she looked over at Cat. "I love this man, Cat. Why, I don't know. He's stubborn, foolish, irascible…"
Cat, a little taken aback by Joanie's forthright statement, had to catch her breath before responding. "I'm his daughter," Cat said, her turn to feel awkward. "I know those traits better than most people." She wasn't sure whether to include Joanie in that group.
"That's why I insisted he join us. I haven't been able to talk any sense into him. Maybe you can."
"Joanie," Dodger said, irritated, "we've been through this a hundred times. I'm not taking the best years of your life away."
"There he goes again." She focused on Cat, who was still not sure just what the fight was all about. "I'm thirty-three years old, Cat. I grant you, I'm not ready for the rocking chair, but I'm not some flighty young thing who is just starting to live and has no idea what she wants. I've had—experiences. Dodger and I have been through all that. He thinks because he's a little older that me—"
"Twenty years is no little bit older," he told her.
Ignoring him, Joanie went on. "He feels he's robbing the cradle. I think he's scared that's what others would think, you especially."
Cat swallowed hard. It was what she had thought —exactly. But looking at the two of them now, she could sense that beneath the arguing and grumbling, Dodger and Joanie were in love with each other.
To confirm it, she asked, "Do you love her, Dodger?"
He started to buck, then sighed. "Love isn't always enough, Cat. I've learned that from experience."
"You didn't answer me, Dad."
He looked from Cat to Joanie. "I love her. I love her so much, I'm not going to ruin her life by roping her to a man whose own life is more than half over."
"It seems to me that what's ruining Joanie's life is all the wasted time she's spending pining away for you. Look, it isn't for me to tell you two what to do, but if you're worried about my reaction, don't be. Sure, I'll admit at first it felt a little strange to see the two of you together. But not anymore. Now—now it just seems right." She fought back tears. Although her sudden desire to cry had nothing to do with Joanie and Dodger, she knew that they would automatically assume it did. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
Luke combed the beach for seashells. He had amassed quite an interesting collection during his two weeks on Skiathos. His promised week off before he buckled down to his book had stretched into two. He felt no more ready today than fourteen days ago to write about sexual fulfillment. Beyond gathering shells, all he'd been able to do for the last few weeks was to think about sexual fulfillment—that and a dozen other aspects of fulfillment that all revolved around Cat Roy.
She was constantly on his mind. Every day, on the beach, sight-seeing in the towns, sitting in cafes, he would imagine he saw her whenever a tall, thin, dark-haired woman walked by. The disappointment each time in seeing some sadly lacking look-alike invariably ruined the rest of his day.
He picked up a shimmering piece of coral and tossed it over to his pile. A young woman in a scant bikini was just passing his blanket as he threw it. It grazed her shoulder, and she let out a surprised cry.
"I'm terribly sorry." Luke rushed over.
"It's nothing," she said. "I was more startled than hurt." She bent to pick up the coral and tossed it with better aim toward his other shells and stones. "Quite a collection. Is it your hobby?"
Luke smiled. "It's starting to feel that way."
"Bloody hot today," she commented, sweeping her long blond hair off her shoulders. "Are you here on holiday from the States?" she asked pleasantly.
"Part holiday. What about you?"
"I'm working as a waitress over at the Nostos Hotel for the summer, and then it's back to London in the fall. I'm a schoolteacher when I'm not bumming about on summer holidays, which, unfortunately, I have to combine with some work in order to play. Actually, the Nostos is a marvelous hotel—very posh, you know—and the tips are very good. There now, I've told you my story. Except my name. Glenna Mitchell." She extended a slender, well-tanned arm.
As they shook hands, Luke observed that Glenna was not only a loquacious young woman, but also a very attractive one with her golden blond hair cascading over her shoulders, jade-green eyes that blatantly checked him out, and a voluptuous body that more than did justice to what there was of her bathing suit.
He was also well-aware that he was being picked up by this gorgeous creature. The realization caused him a mixture of discomfort and curiosity. Glenna might be just the remedy for what was ailing him. Of course, the minute he thought of remedies, he thought of Cat and her secret brews. His tentative interest in Glenna Mitchell was lost to his memories of other days.
Glenna noticed the sudden change in Luke's interest as he introduced himself, but today was her day off and she was not in the mood to spend it alone. Not that she couldn't have started a mild flirtation with any number of men on the beach that day, but Luke particularly attracted her. Maybe what appealed to her was the fact that he lacked that lecherous leer she so often saw in men's eyes. Whatever, she decided to put forth some more effort. She started by asking if she could join him, and when he nodded hesitantly, she sat down on his blanket, idly looking through his shells.
"So tell me about the other part of your visit to Greece," she said lightly.
He looked at Glenna, a small smile on his lips. He remembered Cat's amused grin when he'd told her about his book. To the young, attractive woman next to him he merely said, "I'm working on a psychiatry textbook. Very dull and tedious, which is why I'm out here on the beach this morning instead of behind my typewriter."
She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Reminds me of the boredom of doing school papers. At least I've a few months' reprieve from that." She stretched out on her back. Luke took a quick glance at her tanned body sprawled out beside him and hastily looked out to sea. He might not be interested in getting involved with the woman beside him, but he was not fool enough to think her appearance would leave him blank.
He excused himself to go for a swim. Glenna tagged along, joining him back on the blanket afterward. Luke reached for his watch.
"Look, pal," Glenna said as Luke began wrapping his shells inside a T-shirt, "you seem to have a lot on your mind. I get the picture that you're not desperate to sweep me off my feet, but it is a beautiful day, which I do have off from the hotel. I like you. Maybe we could just spend a few hours together—go see some sights, have some lunch…"
He started to turn down her offer, but there was such a warm, friendly smile on her face that he found himself saying yes. After all, he was lonely as well; the sun was getting too strong to spend more time at the beach, and yet, he did not want to go back to his bungalow to work; and Glenna was chatty, pleasant, and easy on the eye.
They decided to take the ferry over to Alonnisos, another small island in the area. Luke had not been there, and Glenna recommended it highly as one of the less touristed islands still retaining the flavor of old Greece.
Luke's spirits started out high enough, but as the day wore on, he kept finding things that Glenna said or did that reminded him of Cat. They took a speedboat ride, and he thought about the cruise around San Francisco; they wandered around the small marketplace and he remembered Ghirardelli; they stopped for ices at a local seaside stand, and he could see Cat stretched out on her hotel room bed, asking him to order up pistachio ice cream from room service.
When he dropped Glenna off at her hotel, neither of them made any mention of getting toge
ther again. It had turned out to be a disappointing outing for both of them. Luke, tense and lonelier than this morning, stopped at a local taverna for an ouzo.
A few hours later, much the worse for wear after several more ouzos than he should have drunk, he stumbled back to his bungalow to sleep it off.
He was quite aware he'd overdone the ouzo, but he didn't think he was really drunk. Until he stepped inside his small cottage and discovered he was beginning to hallucinate.
Stretched out on his bed was a vision of Cat, as real as life, looking more exquisite than the past few weeks of his fantasies and memories combined. It was then that he was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was utterly, completely intoxicated.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Luke woke up the next morning, he was aware of only two things—the worst hangover he'd ever experienced and the memory of the most vivid sensual dream he could ever recall. He sat up, looking over to the other side of the bed, not really surprised to find it empty, yet still feeling a sharp twinge of disappointment.
They had made love with such a passionate intensity. Cat had never looked more beautiful, nor ever felt more exquisite. Her touch had seared every part of his body with desire. He had held her to him with possessive demand. And she had given herself with utter abandon, her slender, agile body a wonder of grace and movement. They had each surrendered fully to a need that was beginning to turn into an obsession.
The dream had been too vivid, too real. Luke's pounding head seemed mild compared to the pain in his heart. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair and moaned softly.
"I bet you've got yourself quite a swelled head this morning, Dr. Eliot."
His eyes sprang open, mouth dropping in stunned amazement. For a brief moment he thought he could be having another hallucination.
"You've got that look in your eye again, Doc." Cat laughed. "Here, drink this." She handed him a bright red concoction in a tall glass.
Luke took it out of her hands, set it on the table, and then grabbed her. She fell on top of him on the bed.
