Her Greek Romance aka Greek Encounter Page 10

  A touch of mascara completed her usual makeup. She scrutinized herself in the mirror again, and approved her reflection. Oh, she was about to forget her perfume. She dabbed a few drops of Gardenia behind her ears, in her cleavage, and on her wrists. Definitely a stronger competition to the women who worked in Kostapoulos offices, and maybe a stronger magnet to male attention.

  Adrenaline rushed through her veins. She stuffed a bikini, towel, and change of clothes in her beach bag. If they finished their meeting early enough, she intended to relax on the beach or take a ferry to a nearby island.

  By eight-thirty, she left her hotel and stopped at a café for coffee. She didn’t have time to settle at a round table. Ted Pastroudis strode toward her.

  “Morning, Ashley,” he said with a big smile. “Please, don’t order. The big boss has a full breakfast ready in the office. Come, I’ll give you a ride.”

  She nodded and let him usher her toward his Mercedes. As he sped through the tortuous streets of Mykonos, Ashley flattened her palms on the dashboard to avoid being bumped right and left. Ted’s fingers kept clicking on the horn to alert the morning throng of pedestrians who’d rather navigate between the cars than step on each others’ feet on the narrow sidewalks.

  “Will you be on the team today?” she asked as he drove to a safer and less crowded area. “As a lawyer, I have nothing to do with blueprints until they are ready to be submitted to the court before construction. My role is finished for the moment.”

  “Yes, and you played it like a master.” Unable to forget his part in bringing her on Stefano’s yacht, she looked at him without smiling.

  “Ashley, I’m sorry. All I did was introducing you to Stefano. He was determined to meet you incognito. I don’t know what happened between you two, but when he came back to the office last night, he was in a rotten mood and dismissed everyone. This morning he’s acting quite strangely.”

  “I’m not interested in your boss’ moods.” A blush covered her face and she averted her gaze.

  Silence settled between them as Ted considered her with curiosity, arched his eyebrows, and then smiled. “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  He burst out laughing. “I have the feeling Stefano has found his match. Too bad I won’t be at the meeting today.”

  “Ted!” She threw him a warning glance, but didn’t care to ask for explanations she wouldn’t like.

  He dropped her in front of the Kostapoulos building. “I have a client to meet soon. Can you go upstairs on your own? Elevator on the left of the lobby. Go to the fourth floor.”

  “Sure. Have a good day.”

  A moment later, Stefano received her in a splendid conference room with a humongous oblong table. He came toward her and shook her hand, gorgeous and all professional, in beige pants and a beige linen shirt.

  “I hope the conference room is suitable enough for you, Counselor Sheppard.” Stefano’s innocent tone made her laugh.

  “Wow. Sixteen seats around it. Perfect for a meeting.” Her fingers skated over the shiny surface and lusty images crowded her mind. She couldn’t suppress a wicked smile. This table was long enough for— Oh dear, I’m losing my mind.

  “Yes, perfect.” Stefano whispered against her hair.

  She spun toward him, and found herself trapped between his torso and the table.

  “A moment ago, I imagined you...” His chin tilted toward the table. “I mean I wondered how you’d look...” His smile wavered a bit at the edges, but an intense flame burned in his eyes and scorched her insides.

  She tried to swallow and only gulped out loud.

  His hands closed against her sides and he lifted her up onto the table.

  “Stefano.” Her protest turned into a whimper. Yet she kept enough sense to tug at the hem of her skirt, and watched it hike up to mid-thigh. His eyes captured hers as he wedged apart her knees and stepped between them.

  Panic and delight warred in her mind. She flattened her palms against his chest, not sure if she wanted to push him away or pull him toward her. “Stef—”

  His mouth covered her lips in the most searing kiss she’d ever received. His arms encircled her back. Of their own volition, her fingers laced behind his nape. Shouldn’t she try to resist? Act the professional lawyer?

  Forget professional, forget work, forget everything, but the lips fastened to hers. Without another thought, she savored the moment and the tongue waltzing in her mouth, igniting a fire in every cell of her unprofessional body.

  It was getting warmer by the second. She found it hard to breathe. A hand engulfed her knee and slid over her thigh. Ever so slowly. The inferno reached an unbearable temperature. She jerked her head back. They stared at each other, her lips quivering, his still eagerly inching forward.

  “We have to stop.” She shook her head. “What kind of work are we going to produce if we fall into each other’s arms the moment we’re alone?”

  His face might have been carved in stone, except for the tiny muscle rippling along his jaw.

  “Stefano,” she pleaded.

  “I can’t stay away from you.” He scrubbed a hand over his forehead. Sadness simmered in his eyes.

  “Stefano, that’s so sweet to say, but we can’t mix fun and work all the time.” Too frazzled to think, she cupped his cheeks. He covered her hands. “You made a deal with my grandfather. That’s the reason he insisted that I remain in Mykonos and check the blueprints. Once we’re done with these, we’ll be free to...to...” Her soothing tone should reassure him that they could revisit the conference room and its polished table at a later, more convenient time.

  “You mean, as soon as you approve the plans, you won’t mind being with me, again?” He stepped back, freeing both her hands and her legs, his gaze never wavering from her face.

  “We’ll see about that in a month.” Time to stiffen her backbone and focus her concentration on the project at hand. With a few determined brushes, she ironed her skirt down her thighs and scrambled from the table.

  “The blueprints are ready. They were presented to the court for approval during the hearing.” Stefano crossed his arms over his chest and captured her gaze.

  “But now you’re preserving the Pink Villa, so?”

  “Regardless, we can still use them for the lot behind the existing building. We just need to tabulate the renovation items needed for the villa and draw the extra plans.”

  “Would it take a whole month?”

  “Hardly four days,” he said, rocking on his heels.

  “You mean I can leave in four days?”

  “I mean we can reconvene on this table in four days, sweetheart.” He flashed her a crooked smile, and she gasped.

  “If we don’t have anything more—”

  “Oh, there will be plenty more. You’ll need to be present when we break ground.”

  “But I don’t know the ABC of construction.”

  “Who cares? Your grandfather insisted you inspect and approve. And I’m one who respects the wishes of elderly people. So you’ll stay in Mykonos, and I’ll keep you busy.” The roguish glint in his eyes belied his serious tone.

  “Respect old people’s wishes? My foot. Only two days ago you cursed Yorgho Zanis to hell and back.”

  “That was before I met his lovely granddaughter. Later, I learned to appreciate Mr. Zanis’ wise decisions.”

  “We need to organize the Pink Villa’s renovation, the landscaping, painting, decoration, access to the house, and so many things.”

  “A lot of work, yes.” Leaning toward her, he murmured in her ear. “But I promise you’ll take short breaks here and there.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her lips. “That’s very different from the way I work in Boston. At the rate of your short breaks, I’d never make partner in my firm.” She sobered and exhaled. “We need to maintain a professional distance until we’re done with the blueprints. Completely done,” she said, projecting calm control into her voice, and missing the calm note by a smidge, if Stefano’s s
mile was any indication.

  “Deal. I will follow your lead.”

  In other words, if she just lowered her guard, he might take advantage of the situation. Counselor, you’d better behave.

  “Your grandfather mentioned that your work here will earn you the partnership. Keep up the good job, sweetheart.” Suggestive fingers trailed along the polished surface of the table and assaulted her nervous system. Good God, was she a lost case?

  Resolutely, she spun toward the door and opened it. “Where is your team?”

  “Having a quick breakfast. Let’s join them.” With a hand on her back, he ushered her down a corridor.

  “Sure.” She had to give it to Stefano. He was a generous and understanding boss who put his employees’ welfare ahead of the work’s demands.

  “Ashley.” A note of warning froze her steps. “Our deal holds until the blueprints are completely finished as you specified.”

  And then?

  CHAPTER TEN

  The week of hard work had ended the day before and the whole team had celebrated at a nightclub on the beach. After a fun-filled evening with multiple ouzo drinks, bouzouki music, and syrtaki dances, Ashley enjoyed the ride to her hotel in Stefano’s shiny Ferrari. “Pretty car. Where did you hide it?” She carefully patted the dashboard.

  He chuckled at the admiration in her tone. “In the garage. Next to the company limo. Would you like me to show you...” But Ashley had laid her head on his shoulder and drifted off.

  “You’re home, sleeping beauty,” he said a moment later and walked her to her room. “Have a good night’s sleep. After all the ouzo we drank, you’re going to need it to avoid a hangover in the morning.” He smiled as she swayed against his side. “No meetings tomorrow. A day off for everyone.”

  “You’re always the perfect boss. No, not boss. Only colleague.” She groaned, her tongue heavy, not cooperating with her slow thoughts. “Stay...with you. I mean with me.”

  “Not tonight, sweetheart.” He laughed and kissed her soundly on the lips. He was fair with everyone. Except with her. She squinted at him. Why hadn’t he kissed her the right way? His old way? Had he already forgotten their wild lovemaking? Maybe he’d already lost interest?

  “Good night.” Disappointed by his detached behavior, she slammed the door in his face. Blood pounded furiously against her forehead. She changed and sprawled onto her bed.

  Sure enough the next morning, she nursed a bad headache with two cups of the strongest Greek coffee and a croissant brought by room service, followed by a long shower.

  The phone rang as she finished dressing. Grandpa’s jovial voice greeted her.

  “Yes, we worked all last week.” Ashley announced after a few questions about the old man’s health.

  “We? Who’s we? Was Kostapoulos present?” There was an edge to his voice.

  “Sometimes, yes. The whole team assigned to the project, architects, graphic designers, contractors, decorators, secretaries. About twenty people.” Enough people to fill the room and obscure the surface of her special table with laptops, folders, blueprints, and Styrofoam cups.

  “So you were never on your own with Kostapoulos?”

  Good thing her grandfather couldn’t see the heat reddening her cheeks. “Not a single minute.” At least not during the last week. She’d done her best to avoid dangerous tête-à-tête, and Stefano respected their deal.

  “When did you have the time to discuss things with Kostapoulos and give him your opinion?”

  “Don’t worry, Grandpa, I checked all the reports, made the changes I wanted, and handed him a typed and signed report.”

  “Hmm, you’re always the perfect lawyer.”

  “I try, Grandpa.”

  “Honey, you need to loosen up. I mean after work.”

  “I know you want me to find a special Greek man who’ll love me unconditionally. Unfortunately, they don’t make them like that anymore.”

  “Keep looking, sweetie. After work.”

  Give it to her grandfather to believe in dreams, in spite of the harsh reality. “Bye, now. Oh, before I forget, what do you want me to do with the suitcase of letters you made me bring to Greece?”

  “Ah, Elena’s letters.” A heavy sigh filled the line. “Take them to the Pink Villa. I want you to read all the letters. Mine and hers.”

  “But I don’t read Greek.”

  “They’re written in English. Elena learned it in her uppity school for rich girls, and I picked up several languages while working on the docks with foreign sailors, and later in America of course. We didn’t want the people around her to understand what we wrote. Show them to her grandson. I want him to see for himself how I loved and respected his grandmother. Maybe then, he’ll stop hating me.”

  “Grandpa, Stefano doesn’t hate you anymore.”

  “Stefano?” Shock jolted his voice an octave higher. “Is that what you call him now?”

  “Uh.” She rubbed her chin, not ready to confess feelings that would probably disappoint her grandfather. “Well, we’re all on a first name basis here. You know, like co-workers.”

  “No problem. I understand, sweetie.” To her relief he didn’t admonish her for getting chummy with his former enemy. “Anyway, take the letters to the Pink Villa and read them with Stefano. One from me, one from Elena. Alternate them. Choose a couple to frame for the future museum.”

  “Good idea.” She’d bet Stefano wouldn’t be interested in wasting his time on reading old letters.

  “Now that the first phase is finished aren’t you going to celebrate?”

  “We did last night.”

  “Good, good. Bye, now.” Her grandfather’s voice sounded happy. The old house was really dear to his heart.

  “Bye. I’ll be on my way to your villa.”

  As soon as she hung up, she checked her purse for the Pink Villa’s keys and her camera. Today was a day off, according to Stefano. While everyone—especially Stefano—thought her asleep or resting, it might not be a bad idea to thoroughly examine the villa she’d hardly surveyed on her first day in Mykonos. The first time she’d visited, she hadn’t found the courage to brave the wild vegetation surrounding the old building like a ruthless invader. She’d just stood inside the gate, snapping a few pictures.

  Dragging the carry-on filled with Elena’s letters out of the hotel, Ashley hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of the Pink Villa. Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped and the driver carried her small suitcase to the wrought-iron gate. “Careful, kyria. House old. Many cactuses.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be careful.” Not ready to scratch her bare legs on the thorns, she draped her beach towel over her clothes and carefully trudged through the neglected front yard. Heels digging in the mud, she navigated her way through weeds and shrubs, her hands pressing the towel against her skirt and legs to protect the silky material from vicious shredding. In front of the wooden door, she sighed with relief and rummaged in her purse for the key. Bracing herself for the worst, she opened the door, wondering what sort of dilapidation would greet her.

  Surprise rooted her in place in the tiny entry hall. In spite of the musty smell, the neatness of the villa contrasted with the rioting disorder of the yard. Leaving the door ajar, Ashley slowly padded into the living room and paused, somehow afraid to disturb the ghosts of the past. Two old-fashioned armchairs flanked a faded burgundy couch and a sailor chest completed the modest furnishing.

  Proceeding with her exploration, she surveyed a small bedroom with a double bed, a night table, and a dresser adorned with a green onyx lamp, and then entered a second room furnished with a table and two chairs. A basket full of U.S. stamped blue envelopes with her grandfather’s writing sat on the table next to a large notepad, a stack of unused white envelopes, and a roll of local stamps.

  A golden frame with a painting showing a lovely girl, probably in her late teens, hung on the wall, the only decoration in the house. Ashley focused on the pretty face, stunned by the happiness radiating from the
beautiful blue eyes and the incredible joy in the smile—the smile of a woman in love.

  Like an indiscreet Peeping Tom, Ashley lowered her gaze from the picture her grandfather had painted. She recognized his style and the model that had posed for a similar painting hanging in his Boston office. But the beautiful model was gone—had stopped existing years ago, morphing into an old woman.

  Her heart heavy as if she’d lost a friend she’d just met, Ashley retreated to the living room, and reverently skimmed the wood of the sailor chest. Holding the heavy lid with both hands, she opened it to reveal a multitude of blue sheets of paper all folded in half and arranged in neat packets tied with red ribbons, with a few scented bags scattered around. Small cards tucked inside each packet indicated the time frame of the letters. Elena was a very organized person. Leaning over the gaping chest, Ashley read 1961-1970, 1971-1980,...

  So this was the place that had witnessed an incredible love story—the type she’d secretly dreamed about, but would probably never live. Awe clogged her throat as she pictured two young lovers snuggling and kissing on the sofa. She knelt in front of the open coffer and reached for a packet of letters covered with her grandfather’s handwriting. Without hesitation, she inhaled the smell of old paper and tinge of lavender, and pressed it against her cheek.

  Had Elena smiled or cried when she read her lover’s words? Envy pierced Ashley’s heart. She’d never received a love letter. Fingers shaking, she slipped a sheet out of the ribbons and fiddled with the missive. Would she have the gut to read it?

  “Don’t.” The male voice scared the bejeebers out of her. “You have no right.”

  “Stefano.” Startled, she dropped the letter. “I wasn’t—”

  “Really? You weren’t going to read it? Just smell it and caress it.” His sarcastic tone grated on her nerves.

  She shrugged. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Same thing as you. Surveying the place to be ready for our next meeting. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to come? I would have picked you up this morning.”