My Greek SEAL

by Sabrina Devonshire

  “No. I worked at a dental office for years. Mostly doing appointments and paperwork. On the weekends I went to writing workshops and started doing a bit of writing. I met an editor from Harlequin a few years ago and she quite liked my work. Since then, I’ve published two or three books a year.”

  “Wow. Good for you.” I want to ask more questions, but feel like it would be better to do it a little at a time. There must be so many people who want to be writers, who ask her a million questions.

  “You said you had written a bit,” says Maryann. “What kind of articles do you write?”

  “I love writing adventure travel articles. Places you can go to scuba dive, mountain climb or do zip lining. Stuff like that. The novel I wrote is a mystery.”

  “Have you brought along any writing samples I could take a look at?” Maryann asks.

  “Sure. They’re on my computer, though.”

  “Let’s talk one evening this week after our afternoon swim. I’ll take a look, let you know what I think. If your work seems right good, I’ll put you in touch with some editors.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to do that. This is your vacation.”

  “Ah, but so many people helped me get started as a writer when I was first interested. Now I get a turn to help.”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  Maryann gives me a sympathetic smile and pauses for a moment before speaking. “Before you gush all over with thank yous, you better wait for me to take a read. It wouldn’t be right if I weren’t honest with you, you know.”

  My excitement ebbs away. I’d almost forgotten the possibility that the writing I thought was good might be the worst imaginable. “I understand.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  I try to mask my disappointment. “Sure, why not?”

  “How would you describe this morning’s swim?”

  I pause and think and then as if by magic I see the words inside my mind. “When I was swimming, at first I felt alone in that vast sea of deep blue water. And then I started smelling the salt and feeling the breeze on my arms each time I reached out to take another stroke. The seawater seemed to embrace me, massaging all my muscles with its watery warmth and then as my stroke smoothed out and became more meditation than exercise, I felt as though I was the sea.” Holy crap. Did I just say that out loud?

  Maryann claps her hands together and gives me an endearing smile. “Very good. I don’t need to see your sample to know you are a writer. You don’t just walk through life. You see things, feel them, and absorb them into your being. You can make it. With some practice and a bit of work that is.”

  “I don’t know. But that’s really nice of you to say. Sometimes when things are happening, words pop into my mind. Ones I would use to describe the experience. It’s a bit like I’m writing a journal, except I’m not writing at all. It’s all happening inside my head.”

  “I understand, dear. That’s why I carry a digital recorder in my pocket. I never know when a lovely tidbit might pop into my mind. Sometimes it’s a bit too rare. Sometimes, it’s quite often.”

  “I might try that. It’s a great idea. Thank you so much, Maryann.” I clear my throat. “But I have been talking way too much.” I direct my gaze toward Eros. “What about you? What line of work are you in?”

  Eros’ fork pauses on the way to his mouth and his eyes widen. “I’m with the Underwater Demolition Command with the Hellenic Navy.”

  “Oh, wow.” It sounds impressive, but I’m not quite sure what that means. “So you’re in the military then.”

  “It’s our special operations. I guess you could say I’m a Greek Navy SEAL.” The proud expression on his face slowly melts away during a long pause. “Or I was until I developed a lung infection. After I was honorably discharged, I founded a triathlon training business. That is the reason I am here this week for the swimming. This afternoon, Dmitri will videotape everyone’s swimming and later we will gather to watch them and I will give some comments to help improve the strokes.”

  I’m still trying to wrap my brain around what he said. The last thing I expected was for him to say he’d been in the military. He struck me as much more of the creative type with all his talk about destiny and things happening for a reason. What kind of soldier talks like that? “That’s great that you have the new business. But back to the Navy SEAL thing... I didn’t even know Greece had Navy SEALs.”

  One of the corners of his sexy mouth tips upward. “And why would you think that? There’s a great deal of water around here.”

  “I know. But no one’s going to attack Greece.”

  “Not now, but there is always that possibility. I suppose you think our tiny, nearly bankrupt country is too insignificant to be worthy of protection,” he says sarcastically.

  Great. Here I go putting my foot in my mouth again. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I’d say you’re being overly sensitive, which I understand since your country is in so much trouble right now. But I came to Greece didn’t I? Even though the news people make it sound like we’ll be robbed and have no way to get around. My friends thought I was crazy not to cancel. But I stood up for Greece. I said it was all a bunch of media hype.”

  Eros shakes his head and frowns. “I hope if you become a writer you don’t work for the news networks.”

  I laugh. “Don’t worry. I have zero interest in doing anything like that.”

  “That’s odd Americans would believe such rubbish,” says Maryann. “Everyone in the UK wants to holiday in Greece because now it’s quite a bargain at the moment. And we don’t plan to holiday in America again unless the dodgy ones lose their guns.”

  “I understand. Even though I live there, I get kind of freaked out sometimes. As far as other countries go, though, I don’t listen much to what’s on TV,” I say. “I read the State Department warnings that have hard facts and then decide for myself if I want to go someplace.”

  Eros studies me. “But you were probably worried your trip would be a disaster.”

  “Maybe a little. But I talked to people who had visited in recent weeks and they all raved about how great it was here. So I figured all that crap on the news was just that. Crap. And now I’m here.”

  Eros blinks once and then again. His long eyelashes make his dark expressive eyes look even larger. He’s not only hot. He’s gorgeous. He looks almost too gorgeous to be real. This man’s a work of art. His lips curve up into a smile that strikes me as admiring instead of critical. “That is very good. You seem like the kind of person who gives unknown people and countries a chance. This world needs to have more like you.”

  After years of having people assume I was mean when I was shy, I know what it’s like to be misunderstood. Even though I was scared to talk to new people, after a while I overcame that fear. I wanted more people to see me for me instead of making a false judgment based on my silence. Shy certainly isn’t a word I’d use to describe myself now. Now most of the time, I talk way too damn much. “I try not to judge without doing proper research.”

  “How’s your fried cheese?” Eros asks.

  “It’s great.” I stab my fork into another hunk and raise it to my mouth. That clump of gooey, salty cheese tastes amazing. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten anything other than microwave meals and junk food I’ve nearly forgotten what real food even tastes like.

  “Yes, I can tell you like it,” he says in a husky voice.

  I blush as he watches me chew. Does my facial expression look lewd? It feels forbidden to have a hot man watch my eyes flutter shut and listen to my happy moans whenever I slip another gooey bite between my lips. My tongue slides over my lower lip, and I put down my fork. Has anyone ever come from just eating? Of course not. That’s completely ridiculous. Get a hold of yourself. I clear my throat and force my spine into an upright, under-control posture. “I was wondering about your triathlon training business. You help people train for races?”

  �
��Yes, of course.”

  “But you don’t race in them yourself I guess?” Oops. That question would have definitely been better left unasked.

  “I was one of the fittest men in the world when I was in the Hellenic Navy. I did my training in San Diego, where they train the American soldiers. But the physicians didn’t think it would be safe for me to do deep dives after my illness. But I’m cleared to do almost anything else. I cycle, run and swim for hours most days of the week and have competed in many triathlons, even the longest ones.”

  I blush. I really need to learn to put a lid on my lips or at least think before I open them. But it’s so hard because just looking at him scrambles my brain. Obviously, he’s not too limited if he’s out here doing ocean swims and is so buff and fit looking he could well be a cover model for Men’s Health. “I figured you worked out and stuff.” My forced laugh sounds ridiculous. “But I just wasn’t sure about the race thing.”

  “I prefer swimming, but I enjoy a variety of sports.” His appreciative gaze travels up and down my body before he clears his throat and then adds, “Including running.”

  I wrinkle my nose to hide my blush. I’m wondering... Was he being suggestive or have I completely lost my mind? “Ugh. I hate running. It’s way too painful. I like the peacefulness of swimming. I love the silence, the feeling of escape and gliding on top of the water is the closest thing to flying. It’s even more amazing in the ocean when there are fish and interesting rock formations to see. I can’t wait to swim again today.”

  “Yes, but in the pool, the conditions are the same and you always have the same number of strokes to the wall. In the sea, there might be a current or large waves or jellyfish. That is the excitement and also the risk. That’s why you must stay with the swimming group and the escort boat.”

  I purse my lips into a pout. His mini-lecture grinds into my mood like coarse sand. The man’s just jealous that I kicked his ass and is trying to console himself by giving me a lecture. “Of course I’ll stay with the group.” My voice sounds more defiant than intended. Why do I feel the need to defend myself when there’s no need? “I was just having a little fun during that swim. Letting some frustration out of my system.”

  “You had good reason to do that, dear,” says Maryann. “With what that wanker did to you and all.”

  “Just don’t forget to watch out for the others when we do these swims,” says Eros.

  I jab my fork into the last hunk of cheese on my plate. “Your advice is duly noted.” Eros’ lecture irritates me for more reasons than I can count. Why did he even bring this up? Eros is dangerous. He’s chivalrous one minute and lecturing me the next. Okay, so he’s hot enough to melt the cheese we’re eating. I don’t care. I’m not going to fall for him. No way.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Ionian Goddess ferries us back to the spot near Desimi Beach where we did our 400-meter swim. We are instructed to swim one at a time toward and away from Eros, who treads water and videos us with a GoPro. Once all of our swims are recorded, we head back to Geni. Over beers in the hotel restaurant, we watch our swims on a large screen that has been set up.

  I sip my beer and study the screen. Maryann is stroking through the water. She and Randy sit beside me at one of the outdoor tables shaded by an enormous trellis entangled with flowering vines. We’ve already watched all of the other swimmers and Eros has commented in detail on how they can improve their strokes. It surprised me how patient and thoughtful he was. Even when he critiqued floundering strokes that looked like they’d be difficult to improve, he made suggestions in a way that sounded encouraging instead of overly critical. It made me wonder if maybe I’d judged him too harshly. I did feel very reactive and overly sensitive all day. Maybe that was part of the reason he raked on my nerves so much.

  “Dreadful isn’t it?” Maryann whispers.

  Basically, her stroke is passable. Strong kick, decent pull, just the catch appears to need work. “I think your stroke looks good.”

  Eros pauses the film and points. “You see how your hand is crossing like this?” Eros imitates one of her strokes so she can see how her hand enters the water more across midline than in front of the body.

  Maryann nods.

  My mouth goes dry as I watch his agile movements. Who knew that watching someone do swimming movements on dry land could be so hot?

  Eros glances at me briefly. His jaw tightens and his gaze darts back toward Maryann. “You want to place the hand more out in front. Tomorrow I will show you some swimming drills you can do to help with that.” He goes on to explain more about her hand entry.

  “Thank you, Eros. That’s very helpful,” says Maryann. She elbows me and winks. “The bloke really knows swimming. Bet he’s quite brilliant in the bedroom as well.”

  I choke on my beer.

  Eros glances at me and frowns. “Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no, I’m f-fine.” I cough again.

  “Very good. Now it is time for us to look at your film, Maya.”

  I shake my head and then down the rest of my beer as the image of me swimming toward him underwater flashes up on the screen. I feel proud of the way I move through the water. My hands don’t make a lot of bubbles as they enter and start pulling through. I can’t remember where I read that, but somewhere I saw that lots of bubbles on the entry meant an inefficient stroke.

  Some of the others whisper and point.

  “Her stroke is brilliant,” says Maryann.

  “I would have to agree with that,” says Eros. “Watch the way the hand enters the water. Right out in front where it is supposed to be. And during the pull through, the arm bends so the hand in close to the body as she pushes back. This provides the best power. Maya is expert swimmer.”

  I blush and meet his gaze. I can’t believe how good it feels hearing this compliment.

  Eros goes on to reverse and replay the film, explaining everything he thinks is nice about my stroke. Whenever his gaze connects with mine, he looks at me with admiration. Maybe it’s because I just finished my second beer that I’m feeling these fuzzy warm feelings for him. It really was partially my fault we rubbed each other the wrong way all day, and our cultural backgrounds are so different, it only made things worse.

  “I think we’re going to run on back to our room for a bit of a nap.” Maryann pushes back her chair and stands up. Randy is already as step ahead of her.

  “I think I’m going to have one more beer,” I say. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Very good, dear.”

  By now almost everyone is gathering their belongings and heading out of the bar. I know it would be smarter if I left too, but for some crazy reason I linger, hoping Eros will come over and talk to me once he’s finished putting away all the equipment.

  When the waiter walks over to the table to collect the empty glasses, I ask for another beer. He sets down the tray and leaves, bringing me a beer a minute later.

  I’ve finished half of it by the time Eros strides toward me. By now, I’m beyond buzzed.

  “I am glad you’re having another beer. Now that I’m finished working, I would like to join you if you don’t mind having some company.”

  I wave a little wildly toward an empty chair beside me. “Have a seat.”

  “I will do that. But let me walk over to the bar and order a beer first.”

  I raise my glass. “Can you get me another?”

  “Sure.” He steps away, returning a minute later with two glasses of beer.

  By now, I’ve emptied my third glass. “You were great with all that stroke analysis.”

  “I always enjoy a challenge. Swimming is a very difficult skill to master and it’s wonderful to see improvements in the technique. I know that when they are swimming more efficiently, they will enjoy the sport even more. Maya, I must ask you. How did you learn to swim so well?”

  I shrug and the beer sloshes around in the glass, nearly spilling. “I’ve swam for teams all my life. So many coaches have helped me
get rid of all the glitches, I guess.”

  “They did a very good job. Are you still racing?”

  “No, not anymore. It was fun for a while, but I like the experience of swimming more than doing crazy hard workouts two times a day until I’m ready to collapse.” I take another swig of beer. “I feel really good today. I haven’t felt like this for a long time. I feel in the mood to do something completely crazy.”

  “Something crazy.” Eros leans toward me. His face is just inches away from mine.

  I wonder what he would do if I grabbed him and kissed him. That would be crazy. I close my eyes and press my lips toward his. But my mouth doesn’t make a connection. I open my eyes. He’s standing up and looking at me. His gaze looks more serious than aroused.

  I sit up straighter, feeling suddenly awkward.

  He reaches for my hand. “Let’s take a walk. We can stop at the little store to get some grapes and cheese and walk to Desimi. It will be quiet there and the walk will clear your head.”

  I take his hand and allow him to pull me to my feet. I sway and nearly stumble. “Oops.”

  His strong hands close around me, stabilizing me before I can fall. I look up at him. He’s still holding me in his arms. Being drunk and so close to him like this makes time seem to stand still. I don’t want to move, I want to feel his strength surrounding me forever.

  He kisses me gently on the forehead. Even that soft kiss is so sensual. Hot spots linger on my skin where his mouth was. “Please come with me, Maya.” His arm around me, he walks me toward the bar. He pauses, reaches into his pocket and tosses some bills up on the counter. The waiter and him converse in Greek and then he leads me back across the patio.

  It takes almost an hour to walk to Desimi. At the small store along the way, Eros bought a bottle of wine as well as some cheese, bread and fruit. Now we’re sitting in the sand, watching the sunset. The once crowded beach is now empty. No one’s around. While we nibble on snacks and sip wine, he tells me about his family. His brother Alexander is a construction worker in Athens. His sister, Elektra, is a massage therapist at a Crete resort. His parents are retired government workers and still live in Athens. His mom prepares all of the most delicious Greek dishes. His descriptions of each one of his family members is so colorful, I can almost see them in my mind. I imagine his brother, a little stockier, but with the same dark curly hair and expressive eyes, and his mom with her long, thick hair pulled back in a tight bun wearing a food-stained apron. Eros mentioned his father had a stern demeanor and was often quiet. Do the creases on his forehead disappear and his lips loosen after some wine is poured? Or is Eros’ father immune to the effects of alcohol.