by Jackie Braun
“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.”
Nick had left messages as well. Stavros was either passed out cold or screening his calls. If Nick had to bet on one, he would put money on the former.
“What if I were to be your guide? In return for accompanying me to dinner, I will take you to the sites mentioned on the tour’s brochure.”
And why not? It would give him something to do for the next couple of weeks while he dodged his mother and grandmother’s well-meaning mediation and Pieter’s ongoing attempts to bury the hatchet. And he couldn’t think of another woman he’d rather pass the time with than Darcie.
“That’s very generous of you, but without a refund from Stavros I can’t afford to stay in Greece much longer, let alone for the full two weeks.”
“Leave Stavros to me.”
One way or another, Nick would see to it that Darcie Hayes had her trip...and enjoyed it.
“You do realize I will be heading home the day before your brother gets married, right?”
“That is fine.”
Nick did not need an actual date for Pieter’s wedding. All he needed was a viable reason in the interim to avoid a setup. Once his mother and grandmother met Darcie, they would cease and desist in their matchmaking. As solutions went, it was perfect. Now if only his family would stop trying to force a reconciliation between him and Pieter.
“I don’t know,” Darcie began. “It sounds as if I’m getting the better end of the deal.”
She only thought so because she hadn’t yet met his yiayia or the rest of his kin, Nick thought wryly.
“Does that mean we have a deal?”
“I... Why not? Sure.” She stuck out her hand just as she had the previous day.
Nick studied the long, unadorned fingers for a moment before giving in to his previous impulse. Bypassing her palm, he leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth. Her sweetness had him lingering and wishing for privacy. Unfortunately, there was none of that here. Sure enough, when he drew back, the restaurant erupted in applause and shouts of “Opa!”
Darcie’s blush was becoming, if at odds with the frank interest evident in her eyes. Maybe she had gotten the better end of the deal after all. Not that Nick minded one bit.
* * *
Back at her hotel, Nick insisted on parking his car and walking her inside. Darcie thought she knew why. He wanted to kiss her again. Well, no problem. She wanted to kiss him again, too.
The lip-lock they’d shared in the restaurant had been amazing. On a scale of one to ten, Darcie would rate it a ten...thousand. That didn’t even take into account the degree of difficulty involved. Nick had managed that score with a table wedged between them and a wide-eyed crowd of spectators, whose spontaneous applause afterward, by the way, had been entirely appropriate. Heck, that kiss had deserved a standing ovation. Darcie would settle for an encore.
Should she ask him to come up to her room? They would have privacy but it might seem too forward. He might think she wanted to sleep with him. Did she?
Why yes, she did. She was human and breathing and he was gorgeous and sexy beyond belief. But should she?
Probably not a good idea. She’d never been the sort of woman who slept with a man on the first date. Or the second. Or the third...
“Darcie—”
“Even the fourth would be pushing it.”
Nick’s brow wrinkled. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” She waved a hand. “Just, um...here we are.”
They had reached the elevator and Darcie still wasn’t sure what she should do. He took the decision out of her hands by pushing the button.
“Are you coming up?” she asked casually.
“I would like to, but...” He shook his head.
“A gentleman,” she mused.
It sounded like he said, “A fool.”
“So, I’ll see you to—”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all of the passion and skill he’d shown in the restaurant, but with far less of the restraint.
“—night.”
Nick’s breath was sawing in and out, but he managed to mutter something in Greek that told Darcie he was every bit as turned on as she was.
Before the elevator arrived, he turned and walked away.
FOUR
Darcie needed an outfit for dinner since nothing in her luggage full of second-string clothes seemed appropriate. But what did one wear to meet a man’s parents when one barely knew the man?
She mulled that question as she wandered the labyrinth of streets near her hotel. Shops abounded, interspersed with cafés and taverns. The only problem was that the goods the stores sold were geared toward tourists: snow globes featuring miniature Parthenons, key chains and postcards. As for clothing, it fell into two categories: logoed T-shirts and the traditional Greek garb that she doubted anyone in Greece actually wore.
Two hours into her quest the arches of her feet were beginning to ache, but she decided to stray a little farther from the beaten path. After another half an hour, her persistence was rewarded when she arrived at the door of a small boutique that the owner of a nearby bakery had recommended. After licking the last crumbs of freshly made baklava from her fingertips, Darcie headed inside.
The boutique was small and totally kitsch-free. It also was expensive, with prices that reflected the quality of the garments on display. Darcie swallowed hard after glancing at the tag that dangled from a cap-sleeved cocktail dress made of red silk. She calculated the exchange rate in her head. It was far more than she felt comfortable spending, even though the dress was gorgeous. She moved on to another rack, but it was of no use. The garments there, while also lovely, were equally expensive. On a sigh, she turned to leave.
“May I help you find something?” a woman asked in English as she stepped out from behind the counter. She was about Darcie’s age and nearly her height in a pair of killer high heels. The name tag pinned to her chest read Nerina.
Darcie shook her head. “I was just looking.”
“For anything in particular?”<
br />
She started to say no only to admit, “I’ve been invited to dinner this evening.”
The woman smiled knowingly. “With a man.”
“Yes. He’s taking me to meet his parents.”
“Oh, this is serious. He is Greek?”
“No and yes.” At the saleswoman’s perplexed expression, Darcie added, “No, it’s not serious. At least not how you mean. We’ve only just met and...it’s not serious. But, yes, he is Greek. Well, I guess he’s actually American now, but he’s from Athens. Originally. You know, he was born here.” She grimaced. “I’m probably not making any sense.”
“I understand. You are nervous.” Again, Nerina’s knowing smile made an appearance. “Even though you have only just met, you like this man.”
“I do.”
It was the truth. What was not to like about a man who had been gracious and kind and treated her with respect, all while making it clear that he found her attractive and wouldn’t mind seeing her naked?
Okay, so maybe Darcie had extrapolated that last part, but the kiss Nick had given her in the restaurant had made her toes want to curl. And the one in the lobby of her hotel? She was surprised she hadn’t spontaneously combusted in the elevator afterward.
“Then we must find you something perfect for this evening.” Nerina turned to another rack and began flipping through the garments.
Darcie cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I’m on a limited budget. Actually, a very limited budget. I shouldn’t be buying clothes at all, but the airline lost my luggage and...”
“And then you met this handsome man who has invited you to dinner to meet his parents, and you want to look stunning.”
Darcie sighed. “That about sums it up.” Placing a hand on her stomach to quell her nerves, she asked, “Do you take credit cards?”
Nerina nodded and then tapped her lips thoughtfully for a moment before bursting into a satisfied grin.
“I have just the dress.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, freshly showered, Darcie took her time getting ready, shimmying first into a bra and panties that weren’t likely to be seen, but made her feel sexy and sophisticated nonetheless. Both pieces were lacy and utterly feminine, and the only articles from her trousseau that had made it into the lucky piece of luggage that managed to arrive in Greece along with her.
Afterward, she studied herself in the mirrored door of the closet with a critical eye. Turning sideways, she sucked in her stomach until her belly was concave and the bottom of her rib cage became visible. Gee, as long as she didn’t breathe, she sported measurements that the pinups girls of the 1940s would have envied. But Darcie was fond of breathing, so she let out her breath on a gusty sigh. Goodbye twenty-four-inch waist.
Still, she liked her curves and the muscle tone she’d managed to carve into them thanks to six months’ worth of grueling workouts with the personal trainer from hell. She reached into the closet for the dress she’d just purchased. She had to admit it showed off all of her assets to their greatest advantage.
Since the evening’s dinner was at someone’s home, Nerina had suggested a more casual wrap dress in a soft jersey fabric the color of ripe peaches. Both the color and the cut flattered Darcie. Best of all, she could pair it with flat shoes she already owned, saving her a second purchase. Nerina also had been generous on the price, declaring the garment on sale even though it was not marked as such.
“Enjoy your evening,” she’d said as Darcie left the shop.
Looking at herself in the mirror now, Darcie grinned. Oh, she planned to.
* * *
Peach was his new favorite color, Nick decided, when Darcie stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby. As he eyed her curves, the air backed up in his lungs. The reaction wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it was unsettling and rare when it came to women. Except for this woman. Around Darcie, he couldn’t seem to catch his breath at all.
From the first moment he’d spied her in the airport, he’d found himself drawn to her, interested in a way that he’d initially assumed was purely the result of sexual attraction. He’d gone on instinct when he’d approached her and offered his assistance. He’d followed his gut again when he’d come to her earlier in the day, asking a favor. Nick didn’t regret his impulses, but he knew a moment of panic when she smiled at him now and his mouth went dry.
“I hope I’m dressed all right. I wasn’t sure what to wear,” she said.
“You look lovely.” He kept his gaze locked on her face, not trusting himself to take in those curves a second time without touching them.
“Thank you.”
A pair of glossed lips parted in a smile that was nearly impossible to resist. He bit back a groan and asked, “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
This time, instead of a Porsche, Nick was driving a 1965 Shelby Cobra.
“Very iconic,” she murmured of the cobalt-blue car that sported twin white stripes up its hood and down its trunk. “One of the most sought-after cars as I recall from fact-checking an article about one. Is it the real deal?”
“If you are asking if it is one of the ten special racing editions, yes.”
“Signed by Carroll Shelby?”
“Of course.” Once again, Nick appreciated the depth of her knowledge. A woman who spoke car. He’d never met one before.
“I’m almost afraid to sit in it,” she told him when he opened the door for her. “This baby goes for what? A couple hundred thousand American dollars?”
“Closer to three.”
“Well, there, you’ve put my mind at ease,” she replied dryly.
Nick chuckled. “Get in.” Since the car had no roof and only a low, curving windshield, he handed her a scarf. “For your hair.”
“Very thoughtful. Thank you. I feel Grace Kelly-ish. Or I would if I were a platinum blonde with classical features and a slimmer build.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your hair color, features or your...build.”
She sent him a sideways smile. It sounded like she said, “I could get used to you.”
The drive to his grandmother’s house was relatively short. Still, as they cruised through the city, Nick used the time to prep Darcie on his life, starting with the basics such as his age and education.
“I have not told them very much about you.”
“That’s because you don’t know very much about me,” she pointed out.
“I am eager to remedy that.” His tone hinted at something much more intimate than a family dinner. “I have told them that you are American and that we have not known one another for long. That way, they will not expect us to have all of the answers.”
Besides, the sexual chemistry between the two of them was very real and would go a long way to making their relationship plausible in his family’s eyes.
Darcie was nodding. “All right. So, how did we meet?”
“I think we should keep it simple and as close to truthful as possible. I do not usually lie to my family.” He shifted his attention from the road to her when he added, “I do not usually lie to anyone.”
“I figured that. Same goes for me.” She took a deep breath. “So, we met in an airport.”
“Let’s make it Newark.”
“I saw you across a crowded room, our eyes met and it was magic.” She laughed, but something about her assessment struck Nick as disturbingly accurate.
“How about if we just say I offered to give you a ride when yours did not show?” He turned, found himself lost in the same blue eyes that had sucked him in across the airport terminal and added, “I was only too happy to come to the aid of a beautiful woman.”
“The only problem with that is I do not live in New York City, but upstate in Buffalo.”
“You were in New York on busin
ess then.”
She nibbled her lip. “There’s not much travel involved in my line of work. Not like yours. I can check facts over the phone or by computer. I’ve never had to hop a plane to do my job. Not that I wouldn’t mind.”
“On holiday then?”
“I guess that’s believable.”
“Have you ever been to New York?”
“Once. It was right after I graduated from high school. I went with my friend Becky and her family. We stayed at a hotel near Times Square and took in a Broadway show.” Her smile was wide and nostalgic. “I loved it.”
“The show or the city?”
“Both. All of that energy. I felt energized, too.”
Nick heard awe in her voice and understood it. That was how he’d felt the first time he’d visited New York—absolutely blown away by the mania, yet eager to be part of it, too. Athens was hardly a small town, either in population or in feel, but no other place Nick had traveled, which he did extensively for business, compared to New York.
“You will have to visit again. I would be happy to show you around.”
He meant it, he realized with a start. He could see her in his adopted city, enjoying the herb-crusted salmon at his favorite restaurant, sipping coffee at a sidewalk café near Central Park, window-shopping on Fifth Avenue. Most disturbing, Nick could picture Darcie in his apartment—his quiet and at times lonely retreat from the bustle of the city—curled up on his couch with a glass of wine in her hand, smiling at him in invitation.
She was smiling at him now when she replied, “Maybe I will.”
He swallowed and forced his attention to the least erotic thing he could think of. “Tell me about your family. Do they also live in Buffalo?”
“For the most part. I have three sisters. Two older, one younger, all of them married. They’re scattered in the suburbs with their husbands and kids, driving minivans and carpooling to soccer games and gymnastic classes.”
“But not you.”
“To my mother’s everlasting regret.”
“And your father? What does he think of your situation?”
